Have you ever taken the time on a Sunday to look at your week ahead and thought, just kill me now? Don’t bother rationalizing, patronizing or painting a pretty picture, this week will suck on so many levels. Stupid me, I took a look at my week last Sunday and thought now would be a good time to seek out some medication.

On paper the week looked do-able, idiotically busy but do-able just the same, given enough help. Then came Monday morning and as I drove by the location of our store I noticed that no one was there. That in itself was odd considering they should have been open before I opened at Twisted Sister’s shop. For a couple of seconds I had that kick you in the gut feeling that I was on my way to the wrong place of work. But I was pretty sure of where I was supposed to be working. Then I spent the morning trying to dig out of the hell hole my former psycho boss left me in and listening to people whine about her attitude and the impending closing of the shop. That day sucked the big one!

Tuesday, ah Tuesday, a day of rest. NOT. This coming Saturday is our semi annual Free Clothing Day and oh look, I can count on one hand how many people have said they would help and still have plenty of fingers left over. Snit number 2 for the week. The day brightened a tad when 3 different people offered to help but politely backed out when they found out what “helping” involved. Snit number 3. Seriously people what did you think I needed help with, did you not get the email? Oh, whatever!

Wednesday, hey that’s today right, it looked like every other work day except the help I desperately need is either suddenly “sick” or “forgot” they had something else on the go. Snit numbers 4 to where I am right now, around 25 or so. Something that is innately North American that I just don’t understand is the desire to “look good for the cause”. If you volunteer to help then suck up whatever your problem is and follow through. So many people sign on to do a good deed but when push comes to shove and the work needs to get done they suddenly vanish like smoke in the wind. I wonder if saying “yes” originally is meant for looks or if I have suddenly fallen into some kind of shitty luck vortex?

That’s my rant for the day and I hope it only lasts as long as the day. If it goes longer you’ll hear about it.

One of, if not the biggest reason I dislike flying is the insanity of “hurry up and go nowhere” that occurs each and every time I fly. It’s a game of hurry up and get to the airport so you can sit and wait to board your plane. Then it’s a quick shuffle into the plane, find and park yourself in your seat just so you can wait to take off. Next comes the scream of the engines to hurry up and get to the proper altitude as you zip through a sky that looks just like the chunk of sky you saw 10 minutes ago. Finally you make your descent to the airport and the game of hurry up and wait resumes with dashing off the plane only to wait for your luggage to arrive, if it arrives.

That’s where my life is right now, hurry up and wait. One of the downfalls of returning home after being gone for 6 weeks is trying to get caught up, get back in the loop that continued on seamlessly in your absence. It seems like for every week that you’re gone it takes one full day to get caught up completely all the while the feeling that you’ve missed something big haunts you. Right now I have a few things that I’m anxious to get going but either due to a lack of funding (I’m pounding the pavement for employment again), a lack of support or an unmanageable schedule, everything is currently on hold.

Despite my patience I find times like this to be extremely trying, frustrating and such an immense waste of both time and talents. I have faith that all things of worth come from learning how to wait patiently but I have next to no faith that my patience will last.

In the world of substance abuse, society has a double standard in regards to being involved with an addicted person. In a marriage involving alcohol or drug abuse the non addicted spouse is encouraged to leave. If there are children involved the need to leave is even higher, for the protection of the children. A wife or husband is flat out told to move out, move on and start over without their addicted spouse and yet that advice is not extended to grown children of an alcoholic or drug addict. That’s where the double standard lives in it’s insidious world of “obligation”.

With the exception of a hand full of years my father has been an alcoholic. When he isn’t drinking he is a bitter, argumentative pompous ass. When he is drinking he is vile, violent and every nasty personality trait that he displays when he’s sober gets amped up to the extreme.

Throughout my parents volatile  marriage my mother was point blank told “take the kids, get out and don’t look back”. Steve and I even provided her a home and means to move farther away but sadly she went back to live out the remainder of her days with an abusive alcoholic. Some decisions that people make just don’t make sense but it was what it was, hope.

Since my mother’s passing I have distanced myself from my father because he has returned to the bottle and with that, a return to the horrors inflicted upon both Steve and I due to his drinking. I wonder, why is it prudent for a spouse to walk away from a drunk but a grown child is expected to continue in a relationship. Since I have closed the door on my father people, friends even, have chided me by saying “but he’s your father, don’t you care?”

That question really burns my brain, do I care? Yes I do care, I care to be left alone to live a life that is both peaceful and harassment free, I care to never be called vile names by a man who has never been a father, I care to not listen to him puking up his intestines while he yells and screams obscenities at me on the phone. Ultimately I care that he looks for his own salvation at the foot of the cross because he is too heavy a burden for me to carry anymore. 47 years is a long time to bear a cross not of my making.

