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The Problem With Me

Posted on March 4, 2008
Filed Under confessions of a confessaholic, why did i do that? |

Is that I feel bad, guilty, at fault for everything I have any hand in, ultimately. And the only time I don’t is when I have rage and indignation on my side. Example? JDawg being allowed to see Isobel again. Nothing changed. He’s still half cocked at most off hour times as far as I know, but it was two weeks and he raged and then pleaded and then pleaded some more and then I got into a fight with his mother during which she said she was having a tough time dealing with her son not being able to see his daughter.

So I felt bad and I called off my principals. And I felt so bad about how this had affected him that I bawled and basically asked him if he was ever going to forgive me. If we could go back to when things were being swept under the rug again. If he could prove it to me, that we would be cool.

Hello, blogosphere, my name is Ms. Flagellation.

So let me tell you a little story, and I’ll try to leave out most of the details so as to cut this a tad bit shorter than the full length version:

I blogged for a few years under the name rilah. Initially on myspace, then blogger, then wordpress. I had this friend who I met through work. I was her boss. We’d had issues but upon leaving the job, for the most part for the next couple years, issues stayed out of our relations because they were less interesting than smoking pot, walking the west end and discussing blog culture.

Then I had a baby and shit changed. She went through one of her yearly cycles and I went through PPD with a colicky baby and an alcoholic pothead boyfriend and us getting together and being friends was harder on us for separate reasons. She pulled away, when she wasn’t walking around with us and pretending that everything was fine and getting better. I pulled away a bit because I saw her diving for some new friends. Important blogging friends. People better than me, ultimately, in her eyes.

So, last spring, I began a then totally harmless flirtation with someone who was not my alcoholic pot head boyfriend. Then that got shelved because, well, it was dangerous bidness, playing with fire, you get my drift? Then the summer approached and my friend became closer with someone who was affiliated with my harmless flirtee. Not my issue, not my concern past the gossiped about lack of two-way street in that affiliation.

This flirtee, he’s got a rep. And the gossip fit in with it.

But still, assholes are what draw me and after JDawg and I split and I was looking to do anything to emotionally wound him (without him knowing) and also vindicate my self esteem’s massive drop from the knowledge that I just wasn’t good enough for him to stop being himself, I resumed the flirtation with a bang. Literally. I won’t quote myself directly but I did put it out there that I was looking to be screwed and abused.

*shrugs* I’m always too honest, I know.

This conversation lasted nearly two hours and then phone numbers were exchanged. And when my friend came online, I gave her the gist of it - thinking she’d be semi-excited, I suppose, that I was potentially going to play the role of groupie? She wasn’t. She was disgusted with what I reported that the flirtee had said about her friend. Her affiliated with him friend. She called me a liar and a bad person for even saying the stuff that he’s said - as if I’d been making fun of her friend. I unpolitely told her to fuck off. I even posted on my old blog a gigantic flippin the bird jpg after she blocked me on Facebook.

I didn’t realize until this morning that she actually thought I’d made it all up, the stuff he said about her friend.

Then a bit o time passed and the next thing you know, I’m getting a phone call in the middle of the night from her and because of something one of my mommy ‘friends’ posted online and she is threatening to call child services - because I apparently threaten Isobel’s life on my blog. Then she did call them and they showed up and it not only scared the effing poop out of me, but it caused something in me I’ve only felt when my father fractured my cheekbone with a steel toed kick to the head. Pure hatred.

It also really made me doubt myself. Because, if this person who barely spent any time with me and Isobel could judge what kind of a parent I was, and because of what I wrote on my blogs - sex, drugs, PPD, angst, blah - they were even more concerned, well then obviously something was really fucking wrong with me that I wasn’t concerned about it. Obviously, my eyes were not seeing reality.

Feeling this way about myself as a parent and having JDawg - someone with whom I was only fighting with and who was consistently looking for ways to hurt me and have a reason to take Isobel - tell me it was bullshit, not to mention 20 or so other people…that increased the hatred to a level of seething violence that was only contained by concern that I would lose custody of Isobel if I went there.

