Category Archives: friends

Further proof that no good deed goes unpunished…

So, I am reading a friends Facebook page. From what I am gathering, my friend is not just depressed and sad, but she is posting things that make her sound like she is in full on crisis mode. These weren’t suggestions or innuendos, but full on statements like wishing death on herself. This concerns me greatly, as I know this friend has been under a lot of stress for quite some time. I worry for this friend. I want this friend to know they are loved, cared about and thought of in such high regard that the world would be a little dimmer if they were not here.

Also, there is the thought of my beloved Derek racing through my head. His suicide back in 2007 has scarred me so deeply and perhaps has made me hyper-vigilant when it comes to someone tossing around the notion of suicidal thoughts. I lost Derek and still blame myself in a lot of ways. The “should haves”, “would haves” and “could haves” still haunt me. So I will be totally damned if I am going to let another friend leave this earth without a fight.

I wrote a letter on Facebook to about 12 of this persons closest friends, asking them to rally around this particular friend. Post something on their wall, a memory of them. A photo of you and this person together. Something sweet and loving. Or, if your time allows, send this person an email just to let them know you are thinking of them. I didn’t divulge any personal information about this person. I did not disclose what was going on in their life. I just simply asked for a few friends to reach out to this person.

So, imagine my surprise when I see THIS response show up in reply:

Hey, here’s another thought. What about letting people deal with their lives and butting the fuck out. We have private lives for a reason and I for one prefer not to have people discussing mine behind my back. it would embarrass me and send me away if I thought the people I actually turn to for a little cheer on my terms thought I was a pathetic suicidal mess. Even if that’s not your intention. It would be the way I would see it. That’s all I’m going to say and I’m not going to be baited into a discussion either so I’m untagging myself from this and would prefer not to be invited back.

*blinks*

Um, Wow?

Nowhere in my original letter did I state this person was a “pathetic suicidal mess”. Not even remotely indicated. Just stated what I saw on their Facebook page. It was right out there, in the open, on this persons sidebar. I found their reaction (or rather, overreaction) peculiar, because this particular group of friends…well, we are sort of known for doing things like this for one and other. This past year, we had two friends lose their jobs, one had a cancer scare, another lost a beloved pet and another still went through a nasty divorce. In each of these cases, someone rallied the troops and said “Hey, let’s leave a little love and support on their Wall.” Ironically, we did the same thing for the person who took my head off for their birthday! They were feeling sort of sad…so one of our friends said, “Let’s do something special for their birthday this year.” About 17 of us got involved in a collaborative project to come up with the perfect birthday gift for this person. And, I recall this friend saying “You guys really touched me. I have the greatest friends. Thank you for doing this for me.”

So apparently, when it benefits YOU…the notion of rallying around a friend is alright?

Last night, I went to go post to this persons wall. I found a funny picture that I thought they would like and was going to post it to their page as somewhat of a peace offering, instead of discussing the situation to death. I was just willing to let it go even though they came at me in a terribly harsh manner. I get to their page only to find out I had been removed as their friend. To say I was hurt is a huge understatement. It is not often that someone can hurt me to the point where I cry, but I did. Not that I was hugely close with this person. I wasn’t. We were friends through mutual friends. But, this was someone I respected and liked a great deal. Plus, this person now had me up all night long wondering, questioning myself…

did I do something wrong?

I tossed and turned over this all night. I must have read the letter I wrote again and again. What did I say? What did I do that was so bad? I thought it was a positive gesture.

I received some letters of support from the other people I had on the list. One person even stuck up for me and told this person to “lighten up”, which was nice…because that was my thought too. But really? For the first time, I was sort of speechless. I wrote to this person on the thread the only thing I could possibly think of to say…

“And strangely the only thought that comes into my head is…no good deed goes unpunished. Thanks for that, (Friend). You rock. /end sarcasm.”

How very true those words are. Sad during this time of year, when suicide rates spike up to their highest levels, is it considered a bad thing to reach out to a friend in need. Do I think the original person would have killed themselves? I hope not. But how can anyone really ever know for sure?

