Category Archives: Friendship

August 20th leaves a paradox in my heart

August 20, 2005

I lost my dear friend Eric on this day after a hard-fought 20 year battle with drugs. My heart broke that day & most days since, at least a bit, due to the hole his loss left.

August 20, 2011

This is the date of my baby sisters wedding. A day full of love, happiness, joy, laughter & dancing…yet somewhere, in the back of my mind, I can feel the heartache of the previous experience I’ve had with this date.

I start to question myself the week before the wedding. “Why are you feeling such a strong sense of grief now when you should be so excited, so happy?”  The only clear-cut answer I have to this question has to do with Eric’s daughter appearing my life mere weeks before the wedding, bringing up feelings I had long since buried. Suddenly, I was filled with anguish, pain & grief not felt since his loss. It was as if I reliving that day all over again.

Odd how such beauty can come out of sadness. I’ve never been able to understand this strange brew. All I know is that having my friend’s daughter in my life, to share stories with, to stare at her face when I miss him, to watch her as she learns more about him & looks for any sign that he is in her, the daddy she never knew.

He always loved her. He carried a picture of her in his wallet until the day he died. He never got over the fact that he was not in her life. None of this helps her fill that gaping hole inside her own heart, but day by day, story by story, I watch her get to know Eric a little more. She falls more in love with him & it is beyond words.

Who knows, maybe this is my way of honoring him, by sharing this experience with her. So be it.

Luckily, I was able to find a balance between celebration & grief, at least for a day. The wedding was beautiful, it was magic, it was love. I will smile when I think of that day, my sisters dress, her vows, the photo booth, the dancing…the love

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Home Sweet Home

It’s an amazing thing, how desperate, lost, alone & scared a person can feel when they’re separated by distance from their loved ones, all that they know, what they grew up with, their support system, their comfort zone. It is a brave & passionately driven person, or a fool, that takes this leap of faith. I am one of those people. I have yet to figure out if I’m the brave one or the fool. Maybe I’m a bit of both, who knows.

Last week I wasn’t sure, once again, how I was going to survive the day. Today I find myself on a 5 day layover in my hometown of Detroit, before beginning a month-long program in Washington, DC. It boggles my mind how quickly things change. I don’t know why it still boggles my mind, as it’s happened SO many times during my life, that one would think I’d be used to it by know. Well….I’m not!

The main thing I’ve noticed since I arrived late last night is that the heavy weight on my chest, the constant state of panic & fear I had lived in, the utter solitude & sadness that brought up in me….is gone. I’m home. I’m surrounded in every direction by love. I have so many people who want to share time with me while I’m here that I unfortunately don’t have enough time to accommodate all of them, unless I was to group some of them together in one place. I’m not sure if that’s possible, but I’m willing to try.

At the same time, that in itself is overwhelming to me. I’m tired, run out, worn out, slightly broken from all that I’ve gone through in the past months. In a way, I just want to rest. Reading that last sentence, it makes me shake my head. Isn’t that what I’ve done for weeks now? Months? Why would I want to continue that behavior when I’m surrounded in love? I need to recharge, let those who know & love me remind me of who & what I really am, as opposed to what I believe I’ve become. This could be extremely healthy for me in moving forward on my visions, my goals, my dreams, my need to create something for myself that will fulfill the want in me to be & do something great, whatever that may be.

There is one aspect of Detroit, of home, that tears at my heart. There is someone, a person who has owned the real estate in my heart since the day I met him. No matter what we do, where our paths take us in life, we always gravitate back to each other. What I wouldn’t give to have this person as my life long partner in crime. What wouldn’t I do? I have never stopped loving him. In fact, I don’t believe I’ve even ever fallen out of love with him. Things are complicated, but I’m willing to do what is needed to see our lives come back together, so we may enjoy the rest of our time on this spinning rock together. I guess I accepted years ago that it may not be a possibility, yet, if that were truly the case, would the universe continue to bring us back into each others orbit repeatedly? I don’t find it possible the universe could be so cruel as to dangle my one true love in my face over & over again, just to taunt & hurt me. I feel there is something greater at work. I feel that we’re being told that it is in each other that we will find our comfort, our partner, our home. If only he would see that this is the case & take, once & for all, that giant leap of faith needed to make this our permanent reality. I’ve done & said all that I have in me to let him know that if he took the chance, he would not be disappointed. It’s on him now to decide if he is strong enough to make this come true.

I hope he does!

