In my house

The time has come.  I knew it would but I didn't know how long it would take and what I would do when it happened.  


I said something on my blog that upset someone enough to take time out of their life to write a negative comment to tell me about myself.  Actually, it was a couple people.  And everyone knows that if one person is saying something, there are a handful more that are thinking it.  So, in this instance, on this day, I will address it. 


To my anonymous commenters  I say:  You got me.


You are right.  I get angry.  I have touchy spots that when they are triggered, I get angry.  I'm not a crier, someone who will cower and look at you with weepy eyes saying 'why did you do that?' - I'm a screamer, a crasher, a kicker, a thrower of plates, a below-the-belter, a slammer of doors, a cusser and a breaker-of-your-shit.  I will sit in the corner and cry but only after I'm spent from all of the above activities or I've broken something.


I'm not proud of that - not in the slightest tiny bit.  It's not okay to be crazy - ever.  It's not okay to indulge the dark side of your personality - there is no excuse ever.  We are civilized human beings and the only thing that separates us from lower animals is the ability to control our reactions, be they physical, verbal or otherwise.  I have a very good girlfriend who is just like me and two calmer, more level-headed people you will never meet.  It's because we both know the chaos and damage we are capable of and we seek to control it at all times because to indulge it is unequivocally unacceptable.


However, I'm human and I am flawed and I still have my Achilles heel.  Presently, it is my inability to sustain a pregnancy and my inability to cope well with the fact that my new husband travels five days a week and I talk to him an average of 15 minutes a day - and that's a 24 hour day, not a workday.  Touch those spots, inadvertently or not and I get vicious.  It's not okay and I work on it every day.  I don't just do yoga for my health - it has been hugely instrumental in helping me control and diffuse my anger.  I pray to God to give me the strength to be better.


Having a pregnant girl in my house on Mother's Day a mere four weeks since my second miscarriage was more than I could handle.  I said nothing out loud and no one knew my struggle because I have gotten very good at talking myself down, yet inside and on my blog was a full-blown rage.  It was fueled by the addition of three more children, and further fueled by the drug aspect.  She had been clean for only a year - with children aged 6, 3 and 1 the math alone was enough to make me angry.


And no, I don't believe she deserved to have yet another child.  I stand by that statement.  We have children for what we can offer them, not for what they can do for us.  When you are homeless and a drug addict, you cannot offer anything to your children.  I do not live in the land of rainbows and fairies, believing that love is enough.  Children need way more than love and when you're strung out, you are useless to them.  Yet, discussing whether or not people deserve to procreate can only ever be philosophical because no one has the power to make those kinds of decisions.


As for the homeless part?  I have strong opinions about that as well, but never having been homeless I can't truly speak on it.  I just know that there are four shelters in Dallas with immediate availability that will give you three hot meals a day, a clean warm bed, clothing, showers, and job assistance, all while you stay as long as you want at no cost to you.  In my opinion, it's hard to justify living under a bridge or harassing people at red lights when those options are available.  I thank God every day that I don't have to explore those options and that's where I leave that.


The wedding exposed another of my weaknesses.  To say I get cranky when I can't spend time with my husband is polite - I can get vicious.  And again, it's not okay.  However, when I feel I'm being kept from him for no good reason - well, that's more than I can handle.  That evening, I felt my time and availability was being taken for granted by someone who knew my situation.  In recounting that story, I tried to keep it focused on me in that I was uncomfortable dancing with someone as their wife angrily looked on.  I was mortified at giving a speech that I wasn't supposed to give.  I was unhappy that I was separated from my husband, and I took issue with insensitive comments that I should have dismissed.  I was remorseful that my friend's day didn't go perfectly, but I was also realistic about such lofty expectations.  As for the LG, the gloves came off between us last July.  Yes, I was less than mature but I'm still working on steeling myself against those who are so flippant about their ability to sustain life.  It's not their fault that they can and I can't.  However, trust me when I say there is far more to that story and that's where I'm leaving that.


Now, the next part.  Have you ever been in a situation where boundaries have not been established between you and another person and they overstep those boundaries and you have to have that conversation outlining where and how that line was crossed so it doesn't happen again?  Consider us having that conversation.


This little piece of the internet is my space, my home if you will.  Anyone who comes here and reads what I write is a welcome and honored guest.  Yet, you are a guest - just as I am when I visit your part of the world through your blog.  In my house, I share just about everything.  Just about.  I am fully aware that what I say is sometimes cringe-worthy and I'm okay with that.  I'm real and authentic and flawed and messy and I'm okay with that too.  I'm also okay with being checked.  When I was all wacked-out and all over the place and viciously angry during my first miscarriage, my friend Cori checked me so sincerely and correctly that I stopped mid-tirade.  I mean, the plate was in my hand, aimed for the wall and I put it down because she checked me and she was right.  And this was on my blog and through email, not in person.  I am still grateful to her for that.


I have no problem with anyone asking me what I meant or telling me they take issue with something I've said.  However, the least you can do is be intelligent about it, tell me your name, and use proper spelling and grammar so you can retain some credibility.  After all, you're in my house - wouldn't you want to introduce yourself?  We can have a discussion and as long as it's relevant, I have no problem explaining myself.  What would be even better is if you included your email so I can personally respond.  I always feel terrible when someone comments on my blog and I can't reply via email and they have no blog.  When I get a negative comment and there's no email or blog, well then I just think you're mean and useless and I would politely ask you to leave my house.


You are an honored and welcome guest in my house - I simply ask that you respect that and act accordingly.


Now, *smoothing my skirt*  would you like to see the dresser I've redone?  You would?  


Right this way...