I have to be honest. I still maintain a lot of guilt over Derek’s death. I will be damned if I let someone walk down that road alone again without letting them know how much they are loved, needed and wanted in this world.

Only next time…I guess I’ll just keep it to myself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
2 HOURS LATER EDIT: So, I am scrolling through pics at Imgur.com when I come across this pic. You know what? Fuck that friend who deleted me. I did the right thing. Validation comes in the craziest of ways. ~CP

(Click to open a new window, then, click again to enlarge.)

Why women suck…

I have a lot of acquaintances. I have a lot of good acquaintances. I have some friends. Of those friends, most of them are male. There is a reason for that. The reason?

Most women suck.

I learned at a very early age that women tend to be spiteful, catty and malicious. Even when they are well intentioned, they can’t help speaking from a place of jealousy most of the time. I hesitate to use the word “envy”, because I tend to put a positive spin on that word. There are definitely things I envy about some of my friends. I envy my kid sisters gorgeous, thick brown hair and her insane ability to cook. I envy another friends gorgeous wardrobe. Still, another friend manages to make her life look so effortless and breezy easy. I don’t covet these things, but I sure as shit wish I knew how they do what they do and manage to do it with ease.

What I don’t do is begrudge my female friends their beauty, their strength or the wonderful things that happen in their lives.

It seems to me that when really great things happen in our female friends lives, we don’t entirely focus on their happiness, but rather, use it as a gauge to figure out exactly where we are on the scale of female perfection. I have been steadily working on that with myself. I try to realize that when enormously wonderful things happen to my girlfriends, it doesn’t mean I am less than. It only means I have yet another goal to strive towards.

Recently, a friend clued me in that someone I considered a friend, who I have known via the blog realm for nearly 5 years has been talking shit behind my back. Now, I am no stranger to criticism and back-stabbing. I’ve been hearing women talk shit about me since the day I was old enough to understand it. I’m okay with it. My mother always told me, feel bad for the girls who talk about you. It means they have nothing in their own lives worth talking about. One thing I can say about Esther, she sure knew how to make an impact on my tender pre-pubescent psyche.

Back to my point.

This “friend” tore me up in a letter? Email? Blog post? I’m not sure the medium. I didn’t ask. I frankly don’t care enough to ask. What I do know is I was chastised for the following:

1) I brag about my husband too much. I will reply to this with an “absofuckinglutely”. I do. My husband is awesome. He’s better than your husband. He’s better than you. He’s even better than me. I believe that the Christians have not yet realized that my husband IS the second coming of the Messiah that they have long been waiting for. Until they realize that, I will keep him as the best kept secret Judaism has ever seen since the burning bush. He loves me unconditionally, flaws and all. He loves my children as though they were bred from his loins. He has three jobs all to support my dream of heading back to school to do the work I long to do. He is a good friend to everyone who meets him. He is KIND. Like, “walk an old lady across the street while he pushes her stalled vehicle across three lanes of traffic” sort of kind. He is a devoted grandfather who cannot get enough of his grandkids. So, do I brag about him? Yes, because he is worthy of this praise and should have it heaped upon him every single day. And, yes, you should have to know that he is the reason I am happy. If you were really my friend, you would love that about him and be thrilled for me. Just because your husband hasn’t touched you since the new millennium began, don’t hate on me for it. Buy yourself a vibrator, dust out the old vag canal and handle your business.

2) I brag about my “things”. No. I don’t brag about my things. I tell people about my things because I want them to have similar things. Similarly, I expect to hear about YOUR things, because if you are happy with something…I would hope you would want me to have that same feeling. Do I get excited about an upcoming vacation? Certainly. Am I not allowed to voice that? Do I talk about my shoe obsession? Yes. And to someone who is not a shoe whore, I can see where that would be annoying. However, I don’t begrudge you your new breadmaker? Salad shooter? Curtains? Shop Vac? Whatever the fuck it is that brings you pleasure, I applaud it. I don’t get it. I don’t understand it. But, I do understand that whatever it is, it is making your life just a bucket of awesome, therefore, it is doing the same for me too.