If he doesn’t & this love affair never sees itself rekindled, I will endure. I have managed to make it this far, I can make a life for myself without the man. I just know that my heart wants him to be beside me through this adventure. But if he chooses not to take that journey with me, I’m still going to take it & he will always own a large piece in my heart.

Okay, I’m off to sleep. I need to rest up for 5 day long love fest that lays before me. How lucky am I?

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Far Away Eyes

Have you ever looked deeply into your reflection in the mirror & seen a stranger staring back at you?

Well, this is the place I find myself in these days. I’m not exactly sure when it happened or how I missed the transition. Was it sudden? Or did it happen gradually? However it came about, it has scared me to my core. What I find myself allowing to happen to my life disgusts me in ways I can’t even find the correct words for. Tonight was the breaking point for me. Something has to change, NOW, because I can NOT do this! I will not lay around on my ever-expanding ass while I watch everything I worked tirelessly over the past 6 years fall further from my grasp. Suddenly I feel a sense of panic that I can’t shake, the likes of which I thought I overcame 4 years ago. I realize that when the plans I had when I moved to Los Angeles began to crumble, I could feel the confidence I had in myself slowly begin to chip away, as if I had an internal sledge-hammer & I was subconsciously tearing myself down from the inside. There is no way that I, with a little hindsight, blame this descent on the city or the inhabitants. I did this at first, because it’s always easier to blame your circumstances on other people or your environment. I am smarter than that & know it comes from within.

Why wasn’t I born with that genetic drive to succeed? How is it that I can be so naturally creative & talented, yet have no motivation or discipline to pursue my dreams. I really can’t stand that cliché’ “Chasing your dreams”. It’s not how I see things. I believe more in pursuing your passion, the need to create to feel vital, as if it is water & when you deprive yourself of that outlet, you die a little inside, until one day you wake up & find yourself feeling empty & broken. I am beyond angry with myself for being such a lazy, slacker slob.

Today I woke up & felt as if I had fallen asleep in a bed of wet cement, only to find myself feeling stuck & unable to move. By later in the evening the panic attacks I thought were long gone shook me so deeply that I was afraid I may die. I truly hate that feeling with every ounce of my being. A major problem with having this feeling now is that being new to this city, I have yet to find resources & a support system to turn to for help. I don’t know how to find a doctor or a therapist who will work on a sliding scale, because I have fallen so low that I am honestly destitute. I am days away from losing the apartment I feel blessed to have found 3 months ago. Everyone back in Detroit wants me to just pack up & drive back there, so I am surrounded by my built in support system. Yet there is this screaming voice inside of me that says doing that would be a HUGE mistake. Here I am, crippled by fear, unable to even force myself into the shower or to fold & put away my clean clothes that I finally washed yesterday after a month. If I don’t find some help TOMORROW, I don’t know what will happen.

Let me make this PERFECTLY clear, I am not now, nor have I ever been, suicidal. Too many years of my life sucked for me to just give up on it now. Besides, I couldn’t do that to the people who love me. It’s just a pathetic, cowardly way out of a bad situation & usually, if I stick it out long enough, things will turn around for the better. I just don’t think I can hold on without having a complete breakdown if I don’t find the help I need tomorrow. When I think about that last sentence, my level of panic begins to rise again. Since I don’t have health insurance, like so many people in our country, if I do have a breakdown I’ll end up in some disgusting, scary state mental hospital. That is a fate as bad as death to me.

My brain does not accept any of this. My logical side is bitch slapping my emotionally driven side. There is a huge war going on inside my brain as I type this. The main question being asked is “how could this be happening? I don’t get crippling depression, never have. Why this time? Why now?” I wish I knew the answer to even one of these questions. Damn it! I am wasting away & feel too overwhelmed to stop it on my own. It’s actually pretty amazing I even found the strength to type this out tonight, as I haven’t written in nearly two months, even though I think about doing so daily. That’s something at least, a positive sign. Now, here’s to hoping I can wake up in the real morning hours tomorrow & find some fucking help! I refuse to feel again what I felt tonight.

You know what the worst part is about where I find myself mentally at this moment? The fact that I can’t cry, nothing, not a drop. It is such a healthy release of pain & stress, yet much like sleep, it is starting to elude me again. I haven’t felt this lost since last year when Corey & my Grandfather passed in a 7 day period. At least that was justifiable. This is just unacceptable to me! If anyone is reading this & has some useful suggestions for me, I would greatly appreciate whatever you think may help.

Here’s to hoping that tomorrow is the first day on the road back to my happy & successful life!

