Suburban Goddess

“So, your stalker is back?”

“I guess.”

“What’s the deal?”

“I don’t know. It’s like some form of emotional cutting, I think.”

“I need a cookie.”

“Have you seen this account?”

“I need a cookie.”

“Seriously, I need this paperwork.”

“And I seriously need a cookie.”

“And I will seriously buy you a bag of whatever kind of cookies you want if you find this account for me.”

(I pull it from the stack on my desk and hand it over.)

“Where’s my damn cookie?”

“How long are you planning on being on this diet?”

I hate that damn word.

I bleed “understanding.” I am perhaps the most empathetic creature on the freaking planet. A perpetual fence-sitter, I can be swayed to understand almost any position if you put a human spin on it. I’d be a terrible juror.

I hate to be told I am “not being understanding.”

Really? Because I thought I was. There’s just a point where the hypocrisy of some statements irritate me to the point that I jump down off my fence and say, “um, NO.”

I’ve said it a million times; perception *is* reality. It doesn’t matter what reality is… people will spin in, twist it, manipulate it, warp it and stretch it into whatever they need reality to be just to cope with their lives and the decisions they have made. I’m not saying I’m not guilty of it… hell, I have an entire blog on my warped little version of reality. And most of it I will stand behind with sword in hand: THIS is MY REALITY.

(Occasionally I read something I wrote and laugh, though. Occasionally, I’m a little delusional.)

But understanding? I think there’s a fine line. There’s a point where “understanding” is taken advantage of. There’s a point where “understanding” is a cheap cop out for bad behavior, or a lame excuse for a poor decision. Sure, I’ll be “understanding…”

But I won’t be a doormat. I “understand” why you made that decision… but I’m not going to stand around and watch you make it again without throwing something at you and calling you an idiot.

It’s called TOUGHLOVE. Sometimes, you just have to hold up the mirror.

“So I’m thinking it’s time for a new profile picture.”

“What now?”

“I want to recreate the still with Scarlett Johansson in Ironman 2. You know, where she’s the Black Widow crouched down in the hallway?”

“Can you get down that far?”

“I have a love/hate relationship with my life.”

“Oh, is that what they’re calling masochism these days? I can’t keep up.”

Me: Hennessey just asked me to create the new logo for his new Venom GT Viper… which will only be photographed by EVERY CAR MAGAZINE IN EXISTANCE. Damn, we’ve come a long way from the bathroom stalls of seedy New Orleans bars.

D: ?
Hennessey?

Me: John Hennessey

D: Why is that familiar?

Me: You’re hopeless when it comes to cars

D: I live in Manhattan. You either see cabs or limos

[begin rant]
I often wonder what would happen if the X took up blogging. There are so many people who wanted to know “his side” of the story. At one point, he did have a blog, and he was quite eloquent, too. I was surprised by that… not that he wasn’t intelligent (he is), but it was a glimpse into a personal side that I was rarely given access to.

Would I read it? I’m not sure. I mean, we’re one degree of separation on Facebook as it is; we often post comments on the same status updates. Even more bizarre, seeing TOW on Facebook, posting on the same comments as well. Is the urge there to click through and look at their photographs? Sometimes… but, like the sick urge to go through my BF’s phone, I fight it. Some things, you just don’t need to know, and pulling back the scabs to bleed out never allow the old wounds to heal.

It’s a conscious decision on my part. That life is over. You have to let it go. To look backwards just prolongs the hate, the anger, the pain… and how does that help anybody? He certainly is not affected by it; he trips along in his new life completely oblivious to me and my business.

And that’s the way it should be. Honestly. He got a life; for a while, I was insanely jealous of that. But it’s funny how God keeps dropping me down on the other side, forcing me to see things from the other perspective. The best revenge is living well… and he had that all figured out. I, not to be outdone in a challenge, had to go find my own life… so I jumped in, after fighting a great deal of fear and self-doubt, to discover that following my dreams was not as terrifying as I first imagined.

Time has been the great equalizer, the ultimate stabilizer. Under a few circumstances, we’ve both let shades of our past selves surface, but we both come to a personal decision that those reactions were not beneficial. I’ll admit, since the divorce, he’s changed… a LOT. And in a good way. He’s a better father. He seems to be a much better husband to her than he was to me. I don’t blame him for that so much anymore; I think I’ll be a better wife to the next person as well. We learned lessons. It’s a horrible shame that we have to sometimes destroy something before we realize that we could have changed things then, had we just been a little stronger, a little braver.

The filters are starting to drop off in my life. I don’t censor quite like I used to. But I’ve also learned a great deal about the value of restraint. There is a time to speak the truth, and a time to just keep your mouth shut. But never, never, will I lie to myself again… I’ve embarked on this quest for pure truth. I need it. I crave it. In all it’s brutality, I would rather hear truth than someone spare my feelings.

But let me tell you, I’m no longer afraid to dish it right back, either. Hypocritical truth seakers who are cruel in their quest better be able to take what they give.

That’s why I don’t censor my Chronicle column. Sure, some people say truly hateful things… but some of those hateful things are simply cruel truths (and some are just biased, mindless hatemongers who entertain me). People love to knock me down, but honestly, no one is a tougher critic on me that ME, so they can be at hateful as they want. I know my faults. Some of them I actively work on, some of them I am content to say “That’s just me, not gonna change.”

But what I don’t understand is why some return, over and over again, in an attempt to knock me down with their hatefulness. And they only comment on MY blog (I checked!), like it’s something personal… I guess I should be flattered that out of all the crap on the Chronicle, mine is the only commentary that moves these people to actually post a response. I mean, really?? Do you not see all the relevent things in the world you should be upset about? You just want to bitch at a mommyblogger?

What in your life is so miserable that you feel the need to go stab a stranger? What kind of hatefulness resides in your heart that you must deliver your message with such malice and venom? What wrong have I done to you, that you hide behind a keyboard and spew bile at me, but refuse to acknowledge my attempts at a conversation to understand your side? I truly wonder if I know some of these people, and they are wanting a confrontation so badly, but are not brave enough to do it in person.

Cowards. Low and weak. My name is out there. Call me what you like. Selfish. Controlling. Bitter. Yes, yes, yes.

But I am also Honest. Courageous. Real. I do not hide behind a pen name. I say what I feel with my face attached to it. I speak the truths of my heart, expose myself in all my strengths and faults. You want to lurk among the Internet, hide behind your keyboard, throw your pain out like arrows behind a castle wall… go ahead. I used to be terrified of confrontation; now, I welcome it. Confrontation brings change, and I’ve yet to walk away from one the same person. Learning. Growing. Better.

At some point, you’ll have to face your own demons and deal with the stupid decisions you made. Or you can just rot in a pit of your own pathetic despair.

Either way, I’m moving on and living well. That just pisses you off, doesn’t it?

I hope it burns you enough to drive you to change. If it doesn’t, I pray that you don’t have children of your own. At least I try to be a better person. I may fail occasionally, but I’ll never give up… and your poison just drives me harder, so thank you, dear fans.

[end rant]

“What does ‘NSFW’ mean? My buddy sent me a link and OH MY GOD!!!!”

“Um, yeah.”

“I’m the luckiest mom on the planet.”

“Why?”

“Because I have a little girl like you.”

“Well, I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I have a lot of money!”

“Dear God, this is never going to be a normal relationship.”

“Well, YEAH. He scrapes up DEAD PEOPLE for a living, genius.”