3) I brag about my grandchildren. Wow. This one cracked my ass up. Is there a grandmother on the face of this earth who doesn’t do that? I’m sorry you didn’t produce children of your own who in turn will provide you with the joy of grandkids, but that is hardly my fault. My grandkids are amazing little creatures who change and grow every day. Every day they bring something new and fascinating into my life. I love this brand new aspect of my life. Do I tell you not to brag about your dogs? Cats? You say these are your “furry children”. Well then, act like it. Enjoy them. Have fun with them. Let them make you laugh…and in turn, share the funny with me! I’d love to hear it. No, really. I would. I’m not you.

There were other things, like for example, my coffee maker. Yes. My coffee maker. Sure, that goes under the category of “things”, but this one had to be separate because in this letter/email/blog post about me, it was a separate issue for this person as well. Apparently, the fact that my husband bought us an industrial sized Keurig was of grave concern to this person. So much so, that she went on to discuss why HER coffee maker was far more awesome.

I also brag about: My charity work. My writing gigs. (Really? I usually keep those kind of private). My grades. (Totally fuck you on this one. I work for those A’s, bitch. I work hard.) I can go on and on. It’s truly fucking laughable at this point.

Has it seriously come to this?

So, this is why women suck. We all have jealousies and insecurities. But, the measure of a good woman is the one who can put that on the back burner to allow for genuine happiness for a friends good fortune. And honestly, am I a braggart? I would suggest a thorough read of my blog would answer that for you. I have been through a LOAD of shit in my lifetime. Was I bragging about the losses I have suffered? The man who beat me relentlessly for 2 years? My past drug addiction? My struggle with bipolar disorder? No. Unless of course you are under the belief that I am one of those people who feels they have to “one up” everyone else’s sob stories. I don’t believe that’s me either. I’m just a real person. I talk. A lot. I talk about the good things in my life openly just the same way I talk about the not so good things. If it seems like there has been more of the former as of late, well, there has been. And honestly, I feel I have earned the good things that have come my way over the past few years.

I am a good person at heart. I love my family to the ends of the earth and would lay down and die for any of them. I am fervently devoted to my friends. (Is that bragging or is that simply a statement of fact? I think the lines are starting to blur for me). I think I am smart, funny, confident, interesting and damn beautiful to look at. Oh, and I have a great rack. Again, not bragging…it just is what it is. The other day, I happened upon this quote:

There’s no such thing as bragging. You’re either lying or telling the truth.

I know I’m telling the truth. And sometimes, sister, the truth hurts…especially when it reflects your own personal truth right back at you and you don’t like what you see. For that reason alone, I forgive you. I hope you are strong enough to forgive yourself and allow yourself to know happiness in your life. You deserve that. Every woman does. Even you.

No. Especially you.

Yes, I could continue 30 days of truth…BUT WHY????

When there is all this brand new prettiness all over my blog!!!

Are you dying??

Five years, this blog has looked EXACTLY the same. Then I hired me some TwoScoopz goddess, also known as my beloved friend “J” and THIS was the result? Hello? Pinkness? Prettiness? Lipstick? Shoes? Purses?

Does this bitch know me or does she KNOW me? *shaking my head*

I turned over the reigns to her. The only thing I asked to keep was the banner of my Princess marching down 5th avenue in NYC and of course, the little Princess herself. Other than that, she had carte blanche.

And she totally nailed what I wanted. Totally.

If you need a new face on your old space, I HIGHLY recommend my girl, J. She is so hugely talented. And, even if you don’t need sprucing up, head over there anyway to see her amazing photography. She doesn’t know this, but I have stolen SO many of her photos to use as my desktop background. Ooops. Did I just say that out loud? Don’t STEAL her shit, ai’ight? I will brown bag your ass in a parking lot if you head over there and steal her shit. Grounds for a shank to the solar plexus, you got it? Just lay down a nice comment…and maybe she will share a pic with you. But you ain’t me, bitch, so don’t just go taking shit that ain’t yours.

