The Recluse I have become

I don’t ever leave my house.

Perhaps rather, I should say, I rarely leave my house. I do walk my children to school and walk them back home. Sometimes I walk to the grocery store and post office to get food or get my mail.

Aside from that, I go nowhere. In fact, yesterday was the first time I have left my house for a neighboring town in over a month. I had no choice but to go there (We were out of a product, and I had to call a cab to take me to get that product.).

I don’t see myself leaving to go anywhere in the immediate future (that involves leaving my small town).

I don’t know what happened. I suppose the depression and anxiety of the past year finally took it’s ultimate toll and came to a head. Leaving my immediate vicinity causes quite a lot of stress in me. In the cab yesterday, my anxiety was through the roof and I nearly had a panic attack. Thankfully, the cab driver did not speed or do anything reckless. I explained to them about my being a recluse. They seemed to understand and did their best to keep me from “freaking out.’

I don’t think it fully is that I am “afraid” to leave, however, I would be lying if I said that wasn’t part of it. I do fear leaving. There are many types of people out there that I do not trust, but it’s also, I see no point in leaving. I don’t feel a need to go out, party and have a good time when I have enough of a good time here.  I have all I need here. I have my gaming systems, my laptop, my family, food, water, etc. There’s nothing out there I need and even then when I do need something, I can always order it online where it will be delivered to my town.

I never saw myself becoming a recluse at the age I have. Most of the time, this doesn’t happen to people until they hit a higher age than I am.

But it has happened.

And I am okay with that.

No, I’m just fine with that.

The next time I see myself leaving this town will be when I leave it for good. We are discussing moving to Colorado (Brush, Colorado, to be exact.). Myself and those friends and family members that have stuck around, and in my house for the past couple of years have all realized we hate the area we are in. Too much bad has happened here and we believe it is time for a fresh start elsewhere. Somewhere that isn’t here.

Maybe then I’ll break out of my shell. Maybe then I’ll stop being reclusive. I know it’s annoying certain people, but it’s just something they will have to deal with.

The upside through all of this is I certainly get a lot of work done.

Money has been returned!

If you’re thinking that dude actually paid me back, you’re wrong. My tax return has come in and that amount includes what was stolen from me.

Sometimes life is sweet.

Now is time to put that money to good use (unlike the “True love” excuse dude used it for). Eventually, I will figure out who to help with it.

I have been too busy to update anything, but things are well. I’m pushing one year since the worst year of my life started (Death after death after death) and today, I broke out a gift that was given to me by one of the people who have passed on (our “Mohican”).

He gave me the DVD miniseries “North and South” a few birthdays ago, and I never have got the chance to sit down and watch it all. Now, I have seen it before, but I was a child and truly, as a child, this movie is quite the bore. So far, I’m enjoying it. Today will be a lazy day. I will do nothing but sit on the couch and watch the movie.

You should be here for that, Mohican.

Although perhaps you still are. Perhaps you are looking over my shoulder as I type this.

In that case, thank you for everything, and I am sorry you weren’t chosen from the beginning. It should have been you.

But you knew that.

Until we meet again.

 

 

Jail reform

This past weekend a person I knew was picked up on a failure to appear (ever forget? Happened to them) and a DUI. Strangely enough, the person had not drunk enough to go over the limit, and a “careless driving” charge was tacked on as well. A cop friend of mine said that “careless driving” is one big catchall. If the cop saw you swerve without crossing the lines, he could tack that charge on without a problem.

This person was not informed of what their BAC was at any point, and it was claimed they “totally bombed” the field sobriety test. The person told me that yes, they did stumble, but it was more the result of being up for over 24 hours, and arthritis. The cop also said that he declined an attorney when I know he didn’t. The person said they were never offered one. I fully believe this. Because of my cop paranoia, I have rubbed off on everyone and if ever something happens that results in them going to jail, they most certainly would not decline an attorney.

Yes, we plan on fighting this, but that’s not what this is about. This post is about the conditions at the local jail.

I was there for two weekends last year and while I was not there long enough to see anything major, I can share stories from girls who had been there a while.

