Time Flies….

So just a quick update, because I haven’t written in over a month. The insurance thing turned out to be a scam. It pisses me off to talk about, so I will just skim over it and say that I will be scrambling for a while to catch up financially. It was a complete and utter waste of my time, and money I didn’t have. The good news is that I  found another job right away and my boss and coworkers are super nice and I think I will be there for a long time.

Next weekend is Comic-Con and Ryan and I’s friend T will be here on Thursday. We have a lot to do yet for her visit but we are really excited. This will be the first time in a long time I will be able to do all three days of it. I will write more after next weekend.






So I know it’s been a few days since I have been able to write anything but my name. I have been in training to be a field agent for a life insurance company, so I have been running pretty hard the past month or so. Unfortunately, because it is all commission-based, I have not made any money yet, but that will be changing in the next few days. One good sale will help me out of a financial crunch. I owe everyone I know right now. (I owe, I owe, so off to work I go….) Once training is over (today is the last official day, but my “release meeting” isn’t until Monday), I will actually start making money. Until then, I am really stretched, which stresses me out. Especially when you take into account that I have a mental health issue, where one of the primary symptoms is spending money you don’t have, on things you don’t need, and it literally is a compulsion to do it. Keeping busy helps, so I haven’t really had to think about it too much yet. But I digress….

It will be a year ago on Mother’s Day this year that I found out that I had Detachment Disorder when I was very young. (Yes, I know it sounds like a weird thing to find out on that day, but it wasn’t as strange of a conversation with my step-mother and brother as you think.) A few summers ago, my step-mother told me some new stuff I didn’t know about my dad, and it makes me wonder what else I really don’t know about my early childhood. My biological mother’s brother has been very accommodating when it comes to answering questions about what he knows, but there are many things NO one seems to know, too. So whenever I have a question, or she remembers something she feels I ought to know, my mom tells me what she can. I think there are a lot of things that my dad kept from all of us, too, and that is extremely disheartening and frustrating at times.

I have always struggled with remembering timelines properly. I think that stems from having a series of traumatic events happen rapid-fire as early as when I was born. Having a biological mother with serious mental health issues, and not having her be properly diagnosed until towards the end of her life, I guess it is to be expected that having a child was going to be too much for her. I see photographs of my parents before I came along, and she looks so happy with my dad. Other photographs of her with the baby (me), however, show her as being markedly depressed and like the joy has been sucked out of her.

My father never even told me her name until I was 16, and even that was when I “accidentally” saw my birth certificate. (And that was because he handed me a file with my name on it, and told me to put it in his office. He had to have known I would look in it!) I didn’t know then, but her mother, my grandmother, had shown up on my family’s doorstep earlier that day, asking to see me. My dad freaked out, told her “no,” and pulled all my papers to make sure everything was in order. Seeing that it was, he handed me a ticking time-bomb by giving me that file. I confronted him about the secrets he kept from me, and it was the only time I can remember really fighting with him as a teenager.

We had one other knock-down, drag-out fight about a year before we found out he had a brain tumor, too. That was because I was tired of feeling like a second-class child of his because I was a girl, and I was infertile and couldn’t give him grandchildren. He always treated my half-brother so much different than me, and when I pointed it out to my dad, he was really unaware he was doing anything wrong. But after thinking about it for a few days, he came to me and apologized. He said he was always harder on me than either of my brothers because he knew what I was capable of. He and I spent the next year or so actually having the best father-daughter relationship we could. It made the shock of him dying so unexpectedly much easier to handle.

Last Mother’s Day was extremely liberating, in a strange way. I found out a lot of things that I did not remember, as they happened to me when I was so young. My first solid memory is when I was about four years old, and my first traumatic incidents happened before I was a year old. Although some of the things I discovered were not fun, there were some that were extremely interesting and explained a few things. For example, apparently my dad had me see a series child psychologists and therapists to help me connect to my step-mother. One had them do a “rebirthing” exercise, where they wanted her to sit on me and practically suffocate me. She refused. I never did like to be held down, so my parents were not keen on forcing me to do something like that. They took me to a “psychic therapist,” which shows me how desperate my dad must have been to help me integrate. He was a Pentecostal minister, for Pete’s sake. My step-brother is 9 years older than me, and he says he remembers all the therapists, because they made him go as well. He described to me in detail how the psychic therapist was for him. And us together. That was crazy to hear about, trust me. It also explained why my dad was so distrustful of therapists and counselors. I can’t say that I blame him for that, considering.

I was also sent to two kindergartens, which I do remember. One was in the mornings, and was the standard class. In the afternoons, I went to a different school and attended classes for children with difficultly fitting in with other children. (When I was anxious or upset, I bit everyone. I bit my mom once, and because Dr. Spock, the renowned pediatrician, suggested it, she bit me back. She then proceeded to sit in the car after I went in the house with my dad and cried for 45 minutes, feeling like a cannibal. I didn’t even produce a sniffle. I was one stubborn kid.) I have vague memories of that school. I remember finger-painting and learning the words to “Here Comes Santa Clause.” I remember that in particular, because I learned the difference between “paws” and “pause.” I was so proud of myself, and I think my dad explained to me what a “homily” was when I told him about what I learned.

Weird things, memories. I wonder what this Mother’s Day will reveal? I know one thing: I am very grateful for my step-mother, and even though I can’t physically be with her on Sunday, I know I will be having a long, heart to heart with her on the phone. She is nothing short of my hero. But that is another post….


Quick Update

So I know time flies. I have been super busy and I know I have kind of let this fall by the wayside. I have no excuse other than life sort of has gotten in the way. Basically, the big news is I up and quit the job I detested, and took a major leap of faith and am in the process of going for pretty much a dream job. I am going to be in the insurance industry, as a field agent, which is mostly a Public Relations job. The really scary part is that it is essentially commission based, which I have always avoided. But I am going to just go for it. I have been working my ass off to get my state Life insurance license ( I took and passed the exam yesterday), and I have to admit it has pretty much consumed my time for the last few weeks. Also….it has pretty much melted my brain. I have a DEGREE in criminal justice with a 4.0 GPA that was easier! But I did pass the state exam and now I start official training with the company I will be working for next Monday….nothing like going for what will make you happy. Even if I crash and burn, it still is a hell of a lot better than that fucking shit-hole I just left, and that is NO lie! I have had to beg, borrow and steal from pretty much everyone I know to get this going, and I am flat-ass broke right now, but I have amazing support from Ryan and Peter and my family….so, here goes nothing. I will keep you posted. I will try to take some time and write here after my first week of training. Until then, wish me luck!

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.”


“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!


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.



The ramblings of a poly chic