Another maddening trip to Walmart

Have I mentioned how much I hate Walmart? I don’t know whether to believe they hire the dumbest fucking people on the planet or they’re just playing games making everyone walk around the entire store looking for one item. Or maybe they’re trained to do that by the evil Walmart demons.

I had to buy something for my mother in law. I’m in Walmart walking around in circles, and I have the following conversation with another one of their genius employees:

Me: Do you have a foot scrubber? You put it on the shower floor and go like this… (I demonstrate) and wash the bottom of your foot with it.

WM: If we had anything like that, it would be in stationary.

Me: Stationary?!

WM: Yeah, stationary.

Me: Do you understand I’m asking you for something that goes in the shower? It’s for elderly people to be able to wash their feet.

WM: Yeah they have bathroom stuff in stationary.

Me: Okay…. Do you have a section with shower nozzles, or walkers, or hand rails, stuff for elderly people?

WM: Yeah but I ain’t never seen what you’re talkin’ about there.

I knew nothing like that would be in “stationary,” but I went and took a look anyway. I walked out empty handed. There was no such thing in “stationary”. Moron!

Who determines our worth?

How it feels to be a wife

(NOTE: This and several upcoming posts were written several years ago when I was married. I thought it would be fun to share them.)

I suppose enough criticism from everyone in your environment can help you to determine whether or not you’re a worthless wife. Your family, your kids, your significant other, and even your neighbors can all contribute to that cause. After all, wives should be perfect in every way, 24/7, in sickness and in health, and do it with a smile on their faces.

“Alex’s mom is cool. She looks like a movie star and lets us stay up as late as we want,” the kids might say.

Nice. Alex’s mom is also a two-bit whore who screws her husband’s best friend.

“What’s for dinner tonight?” the husband might say. “I’m hungry.”

Dinner? It’s only one in the afternoon. I’m still digesting lunch.

“You should be helping your husband mow the lawn,” the neighbor might say.

Sure thing. I’ll get out my razor and make a landing strip as soon as he picks his dirty clothes up off of the bathroom floor.

“You two should plan sex at least two or three times a week. You need to keep your husband happy,” the mother might say.

Plan sex? Oh how romantic! Is that why you’re such a bitch after 3 “happy” marriages?

I’ll shut up now. After all, isn’t that what women are supposed to do?

Another Lonely Holiday for the 4th

(**I’m a little rambly today… didn’t sleep well last night.)

I’m stuck at work today. I mostly work alone, and combined with the personal part of my life in which I am alone often, it just seems like I’m shut out from the world. My family rarely gets together except for (sometimes) Thanksgiving, Christmas, and maybe Mother’s Day. My friends all either have boyfriends or families they’re spending time with. However, I may visit some married friends later. But being the third wheel is no fun.

Weekends and holidays are a stark reminder that I’m a single middle-aged woman, and by societal standards, it can be tough. Sometimes I’m afraid that I’m alone so much and have been for so long that I’ll end up unable to have any sort of relationship, because maybe I just won’t know how. I go places and see couples and families together all of the time. Sometimes it makes me sad that I don’t have anyone I can share my time with. While I do like my space and freedom, it would be really nice to have a partner for these occasions and to do other fun things. But being alone nearly 24/7 doesn’t seem healthy.

The other day I was reminded in an article that people in relationships live longer, are healthier and happier, have a sense of purpose, and have a reduced risk for dementia. At this rate, I suppose I’ll be dead in 15 years (joking…). But then I started searching for other topics – positive ones – about how being single can be healthier. I suppose it’s all about who you choose to be with, because an unhealthy relationship can cause irreparable damage.

I’m not living the life that I’ve always dreamed about. Not only am I just single; I’m fucking broke. The two do not go hand in hand whatsoever. I’ve been working multiple jobs, some get canceled unexpectedly, and I’ve had some major expenses over the years that I’ve been unable to catch up with. Being broke makes me anxious, makes me worry, makes me lose sleep, increases pain, and obviously doesn’t enable me to travel and do the things I want to do. I know I have to get another job that pays me better and makes me happier… finding it is another story.