First up, in the three days I was in that holding cell, I was not allowed soap or toothpaste. This is not good, especially when at any given point, we had up to seventeen girls in a cell designed for four. Every one of us would use the same toilet and fountain, and nobody had any soap to wash their hands with after using said toilet. Is it any surprise that I came out with MRSA? (I tried to do something about getting MRSA, but I was met with, “You shouldn’t have gone to jail. It’s jail, not the Hilton!” These people failed to realize that if I catch MRSA in jail, I’ll wind up spreading it once I got out, yet the jailers did not care that inmates were getting MRSA.)

I was told stories by some of the girls who had been there before, and one of these stories was about an older woman. Nobody could remember what the woman was in for, and it doesn’t matter really. She was an insulin dependant diabetic, and down there in this county jail, you won’t get insulin. You’ll get metformin and that’s it. It doesn’t matter how bad your diabetes is, the metformin better work, or you’ll be screwed and according to the jailers, it’s your own fault.

One day this woman wasn’t feeling well, and she had vocalized it to the other inmates. Then she went to the toilet, came out and collapsed on the ground. The inmates rushed to her to try and help, but when they realized they could do nothing, began banging on the doors, trying to get somebody’s attention. Over fifteen minutes passed before a jailer even walked by, but he didn’t stop. He just glanced in and kept walking. Finally, a jailer came down, most likely to punish for the inmates making noise, and opened the door. When they showed her the girl on the ground, the CO went up to her, kicked her in the side and shouted, “GET UP.” The inmates tried explaining that the woman was a diabetic and needed to go to the hospital, but instead, this officer slapped the woman across the face in an attempt to get her to stop faking it (they always think you’re faking it). Finally, after fifteen minutes of no response, the jailer mumbled, “well I guess I better go get someone” (acting like it had just ruined her day) and she left. By the time an ambulance arrived, over an hour had passed. This woman is lucky to be alive today.

Then there was the story I just recently heard from my friend.

While he was in there, an asthmatic began having trouble breathing. If you think the jail will just give you an inhaler, you’ve got another thing coming. Sometimes, they won’t let you bring in your inhalers. Why? Well, it’s jail. Not the Hilton. You better not have any trouble breathing in there because you won’t get help.

This man collapsed to the floor, and the inmates did what they could as one inmate ran to his bunk to get his inhaler that he somehow got in. I don’t know how he got it in, but good job sir. The inmate returned with his inhaler and they worked together, someone checking pulse, another doing what he could to get the fallen inmate to inhale the inhaler (that sounds weird). Eventually, the man was able to breathe again. Imagine if you will, what would have happened if nobody had an inhaler snuck in.

Then there was the man with a “spider bite.” It was swollen quite a bit and looked like it was filled with something. To top it off, there were red streaks going up his arm. This is a sign that you need a doctor, right then. No fucking around.

Instead, corrections officers squeezed the bump until pus flew out, gave him a band-aid and sent him back to his cell. The next day, his entire arm was swollen, and the red streaks were even more prominent. After arguing with their “nurse” (I fully believe jail nurses are working in jails for a reason. If they were any good, they’d be in a hospital setting or a doctor’s office. There is a reason for this, and this is not an insult on nurses.) who wanted to squeeze it again, they finally took him to the ER. While in the ER, the doctor lanced it in a professional setting and proclaimed that it was MRSA as pus flew out. Of course, this man was prescribed medicine that he would not receive while in jail.

As far as prescribed medications in jail, the person I know has several conditions and is on twelve different medicines. While he was in there, he was not given any of his pills. They wouldn’t even allow us to bring them down for him. A couple of his conditions has disasterous results if you abruptly stop taking them, like an SSRI or an Anti-psychotic. That and the nurse argued with him over an anti-seizure medication being given for migraines. “But this is for seizures! Do you have epilepsy?” when he said no, it was for migraines, along with the beta blocker he was on, she continued arguing that the medicines were being used wrong. Basically it was foreshadowing. He didn’t have epilepsy, therefore, in her eyes, he didn’t need that pill. He didn’t have high blood pressure, so he didn’t need the beta-blocker. She was an idiot.  The person I knew went four days without his SSRI for depression, and another pill, I don’t remember what, that you are to be weaned off of. Not abruptly stop.