Child services laughed it off after two visits - the initial one and a scheduled one wherein I was to provide a few references that could attest to my parenting ability and the numbers of all of my doctors over the years - and the rights to look into my files for anything they would deem as a warning flag. They closed the file within about a week, which is pretty fast for the BC Government. They complimented me and applauded that I speak to Isobel in French and say please and thank you and that my house was clean and I wasn’t drunk.

But life didn’t just continue because I was immature and immaturity wasn’t unreturned on her part. Emails were forwarded from many sources, and sent to many. And it just kept continuing so that she was defending her actions, those of her family’s, because they thought it was the right thing to do and I was repeatedly asking, “if it was the right thing to do, why did it only get done at 1am on a night when you felt threatened, while my child was sleeping and I was writing an article about eating disorders?” without answer.

I decided one day that I would just stop. I wrote an long winded very public apology on my old blog, offering a type of peace. I put all balls in their court, recommending a full description of what merited their actions and/or inactions and received nothing. No vindication and no explanation. But, it was expected.

Throughout all of this, I’d gotten to hear about how I was being portrayed to other people, some of whom I didn’t even know but that were being given my name and history and the sordid tale. From the side not belonging to me. And finally in January, after a friend’s ex boyfriend felt accosted, I decided to move my blog, privatize my Facebook profiles, and Flickr photos etc. So she couldn’t find me and potentially make more people involved.

I guess I totally slipped up along the way because she found the Bad Mommy Blog and after my post this morning (this is still Monday cuz I haven’t slept yet), she wrote a post on her blog. Seems that way back when, at the beginning of our friendship break up I wasn’t a liar like she’d called me. Like she’d told so many people I was.

I knew that.

Anyways. She’s seen the light about some of these more important friends and honestly, I was starting to wonder. The irony is that we spoke about these people before she even became close with them and her recent realization seems to be exactly what we said a year ago. So today, she took what some could see as a giant step and she emailed me to apologize for calling me a liar.

Not for any of the other bullshit that’s pretty much fucked up the majority of the last eight months of mine and Isobel’s lives, but at least she’s come to terms with me not being a liar.

I didn’t know what to do with that. I mean. Do I respond? I’m certainly not going to say I Forgive You. Do I think she’s praying on my weakness of wanting to help people who have been fucked up the ass (figuratively)? Very possibly. Was she writing to say she was sorry because it was purely the right thing to do? I don’t believe that for a fucking moment.

So I did nothing but ask some relevant people their opinions and most said to ignore it. Leave it alone. Don’t reopen communication because we all know what happens when I do that - things like Isobel (that was meant to be cheeky).

So, I did nothing. Pondered going to her place and asking her for coffee and having a tense but restrained conversation that left out the specific words, “I told you so,” and “I hate you and can’t even look at you without wanting to throw up.” Yeah, I’d be bigger than that and just simply state that I didn’t want to have a friendship with her, but appreciated that she was having a tough time with her recent revelation.

Simple, effective, non-emotional. Doable.

Then I read a blog post written by her husband about an hour ago.

im back from the hospital and still numb….

i dont think *** wants to die, and for now, she wont.

nobody swallows pills and wine to hurt anyone but themselves. it is not an aggressive action, it is not aimed at any target, it is a frustrated action, it comes from anguish. prolonged pain makes us feel like we deserve it, that it defines our lives.

I couldn’t even contain my concern. I almost started mourning her, just reading his post. I called him, to ask, to search his voice. I don’t understand his calmness and candor.

I cannot even describe how horrible it feels to me to want her to be okay. It feels like I’m betraying myself.

So imagine what kind of a person I feel like now.

Probably just as moody:

1. Definition: Sexual hunger When I signed on (mentally) for Lunanik’s Terrible Tuesday carnival, I figured I’d be glib cuz so much of MiM...

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