i'd like you all to go back and read my last post. try to put yourselves in the position of the people i was talking about and realize how they would feel reading it.
i've done that just now, and i don't like how i feel. i have therefore set the new standard for how i want to write this blog--i will write as if the people in it are standing right next to me, whether i know them or not, because that is the reality of the internet. i really didn't think about whether or not they would read it, and carelessly posted a whiny complaint about them. something i would never say to their face because it's none of my business, and not my place to say, but in my own blog, it felt more like a personal journal entry, and that is the deceptive part of the blogosphere--don't ever forget that everyone is reading!
and so, they being who they are, were offended by my last post. so deeply offended and wounded that the only thing they could do was kick me out of their house. i don't mean they asked me to move out. i mean they packed up all (well, not all, more on that later) my belongings and brought them down to my work, dropped them at the front door and in high dramatic fashion told me how they'd 'read my blog' and i was out on the street! my stomach flipped, i was in total shock, trying to remember what i'd said, was it bad? what did i do?! they thought i had 'trashed' them and their kids. they believed i had talked shit about their girls, and were most angry about that, but all i remembered was mentioning their parenting style and how it differed from my upbringing. when i read it today, i realized they must have thought my saying how the girls broke their toys was a dis on the girls. but really i see that as a direct product of spoiling them, not the girls fault. i think they are beautiful kids, bright, curious, with unique styles who have so much potential.
so there i stood, with my suitcases in the middle of my workplace, my jaw dropped, my heart racing, and they told me to 'stay away from them and their house and their family', jerry springer style. by this point, i really wasn't longing to pay a visit, but it all seemed so unfair. was the crime deserving of the punishment? i looked around to try to gain a hold on reality, but i was still wrapped up in the dark anger world, no light-switch to be seen. my sweet co-workers swooped in when they left the store and assured me it would be ok. i was in a daze, didn't know what to do. i punched out, and went to get my car to load up my stuff, and take a break. i called my boss, crying, and told her the story. she offered her house for the night, and i gratefully accepted. she showed me in, gave me linens, some juice, and a tour. a sanctuary in a time of crisis. i called my mom, i called joe, i cried painfully. i just didn't get it.
and then, with creeping significance, i started to get it. this had to happen, i needed to get out of there, it wasn't safe or wise to live there. the owl had given me a warning, and i finally saw what he meant. i had been stifling my opinions, shoving down my inner truth, and putting a nice gloss over the choppy waters of my better judgment in order to keep the perceived financial benefit of not paying rent. this however turned out to be a totally unworthy pursuit. a pursuit like that which is not aligned with my intuition is bound to be sabotaged by my essential self, and the more i cling to it, the worse the scenario becomes. if i had honored and respected my initial hit that i should not be there, this never would have happened. i've become so conditioned to try to be logical that i pushed aside all the clues that would have saved me this embarrassment and pain. to illustrate what i mean by the toxic environment they called home, here is a quote from the comments section of my blog from a few days ago, posted by--you guessed it--eric, the male half of the couple i was living with.
What a brutal ruthless polyanna bitch
this girl sounds like someone who was molested by daddy
truely Scumbag Cunt is not low enough for this piece of dog shit
Attacking innocent children to make herself feel better
what a pathetic semi human being
Kill yourself now and save the world the hassle
after the initial booting me out incident, i contacted them to try to talk things out. i was stunned by their immature, petty response. i thought it wouldn't be too much to ask to have the rest of my things from their house, but the response i got was indignation at the thought that i'd go so low as to try to collect my things, after all i'd done to them. but because 'that's just the kind of people they are', she said she'd bring my food to the store the next day (sounded like a really big hassle), and wouldn't even ask me for the 25 dollars i 'owed' for utilities. i guess all the extra work i put in didn't count toward that, clearly no one even noticed. i may be a bitch, but i'm a fair person, i don't believe in cheating people, or even allowing people to feel cheated. i'd rather just give them what they think i owe them, money isn't that precious. when she came in with some of my food, i gave her the 25 bucks, and the house key back, even though she didn't return my mop, my other jar of peanut butter, my one-cup coffee maker, my laundry detergent, my calenders, or the dress and book they 'gave' me for christmas (a real classy move).
luckily, this is not the end of the story. in fact, it's only the beginning, a rough start to a charmed journey. within an hour of their nauseating public display, i was invited to live in a mansion, for as long as i'd like. free. when a door slams hard in your face, a great big one is likely to open wide right behind you. my new and awesome friends live in a house up on the hill with 360 degree views of hilo and the ocean, a 7 acre property with an enormous lawn, bursting fruit trees, and a trampoline to bounce on and watch the sunset. the house is huge, with 7 bedrooms (one of which is mine with a private entrance, large lanai, cheetah print carpet, four poster king size bed, 4 hundred feather pillows and gold gilded oak furniture), a sewing room stocked with the most elaborate fabric, a grand piano, a massive open kitchen/living/dining room, an ohana downstairs in grotto style with an elegant home theater and sets of french doors opening out on the lawn, all for the enjoyment of us, the people who live here. all utilities are paid, including cable and internet, and all we have to do is mow the lawn--granted it's 12 hours on the riding mower every 2 weeks, but between 3 people, that's nothing. the owner of this house is a wealthy lady who lives on the mainland and is trying to sell the place, but in this market, it's just not that easy to sell a house like this. until then, my friends get to live here and take care of it. and now, so do i. talk about a soft landing from a hard blow. now, instead of just surviving in a cockroach ridden scarcity complex, i get to relax in the lap of luxury until my cabin is ready, or until something better comes along. i'm not ruling out an utterly amazing happening in the next few weeks.
as the days go by, i gain more and more perspective on the situation, and while i know what i did was rude, i don't regret it. i am sad that i am not evolved enough to have prevented this situation by earlier honesty with myself and others. i am sorry i hurt them, that was never my intention. i am still confused as to why this got so blown out of proportion. but i am glad to have a clean break, i don't want to be their friend anymore. i have seen enough.
in the end, i think we all get what we deserve.
KCHBR day 8: zero in Visalia
2 weeks ago