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Emotional Rescue

I was having a conversation with one of my closest girlfriends back in Detroit today, about our concerns for a couple of our married guy friends & the way they are, in different ways, ruining the lives they wanted so badly now that they have them. Only this time, as we were talking, it turned towards our own lives, how neither of us could understand how a person can want something so badly, only to be miserable once they have it. It truly makes no sense to either of us. These guys are literally the greatest guys we have ever known, yet they don’t see it. I never did understand the concept of wanting something you can’t have & once you do get it, you don’t want it anymore. Or allowing yourself to be lost in someone else, caving to their needs, their insecurity, their unhappiness, in spite of your own needs, wants & desires. I just think it’s stupid & a waste of time. I mean, why even bother if you’re going to throw it all away once you find something or someone who makes you feel good, makes you smile, makes you look forward to spending time with them, getting to know them, even their weird habits & quirks?

At a certain point in the conversation I finally said out loud for the first time in ages that I don’t like the idea of spending my life alone, that I would prefer to spend it with a good man, someone who gets me, who actually likes me, who thinks I’m pretty as well as funny or sexy. That appears to be a far-fetched expectation. First of all, I don’t attract those types of guys. I attract the broken guys, the closed off guys, the cruel, addicted & lost. So, what exactly does this mean for me?

I’m 40 fucking years old! When did that even happen? Why don’t I feel it? When will I be able to wrap my brain around this fact & accept it already? How did I miss out on EVERY good thing a person is meant to experience in life? I seriously feel like I’ve been in a coma since I was a child & I’m just waking up, feeling really groggy & confused. I have been so filled with fear for as long as I can remember that I have missed out on milestones & important moments that most people experience like high school prom, graduation (which I attended to watch my friends graduate, crying the whole time), a real college experience, marriage, children. I may have a genius level IQ, but I didn’t even complete grade 9! I did, however, receive my GED at 20 years old & considering the wild child I was at the time, it is a fact that I am extremely proud of!

I was speaking with a guy recently & he asked me if I had ever been married, to which I replied honestly “no, I just never got around to it”. He laughed, guess he thought it was a joke, but it was true. It’s just another thing I never allowed myself. Same thing with my not having children. I just couldn’t do it, no matter that I know with complete confidence that I would have been a loving & wonderfully patient mother. Oh well, chalk it up with the rest of the things I’ll never know or feel. When you grow up seeing every possible bad thing that can happen in a marriage or of being a parent, it does tend to scare you away from making these mistakes yourself.

Sure, I’ve lived a life of adventure, so to speak, but if you really look at it, I’ve actually lived the life of a carny, a gypsy, moving from town to town, never putting down roots & always just passing through. It’s a life that suits me for one reason & one reason only. It allows me to keep living in the fear. It allows me to keep from being hurt AGAIN. It allows me to hide my pain, my sadness, my broken heart, my complete loneliness. I realized today, while talking to my friend that I am SO lonely that all I really want is a guy to hold me, brush my hair out of my face & kiss my forehead. Simple, sincere affection. Again, it seems too much for me to ask. I suppose that’s what I get for spitting in the face of opportunity for so many years. I’ve watched my entire life pass me by like a moving train & now I want it back! I want to feel what other people get to feel. I want to feel love, without the fear of being betrayed or being left behind to mourn their death far too young & before we were even given the chance to start the life we planned. I want to feel safe. I want to feel desired. I want to feel……..anything!

The brain has an amazing way of protecting us from going completely insane. It blocks out the most painful of events. Considering the stuff I’m stuck remembering, it frightens me to think that some day the periods of time I don’t remember could come rushing back & cause me to snap. I realize that at the age of 40 I should be over all the bad that has happened in my life. I believe that I have done amazingly well considering. I have a good relationship with both of my parents now & it feels normal for the first time in my life. It took a lot to get here, on all our parts. I had to break the cycle, jump out of the hamster wheel, someone had to!

Not that long ago, I watched a great documentary of Carrie Fisher‘s one woman show “Wishful Drinking“. At some point, early in the show I believe, she said “If my life wasn’t funny, it would just be true”. When she said that, I burst into hysterical tears, because I understood that sentence to its very core. A lot of what I’ve survived is funny to me now, because I lived through it, I survived it, I didn’t allow it to totally break me. Don’t get me wrong, I am slightly broken. I am damaged. I am scarred. But I’m still here, so there’s still time to make the best of every day, right? That’s where my surprising optimism comes in.

