spent 3 hours reading another woman's blog. About her life. This is not the first time it has happened. Not this particular blog, but Internet, I love to read. There are very few books I will walk away from, and a blog, that is updated, it is like a book that never ends, and comes in very short chapters. I get sucked into the ones that are honest. That talk about ordinary life, baking pie, drinking cheap booze.
It's April, almost 3 months exactly since my last real post. When I moved back into Joe's, after spending a month with my parents, after moving out and starting to cut ties with a person I had thought of as my closest friend, who I learned, had even bigger demons than me, who wasn't/isn't ready for change, and who I did not love enough to stick around and help.
That sounds selfish, and it is, but I have my reasons. 1 It was not a romantic relationship. I made no commitment to her. I still pray for her, but she is not my responsibility.
2 She was tearing me down to build herself up. She was critical of everything I did, everything I said, my happiness, my friends (who were terrified of her, justifiably so), the men I dated, to the point I looked into herbal diet supplements to alter the mindset she drove me into.
3 I can write this 5 months later. In December, the day before I left for the holidays, I went to church with her, for her. (Long story, ask, I'll tell, until then, shelved). During the praise section of the service God told me it was time to move home. I heard his voice, I knew it was Him, and I started weeping. At the end of the service she inquired, and I told her. Her indigent response was "Are you sure, have you prayed about it?" It may seem a logical question, but in my head she was saying "No no no, that's not how it works, first you have to pray this many nights, read these chapters, no smoking, no impure thoughts, torment yourself this many hours with self doubt, and then, if you do all those things just right, He'll give you a sign" because that is how she practiced her religion. There is a lot more background that goes into this, but in the end, it was the nail on the coffin. I was moving home, as soon as I found a job in the crappy Michigan economy, I was gone.
That is not where I thought this post would go, but it's out, and it feels better, and I don't want to talk about it again. Which starts another tangent. I don't like to dwell. Sometimes it feels good to verbally hash out what is happening in my head, or treat it to tumble dry in the appliance that is my brain, but once I'm done, once I've had my say, I'm done. That's why I don't like to talk about my extremely long resume of short lived jobs. I did them. I learned from them. I enjoyed parts of all of them, and there is a reason I'm not doing them anymore. End of story. But people want to know. Then I tell try to skirt around the scandels and near death experiences and heartbreaks. Because people want juicy details. I don't have those details. Because they aren't important to me.