Rant Haven

The Reasons Why

Not So Perfect — Fri, 22 Aug 2008 01:06:50 +0000

Dear Stepmonster,

I need to say it. I need to get it out. I need to write this in a safe place where I don’t have to look people in the eye and have them tell me “I’m horrible” and “I’m going to hell” and “Be careful what you wish for”. It’s coming out.

I don’t give a shit that you’re dead.

You had spent the last 30 years destroying this family piece by piece. You manipulated my father into leaving us. You made him leave his wife and newborn by playing into his weaknesses. You tortured my mother and took advantage of my grandparents. Your trashy ways and your trashy family made him miserable and contributed to his already problematic drinking. Drinking because he knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew fooling around with you wasn’t where he belonged. I don’t think he’s ever truly forgiven himself for it.

You would lie to gain his attention. You would tell me every time I got mad at him that he “more than made up for leaving me as a baby and that I needed to just get over it”. You hated that he doted on me. You were jealous. It was transparent. And disgusting.

You manipulated him into having a baby with you probably because you needed someone that would unconditionally love you. And then you complained TO ME, who was 13 at the time, about how shitty a father he was. You destroyed the relationship he could’ve had with his son at a young age. You tried to keep me away from my brother too. You lied and told my father that my brother, at age 2, told you that I spanked him. A complete and total fabrication. But between me and the baby, you were in third place in my father’s eyes. And that wasn’t good enough. You had to figure out a way to push me down.

You made me think that I couldn’t have a relationship with my father without you. You would tell me that I should’ve called you first whenever I needed to speak to him because you’d tell me what kind of mood he was in. He was only in a bad mood because he was married to you. And all you did was make him miserable.

You could never hold a job. You got fired from everything you tried to do either due to stealing money from the register or mouthing off to your supervisor. You didn’t feel you should have to work. You thought you were entitled to staying home. Like you deserved to be waited on. You deserved nothing. My father worked construction and plowed roads in the winter just to put food on the table. And a lot of times, he was really close to not even making that happen. And you never bothered to get off your ass. You just expected him to continue to make things work.

I tolerated your bullshit because I felt like I had to. In order to keep my father and my brother in my life, I had to deal with you. You made me feel that way. I paid for your cell phone for years because you guilted me into thinking you needed to have one. You never made one attempt to give me any money for it.

Over the last two years your behavior was despicable. You continued to disrespect my father and my grandparents by not acknowledging any family function. Not that anyone missed you. However, we did miss your son. My half-brother. Who you were slowly teaching to have that same sense of entitlement. Who you taught to hate the family members that you didn’t get along with. Who you taught that it was okay to miss his Grandparents 60th Wedding Anniversary party because you didn’t feel like going. That devastated my father because he was embarrassed. Embarrassed that you weren’t there and even more embarrassed of the disgusting behavior you were then teaching his then 16 year-old son. And my Grandparents? They were just hurt.

I wrote you off the month before my wedding two years ago. The last straw for me was when you called me at work from the dress shop. You called my cell phone three times before I picked up because I was in a meeting with clients. You were hysterical telling me that the dress shop wouldn’t let you take the dress home because you didn’t have any cash to pay for it. You actually thought you were going to leave with a dress you hadn’t paid for? NO. You actually had a brain. You knew it would put me in a position to have to pay for the dress or you’d wind up at the wedding in sweatpants. I gave my credit card to the woman at the store. And you made me promise not to tell Dad. Come to find out a year later that the reason I couldn’t tell Dad was because he had called ahead to the store and given you the exact amount of money you needed to pick up the dress, the shoes and the matching purse. You pocketed that cash and forced me into paying for the dress. That was it for me. I never cared about you since. And I became closer to Dad than ever. I never needed you to have a relationship with my father. I think you hated that I finally figured that out.

We also found out you were purposely defaulting on a loan co-signed for you eleven years ago by my Aunt. Dad assumed you were paying the bill because you figured out a way to debit the exact amount of the monthly loan payment from his account. No one knows where that money went, but it certainly wasn’t paying the loan as my Aunt was forced to pay $12,000 to save her credit the week before Christmas. The same year her first grandchild was born. The same year she had finally retired.

We found out that you stole all the cash your son had made that summer cutting lawns. We don’t know what you did with it. You didn’t have a bank account. Perhaps you had a drug problem. A gambling addiction. Regardless, your behavior was disgusting and unforgivable.

For the last year you had been locking yourself in a bedroom and not coming out for any reason except for food. You made your son feel isolated, but the best part of this was that he was able to finally bond with his father. They formed the relationship that they had deserved for the last 17 years. One you never allowed to happen. You stopped bothering to grocery shop, to clean, to speak to anyone. It made Dad drink more. It fueled his anger. It put more strain on this family.

You didn’t bother to show up for Christmas dinner so you missed the announcement that we were expecting. You died in my 7th month of pregnancy and it only took a few hours after hearing the news for me to silently thank God that you wouldn’t be around to fuck up my kid.

Your son is suffering. Only because he’s chosen not to remember what you put him through the last couple of years. He’s choosing to remember when you were kind to him. When he was the most important thing in your life instead of YOU. He needs professional help. Grief counseling. The entire family is supporting him through this. Supporting him because we love him. I hope he never knows what an awful human being you were. But God knows. And so does everyone else in this family.