What Divorce Can Do To a Woman

broken-heart-shapeI’ve been going through a lot of emotional bullshit lately. Even though it’s been final for eight months, divorce is like dealing with death. It’s a series of grief processes. I’m up one minute, down the next. I try to keep telling myself this is good, everything will be okay, but then I sober up and feel the pain again.

I try to keep myself laughing by looking at cute and funny things – things like comedy shows and cute kitten videos. And then I start missing the animals I had to leave behind. My dog. My cat. I feel as if I’ve abandoned my children. They were my babies. I know they are left alone quite often; they used to be with me almost 24/7, because I worked at home the majority of the time. I find myself bawling at the thought of never seeing them again.

I laugh one minute, cry the next. It’s a fucked up rollercoaster.

Divorce can destroy a woman’s heart forever – make her never want to open up to another man again. It can make her feel unloved, unappreciated, unattractive, and underestimated. It can cause her never to trust again.

Divorce can force a woman to seek others that give her the attention she yearns, but not always the right type of attention, and often attention that turns into more hurt. It can make her question her ability to satisfy a man. It can make her wonder will she ever be good enough – for anyone?

Divorce can make a woman cold, cause a void that can never be filled.

I used to be such a loving, caring person.

I’m not that person anymore.

I can never and will never be someone’s wife ever again.

Excerpt from Unheard: a Memoir – Chapter 8

Excerpt from Unheard: a Memoir – Chapter 8 – told from a child’s point of view

Even though the visits become less frequent, I look forward to visiting Daddy, and I have already forgiven Bianca for butchering my hair. Their house is always warm and cozy. Bianca has down comforters and nice pillows and warm beds, and they have a warm fireplace for the winter, air conditioning for the hot months, and things that I’m not used to having. I am even allowed to take hot baths and sit in the tub for as long as I want!

I have wanted to shave my legs since fifth grade, because my friends are already shaving and making fun of me. Mom says I have to wait until I’m thirteen, but when I speak to Bianca about it, she gives me a razor and tells me to go at it. It must have taken me an hour or more, and I cut myself a few times, but I am grateful to be able to do at least one thing all of my friends are doing. Plus, I don’t have boy legs anymore.

By the middle of the summer between sixth and seventh grades, I decide that I want to live with Daddy and Bianca. They convince me that living with them will be better than living with Marcus and his drinking and drug habits.

I agree, but know that I will miss Mom. I hate the thought of leaving the babies and her alone with Marcus. What if something happens and she needs me? I hesitate calling Mom on the phone because I fear her reaction.

“I don’t want to tell her,” I say to Dad and Bianca.

“You’re the one that has to tell her, not us,” Bianca says.

I pick up the phone. Mom answers. I’m crying.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“I don’t want to come home,” I say. “I want to stay here.”

I can tell she isn’t happy. But I also know that I might be in trouble if I do decide to go back home.

“Why don’t you come home and we’ll talk about it?” she says, but I feel that it is more than a suggestion.

My stomach knots. I can barely swallow. My heart races. I am scared to death and know I cannot turn back now. I cry harder. Daddy takes the phone from me. Bianca hugs me and says everything is going to be all right.

All I have to do is go back there to pack.

UNHEARD: a memoir Now Available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble!

Excerpt from Unheard: a Memoir – Chapter 6

Excerpt from Unheard: a Memoir – Chapter 6 – told from a child’s point of view

Other family gatherings involve being with Marcus’s weird family. His father (whom Mom secretly calls Hitler because he is a tyrant and has a dark mustache) refers to all children as “rotten little kids”. I am no exception, but the name-calling doesn’t end there. Marcus’s obedient mother, Rose, is nice most of the time and tries to keep the kids as far from her husband as possible – and he sees to it she does just that.

