Sunday, June 21, 2015

The worst of all the fictional holidays

Things only get worse as I get older.

I don't know when the bitterness really set it. I've never wanted to be someone who lived with regrets but at the same time I wasn't the one going around fucking every whore under the sun while my kids played alone. I'm not the one who made promises that I never followed through on. I'm not the liar. I'm not the cheater. But I hate the fact that I'm the victim of it all.

There's almost a sense of rage inside of me towards my own naivety. It's easy to claim hindsight but I know I'm not the only one who feels this way. I've chatted with my sister about things and we're on a fairly level playing field for it all. A lot of times I just say "it is what it is" when I don't want to think about things, but every year this damned fake holiday comes around and reminds me of all of the bitter bullshit inside of me.

I didn't even do anything. I know that the closer I come to marriage and especially children, the more I lament about the things I missed and the things I wasn't given. I don't want to whine about it but every year I see hundreds of people talking about how great things were or are for them and it just pisses me off.

Call me a cynic. Call me a bad child. Call me a crybaby. Call me blind! I know there were good times too. But we were having a conversation the other day about baseball games and I was trying to think about the first time we ended up going to one in Cincy. In my mind, I can't even pull up 5 games that we went to together.  As a family, sure; but not us. And most family events in my memory center around my sisters and my mother (and to a lesser and generally embarrassing/forgettable extent, me)

I don't have a great book of quotes. I don't have a paragon of wisdom. I don't have sun-washed rainbow memories. I have myself crying on the couch about my future and being told it's too bad. I have myself begging for some sort of ANYTHING and being given the same lame duck answers. I don't think so. We'll think about it. Maybe some other time. No.

If you didn't think I'd remember every single one of those times, you were wrong. You know why? Because I was always wrong! It was never you! It was always me, and trust me I do remember that it was always me. Everything was always my fault. Everything I ever said was wrong. Even when I told the truth, I took the blame. And you even remind me! Ahhh!

It will never be this way for my children. If I can take anything positive away from all of this, it's that I know exactly how NOT to be.

The end. Fuck today.

Saturday, June 13, 2015


i should probably stop asking myself questions.

and when i bled in darkness, you held me, still held me...

Thursday, June 11, 2015

UP and leave

Sometimes I sit back and ask myself: Could I just pack my things and be gone? Just up and leave like that? Granted, I'm not the disappearing type, and we live in a world super-connected by social media; but at the same time... could I?

I feel like I could. I'm not saying that I want to start over, but I bet I could.

The real question at the end of this progression is: would I feel better after the deed was done? I love my friends and I love my fiancee, but inevitably I do not love myself and I do not love my life.

Would starting over somewhere far away change that? I just don't know. How badly do I need to know?

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Moved in, moving on: Part 3

Survival. Life is about surviving, if you want to look at it that way. What is life but staying alive long enough? I don't know. But I do know that as of April 23rd 2015, I had given up. I didn't want to be alive any more. How fortunate I was to have an incredible support system around me to keep me rolling. I went to the bar Friday and got fairly hammered and sang along to awful songs with a great friend of mine. My guys made me come out to a baseball game and made me enjoy myself, despite my avoidance of life. My parents moved out, and it was just Fidget and I for a week.

My "end of May" deadline was extended due to the fact that I didn't know whether I'd have a job or not. I interviewed with another HR specialist and told my side of the story. Apparently, my bitchy team member who had complained about me before had gone to the store leader and told him that I had taken product out of the trash and served it. My store leader immediately jumped on that opportunity, got it all in writing and everything and put on his steel-toed boots to kick me to the curb. Unfortunately for him, the cameras would prove my case otherwise, but I had already written my job off as a loss and was updating my resume and planning my answer to "why are you no longer with...". I couldn't wait to explain that one to all the people who would be disappointed in me.