I get a lot of you like to say “Welp, don’t go to jail. I’m a law abidin’ citizen!”

Hah, no you aren’t. Do you speed? Do you forget to use your blinker? Do you jaywalk? Do you stream movies for free? Ever downloaded a song without paying? Ever taken a medication that was prescribed to someone else because it was an emergency for you?

You’re a criminal too. You aren’t any better.

I have touched on jail reform many times, but nobody listens. Half of the people in county jails are in there on petty or victimless crimes. A majority are in there for marijuana. They aren’t bad people, in fact, some of the nicest most caring people I’ve met were inmates in jail. I trust those inmates more than the CO’s. Mind you, not all CO’s are bad. When I was in, a woman tried to sneak me some pens and paper so I could work while in there, as well as some toothpaste and a small toothbrush so I didn’t have to go THREE DAYS without brushing my teeth (weekenders don’t get commissary. They also don’t get toothbrushes or toothpaste.). She did manage to sneak me the dental items, and when she did, she said, “you make sure to keep this hidden. Before you get out, flush it. Yes, the toilet can handle it. I could lose my job because of this.”

I did as she asked.

The real issue is the MRSA. You can sit there all smug thinking, “it’s jail. It’s a bunch of criminals. Who cares what happens to them (even though you’re a criminal too)?” all you want, but you fail to realize, the majority of inmates will get out. They will wind up touching the same things you touch, sneezing in the same area you walk through and you, Mr. I’m a law abidin’ citizen, you will be exposed to it and could possibly get it. MRSA has no real cure. If you or your child ever get MRSA and you can’t figure out how, remember this blog post. Realize that a former inmate, trying to get his life together, probably went through where you went through. Maybe then you’ll start petitioning for some type of jail reform.

Social Media Drama

Today on facebook, I received a friend request from a person I know, which I promptly denied.

Why?

A few years ago when I was a fresh-faced, doe eyed facebook newbie, this person sent me a request, so I accepted because “OMG, haven’t talked to you in years!”

Then a couple of years down the road, I received a second request from them, which meant that at some point during those two years, they unfriended me, most likely because I am blunt and people don’t like to hear things unless you sugar coat them. I accepted of course.

Today? Friend request from the same person. Again, this shows that in the past four or so years, they have unfriended me twice, for reasons unknown, and now they want to try again.

How about no?

I’ll let an unfriending slide one time, but I am not doing friendship tag with you. You had your chance, but clearly, you were oversensitive and hit that unfriend button quicker than shit because “That’ll show her.” At least, I assume.

It probably went a little like this.

I posted something that was mean because I am a big meanie.

This person is shocked. How could I say such things? Well, they’re offended! Time to unfriend her!

Years pass and this person goes, “Hm. Why hasn’t she tried to request me? Hasn’t she noticed that we aren’t friends? Well, maybe she’s changed. *clicks send request which gets accepted.” They mull around for a few months and wonder, “Why hasn’t she asked why I unfriended her? I’ll send her a message.*sends message that says Hi.*”

I reply, not mentioning the unfriending because I don’t care. I keep the conversation to boring things like the weather.

A few months down the road this person gets on facebook to see something mean. “Omg, they haven’t changed at all! I am offended! I don’t really like this person! *clicks unfriend* What a horrible bitch.”

This is where I truly don’t know what the hell goes through their heads. At what point, after you have unfriended somebody a SECOND time, do you somehow get it in your head that I want to be friends? You are either really dense and stupid (or you think I am dense and stupid) or constantly used to getting your way and you just assume I’ll accept.

I don’t play that game. I will let one unfriending slide, but if you get your panties in a wad, and unfriend a second time, don’t think I’ll accept your request. You clearly have issues of some sort, whether it be being oversensitive, or a narcissist who thinks people need you.