*sighs*

Man, I can’t even be MEAN here any more. It’s just too. fucking. pretty.

Thank you, J. Not just for taking my “house” and turning it into a “home”, but for being a guest in my house for so long. From sitting on the porch, to walking through the front door, to hanging on the couch, to snuggling in the bedroom…the very heart and soul of where I live and breathe. You have always been there for me, through good times and bad. We’ve shared a LOT of laughter and tears over the past few years. I couldn’t even dream of putting my beloved memories in anyone elses hands. Thank you for treating them as though they were your own.

I love, love, love you to the stars and beyond.

Day 5: Something You Hope to do With Your Life

This is going to sound so trivial. The answer came as quickly to me as the question did. What I hope to do with my life, I am already doing. In a lifetime, 44 years worth of drama, heartache, pain, suffering, highs and lows, etc., the only thing that I wished to be doing with my life right now is celebrating it.

That is precisely what I am doing.

For the first time in my life, I can look in a mirror and say “I’m happy”. Not just a little happy or happy with certain aspects of my life. No. Truly and legitimately happy with every single portion of my life right now.

Truth be known, I am one lucky bitch. I have a husband who absolutely adores me and lets me know this consistently through not only his words, but his actions as well. He is loyal, a hard worker, dedicated to his wife and kids, generous and above all, he is kind. Kind almost to a fault. He is the kind of man who buys a homeless person a sandwich on the street. He pulls over to give stranded motorists a boost even if he is running late for something. He calls 911 when he sees a car swerving all over the road and follows that car to make sure that no one is harmed until the police arrive and take over. He is a good soul. He makes an effort every single day to do something in the name of God and his family. He is truly a selfless human being and I am utterly honored and blessed to have him as a partner in life. My best friend in every single sense of the word.

My children. They are growing, thriving and are two of the most amazing young adults I have ever seen. My daughter is a fantastic mother, raising her two children under the age of two so adeptly and with such ease and grace. She makes it all look so easy, balancing her children with her responsibilities as a wife and a full time employee. Her husband has proven himself to be a good person and a very doting father. They just celebrated four years of marriage and seem to be happier now than ever before. My son. My son…my little musical prodigy, just began his first year of high school, leaving behind a football for his Les Paul. He is an individual through and through. He doesn’t take shit (like his mama) and he is thriving in school. He is polite, yet sarcastic. He is funny and articulate. And while he tries to act like he gives a shit about nothing (typical teenage boy AND he gets that from his mother as well), he is a caring, noble and honest person.

My grandchildren. Oy, the lights of my life. Sadie will be two years old soon. She drives everyone nuts with her independent attitude and her impatience. She is a diva in the making. Loves to climb, run, jump and do everything all the boys do. She is an absolute angel. Liam, my little chubster. The little man. Bubba Schwaz as we call him, much to my daughters chagrin. The most docile baby you will ever meet. Always happy. Just wants to be held all the time and loves to snuggle. The two of them are absolute blessings in my husband and my life.

My parents. God love ’em both. Esther and Harold. Both alive and kicking, driving each other crazy. They are insane, loud, boisterous, annoying…and I wouldn’t have them any other way. Dad turns 70 years old this year, a huge milestone for someone who was very ill once upon a time. I am grateful to have them in my life and to have them be as supportive as they are. I also am grateful to have Esther 1200 miles away. 😉

My home is large and inviting. My cars run. We have a savings that allows us to vacation once or twice a year. My husband makes a good enough living that it has allowed me to go back to school and work towards my Masters degree in Social Work. I want to work with addicts and also with GLBT and Questioning Youths. I am doing a lot of volunteer work with The Trevor Project (thetrevorproject.org), an organization that is working with gay and lesbian children and teens in the hopes of protecting them against bullying and taunting. With the recent rash of suicides that have taken place among this particular demographic, it is more important than ever to me to dive into my volunteering head first and make my education really count for something.