Look at it this way. If 75% of your life was difficult, traumatic, painful, sad, frightening…if you were molested at the age of 4 by a group of young boys who you were left in the care of, then taunted & teased for several years after, not even being able to understand what had happened, let alone why you were being teased; if you walked in on a man beating your mother nearly to death & then have the gun he was using to torture her with pointed at your head while you called the cops on him at the age of 14 & you then found yourself living on the streets of Detroit, being raped because you chose the wrong house to pass out drunk &/or stoned in more than once, having to figure out for yourself how to survive on a daily basis, because home wasn’t a pleasant or safe option with either parent; if you were a ward of the state at the age of 15, taken in by your grandmother, for the second time, who didn’t know how to deal with your actions & were then expelled from school & sent to a special ed school because you couldn’t relate to anyone else your own age or even stay in a single class because you were too restless; if you kept running away at every opportunity, never realizing it was you that you were trying to escape; if you OD’d at the age of 17 & had to force yourself to stay alive, because no one around you would help or take you to a hospital….wouldn’t you want to have as many good years as you possibly could have before it was all over? It is truly all I want. Sadly, these are only a few examples of the pain & horror I have experienced the entire time I have been alive. I try to remind myself that there are people who have had it MUCH worse than me, but it really isn’t any consolation. It just makes me sad for those people, because I know what real pain feels like & the fact that I am an extreme empath makes my heart ache for all those who have been damaged in their lives.

My dreams are very simple, yet so difficult to achieve, mostly because I have no idea how to go about attaining this. I am ill-equipped at completely opening up to someone & trusting that they won’t be disgusted or repulsed by me & my experiences. I have mastered, for the most part, my disguises, my masks that I wear to hide the sadness & shame. On the occasions like I wrote about last night, I freeze. I shut down. I considered running out the door of the coffee shop where we were talking at least 3 times, not because of anything he was or wasn’t doing, but because he could see right through my walls, my mask & it scared the hell outta me. So what do I do? I make it a point to freak him out, scare him away….so I don’t have to see him again & risk letting him in. Now I actually regret that. It is beyond rare that someone can see through to the real me. I had the possibility of having a new friend in my life that I wouldn’t have to hide all my deep, dark secrets from. I could tell I would have been able to open up to & be honest with this guy & he wouldn’t judge me at all. Now, there is just a guy walking around Los Angeles freaked out by the thought of running into me. That fucking sucks! It makes me feel like shit! But I won’t do anything at all. I won’t attempt to change his mind or contact him. If I do see him around town, I’ll do my best to make sure that he doesn’t notice me & if he does, I’ll get myself out of whatever place we both happen to be in. I’m too ashamed to handle it any other way. This is one of those cases where I wish I could get a do over, even if I’m not sure I would do better the second time, but something in me feels the need to make it right. I fucking like the guy, damn it. Believe me, I don’t want to, but I do. I like that he could see me. I just wish I could have felt it in that moment.

What I do know for certain is I can’t sit around & throw myself a pity party. I hate that! I write this out so I can not only get these thoughts out of my head, but to attempt to leave them here, so I can keep moving forward in life. This blog is my sanctuary of truth, confession & hope. It provides me a place to let my deepest thoughts & fears out, so that I can let the good in. I know good things are coming my way…I just have to be open to it & not run & hide.

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You Can’t Always Get What You Want

Just another Saturday night here in Los Angeles, the only difference being that I am SO tired of sitting in this apartment by myself ALL the time. Let me make something clear right away. I have no problem being by myself, in fact I rather enjoy it for the most part. As far as going out on the weekend is concerned, I did the hell outta that (most nights, in fact) from the ages of 14-32. I don’t need to go to a club, bar, theater, whatever. There are times though where I feel as if I’m climbing the walls if I spend too much time at home working, lacking any sort of human interaction, unless you count the occasional telephone conversations with family & friends, which I don’t. I truly love these people, but if I talk to them too often, it reminds how much I miss their physical presence in my life & I hate that feeling. So instead, I just don’t use my phone much for talking, unless it’s business. I’d have to say my closest friends in Los Angeles are the homeless people I see most days around my neighborhood…well & the 7-Eleven guy I get my Dr Pepper Big Gulps from every day.

