I did it.
I managed to move out of Ginger’s “house” AKA death trap, without killing her, myself, or going to jail.
I SillyWhabbit, kept my composure. Well, mostly. The day she went in my room while I was at work, and I called the police for the third time, I did slam the front door, but she wouldn’t shut up and I was tired of being called names.
I had people with me at all times the last two days I stepped foot in her place. A funny thing happened too. I guess the bank comes by and takes pictures every few months as part of the deal she has going with them in regards to her house. I actually thought he was someone coming over on behalf of her for some reason till he pointed his iPad camera at the house. The light-bulb went off over my head and I said, “Ohhhhh, you’re from the bank?” He said yes, the mortgage company hired him to take pictures.
I spilled many beans, and suggested that they get someone in there to actually look at the house, because it is falling apart. I then went down a long list of things that had really been frightening me as far as my safety went. My health has suffered while living in Ginger’s house. So I mentioned the things that literally left me in fear that something would collapse, catch fire, infect my immune system and respiratory function and didn’t feel bad about it, because I don’t want the next person to go through her shit. I don’t want there to BE a next person, now that I know the things a landlord is supposed to do. She won’t do them. The whole time I lived there, there was a three gang switch box on my wall, with capped wires hanging out, and she couldn’t even get a cover for it.
I’ve never been SO happy to leave a place or a person. I worry about the next person, so THAT is why I told the bank. I am still debating on telling the IRS about her tax evasion over the years, as well as her intent to make me compliant in her decision to hide the income from me as well. Mostly because the freaking aggravation I had to go through getting her all cash, but in part because she called me a bitch so many ways and times and I think in 50 weeks I called her a bitch (crazy, nut-bag bitch) once the whole time she was calling me one, as well as a whore. (It’s been almost two years since I have had sex, I am SUCH a slut!) I think I just want to let her see what a bitch I CAN be, but at the same time…I don’t even want to deal with her or see her again. OH, and I didn’t even show you the mold in the bathroom. The black mold. You’re welcome.
If you are moving to the Top Hat area, and meet a crazy Ginger trying to rent you a room in Shangrila, don’t buy what she is selling because this woman, thinks the above living conditions are OK.
Now it is time for me to begin processing this shit and getting it behind me because I seriously was feeling PTSD issues living with her and I am ready for my fun run with Universe. I have been working SO hard on it and I am amazed I didn’t allow myself to be derailed!!!
I have two. One I gave birth to and she will not talk to me. Her father and I had a horrible marriage and divorce. One of us wound up using our child as a personal therm o-nuclear warhead against the other. It is sad, and I may never have that relationship with the beautiful woman I helped create.
My second daughter, I have never met. I have been her pseudo-mom and she has been my pseudo-daughter. I love her every bit as if I had given birth to her. I used to feel a line, like if I just let myself be her mom, I would be betraying the one I gave birth to. Over the last three years though, I have grown closer to daughter number two.
I love them both, but Daughter number two has LET me be her mother. The gift she has given me is far, far, more than I can repay to her, my daughter and my friend.
Daughter number two also understands my feelings of daughter number one.
Watching Daughter number two go through something right now, hurts my heart. I wish there was something I could do for her sad and breaking heart. I just want to tell her that I love her and value her. She means the world to me, My heart hurts when her heart hearts, and my heart sings, when her heart sings. Thank you for all you have done for me. I love you, and I am here for you.
Some of my stuff is in storage. Some of it is here in boxes. I am neither here, nor there. I mentally checked out of here long ago, and that is what has pissed off Ginger so much. She will never own anything she has done, and that is fine for me. It won’t hinder me, but it will her. She is going to keep doing the same things, expecting different results because the people in her life change. I am the third tenant she has had that has soured. I know it says something about me. She refuses to see it says ANYTHING at all about her. I wish her well. I really wish her next tenant well.
I went through a time in my life, many, many years ago, and then again after my eye surgery and the death of my grandson, where PTSD was an issue. The last few weeks here, I have been feeling some of those old feelings. I was with two people from work the other day and PTSD came up. It was the first time I admitted to anyone that living with Ginger has left me feeling a “flare”. To me, she is very, very much like the abusive men I have allowed into my life. I had red flags about her, but because I needed a place to live, and I was hoping she was just quirky, I ignored them. I had a very strong feeling I would regret that, and I did almost immediately. I think my lesson was to trust myself.
I’ve not made any real effort to contact that awesome guy, with awesome hands and sexy, soft lips who kissed me recently. It’s not that I am scared of him, or my emotion, or possible rejection, or acceptance, or any of the normal things people freak out over.
I’m just overwhelmed with Ginger. I don’t want him tainted by her in any way. I don’t want him to see her, meet her, deal with her, or ever step foot in this bizarre reality. There are moments, when all I want to do is cry. The crazy is so intense. The hands on the hips, the judgement, the nastiness, the name calling, then the smile and hello. At least since I called the police on her she has stopped trying to be fake with me. She just all out hates me now, and that is OK with me. It doesn’t stop me from going on with life, especially once I am gone. But I know, her hatred of me will make her more bitter. The next person will listen about me, like I listened about La, Johanna, JF, Dan and the low voltage boyfriend who “wired” her house. Her experience with me, will leave an already bitter and insecure person, even more so.
I just want to soak in a tub with some nice candles and a fat joint.
I am almost there.
And then, I want a cuddle with the awesome guy with the awesome hands.
We don’t go any further, don’t fall madly in love again, or it just isn’t meant to be you…I hope it’s you.