Or you’re just not very bright and you think facebook works the way the real world works. You fall out of touch with people a few times in your life and wind up speaking again. That’s not quite how facebook works. The unfriend feature isn’t a mute button of sorts. It’s not a “That’ll show her” button.

If you have ever unfriended somebody twice and chose to try and request again, you may want to rethink a few things in life. Some of us get very tired of you being a contrarian.

The sky is a hazy shade of Winter

Oh boy.

It’s the first day of my least favorite season. I hate Winter. I hate the cold. I hate the snow. I also fully believe that anybody who likes these things cannot be trusted. So now, my countdown is on to the first day of Spring.

Where I live, we seem to get the worst Winter weather in late January into February. Rarely do we get snow in March, so I have about two months to go until the weather starts getting better, however, come Christmas day, the temperature is supposed to be in the sixties. That’s wonderful, and that makes me happy.

I know, dry your eyes, you who wanted a White Christmas. You’ll survive.

Secondly, the best thing has happened to be this year. I got Christmas over with. Yes, I am done with it. I handed out all presents, including my children’s, early! This means Christmas will be “just another day” for me, unless some of my friends choose to bring me shit on that day, despite my saying I don’t want anything.

My children received most of what they wanted and they cannot complain. Especially my youngest. I sent some packages off back in February (international) and one of them was returned. It was the one with a Thresh jacket from League of Legends, which my son enjoyed for a while, but has since moved on to more adult games.The jacket, however, was pretty bad ass, and he wanted it. The recipient truly doesn’t deserve it, but I being the “nice” girl I am, sent it anyways because it was purchased for them. With it back in my hands, I gave it to my son.

Finally, before I go– to the person who sent me a message that said, “Hey… Rebecca how are you.” Your profile needs to be verified. I don’t know who sent this, but I have a pretty good idea, and your answer is, I am just fine. I couldn’t be better. Most likely, we have nothing to speak about. So, don’t waste your time. You’re blocked for a reason. 🙂

And finally, I leave you with this. Did you know that I just recently found out that this song was originally done by Simon and Garfunkel?  I didn’t know. I thought it was a Bangles song.

Enjoy the first day of Winter, people, because God knows I won’t.

Hazy Shade of Winter

The Final Stage of Grief: Acceptance

I have been through these five stages several times this year. In fact, I think I spent the entire year in these stages.

My grandfather passed away in February, but you know what? With him, we knew it was coming. The denial, bargaining, anger– that all happened while he was still alive.

“No, he’s pretty healthy for 85! Maybe you should get a second opinion!”

“Well, yeah, but if this doctor does this, then it should be fine.”

“Why am I demanding you take him to a doctor? I get he’s ready, but SEE A DIFFERENT DOCTOR! Why am I being selfish? Because I don’t want to lose the last living grandparent I have, THAT’S WHY I AM BEING FUCKING SELFISH!”

Once he passed, the depression set in, and to be honest, I still have my days where I see or hear something that reminds me of him, and I tend to tear up.

Then there was Jackass Whorinova and what he did, including the stealing from me bit (I know I seem like I am not over this, but I promise you, I am. I don’t care about what happens to him. If I passed him on the street, I’d not even look up. What I do care about is my money. Everybody cares about money, and if it’s stolen, you want it back. And if there is an easy way to get it that requires filing police reports and sending his name off to an embassy, then you’ll do it, and not feel remotely bad about it because it’s money. It is the root of all evil, clearly. He used a person for money, and I may very well ruin a couple of lives to get that money back. I should care more, but I don’t. I am dead inside. 🙂 )

Then the worst death of somebody who “we” were all very close to. Our “Mohican.” It destroyed me just as much as her. I still wish to not speak much of it, because it is not wise to speak of the dead. It’s an old “tradition” where you cannot speak much of them, or say their name too much because they won’t “pass on” to “the other side.”