Dad? He’s fine. In fact, I’ve never seen him happier! He smiles. He laughs! Sure there are times where he gets lonely, but he’s surrounding himself with people that love him. He’s back at the firehouse for drill nights. He’s volunteering with the PBA. There’s food in the fridge. The house is immaculate. He cooks every night for your son. The two of them commuted to work together all summer. They’re rebuilding a car together. They’re friends. And I bet that would kill you if you were here to see it. The social, people loving, happy man that my mother married thirty-seven years ago is back. The best part? He doesn’t drink nearly as much as he did when you were alive and were slowly working to tear him apart piece by piece. If he has one or two drinks a day, it’s a lot. He doesn’t drink to pass out each night. Drink to avoid having to look at you.

When my baby arrives any day now, she’ll be the light of her Papa’s eye. And I can’t wait to see her in his arms. You would’ve tried to prevent this. You would’ve made him feel guilty for stopping to see her on his way home from work. Or wanting to spend a Saturday afternoon with her. Nothing makes me happier than knowing you can’t.

I feel sorry for my brother. He lost his mother and that’s probably the worst thing a 17 year-old kid could ever experience. The fact that he watched Dad give you CPR and try to revive you while on the phone with 911 is a hideous image I wish he never had to see. One I’m sure he relives daily. The kid didn’t deserve that. But we’ll get him the help he needs and he’ll be okay. And we won’t ruin the fake image of you that he’s holding on to. Though knowing I’ll be biting my toungue for the rest of my life is a pretty heavy burden to carry.

I will say Thank You for one thing. Thank you for dying the way that you did. By simply not waking up. By having an MI so severe that there was no hope in bringing you back. Thank you for not telling us if you were sick and making us watch you deterioriate. While a shock to everyone to hear that you were dead at 56 years-old, it was the best way for you to go. And instead of spending energy trying to heal you, my father and my brother can focus on healing themselves.

So there it is. I don’t give a shit that you’re dead. While your death disrupted my life for longer than I would’ve liked to let it, I’m not sad. I’m not upset. I was over you and your bullshit years ago. I just hope that my brother a) never finds out who you really were and b) how much you really were hated. He doesn’t need any more pain.

Goodbye.

I want to forget him.

theotherme — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 23:31:49 +0000

I dated him for 3 years and 7 months. He told me Sunday he doesn’t think he loves me anymore. He said he wants to keep in touch. I asked if there was another girl. He said no. I poured my heart out. He hasn’t returned any calls. I was pathetic. I wanted to save what we had. I don’t know why. I had tried to break up with him in June, he convinced me we could make the distance work. Now this?

Today I hear from friend that he has been seeing someone for a while. I am furious, hurt, confused. I think he should have been honest. I don’t understand. Why wasn’t I worth telling the truth? Why do I have to hear it from someone else? He isn’t who I thought he was, or at least not who he was long ago when I fell in love.

I am so hurt yet so mad. I don’t know what to do with myself. I keep trying to get my mind off of him.. and her… and wondering how long this has been….

“I DONT WANT TO THINK ABOUT IT” I scream in my mind. Because when I do, I get this really naseous feeling.

When will it stop hurting? When can I feel better?

Legalize it

amanda — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 18:34:39 +0000

I am so angry at my country for keeping marijuana illegal. Sure there are other things that my country is doing that are far worse, but this one issue is what is really bugging me at the moment.

As addictive substances go, two of the absolute worst ones are perfectly legal: tobacco and alcohol. Everyone knows how bad things can be from the result of either of these drugs…. Smokers have a miserable time if they want to quit, it’s so addictive. And alcoholics abound, ruining their own lives and those of their loved ones. There’s drunk driving, loud drunks, puking drunks, abusive drunks, hangovers, and so forth. But drinking’s not illegal.

Meanwhile, there really isn’t much harm in getting a little stoned from time to time. I LOVE getting stoned, but I hate to have to break the law to do it. I don’t want to risk getting arrested (why’s mommy in jail, daddy? — that would be BAD) and I don’t want to cause trouble. I am not about to stop being a good productive member of society, neglect my children, or do nothing other than sit around smoking up and munching on Doritos. I just want to smoke pot now and again and enjoy it immensely.

I love the smell of it, the taste of it. I love the feeling of peaceful contentment. I even love good stoned sex. That groove you get into sometimes, letting go of all the stresses of the world. I love pot, I just do.

But my wish that it were legalized goes well beyond just my own personal need to smoke up from time to time. I can, and do, manage to smoke pot when I really want to. So there’s that.

No, what makes me so mad is that our country has so many people in jail just because of the illegality of marijuana. I, along with other taxpayers, am paying to incarcerate so many people whose only crime was trying to supply a relatively harmless weed to those who want to get stoned from time to time, and people whose only crime was to possess some marijuana. What a phenomenal waste of money!

And then there’s medical marijuana! Truly there is NO reason people shouldn’t use this lovely stuff when it would help them feel better. It helps appetite, eases nausea, relaxes and relieves people. It really should be legal.

On a personal note, I also enjoy the funny juxtaposition of my outward soccer mom appearance with my true stoner mom reality. I’m a real MILF who likes a good bowl of weed when my two boys are off at the grandparent’s home or otherwise preoccupied. But have you any idea how hard it is to score weed when people think you may be a narc? Pul-leeze! I wish this stuff were legal.

Maybe it will be, someday.

Dating SUCKS!

theotherme — Thu, 07 Aug 2008 06:40:15 +0000

UGGGGGGHHHHH!!!! I know all the gals in my life are tired of hearing me bitch and complain and moan but I need to just say this one more time. Why is it that I keep meeting these weird guys?! I’ve ranged from super clingy guy who can’t leave me alone for 5 mins to the guy who turns out to be married, in an open relationship and has another second girlfriend as well. WTF?! What is so wrong with me that I am attracting all of these weird guys?! Ok, look, I know I am not perfect and I know I’m not what you could call “normal” but at least I am SANE! All I ask is that I find a guy who is the same! UGH!