I bet you’re asking yourself as you read this “why hasn’t some guy snagged this gem up by now”. Let me briefly enlighten you on that subject. I had managed to attract every Douchebag in the metro Detroit area, with the exception of one great guy, who I will always love. He’s married now, but we’re good friends. I’m grateful for that! Then one fateful day in 2008, I ran into a guy, or I should say met a guy, who I fell in love with within the first 10 minutes of knowing him. I didn’t even see him coming. I was SO exhausted when he approached me getting out of my town car at the hotel I was staying over the weekend before flying to Detroit to FINALLY meet my brand new niece for the first time. I was working Warped Tour when she was born. Specifically, I was in Milwaukee & I cried the whole day, because I wasn’t there. These are the choices we make when choose a life of traveling. So, back to the guy, that weekend began a tumultuous 2 year off & on relationship that ended when he died last year. I was planning to move to Los Angeles to be with him when that happened. 7 days later my grandfather passed away. I believe because of these two events, as well as far too many losses over the 3 years before that week, I chose to follow through on my promise to move to Los Angeles last October when I was offered what seemed to be a dream job that paid amazing, still allowed me to travel, but on a smaller scale & moved me up in my industry. What has transpired in my life in the 7 months since I moved here can only be describes as complete bullshit! I have repeatedly trusted the wrong people, which is SO unlike me. I lost my job, had to move 3 times due to crazy living situations & even spent a little over a week sleeping in my car, mostly because my pride & shame are so strong that I couldn’t bring myself to tell my loved one’s what was going on, telling them when we would speak that all was well out here in LaLa.

At this point I’m sure you’re wondering what the title of this blog has to do with the personal ramblings I’ve typed up to this point. It was a lead in that I needed to put out there, as it does tie into the person I mention in the title, Marc Maron. Back in January, when my living arrangements were falling apart & the tension in that apartment was so bad I didn’t know if I could control my Machete tongue if I was confronted in any way by my former roommate. A week or so before this, I was visiting with a friend at her apartment & she showed me an episode of Conan in which Maron was on. He was hilarious. His stories were real & dark & felt honest. Cut to a week later, I’m reclining in my little car, in Laurel Canyon, because I really like it there & I stumbled across Maron’s podcast WTF with Marc Maron. If you haven’t listened to it & you are a fan of comedy, you should really give it a listen, good stuff!

Anyway, there were two interviews that were listed that caught my attention right away….Kevin Smith & Henry Rollins. I really enjoyed the Smith Pod, he’s always interesting. But listening to Maron interview Rollins while I lay in my car, feeling beyond alone & too ashamed to call or write a real friend, I made the choice (which I now regret) to write an email to Maron. He really does endear himself to the listener. I don’t in any way believe it to be a put on. I think he is genuine in his caring for his listeners & fans. He is not a guy who is all caught up in his success & he doesn’t seem to be affected by it in any way. To my surprise & delight at the time, he wrote me back immediately. We went back & forth, ending with him yelling at me (because he typed in all caps) to suck it up, go home & sleep in my bed, so I did. I actually listened to this guy & felt bad for upsetting him enough with my self-pity & stupidity that he felt it necessary to yell at me. At the same time, it felt nice to feel understood & cared for. It was also a relief to be talking to someone who is just plain honest & not afraid to be, like I am. (Usually, I’ll explain in a sec)

I didn’t continue writing to Maron right away. For many reasons, why would I keep writing some dude I don’t even know? That’s weird. Mainly though, it was because when the end of January came around I had to move out of my apartment & hadn’t set up a new place to stay. I had spent all my savings & was waiting on my tax money to get into a new apartment or go back home. I spent a total of 9 nights in my car before finally sucking up my pride & calling a friend to ask for help. While I was spending that time in my car, I continued listening to the Pod & it kept me company, made me laugh, cry & forget about the fact that I was sleeping in my car in Venice (so I could be close to public restrooms & because I LOVE the beach). I wasn’t as scared, because I was distracted, by both WTF & Keith Richards Life Autobiography (which was AWESOME, I highly suggest it!)