Just know we miss him terribly. She misses him the most. I find it odd that wedding bells are ringing, yet nobody seems too thrilled about it. In a way, it’s like watching a brother and sister become roommates. There is a love there, but it is not that type of love. It is merely fulfilling a promise, and she is doing it because that’s what he would have wanted, and this man is her last connection to the man she had.

When it comes to him, I’m not sure we will ever move past the depression stage. Perhaps this marriage counts as acceptance. I fear it will be a long time before any of us could possibly know the answer to that.

This year has left visible, permanent “scars” on all of us.

Myself? From all the crying I have done, I have large bags under my eyes that will not go away, even when I sleep well. (Are there any make-up pros, or beauty bloggers out there that could tell me how to conceal them, or perhaps give me some insight on the absolute best product to help minimize them? Please? Please?) They make me look much older and tired. I look weary, and it has affected my confidence. (I haven’t taken a selfie IN MONTHS. I’m a girl! We love selfies!) And not to be rude to “her” but she doesn’t look much better. We all have the bags under our eyes. The light in our eyes– it’s dimmed quite a bit. Sometimes I look at us and feel that we are stuck, just going through the motions of day to day life, and none of us really knowing what for. It’s like we are waiting for something to spark that life back inside of us. We want to live. We just need help getting excited about it.

Don’t take this as we are depressed. Truly, we aren’t. It’s just a rut. Everybody has ruts. Only this rut has been the length of an entire year. I hope, I pray that next year is better. I believe, if you ask me, that the gods have toyed with us long enough. We have suffered enough and I am about ready to slaughter the neighbor’s cow and toss it onto a burning pyre to get some good luck for next year.

However, ruts are a part of life, and we really should try to be more prepared for them, but sometimes, there’s not much you can do to prepare.

To make matters worse, my least favorite holiday, Christmas is coming up. Oh let me tell you how much I hate Christmas.

I. FUCKING. HATE. IT.

I hate it because people have lost sight of what’s important about it. Used to, it was all about getting to see your family that you don’t get to see much, but here lately, it’s about nothing but who gets the best presents, who spent the most money, etc.

I know some people who will spend their bill money to purchase gifts and they always ask me to borrow come January.

Christmas is the same time every year. Plan accordingly OR buy cheaper shit. I don’t understand the mentality of “Oh, we have to buy expensive things for every single person we know!” I never will.

Because this January, don’t you dare ask me to loan you money. You can just sit there in the dark, clutching your eviction notice. I have tried explaining repeatedly why you should set a price limit, and a who gets what limit. You never listen! Just don’t buy people shit if you can’t afford it. If they get mad, fuck them. You don’t need that in your life! You don’t need a person who cares ONLY about the gift as opposed to you showed up to see them.

So don’t do it. The bank of J. Theberge is closed this January.

Remember, I’m dead inside.

I do have a kerosene heater you could borrow if it gets too cold in your dark house.

 

I lied when I said I wouldn’t do it (a few months ago)

Filed the police report yesterday. A part of that process is certain people have to be notified.

I know I said I wouldn’t, and I made that promise, but nobody else keeps their promises, so why should I? Besides, I have to get my money back somehow.

I know, I know, “But you don’t really need it.” That’s not the point at all. The point is you stole from me, and I want it back, and since you two have no intentions of ever making it right, and paying it back, I’ll go a different route to get it.

See, here I will get it. You may run into some issues like being arrested the second you step into the country if you can even get into this country, but how does that affect me? It doesn’t. I got what I wanted, and that feels good. He should know what it feels like to get what you want, right?

I remember her whining at me that this would ruin their lives. That I would be an asshole if I did it, and she was so in love and my notifying the police and the embassy would destroy their relationship.

Look at me.

Take a good look in my eyes.

Does it look like I care? Besides, lessons must be taught. Consider this discipline. Maybe your little boy toy will think twice before stealing. 🙂 Stealing is wrong.

And don’t think it’s me getting retribution. I had no intentions of bothering with “ruining” your lives, until I found out there’s an easy way to get my money back without having to beg you. By proxy, it hurts you. It can ruin your life.

If you had only just paid me back, it wouldn’t have happened.

Quite poetic.