The monster in the cage

So I have been way the hell Missing In Action. I don’t have a good excuse, either. I simply have been too busy living my life. I started a new job in January that was an experiment for me–one that has turned out to be less than promised on the part of the company, and a failure on the part of he experiment itself. See, my father was a born salesman. He could sell anything. Apparently, none of us kids have that same ability, however. My half brother, Jeff, will tell you he can’t sell shit. My step brother, Jody is a born bullshitter, but can’t exactly sell anything. And me? I am more a customer service type of girl. So I am not making any money in a telemarketing job. I make enough to pay my bills, but not much more than that. I’ve been led to believe I will be groomed for management….only to learn there are people here who have been here fore three years who have been sold that same bill of goods with no results. AND….I am not a shark. I am a guppy.

But here’s the thing.

I am okay being a guppy. I am working on being the best guppy I can be with the best attitude a guppy can have. I think this is really the life lesson I am trying to be taught and it has taken me almost four months to be taught it. If you emulate negativity, you will reflect negativity back at yourself. So no more of that garbage. And then….Barbie happened.

So Barbie messaged Peter last week asking to move back in. This would cause nothing but drama, because she and I are just not able to be in the same room together without drama happening, and it’s not her fault or my fault, it just IS, and us living together would cause WWIII, okay? But since Peter’s mom owns the townhouse in question, it turned out I didn’t have to be the one to smack some since into Peter and say NO to him…she did it for me. The real issue for me is that there is this dark, evil part of me that I have just recently admitted even exists, and it has taken a LOT of therapy for me to put it in a cage and put the key to the cage where I can not easily get to it. Barbie brings that evil, dark part of me back out of the cage….and it is UGLY.

Peter has come up with a compromise, that might work, but we are ironing out the wrinkles. What pisses me off about all of this is that Barbie has yet to say boo to me. Even when I had my cancer scare last year and had to have an outpatient surgery to have a biopsy done, she never called to see how I was. That was the last straw for me. I was DONE with the one-sided friendship, and Peter is a little irritated that she only contacted him after four months because she wants something from him. He stopped contacting her because he got sick of being the one to always initiate contact with her. It has been that way ever since she moved out. I miss my friend, yet, the truth is, I don’t think she ever was my friend in the first place….and that really kind of sucks.

So, as my therapist pointed out, I love Barbie, but I am so angry with her after two and a half years of virtually no contact with her, that I hate her at the same time. I don’t want her to live under a bridge, yet at the same time, I feel like she has burned her bridge with us, and kind of torched the town it was built in as well. It is not my monkey, nor is it my circus. Yet….I still do love the bitch. (Yes, I am a bitch, too.) I hope we can work something out so we can at least be civil and help one another out…but we have a LOT of ironing out of the details yet. So stay tuned.

And keep the key to the cage hidden…because my ugly monster is still lurking.

This week’s adventure

This week has 2 six-word stories:

“I knew it could be done.”

And

“I knew I could do it.”

I took a job with a marketing firm doing telemarketing sales. It isn’t that difficult, the bonus scale is phenomenal, I don’t have to work nights, and I will qualify for full benefits before the April 15 deadline. The downside is it IS sales….but I can deal with it. I spent a week in classroom training and a week on the phones in an “academy” class. I made my qualifications to graduate in one day, and I can work overtime if I wish. I didn’t make my first sale until the third day on the phone, but after that, I didn’t do too shabby. I even sold a very difficult customer, so like the story says, I do know I can do it. Ask me after a week “officially” on the phone how I feel….~Scarlet

Merry New Year

Well the holidays were less than happy for Ryan and his family. On Christmas Eve, his grandmother passed away, and he is having a difficult time dealing with the grieving process that comes with that. Christmas, needless to say, for his family was bittersweet, and then they had a funeral to deal with immediately following. So it has been difficult for Ryan to know quite how to process. He says he feels like he needs a map and a tour guide. I am letting him deal with it internally and talk about it as he wants to. That’s all I can do.

Peter is having some issues with his own family, so he spent Christmas with mine. It was  pretty low-key and uneventful. I was saddened to learn of the deaths of Carrie Fisher and her mother, Debbie Reynolds, two women I looked up to growing up. I was also saddened to hear of George Michael’s death. Alan Thicke died earlier in December as well. So much death…it was hard to be very merry this year.

On a brighter note, my unemployment was taking too long and was being very complicated due to some problems with my last employer, so I decided to apply with a marketing company, and see what would happen. It is not the perfect job–the pay is less than I wanted, but it is more than unemployment would pay and it is easier and faster. I went and applied in person and I start Monday! Telemarketing is not my dream job, but believe me, there are way worse jobs out there….I’ve done some of them. There is commission and bonuses, too, so there is potential to make some decent money, and I might as well go for it. The best part is I don’t have to work nights anymore!

So I have nothing to lose by giving it a whirl. At least I know I will have a steady paycheck and that is something I need right now. I will try to go back to my six-word-story  project in the next couple of weeks. Until then…have a merry new year!