The "investigation" took the entire week. I slept alone with the cat every day, packing my life away and for 3 days in a row, moving it to my fiancee's house. There was nowhere in my parents house to put anything and there was really nothing else to do. I had to keep my mind busy, otherwise I'd be killing myself. So what did I do to save myself? I played Portal, and Portal 2. It kept my mind incredibly busy and it killed hours at a time (a strange feat for a video game for my ADHD brain), and also, those are freaking awesome games. I expected the phone to ring every day, and I knew once Friday came that it was officially time. I waited all day Friday for the word, and when the phone finally rang, I was ready for the worst. I hadn't been able to search much for jobs with the internet being turned off, but I had my resume ready and my nice shirts ironed out.

The word was that, while it may not have been entirely my fault, there was enough evidence to remove me from leadership. In essence, everything I had spent the past 2 years working towards was yanked away. BUT, I still had a job. Just not in the black hole store. Instead, the rep asked me where I'd like to transfer to and sent me a list of store that needed full time help. The pickings were slim for my department, but the store that I spent a month working the sizzling wok had an opening, and the store leader said he remembered me and would have asked for me if he knew I was available.  That was a pretty cool feeling. And strike one stress-o off my life.

I still needed to find an apartment, and after a brief search close to work, I found a place 5 miles up the road. And my super amazing father in law was cool enough to move all of my stuff from his garage to the new place while I was at work one day. And let me tell you, sleeping in my own bed with my cat and with a job that appreciated me... well, I was back to normal. I suppose?

It's been about a month, and I'm feeling significantly better. Definitely not suicidal or even anxious about wedding planning any more. I have other things on my mind, but I feel strong enough to overcome them and move forward. And so, in moving in I have moved on from the first half of 2015. Hello, world.

Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Moved in, moving on: Part 2

Moving on means I need to get this all out so it doesn't bother me any more.

As I was searching for a new apartment, a giant shitstorm blew over my work. I went on vacation for 4 days (two driving, two doing things... barely a vacation in terms of rest and relaxation) and in that time my boss also left for his vacation. Although we were quite behind when I got back, things went smoothly until the end of the week when I was called to the HR office. There had been a complaint from one of my more bitchy employees about how I made them work and wasn't flexible enough for them. Unfortunately the leader before me essentially let them do whatever the heck they wanted on a daily basis, so the installation of structure and rules (that were new to them) was rather abrupt. I probably could have handled it better, but I was essentially learning the position as I went myself.

After finishing the conversation about my employees, the focus turned to loss prevention. It happened that something I was always taught and had always done was apparently being scrutinized. I explained to them how I was trained and how I had always done things, and told them that if I was wrong, I would most certainly change my ways to resolve the issue. It was an issue with dating product, and as far as I had known, every store did those things the same way. The employees that I had did it the same way I did even though they were trained by someone else. Either way, we changed what we were doing and tried to all get along, although I still felt the friction from them.

When my boss got back from his vacation, everything changed. He was always hard on me (I could never understand why on day 1 he came down and screamed at me for 5 whole minutes) but in my last month at that store he stepped up his game. Apparently he had wanted to have a conversation with me on the day I left, and I had exited the building without following up with him. As it stands, I went to find him and he was no longer in the store, so I left. He used phrases like "disrespects me", "shows you are not serious about this job" and "if this happens again, it's a writeup and you're out of a job". That may sound unreasonably harsh, but that's how he always was.

Well, from that day on my working life was a living hell. A daily barrage of things I was doing wrong, and ways that I "didn't care" about the job. I was already fairly stressed out about the HR issue, but this skyrocketed everything. Suddenly I was coming in even earlier, and leaving even later. 50 hour weeks became 60+ hour weeks. I couldn't sleep at night, and couldn't find comfort in anything I did outside of work. Physically, my knee was pulsing and my feet were at a point where I could barely walk every day. Mentally, I could tell that a breaking point was coming, but I kept pushing it down so as to not lose my cool about things. I actually did talk to the HR lady a couple of times about how my leader was treating me as well.