I think it was when I got slightly settled at the Hollywood Tower, staying with this roided out (juiced), obnoxious gay friend of my friend when I made the choice to write Maron again to give him an update on my situation, in case he was concerned (right). We exchanged several emails & one day, when I know I was being incredibly pushy, he said he was gonna be in my neighborhood & asked if I wanted to come to where he was to say hi. Of course I said yes, I wanted to thank him & I’m always up for making new friends. Thanks to the boy I was staying with, I didn’t get there until he was about to leave, but he was gracious enough to suggest we grab a coffee & talk. Well, I don’t drink coffee, hate it in fact even though I do LOVE the smell….odd, but I said yes anyway. We went to a really cool coffee joint, independent, the best kind. It’s actually become a regular hang of mine since. We sat down & talked for about a half hour & it was a disaster. It wasn’t him at all, he was great. He was friendly, engaging, made eye contact. He was cool & I liked him. It was me. I couldn’t seem to keep up my defensive walls with him & that FREAKED ME OUT. I didn’t want to be honest with him about the boyfriend who died, that I hadn’t hung out with a new guy since that time & also that I was still recovering from nearly two weeks in my car. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t look him in the eyes. I couldn’t be me. When we were walking out, he asked how long we’d been there & when I said about an hour he commented that it had felt like ten hours. That felt like a dagger in my pride. I knew that I couldn’t even argue that fact. I should have paid closer attention to that sentence. If I had, I would have never contacted him again & been able to hold on to a bit of pride.

I should have been smart, like a guy, about the situation. But did I? HELL NO! My dumb ass text him, telling him it was great meeting him. I emailed him, saying nice things to make him smile (well, that was the intention anyway), trying to somehow make up for tanking on our first meeting. All that got me was even more embarrassment & him pulling back & eventually never replying to me again. I thought I had a shot at maybe making a new friend who I could talk to, but that wasn’t to be. A few weeks after the last time he replied to me, I went to see him perform at a small bar in Hollywood. When he walked in, I noticed that he had a girl on him, I mean with him. She was young, I wouldn’t put her any older than 27 & it was obvious she adored him. It was sweet. I always like it when I see people like that, so into each other, gives me hope that I’ll get another shot at it. Either he didn’t remember me when I said hi to him as he was standing next to my table or he was so freaked out by me at this point that it caused him to look at me with a slight contempt in his eyes. Who knows, maybe he thinks I’m a crazy stalker fan girl, which if you know me is laughable. He doesn’t know any better, so I don’t blame him. His set was short, personal, honest & pretty funny. He talked about the girlfriend. He talked about having no interest in “nice, age appropriate women”. Immediately I thought “Damn, does that mean I have to start dating wrinkly 60-something guys now because all the guys in my age group choose to date 20-somethings for their youth & a longer time frame in which to have children if that’s a goal?” Or am I supposed to follow the new “Cougar” trend & find my own 20-something? There is NO way I’m doing that! I felt so awkward about our cold “hey” experience that I was relieved when they left. I never made eye contact with him once after I greeted him, not even when he had to walk past me after finishing on stage. I just stared straight ahead & continued clapping. My friend who had come with me that night said he would look over at our table with this concerned look on his face. What am I gonna do, go over to him & cause a scene? PLEASE! First of all, I don’t do that sort of thing. Second, while I did find myself kinda liking him the day we met, my hands were sweaty, I felt the butterflies, I giggled like an idiot…..whatever. He not only has NO interest in speaking to me, but HE HAS A GIRLFRIEND! You will never meet a woman more respectful of that than me. I don’t mess with attached men, it’s bad karma & is also something I am very familiar with, as the girlfriend being cheated on by uncaring boyfriends & disrespected by other women.

I wrote him one last email, on the 1 year anniversary of Corey’s passing, because I needed for him to know, for whatever reason, why I was so awkward the day we met. I didn’t really address any of the other stuff, because it truly is irrelevant now. I misread him, or more likely, I put too much into the possibility of a connection. I thought maybe he liked me as a person & we might become friends. That was stupid of me. Like I said before, none of the blame lies on his shoulders, it was all me. I was going through a dark period, feeling lonely & reached out to a stranger, because it was safer. I then made the mistake of thinking it was becoming something more than just a guy feeling sorry & concerned for another human being. He was being nice. He was trying to help. He is a good person.
Now, I dread the thought of running into him somewhere. I doubt I would talk to him now, don’t think I would even make eye contact. It’s not worth the awkwardness. I am not the person he thinks of in his mind. The bad thing is, when you make a really bad first impression, it’s basically impossible to recover from that. What can I say, sometimes I don’t like it when people don’t like me.

Back to my original story (wow, that was a LOT of back story, huh? sorry) Tonight I heard he would be doing a set at the Smodcastle, which is owned by Kevin Smith & Scott Mosier. It was cool to go there. I went alone. I sat in the back row. I watched his set. I laughed. I clapped. Then I left, as soon as he finished his short set. I’m glad I went. I’m also glad I didn’t have to interact with him. On the drive home I nearly got into 3 car accidents, because that’s just how horribly the people drive around here. The first incident was caused by a cop car who cut in front of me, slammed on his brakes & turned on his lights. I was SO mad, but am glad I have good driving reflexes. Then there was a box truck & another car, both who cut me off as if I was invisible. I have driven in 46 of the 48 continental states & this city is easily in my top 5 worst places to drive! Especially on a weekend night.