~Scarlet

Feeling Betrayed for Christmas

This week’s six word story: “I absolutely hate being lied to.”

Especially by a company I have believed in and given my all to, only to have them turn around and lie to my face. It wasn’t necessary; they would have still gotten 110% out of the contractors employed with them–we knew that when our contracts expired, there was a good chance that our time with the company would expire with them. Instead, they pumped us full of false hope and lied to us for several months, hoping to motivate us to work harder for their benefit.

So, long story short, 115 contractors were told this past Thursday that, now that the company got what they needed from us, we are out of a job. I am one of the lucky ones–I have learned over the years to ALWAYS have a “Plan B,” and most of the time, I have a “Plan C,” “Plan D,” and beyond. I also have marketable skills and education that I can use to find another job that will fit my needs in a timely fashion.

I applied for unemployment, and will be applying for Medicaid next month, so my medication and other medical needs can be taken care of. I also am getting a $1000 bonus as part of my last check, as well as a commission and my regular salary. I will be okay through the end of the year, and my unemployment should kick in fairly quickly. It is not the financial loss that upsets me….it is the fact that we were told one thing and the opposite happened. I hate being lied to. I feel violated.

It has taken me almost a week to recover from the shock enough to write about it. I know it will be okay, but it will take me awhile to recover from just trusting another employer again. That will take some time.

Scarlet

 

I’m Baaaack

Okay, so it has been crazy busy at work and will probably be that way for at least another week or so. I have simply been too exhausted to write when I get home or to get up early and write before work. I also am still recovering from being sick for the second time in three months, and it is pretty much kicking my ass. But that does not mean I have not mean I have not been writing at all…

I am building a more secure private blog for copywriting purposes, and that is time consuming. I also am writing a few essays for this blog, but it will be a bit before I get them posted here. I also am working on building a project on a website called if-me.org. I will be telling more detailed bits and pieces of my psychological life story there, but in order to access it, you must be invited to be a part of my support circle. If you might be interested in reading what I will be posting there, drop me an email at thefuchialetters@gmail.com and I will give you directions on how to join. In the mean time, check out if-me.org….it is a great site. Some time in early 2017, Ryan and I will be interviewing on of the founders of if-me.org on our podcast, HOVpodcast.net. We are very excited about it and are so honored to be a part of this project.

So I am still around. Look for me in the next week or so to post something special here.

Scarlet

 

 

 

Sick and Tired

I have been very ill the past week, and have missed work as a result. I have also been working on NaNoWrMo, which has been a slow process. I have been working on a book in a “private” blog for two years now, but have recently ran into some copy-writing concerns, and am moving those pieces over into a more secure place, where  the general public cannot access it. As a result, this blog has been a little neglected. When I am feeling better, I will try to rectify that. Until then, take heart that I haven’t forgotten about my project.

Scarlet

Speculate

So the second part of the challenge is this: I’ve often thought of what my father would have done had he known if my biological mother was as mentally ill as she was, and how things were going to play out in the end. He can’t claim complete ignorance, because her brother tried to warn him, and he chose to ignore it. He told me once that he wished in some ways that he had never met her, and that the only good thing to come out of the whole affair was me. I think I asked him, rather pointedly, if he thought that made it worth it. He didn’t hesitate, and said, absolutely. My father had difficulty saying, “I love you,” but I think he was trying to make the effort to tell me just that in that conversation that day. I was about 17 or 18 when we had that conversation, and it is one of the few I remember as vividly as I do. But I often have wondered if he played out the following story in his head from time to time, especially the times I was being a difficult child and teenager. So…here is a speculative example of someone who is dealing with a spouse who is, for lack of a better term, batshit crazy.

Speculation

“I would have never married you if I had know just how crazy you really were,” he said sadly, not caring who else heard. “You took from me not only the last two years of my life, but you stole from me my daughter. I should have seen the signs, and maybe I did. But I ignored them.”

The silence filled the room like a dark cloud. Slowly, he came back to his senses, and why they were there. He turned and faced the judge. “Your Honor,” he fought back tears, “I tried everything. I hospitalized her twice. The doctors told me it was safe to bring her back home. I didn’t leave her alone with the baby for four months after she came home the last time. My mom, or hers, was always in the house if I was at work. I made sure she took her medication, saw her therapist, saw her doctors regularly. They all said it was safe to have her be a mom again. I believed them….and look what happened. I came home from work, and she tells me she was giving the baby a bath and….”

“And what happened next, Mr. Johnson?” the attorney standing in front of him prompted after a minute had passed.

“….and she told me dinner would be ready in ten minutes. The baby was no where to be seen. And she didn’t mention her again. I asked her where she was. She changed the subject. I started looking all over the apartment for her. It was probably two minutes later when I found her…in the bathtub.” He choked. “She wasn’t breathing. I pulled her out, tried to revive her. But it was too late.”

(NOW….if my father DID play this out in his head, I guarantee you, he would never question again that he made the right decision to take me and quietly divorce her while she was hospitalized.)

The ramblings of a poly chic