Everything abruptly skidded out of control at the end of April. I had found a place to live and had gotten the money together to sign a new lease and get the move going. Unfortunately, I was the only person schedule for the majority of that day at work, and I got the news early that our store audit was coming. Our produce lead informed me and checked my coolers to make sure nothing was out of date. An hour later our grocery leader came and checked them as well, and shortly thereafter the store leader came to tell me to check the coolers (here's to being thorough) and tell me what to do when they got to my department. Well, I went though my daily motions and got my department ready for the reckoning. Unfortunately, they didn't come until the afternoon and somehow, amazingly, they found an item in my cooler that was out of date. Even after 4 different people checked, there was still something that slipped under all of our noses. Inevitably it was my fault, but it shocked me that we had all not seen it.

Hell reigned down from there. After getting the news, my store leader pulled me into the kitchen and went off. It was probably the worst ripping I had ever received. "This is a career-ender", "you will never have another store" "every single leader in this store will hate you because of this" "I'm sorry I ever trusted you to do your job". It was brutal. I immediately went to HR to try and figure out what I should do from there. She told me to be patient because I was "not the only one who had had these complaints". Of course it was easy for her to say that, but the four leaders who had complained about him that year already were all transferred with the exception of one who just up and quit in a blaze. Was I going to be transferred? Would I be written up/suspended? I figured I'd be written up and have that stain on my record, but the next day I was called upstairs and told that I was being removed from the schedule pending investigation.

Essentially, I was a dead man walking. I went to my car and cried. I cried hard. I was broken in a way that I hadn't been broken in a long time. I had to sit in my car for an hour and contemplate whether I really even wanted to live any more. Suddenly, I had no job, nowhere to live and essentially no hope. I called my best friend who happened to work across the street and we got lunch. Kelly came over and we talked to my parents about it. I broke down with them as well. Told them I was feeling suicidal, was feeling hopeless and didn't want to live any more. They told me that "no matter what happens, we will take care of you". Right, right. So now I felt betrayed, destroyed and demoralized beyond belief. Life was bleak. Life was unbearable.

I am still alive, of course. I don't know, but I need to write about it tomorrow.

Moved in, moving on: Part 1

There are so many things that I had hoped to write about in the past two months. So many things that have happened that have changed my life in such a strange way. I am unsure where to start, and I don't want to just pour everything out in one big gerblagh.

So I suppose we can go back to the start. For the past year or so I have been living with my parents while Reeser and I ironed out the details of our wedding. Due to multiple different circumstances, the wedding kept being put off and my parents (out of what I'm sure they believed was grace) offered to let me stay with them until everything was sorted out. This was almost two years ago. In late March they started rumbling about wanting to look for a new house. And of course, instead of actually searching the market and trying to make a decision, they decided on the first place they looked at. This happened the last two times they moved as well. It's neither here nor there for me to judge them, but it did mean that I would have to move as well.

Initially, I was told (first week of April) that I would have to find my own place by the end of the month. I was upset at the short notice but figured I might as well get on the horse and go. I didn't think I'd have enough money to live on my own again, and I knew that the misses wasn't going to live with me until after the wedding this fall, so I was in a rough spot. After a week of freaking out, looking for roommates and exploring possible living arrangements, my parents then informed me that I could stay with them in the spare bedroom at their new place, but that the room was rather small.

True to their words, the room was tiny. Big enough for my bed and perhaps dresser. In the same house was a larger spare bedroom that I could have stayed in as well, but my mother insisted that she wanted that to be her sewing room. Even knowing that I only needed a room until October, she insisted that I could have the small room and nothing else. Essentially, fuck you and get out of our house (even though we'll beg you to come and see us). It was so typical of my parents that I wasn't surprised. I tried my best not to be hurt but this is just another crappy piece to our messed up parent/son relationship.

That's where our story begins, I guess. Me searching for an apartment and finding only bad locations and bad prices. I don't know how many different entries I'll need to spill all this out, but this is the beginning.

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Begging me for more

Computer crashed.

Still alive.