The thing about living by the ocean is the ability to change your plans at any time to go there. We all find our peace in different ways. This is one of mine. I was planning on leaving work and going back to Ken’s house to continue working on preparations for the wedding. Plans change though, not like that’s any new news to anyone.
A headache started chewing it’s way back in today so on my lunch I called the doctor and they arranged an appointment for right after work. The fellow gave me a shot. Still waiting for it to kick in and after an hour I’m losing hope here.
Colleen’s comparing me to her father this morning won’t get out of my head. What if I am like him? I can get mean. I do often set rules for those around me. Do I set them because otherwise everything would go unchecked like the fridge never cleaned if I didn’t always say it must get done on garbage day? Am I too controlling for borrowing my sisters my car and then demanding to know where it is at all times? I don’t feel like Joe. I don’t put them down all the time, I don’t think I’m better than everyone, and I definitely have never laid a hand on anyone. Anyone. Yeah I slam doors. My doors. I wouldn’t even slam Ken’s doors.
I know I’m not perfect but the more this accusation rolls around in my head, the more unsettling it is. Fortunately also the more untrue I know it to be.
Joe is the only person I’ve never been able to love or forgive. I saw how he didn’t care about my mom, I saw how he tried to cheat, I was there when he was the pyro to Jordan’s carefully constructed armor.
Jordan’s my big sister. My full sister. I love her as another me. It hurts me so bad every day to know how she’s hurting. She got the worst from both my mom and our dad. She uses heavy drugs. Where I’ve smoked cigarettes and drank, and definitely and definitely have had my share of bong hits …that’s not the types of addictions she rolls with. And where I struggled but stopped smoking cigarettes, quit smoking pot when the doctor told me that it wouldn’t work with the mood stabilizer no problem, and have always only occasionally drank…she can’t quit. Rehab repeatedly. Jail repeatedly. Self injuries. Suicide attempts. I don’t know how to help her, but I do know I do my best with what I do know.
Joe though..he knew how fragile Jordan’s mental state was. It didn’t make him hesitate to call her fat and declare her to be a nothing, we weren’t his daughters, so we could never have hoped to compare.
Thinking through this, sitting in a pavilion on the coast, brings peace.
Of freakin course I’m mad. I can stop and consider my options without doing anything rash though. Time to brainstorm.
Sat and thought. The main problem has been Colleen’s blatant disregard for my wishes. Then there is the problem of the 3 other people who I held in high regard as folks who would keep their word- left me to my own defenses here and just looked to me for getting the problem solved. Ken took the saying too little too late and applied that this morning in a text to Colleen. He tried to explain things the way he sees them to her and suggested that she try to be more respectful. The problem with that message was that he put himself in the story as the great hero who is letting me use his car and is paying more than twice what he should be in gas because of it. I’m actually pretty infuriated about that part of the message because him and I have been through this scenario before with the cars. We had talked when we went from five to three cars and decided it to be unnecessary for me to get another one since he keeps repeatedly telling me that our stuff is each other’s. So the third problem here is that Ken and I fucking blow at communication. And just about every other important relationship obstacle.
I don’t know what to do exactly but I can pray. I can keep my mouth shut and not cause further hurt or damage. In all reality I don’t even want to deal with any of it. I just want to go to bed.
Too bad the blankets can’t really hide you from the boogeyman.