If you have a friend or a coworker who is the child of an alcoholic do your best to extend to them the same standard given to a spouse, allow them to leave and live a life free of alcoholism.

“there are only two sins; the first is to interfere with the growth of another human being, and the second is to interfere with one’s own growth” –AA, Second Edition–

Domestic abuse is a killer. More than the mark left behind from being hit or the demoralization from being called every crude name known to man, death goes deeper than the grave. Although I understand the process that takes a healthy, independent person to the extreme of no self worth I cannot wrap my head around long term victims of abuse. At what point does a victim finally reach the conclusion that the life they are living is and literally could kill them? Is it possible to have absolutely no self worth, no sense of value? How long can a person live without noticing that they are really dying?

I am currently dealing with someone who has been a victim for 20 years and I have reached the place where all I can do is rant (very loudly in my head) and shake my head in disbelief. At what point does a person decide that they are everything their abusive spouse says they are or that they deserve to be beaten. I can understand it happening more than once but for 20 years……. How do you reach someone who is convinced that they love their abuser? How do you begin to re-establish self esteem in someone who knows that on any given day their spouse may kill them?

Domestic abuse not only literally kills it also kills the will of another living breathing human being to live a life where love does not hurt. This insipid road is paved with “I’m never going back to him” and is loaded with potholes of “but I really, really love him”. There are some really wicked curves on the road complete with stop/go signals that don’t follow any logical sequence. None of the maps I have seem to have Chamber of Commerce office where I can give her one of the travellers guides that will finally show her where she is headed. Even the flagmen have gone home out of sheer frustration.

How do you show someone what the end of their road could look like when they won’t take their eyes off the rear view mirror?

So I was sitting on the couch early this morning loving the fact that I was going to get to drink the entire pot of coffee in my jammie pants. It was a beautiful thing, all day in my jammie pants, tons of time to drink the coffee, all day long to do the things that I needed/wanted to do. At 6:30 am the phone rings and my very first thought was “who the ____ is stupid enough to call here that early” then my next thought was “somebody had better be dead”. Caller I.D. can be a good thing if you don’t use it. If you choose to look before you pick up you run the risk of guessing what the person calling wants. I looked, I guessed and unfortunately I guesses right.

It was “John” from the Sullivan and his plan was about to burst my jammie wearing, coffee inhaling ,do as little as possible, have a happy day. One of the folks who works for him was sick and I was going to cover their shift, Ok, so no big deal right. Hmm this was going to put a glitch in my acquiring a “filler” part time job that I now had on the table. Yesterday I got a call from one of the places that I had put in a job application in May for and they wanted to hire me. I was totally up front with them that I had obligations of covering off for holidays with the folks who layed me off and that I was unavailable for 2 weeks in August and all of September. They were fine with this and desperately need someone now as one of their staff had decided that this was not where they wanted to work anymore.

So I showed up at the Sullivan ready for a day of slaps and snorts knowing that I would be back there this Friday, then off to my gig with Twist and Spin a week later while she went on holidays for two weeks then a break for a couple of days then back down to the Sullivan for a week. At the end of all this pimping out to the two shops I had my sights set on August 14th, ahhhh the first day of many spent camping uninterrupted for 42 days.

A half hour into our lunch service and “the fella” asks if I can cover his shift for July 2nd to 4th, um, no can do big boy I’m off to the land of Twist and Spin on those dates so sorry. I have no clue what went through his mind next but within 5 minutes he was frothing at the mouth yelling at the other woman who works there as he peeled off the top of his uniform and threw it on the floor. Then he called my name and tossed me his keys just before he stomped out the cafeteria door. Turns out that “John” told the lad that he can’t have those 3 days off, he snapped and quit.

The next thing I knew I was watching as my days off went POOF and I had a very uncomfortable kicking sensation deep in the pit of my stomach. “John” once again offered me a full time position to fill in the gap that the fella had left. I wonder if “John” is under the delusion that the place is growing on me in a some way, well I guess it is, just like fungus grows on trees. I have gone from being unemployed and desperate for work to being over employed to the point of having to turn down offers and I’m not feeling great about it. I think the timing absolutely sucks, I NEEDED a job in May but nothing materialized. I don’t need or want a job come mid August but there they are all lined up.

I’m in a pissy mood because someone snapped my jammie wearing, coffee sipping, lazy assed, happy place day for………work, oh WHATEVER!!!