You will no matter what, remain the love of my life, in the romantic arena. And oh how deeply I have loved and continue to love you. You are, dare I say; sacred.
However, in the event Universe has other plans for the boo of my life. I am open to that kind of intense, genuine, incredible, deep, passionate and, breathtaking love, we have known.
You have to do what you’re doing and get through it before you process it.
Someone said this to me recently, and it keeps ringing in my head because that is what I have been doing since March of 2013. It is at the point now, where it is really wearing thin on me. When this ends, I feel like my whole body; core and all will release an earth shattering shudder.
Some of the processing has started, but it isn’t comfortable here so I keep it to a minimum. The biggest thing I have learned is that perhaps I went a little crazy when I decided to live my life in the energy of love, but I did not become mentally unhinged and I am not unstable. In fact, my going crazy caused my instability to stabilize. I just stood inches away from an ugly, distorted face, screaming at me that I am a bitch, a horrifying bitch, a fucking whore, a bully, and accused of “beating her up”, and I didn’t fucking react. ME. I may have raised my voice assertively, but I didn’t scream, and I have never hit, touched, pushed, nor beat up the ginger. I have excelled at walking away over the last year.
Now, how do you project love, back at someone who so obviously has no self-love? It has been really difficult, especially when I am walking away thinking, “You horrifying mentally unstable red-headed cunt! I want to bash your face in with a steel chair! Just shut the fuck up and stop the flap trap nagging!” I think though, that as I sit here this morning, it kind of dawns on me that I know her traumas. In fact, I have been pondering using her traumas against her just to shut her up the next time she decides to start nagging at me. For me to ponder this, is s testament to how far she has pushed me, because I know I would have to say just two things in order to snap her like a twig. It would be very, very cruel of me and I honestly feel bad for having had the thought, but this is my reaction to living with an abusive, miserable, and hateful person. I can only be called a bitch, whore, or bully…so many ways before I am tempted to give her what she wants. A horrifying bitch, might take her seven thousand dollars worth of receipts and go to the IRS with them to inform them of some unreported income, as well as report the income from a catering gig for a friend and tribe member of mine.
I have done none of these things, and it comes to me that maybe all I have to do is see her traumas for what they are. They are where she is stuck. I lived my life for over a decade, trapped in my traumas. It wasn’t until I lovingly released them that I found my peace.
I can see her as a human struggling for something she doesn’t understand, and I can feel empathy and love for that person, but I still have some issues with the screaming bitch that likes to plant herself in my face and hurl hate. Living in love, doesn’t entitle others to treat me like shit and expect I’ll just keep turning the other cheek. I am allowed to ASSERT myself and if need be, DEFEND myself.
I am very proud at myself on more than one level for not dancing the dance Ginger wants to dance. I’m also proud I haven’t bought into her bullshit list of who she sees me as, because I understand when you are stuck in the roll of the victim, you see everyone as your enemy, even those who initially wanted to be a help.
I can’t stop this silent steady stream of tears and don’t even want to try.
So much time, so many locked up memories, so many floods of raw emotion, so much displaced love, ready to spring forth like an arrow…
So much gratitude, so much confessed and so much heard.
It shook me to the core to be told the way I went to Alaska, so fast, with the woman I went to help, with the things he knew about her and how close we were…he just didn’t know how to process it. I hurt him. This was never my intention and it deeply hurt my heart to know I had hurt him. To say I am sorry and for him to hear that and say he was sorry he didn’t know how to help the hurt I was hanging onto back then, brought tears to my eyes.
I have never stopped loving him, in fact I would be so bold as to say I still am in love with him. Do I know what will happen between us now? Yes and no. Do I have expectations? Yes and no. Am I in a hurry to find out? Not really, I am really enjoying this tender and touching dance we are doing and I want to draw it out and savor this beautiful thing.
Processing…words, feelings, desires, moments, and sweet kisses.
I told him in text last night that I LIKE the person I have become and living my life in a way that brings me peace. Time is being good to me and I am grateful for that and for being able to talk to him today. He replied that he is too.
I admitted to finding my voice over the years, and that life may have been easier for us both if I had only known how to say what I want. I told him how proud my BFF is for me telling him Monday night, that I wanted to see him again, because I SPOKE UP! He replied he is glad I did.
I know, that this is heading to the physical, and we are both now, feeling the emotional part, but will we become us again? I don’t want to go back to then, we were messed up with our own stuff…but I am curious to see what will become of this opportunity and what I have called into Universe.
I’m not worried about defining this. I know what it is, I’m just happy that this is happening.
I’ve been meaning to share this for a while, but have been really busy with life lately.
This year, I actually participated in the holiday season that happens between October and January. I got my mom and little sister a book that a friend had published that mom and I were interviewed for. It’s called “Radical Relations- Lesbian mothers gay fathers, and their children in the United States since WWII.” It is by Daniel Winunwe Rivers. We knew it was in the works, we interviewed for it about ten years ago. A few weeks before Christmas I got a message from a friend telling me it was published, so I was able to surprise them.
I was really excited about this when a fellow WordPress and FB Like announced he was having an art sale. The offer was name a person and he would paint them for a smoking price. I contacted him and asked him if he could paint Leonard Peltier for me. He did. This original Ray Ferrer painting is now hanging at my mother’s place. If you would like to see more of Ray’s stuff, you can visit his site here: Ray Ferrer – Emotion on Canvas
To learn more about Leonard, you can go to you tube and watch “Incident at Ooglala” 2 parts, and you can go here: Leonard Peltier Case Facts