So…that was a tough thing I wrote the other day. I mentioned I might take it down, which I did, because, well, WTF. It’okay–that was a hard day and Don and I have been talking about our support, or lackthereof. At the end of the day the handfuls of people who I do communicate with–B and E and A and B in Denver and the people in NYC–I mean, I know they care. It’s hard to feel cared about being so isolated–I think that a lot of people starting to contend with heart issues and the dissections and all that stuff probably have bigger webs of support–it IS what you need when you go through this stuff because it is an isolating thing being struck down because your body failed you. I have gone in and out of that idea for years–what do you do when it’s not you, but your body failing you?

Whatever–one thing you know being a human being is every has their own trials and tribulations. Everyone has their own failures and successes, and at work yesterday I realized–I am actually really good at my job. I am REALLY good at it, because despite my waxings of misery here–NOBODY knows the shit I am going through because I feel that honestly—being a shitty person or taking your life’s bullshit out on strangers by NOT being nice–it takes SO MUCH MORE EFFORT than just being kind. So I am the nicest, most accommodating, sweetest thing. I have had people emailing me to book tours over the past few months I haven’t talked to in YEARS. I have no ambitions to go any higher in my company because it’s not a rewarding thing to take on all that extra responsibility for a few extra hundred dollars at the end of the month in the paycheck. Plus, yes, the vacation. Plus, yes, the pension. Granted me living that long would be a surprise I don’t really think I want because my swiss cheese memory is already pretty pathetic. And if Don is not there for some reason, there would be little to keep me around, because you see this–I am a pretty unique person in terms of my viewpoints. I do loveeee helping people. It was my demand to help that likely ruined our year start anyways with the whole birth family bullshit. Good thing I did, too, considering they get no rent from our empty unit. And they charged my friends a security deposit on an unfinished apartment they have been living in since July. A told me she knew her rent money wasn’t going to go to her place, but getting mine rented. It IS what a slumlord would do, more concerned about their own bottom line than doing the right thing. This is of course, fine–because honestly–as Don said, the whole thing was done with such animosity–the only conclusion a normal person would make is she never wanted to talk to me again. And honestly–too bad if any of them have the ACTA2 defect because they can just go to fucking hell–deal with it, suckers, is basically my thought here. And as I review the timeline of events–she wants to cut the disease out of her life, which is quite ironically the daughter she passed the disease along to–and if you cut me out of your daily reality–well, you can just pretend it was all good and go back to where you were 18 years ago before you met me.

I know, it’s not reasonable. And yeah…there were some other factors likely at play. My aunt–who I reached out to tell her my birth mother needed help with her unit and just help period–I think SHE decided Don and I were ungrateful and had to go. So she probably talked to Barb and told her to get our ungrateful asses out of there. Man…every time someone at work mentions how insane the whole story is–I think they are trying to pick other factors that might have come into play. Yeah, there were times we didn’t pay full rent because–shit, Don wasn’t working or some other agency got me and yeah, shit happens, I admit it–but we were in good standing for a while and had been paying and had agreed to more this January. Who would you expect to me understanding of that? Your mother, I guess. I am sure the fact that my mother pays for my sister’s mortgage and cell phone bill and all that MIGHT hurt someone’s feelings, but I would assume that would have to be my brother–since expecting the same considerations as an illegitimate child–not something I would do. Was I jealous? I guess, kind of–I mean she does have a house. But I am not her kid, and as Don has pointed out repeatedly–you are a reminder someone else’s dick was in Joe’s wife before you.

I think this is my last therapeutic bitchout session on that. I have written about it more times than I want to because dwelling on your family throwing you away twice in a lifetime serves no purpose but to wallow. And ugh, that is BORING. So–goodbye birth family. I won’t talk about you informally anymore since you are not a part of my life. You might have some excerpts in stories, or maybe my book, but all this rental space you have taken up in my head?/ Not good–and I think it was easier to smash that glass knowing I was so fucking hated–and that served no purpose but to scare the shit out of Don (he said he saw my skull)–and make me feel terrible, so no more self-deprecating physical assaults on my own self.

I gotta build. I gotta build me, and him and us and focus on what matters–the people who I care about and support me and those I want to help that actually UNDERSTAND I want to help. One thing you might not recognize about me–I fucking help EVERYONE I run into who seems like they might be able to use it. That is everything from networking people who need to know each other, offering assistance or knowledge I have–offering a shoulder to cry on…man–I am really NOT an asshole though I have bitched a lot sometimes.

At this point I am literally recovering from the 3rd, yes you read that right–THIRD bout of flu this season. I have NO idea how I am still alive given the whole this is killing people better and healthier than me–but I just assume…the pneumonia vaccine. yup, that’s it.

STAY away from the sick, people. It is INCREDIBLY dangerous and for some reason god wants to torture me and keep me here to feel some more pain for a lot longer so I am still here.

BTW–if you read this can you just like, say HELLO. I don’t have to know who you are but to see the traffic here and no commentary? It hurts my feelings.