My dogs are fine and shit in my kitchen on a daily basis. My cats are wonderful.

Lastly, my friends. I have spent the past year weeding out the poison, carefully cultivating the garden so that only the most voluminous flowers will bloom there. Sure, there were some tricky spots along the way. I pulled a few weeds that were really flowers in disguise. I planted some gorgeous flowers that turned out to be venus fly traps. But now…now I think I’ve got it to where I need it. To where I want it. To where I can be the great big oak tree and be surrounded by the beautiful landscape of my carefully formed and nurtured friendships. This has been a year of surprises for sure. Those I would have never thought I could have trusted in a million years turned out to be ferociously loyal friends. Then, there were the friends that I thought I knew oh so well, who turned out to be nothing more than the fertilizer…the absolute SHIT in my field of beauty.

Regrets along the way for some missteps with a few of them? Certainly. But none so compelling that I feel the need to make further amends than I already did. One managed to surprise me…but what surprised me more was how little I ended up caring in the long run. As long as I have those who know me and love me, flaws and all, I am a-okay in my little world.

So, something I hope to do with my life? I’m doing it. I’m living it. I’m living it happily and I am living it well.

It was a long time coming.

Day 2…Something you love about yourself.

There are lots of things I love about myself. This list can go on for hours. I’ll try to keep it brief.

What I love the most about me is the way I love the people in my life. The people who I treasure. The friends and family who stick by me no matter what. The people who know me and accept me the way I am. The ones who know I would never do anything hurtful, harmful or disrespectful to them. That’s just not me. I may have a ferocious tongue, coated with battery acid…but to my inner circle, I have a crazy soft spot. I am a charitable person. A good person. I may not always come across that way because of my wildly big mouth, but there isn’t any one of my good friends that I wouldn’t lay my life on the line for if need be. If I tell you I am going to do something, I do it. If I tell you I am going to be somewhere, I will be there. If I tell you not to worry about something, don’t worry about it.

My word is my bond. Always. It’s really all any of us have in this world that we can give that is a direct reflection of who we are. That is why I take HUGE exception to being accused of being a liar…ever. I can be accused of being many things in this world, but a liar is never one of them. And, when you cross that bridge with me and accuse me of something like that, rest assured, I won’t even glance backwards in your direction.

The way I figure it is this…if you don’t know me well enough to know the things I would and would not do, then we have no business being friends in the first place.

I love that about me.

The other thing I love about me? The ability to admit when I am wrong. I have said and done some pretty heinous shit in my lifetime, but when I know what I did was wrong, I will always apologize for it. And not one of those insincere “Well, I’m sorry if you feel that way”, or better still…”I’m an asshole, let’s just forget about it”. No. If I went out of my way to hurt you and you didn’t deserve it, I will go out of my way to apologize to you. The right way. Not like the Fonz who can’t admit he’s wr…wr…wr…wrong! Likewise, I expect you to give me the same courtesy. If you fucked up, be a big girl and admit it so we can move forward.

That said, it is time for the…

BREAST CANCER AWARENESS MONTH INFO OF THE DAY:

Every 2 minutes, there is a new breast cancer diagnosis.

Every 14 minutes, a life is lost to the disease.

Over 40,000 people will die this year; about 400 of them will be men.

85% of all diagnoses have no family history.

1 in 8 women will be diagnosed with breast cancer.

Breast cancer is the leading cause of death in women between ages 40 and 55.

Make sure to feel your boobies this month and every month, Ladies. The best time to do self exams is the same day every month. The time your breasts are the fullest are right before your period, so make sure to do it AFTER your period so you can get a better feel for what is going on in there. The days of having to do little circular motions with your fingertips are long over. Just pick the girls up and give them a good squeeze or two. What you are looking for are lumps, hard lumps…things that have almost a “coral” feel to them, like a sharp rock. Also, cancer generally does not hurt, so if you have a lump that’s sore, it is more likely a cyst or benign growth. Take ye to the OB/GYN and get it checked out.

Protect your girls. Save your life. Feel your boobies once a month…for life.