The moral of this story…….I need to get over myself & let this irrelevant bullshit go. Who gives a shit if some guy doesn’t like me or want to be my friend. I have a beautiful array of friends, many of whom I’ve known for over 20 years. Life is too short & precious to worry about shit that doesn’t matter in the long run. At least he got me into checking out live stand up gigs, which I never really bothered to do before meeting him. I mean, I worked at Second City in Detroit for a long time, LOVED that time of my life & my friends there, but it’s a different world from stand up. I’m starting to enjoy the hell out of it. So, thank you Marc Maron….thank you for being a decent, funny, good person. I wish you a good life that makes you smile more than it makes you cry.

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Sing This All Together

As the end of this Lilith Fair journey nears, I have many emotions about the experience. Of course there is the excitement of seeing loved ones that I haven’t seen in months, but there are others as well.
One thing I am feeling is a sense of sadness at leaving the road. I do love it out here so. I may be on a tour that travels at a fairly fast pace, so I don’t see all the cities we visit, but when I do, it’s a wonderful experience. I have a feeling I’ll be out again soon though.

Another thing I have been thinking about is how used to & quite fond I’ve become of my bus family. They are a beautiful group of individuals who I was lucky enough to be paired with on our home for the summer, bus 8, or Tonya, as our driver Chris has named her.
There are other friends that I have made on the tour that I will miss, who I hope to stay in touch with or maybe even work with again. There are also people I will not miss & hope the best for them, but don’t wish to have in my life. I’m not a fan of dishonest or two-faced people, so it will be nice to step away from other peoples drama.
I’m sure I’ll have it in me to write more extensively about the tour one I’m home, but for now I just wanted to share what I’m feeling today, in Hartford, second to last show on Lilith Fair, an experience in which I will never forget.

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As Tears Go By

Ok, so…..I’m not a big watcher of television, it’s pretty empty to me, however there are certain actors & certain content that I do enjoy. There is a new show this season on NBC, I think, called Parenthood. It starts Peter Krause & Lauren Graham. I am a fan of Peter Krause from Six Feet Under, which is one of my favorite all time shows. I like Lauren Graham for many things, but mainly, I really liked Gilmore Girls. I can’t explain it, I just liked it, whatever.

So, I have watched episodes of Parenthood on Hulu & by the end of EVERY SINGLE EPISODE I am crying my little crybaby eyes out. I know why this is, I just don’t talk about it, ever. I am pissed, jealous & upset that I have never been the girl who got married & had kids. I’m not sure this is something I did on purpose, well, a few times it was on purpose. I’ve been afraid of everything all my life & it seems I have scared myself out of true love, marriage & children. I’ll just add it to the list of things I never had the nerve to do. That is SUCH a long list & I hate it! I hope to burn it one day.

I’ve gone through a tough time lately. I know this is obvious to anyone who knows me or reads this blog, all 10 of you. lol There are multiple reasons for this, some that I’ve already written about, some I haven’t & some I never will.

I am mourning the loss of so many people that I have honestly lost count. That’s a sad thought within itself. In the last 6 months alone I’ve known 3 people who have passed away from very similar problems. They all died from bad hearts. 2 were Congestive Heart failure.

1 of them was my grandfather, who I barely knew, but he was a wonderful man. I literally found out that he passed away because my step-mother reads to obituary’s & saw his name, saying something to my dad, who then called me. I just sat in silence while he talked, didn’t cry. I was with my younger brother, who’s only 22 & never knew him, so I didn’t want to get upset in front of him, because he worries about me, in that cute, protective brotherly way. It was March 18th, 3 days shy of his 84th birthday. With his second wife they had 7 children, who all grew up to be happy & successful people, because I  believe, they had a loving & nurturing family. I’ve been alive nearly 40 years, I could have had 39 years with this man, but I didn’t because the cross-family conflict ran too deep for me to EVER understand. All I know is that I was the biggest victim in all this conflict, well me & my dad, but he helped perpetuate it once he was an adult. I never did. I always wanted to know him, as well as my 7 Aunts & Uncles & my 18 cousins. I had a little under 2 years with him from 12-14 & I just LOVED him. I was just instinctively like him & that was so weird to me, because I have a hard time comprehending a close & loving family connection. Yeah, I’m close to my parents NOW, but that’s only been in the last 5 years of my life. I wish I could have known the man his 18 other grandchildren called papa. I wish for my dad that he could have felt loved by his father, maybe then so many things would have been different. Luckily for us, I broke our family cycle, someone had to. I wrote an entire blog about him after his passing if you want to know more about our story.

