So come and take this chance

With me tonight, yeah. Don’t say goodbye with words still left to say. 🎵

Well, apparently, one week really is too much to ask for.

Flashback. I spent a lot of time, and I suppose I still do somewhat, reposting copious quotes to my story on Instagram.  Quotes about knowing your self-worth, having the courage to choose yourself, stuff to pump myself up to have this awful conversation I’m not looking forward to having. Little did I know, my sister’s husband was all up in my shit, got all “inspired,” decided he was unhappy with his relationship, and left my sister.  My sister, whom I love to death, can be unstable, didn’t handle the situation very well, and picked up cutting again. My mom and I both flew out there and stayed with her for a bit, but in the end, there wasn’t much we could do.  She hit the turning point, and everything was good for quite some time.  They still talk and have a weird relationship (none of my business).  She’s still in Colorado, and he’s still here.  In my opinion, I don’t think it’s helping her heal.  Like I said, it’s none of my business; they’re both adults and can do what they want.  I just think it’s too confusing for anyone to maintain a relationship with a person who tells you they love and miss you and wish they were with you, but in the same breath says they can’t be with you. What are you even supposed to do with that?  Whatever.  What do I know anyway? I’m the worst at relationships.

Walking forward. On Valentine’s Day, my sister pulled some crazy shit.  I got a phone call in the middle of the night from the ex that there had been an incident, and my sister was in the hospital.  He said she had been drinking all day and that everything was fine, but that she stopped making sense and then stopped responding.  He called the neighbors and they went over and found her passed out at the bottom of the stairs…not far out of character.  The next day, talking to my mom, who was finally able to get in touch with her (because of the nature they found her in they kept her situation private), I found out what really happened was she got trashed and tried to burn the house down with herself inside it. Ummm, what? When asked why she did it, my sister told my mom, “I don’t know.  I was drunk.”  Ummm, what-tuh?  My mom asked her if she had cut herself, and she responded with, “No. I’m evolving.”  What the fuck does that mean?  She later confessed the cutting was deliberate, for the sole purpose of hurting him.  Is that what this stunt was?  They did a psyche evaluation before discharging her from the hospital.  They suggested she may be bipolar and self-medicating with alcohol.  So now she’s working with her therapist to find a psychiatrist, and they’re going to look at bipolar and possibly borderline personality disorder.  I asked her as soon as she was out if she was up for talking.  She said she needed some time and that her ex would be there in a couple of hours.  She’s like me in that she has one or two people she talks out her problems with until she gets it sorted in her head.  This time I wasn’t one of them, and I was okay with that because honestly, I’m really struggling with this one.  The reasons she gave, the fact doing something like that could even cross her mind, I just don’t know how to process it.  It sounds too much like attention-seeking or, I don’t know, revenge?  I told her to let me know when she was ready.  He ended up spending the week out there. That was also the week we had the winter weather from hell.  Snow and ice. For days.  I was so incredibly blessed to have not lost power.  So many people I knew were without power and/or water and holed up with nearby friends and/or relatives.  That Friday was my trip to Florida.  I was so afraid they would cancel my flight, and I had to get out of this fucking house.  I was trapped inside all week.  We all were.  He just burned through the fire logs and the stash, and by Thursday he was out and had smoked a good deal of mine because he doesn’t know the meaning of the word “rationing.” Whatever. The point is the edges were closing in, and I needed out.

My family life is crazy, work is an absolute shit show, my personal life is a mess.  I needed to get away.  Just for a week.  To just be me and not have to deal with anyone else’s bullshit but my own.  I was anxious all-day Friday until I was finally on the plane and in the air.  The winter weather had caused a lot of cancellations, so the seat next to me was empty.  The whole purpose of the trip was to decompress.  To let shit go, vibe on the level I like to live on, and to talk to my best friend completely uninhibited and sort out the tangles in my messy head.  Because while I know I’m going to have to hurt this man’s feelings and I’ve mostly made peace with it, I still feel incredibly guilty about it, it feels selfish.

The flight was uneventful.  I did, however, learn shortly after getting on the plane that my headphones were dead.  So, it was a long flight with lots of daydreams but no soundtrack.  I got in late Friday night.  We talked and got caught up before her man got home.  Then she made baked ziti and garlic bread and we all watched a movie together.

Saturday, we met up with a friend in Fort Lauderdale for IV therapy.  Basic first world white girl shit.  She wanted to try it.  I’ve never done it.  YOLO or whatever.  I’m sure it has a lot of benefits if you were to do it regularly, but considering the cost and the result (otherwise entitled a cost analysis), it’s not a habit I would invest in.  Especially considering your body can only absorb so many vitamins in a day before you piss them out.  I’ll just stick with my One a Day vitamin. Thank you.  It was a cool experience, though.  For the most part.  The guy wasn’t great.  He had to poke me twice.  The first attempt, my vein rolled, and he ended up digging around to no avail.  Second poke was better but hurt like a bitch.  We grabbed lunch at a cute little Greek place.  Then we parted ways with our friend and went to the grocery store to get food for the week.