Just because it’s a holiday doesn’t exempt them from being freaks. Marcus still refers to me as “The Monster,” particularly in front of his own family members, as if to impress them. They laugh and joke about calling me names; even when the babies were born everyone laughed and said they looked like aliens. I guess they think it’s okay and normal to make fun of people, especially small children. Sometimes Mom secretly looks at me and rolls her eyes, because she knows they are stupid and immature. Mom never really says anything, though. I think she’s afraid, so she pretends to laugh along with them. Rose does the same. I hate being around them.

Hitler has never been nice – never one kind word or gesture – nor does he ever speak to me except to bark out a command or an insult. Because he wears dark eyeglasses that hide his eyes, no one knows what he is looking at. Hitler served time in a Florida prison for embezzling money when he worked for the city. On top of that, he is weird and creepy and always stinks because he doesn’t wear deodorant. He isn’t very nice to the babies, either. When we moved out of their trailer and into the new ugly house, Mom discovered a peephole in the bedroom wall. Hitler had been secretly watching her.

Marcus’s younger brother, Melvin, is the only one in their family who is remotely nice to me. He flirts with me, and everyone else seems to think it’s cute and funny – even though I am only in sixth grade. I think it’s weird. Melvin is married to a teenaged girl from his high school. They’re going to have a baby together. Melvin also went to jail for tying up and having sex with a girl the same age as me.

Marcus’s older brother, Arthur, is just as weird as the rest of them. Most of the time he keeps quiet, but when he speaks he says stupid things. And he smells like a troll. Every time Arthur holds the babies under his arms, Mom has to wash their heads because their uncle does not wear deodorant. No wonder he never has a girlfriend.

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Excerpt from Unheard: a Memoir – Chapter 5

Excerpt from Unheard: a Memoir – Chapter 5 – told from a child’s point of view

Bianca has a way of making everyone believe her. She says she always cuts Daddy’s hair and her own, so I agree to let her cut mine after church. I look in the mirror a few times while she works on it, but I don’t like what I see. I think maybe she can fix it and allow her to keep cutting. But when I look in the mirror for the last time, I see that my beautiful, healthy, long dark hair has gone from being about eight inches below my shoulders to a shaggy, cropped mullet. I start crying, put on a painter’s hat, and run out the front door. At first I don’t know where I am going. Since it is only about two miles up the road, I decide to walk to Grandmaw’s.

The first person I see is Aunt Jackie.

“Oh hi, Susanna,” Aunt Jackie says. “I didn’t know that was you. I thought it was a boy walking down the road.”

I cry harder. I know Aunt Jackie doesn’t mean to hurt my feelings, but what she said is true. I do look like a boy. She hugs me, goes inside and tells Grandmaw about it.

“Why did she do that to your pretty hair, honey?” Grandmaw seems sad.

“She said she could cut it like I wanted it,” I tell her.

Uncle Charlie is shaking his head.

“That old bar whore can’t cut hair! She ain’t never went to school for that,” he speaks very loudly.

Grandmaw calls Daddy to come get me. Bianca gives him my things and makes Daddy drive me home alone.

“Your hair doesn’t look that bad,” he tells me.

I keep quiet the whole ride home. Mom is standing outside when we pull up to the house. I say goodbye to Daddy and he leaves.

“What did you do to your hair?” she looks horrified.

“Bianca cut it.”

“I don’t like it,” she frowns. “She should have left your hair alone. Why did you let her do it?”

“I don’t know,” I cry. “She told me she could cut hair. I thought she knew what she was doing.”

“She cuts your father’s hair and look at his!” She is mad. “She doesn’t know what she’s doing! That bitch!”

Mom stomps off to call Bianca and give her a piece of her mind, which usually means saying a few four letter words and mentioning Jesus Christ or God’s hamlet, even though I don’t think they have anything to do with it.

I want to go to school tomorrow, except that I don’t want anyone to see my hair. I pick at my arms, pondering what to do about it and decide that putting it up in pigtails will be the easiest way to hide the awful cut.

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