The second person who passed away from Congestive Heart Failure was my friend Kevin, 6 months ago. He was 42 & had a 12-year-old son who adored him & he adored right back. I knew Kevin for 20 years & he was a really wonderful, funny, sarcastic, talented & beautiful soul. He was like me in some ways, sarcasm being the prevailing similarity. He was always struggling to make ends meet, often found himself out of work, never had money saved. Basically, what I’m trying to say is that Kevin struggled his entire adult life. He was stressed a lot of the time. He didn’t get nearly enough joy in his life before his heart gave out on him. That just doesn’t seem fair to me. I wish he was still walking the earth, spending quality time with his son, playing guitar, cooking delicious food, smiling, laughing, making fun of people, breathing. I wasn’t able to make his memorial, which was a sad affair for a few reasons, the obvious being his age, but also that his family refused to pay for a service & so his friends had to scramble to put something together. Luckily, someone knew a person whose family owned a funeral home & they let them use it for free. That was lovely of them. His body was not in attendance though, because that costs extra. Dying is not cheap! Anyway, I was still in Florida then & was struggling financially myself, so I couldn’t afford the plane ticket up. On the day of the memorial, my friend Amy called me several times to fill me in on the goings on; who spoke, what they said, how everybody was holding up. It was one of those moments that breaks your heart, because you know this event is going on & you so much want to be there, but can’t for reasons beyond your control. You feel so alone, because you are not with your friends, mourning, looking at photographs, telling stories. You are all alone, in a state far from anyone who understands the pain of this loss. There were many tears shed that day & night. I still don’t feel a closure with Kevin, much like my friend Angelo who passed away from an aneurysm in January of 2008, which could have been stopped, had he gone to the hospital, but I’m NOT blaming him, I just selfishly wish he were still here, mostly for his children. I couldn’t make it to his funeral either, being in Florida & not being given enough notice to get back up here. Or Amanda, oh Amanda……my ex-boyfriends niece, who I really did love like a daughter/good friend, who passed away in July of 2008 of a heroin overdose. Her funeral was one I was told I was not welcome to attend by my scumbag ex-boyfriend, who by the way copped the dope that killed her & he’s telling me I can’t go to her funeral? Afterward, I was told & saw photographs of the tailgating party they were holding in the parking lot of the funeral home. No wonder this happened, the adults in her life were/are walking disasters in their own right!  Amanda was 17 years old & less than 8 hours away from leaving for Tennessee to clean up her act. She never made it to morning. I’m not now & doubt I ever will get over her death.

Lastly, on March 1oth, I lost someone who I cared about in a special, sweet & unforgettable way. I don’t & won’t discuss it in full, because it is precious & private  memory that most people wouldn’t be able to understand. He was a special person. He was, as one friend put it so beautifully…..magic. He passed away from Pneumonia & Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy, which in lay terms is basically thickening of the heart muscles causing them to enlarge. He also had Coronary Artery disease, which is the build up of plaque in the coronary arteries. As I look at all these big medical terms, the only thing that comes to mind is that his heart was just too big & it couldn’t go on any longer. It’s like his heart broke & just stopped. I can’t express enough how much I wish this wouldn’t have happened, that he would have gotten treatment for this earlier in life or that the hospital could have kept his pulse, heart rate & blood pressure going once they got it momentarily stabilized, but his body was just done. It was done fighting. He may not have been done, but his heart was. He was only 38 & like myself never married or had children, although we both really did want that in our lives.

It is moments like this that cause me to ask myself why. Why do things like this happen? Why are some people SO blessed with a good & happy life, while others are doomed to suffer? A friend has a theory that I kind of agree with, but that’s between us. All I can say is that I hope my loved ones who left too soon find themselves in a happy & healthy life next time around. For my Grandfather (Papa, I guess) I hope he is enjoying his time with loved ones who passed before him & that he is looking over his wife & letting her know that everything is ok & he’ll meet her when it’s her time to go.

I am sad today.

I hope tomorrow to feel happier.

I have grief counseling in the morning & hope that somehow that helps.

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