Sunday, her man was off, so we went out to Hollywood, checked out some shops, ended up at a bar and after a couple of drinks, we went to a Mediterranean restaurant.  The pita and hummus and the spinach and feta baklava were amazing, and the Moroccan Lamb Tajine was so comforting. We had more drinks and then called it a night.

Monday, we took the pup to a park and walked three miles around a “lake.”  In that amount of time, I gained a hellacious sun burn because I’m super white like that.  We went to Target and Hobby Lobby.  I think it was the first time I’ve been in a craft store and didn’t spend any money.  Shocking, I know.

Tuesday, we went out to 15th Street Fisheries.  We sat at the bar and had several drinks, talked about the fuckery that is my life at the moment, checked out the multi-million-dollar boats docked, and multi-million-dollar homes across the way. We followed that up by having dinner, and then we went out on the pier and fed frozen shrimp to the tarpon, but it really ended up being eaten by the crevalle jack.  It was all around a great day and probably my favorite.  Until…I received a text message from my sister’s ex.  He essentially reached out to bully me about my sister and how I’m not doing enough and prioritizing my own problems over hers.  She’s an adult.  There are so many times you can reach out and say, “I love you.  I’m here for you.  Whatever you need, just tell me,” before you start becoming annoying, and she shuts down.  But apparently, I’m supposed to blow her phone up or better yet fly over there and police her every move.

I called my sister that night and told her what was happening.  She was like, “You know I don’t think that, right?” which was nice to hear.  I ended up bawling and telling her that she really scared me, and I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t know how to help her.  She assured me there was nothing I could do to help, that it was something she needed to work through on her own, and she was taking the steps to do so.  I asked her to cool it on the drinking until she and her doctors figure out what’s going on and how to remedy it.  She said she has been, and that was her plan.  I told her I blocked her ex.  I had blocked him on social media when she told me he asked for a divorce, which pissed him off for some reason.  I didn’t block his number because I figured she wouldn’t handle the divorce well.  It’s blocked now.  I told her he thinks I hate him, that I don’t, but I’m not in the head space to deal with his hyper-ass bull shit either.  Naturally, Leah and I spent the night sporadically talking about it.

I spent the rest of Tuesday night, or I guess I should say early Wednesday morning, sobbing until I fell asleep.  Wednesday I stayed in bed later than I should have and cried in the shower until I had nothing left.  I’d swear I was done thinking about it, and then something else would pop up, and I would start bawling all over again.  I was still a teenager when my dad left, I helped my mom through a divorce, helped finish raising my sister, had my own kid, raised a child and a man-child and have neglected myself for the better part of seventeen years.  Please, tell me again what a selfish bitch I am.  After the crying, we went to get our nails done.  I had split my real nails down below the quick into the meat.  I had to get them dipped to hopefully keep them from splitting anymore.  I used to get pedicures once a month.  It’s a habit I’ve given up over the years.  It’s just not an expense I can justify.  Her neighbor Tony was outside when we got home, and he chastised her for keeping me to herself.  He asked what I like to drink, I said whiskey or rum mostly. He asked how long I was staying, I told him I was leaving Friday.  He came over to the house not ten minutes later with a whiskey gift set as a present for me.  He’s gifted them all the time, he says, but he doesn’t drink.  I thanked him profusely because really who does that?  So sweet. He then offered me his spare bedroom to stay in when they kicked me out Friday.  Okay then.  Aaaaand that was our evening.  We killed the bottle of whiskey and a shot or two of vodka.  Keeping it light, you know.

Thursday, I woke up to an hour-old text message from my boss’s boss’s boss, the VP of our department, about an emergency and wanting me to call him. Luckily, they figured it out.  Bro, why aren’t you texting my boss?  We decided to stay close to the house.  So, we went to Home Depot, grabbed pots, fell in love with some house plants and grabbed those too.  We had spiked coffee, got high, and painted pots for our new plants.  It was so relaxing, and we had a blast doing it.  It was also a sad day.  It was our last full day together.  This trip was longer, but it flew by just as fast and still wasn’t enough time.  I miss having my best friend close, doing mundane every-day shit together.  We just kept hugging and swapping pouty lips and eyes at each other that night.

Friday morning, we got up butt-fucking early, as I had an early flight.  I got home, had lunch and passed out for a few hours.  We had dinner and I slept again.  Today, I find out the ONE thing I asked him to do while I was gone, since he was taking off the whole week too, didn’t get done.  All I asked him to do was take Squish’s car in to get the state inspection done so we could get her registration that expires in a few days.  Nope, but he sat around and smoked pot all day.  Cool. Perfect example of what I mean when I say I can’t rely on him.

Today just might be the day I tell him I don’t want to be with him anymore.

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