It Was Just A Shitty Job

5 Weeks now.

Still can’t sleep through a Sunday night.

Doing better with the other nights…

Well, Wednesday is still a bit rough. …

5 Weeks, and I’m still angry.

Goodness, it was just a shitty job that I did for 3 years.

You would think that I just got out of a co-dependant abusive relationship.

But I didn’t.

It was just a shitty job that I did for 3 years.

Sure I can make all the correlations between a shitty job and a abusive relationship.

Because that’s what it is, isn’t it?

But do the same break up rituals work on a shitty job you did for 3yrs?

Maybe a re-bound job? … But that means you’d work at an even shittier job…

That might just do me in, ‘coz the last one nearly did.

There are no photos to burn, no rumours to spread, no lawsuits, no vehicles for my own vindication … Life goes on..

It was just a shitty job I did for 3 years.

5 weeks gone, and I am still angry…

I know, I said that already.

Why am I still angry?

Why am I angry at all?

It was just a shitty job I did for 3 years.

I thought I would be better by now.

That I would be bursting with energy, that I would drop the stress weight I gain, that all the erratic aches & pains that would randomly crush me would disappear, that my satirical intellectual prowessness would suddenly return.


A student teased me when I complained; “Did you get your ‘medical bingo card’?

After realizing what it was, my only response was; “Do we get paid if we win?”

To be fair, I do have a bit more energy, but only enough to realize how broken I am.

I know these things take time, but it’s been 5 Weeks!

I know why I am angry.

That song. “California Numb” by Cloves

“… If you can only see me know, you can hear the punchline,

That I don’t like my face, or how I’m turning out…”

That’s why I’m so angry.

It’s been 5 Weeks, I’m not much better.

… And it was just a shitty job that I did for 3 years.



Oh, She’ll Figure it out


Needless to say I did not sleep well…

2 long days of anger, frustration, and utter disappointment. Managed to resolve a couple of issues and was looking forward to a proposition of solace. But the proposition bailed, and I went to sleep once again angry, frustrated, and utterly disappointed. I went to sleep in a place I did not want to be.

I know I was dreaming, but don’t remember the first 2. Just that I woke up screaming twice. The first time, I screamed “GEEEEEET OOOOUUUUUT!”, the second “STOOOOOP!”

…The 3rd one I remember to, to well…

I was bound, gagged and shackled, then beaten by every person I knew that I let within 2 steps of me. I was dragged by a chain around my neck to a cave with a shallow pit. My best friend said to me; “You don’t understand what really matters. I only want you to be happy.” Then proceeded to throw me into the pit in the cave. My boyfriend looks over the edge and says that he’s going to chill out on YouTube. People  start gathering in front of the cave. “Oh, she’ll figure it out.”  They tell each other; “So just push the button” …

There was and explosion and the walls cave in …

I woke up kicking and punching the walls of my room …

It Just SUCKS! But…

I’m sure you all have heard the phrase “The Straw That Broke The Camels Back”. And I’m fairly certain that all of us have at several times in our lives, had our backs broken over something ridiculously innocuous. Well, today was another one of those days, meaning I’m going to rant and rave. I will be using gratuitous language and am in no mood to take any prisoners. I will probably burn down the bridges that are in desperate disrepair instead of beating my head against the wall to try and fix them. I will more and likely be using way too many so called contrived sayings and anecdotes. By doing all of this, I am in no way looking for sympathy, empathy, platitudes, advice, words of wisdom, uplifting saying, or sunshine blown up my ass. This is also not a platform for anyone to make themselves feel better by using me and my situation as a charity case. Please note that whatever issue I have with people that I may mention or refer too, is between me and them. That I am not trying to recruit an army to wage war with them or turn people against them. I’m wanting to rant and be done with it.

I am angry. And I don’t want to pretend anymore that everything is OK. I’m sick of trying to find a silver lining in those rancid storm clouds. Honestly folks, that silver lining is called lightening! I am fed up with this whole …”Things will get better! You just need to believe that it will!” … Or any other related concepts … I am tired of being the one who makes up the excuse for everyone else’s despicable behaviour! “…Oh, she probably had a rough morning…” “… I caught him at a bad time …” There’s no excuse to be a bitch or a prick. Know yourself. If something is troubling you, politely let people know that it’s best to come back at another time. It’s not that you have to go into detail. “… You know love, I’m not in the best of moods right now. Can we talk later?” … I know! I know! For those of you who have read this far, your heads are probably exploding! Screaming that you can’t do that at work, or in this situation or that situation. I understand that whole heartedly and that is one of the reason why I’m on this rant! IT FUCKIN’ SUCKS!

I’ve always been dubious, rather skeptical even about things that are “meant to be” and the idea, that if you truly want something, the Universe will conspire to provide it for you. I feel that we have a bit more control and power over our lives than to leave it to fate and things meant to be. That when life goes awry, it’s a matter of circumstance & coincidence. And it’s in those times that we discover our limitations, strengths & weaknesses, we question our beliefs, our goals & aspirations or bind ourselves more adamantly to them. I suppose I’m questioning, now that I know more of my limits & weakness. …

One thing that I did … Well, maybe still do … Maybe … Is what goes around, comes around. But does it? I am struggling financially. So much so that I am on the verge of losing everything. I’m not saying this to be dramatic, it’s a matter of fact. It’s a matter of circumstance that I got into this situation, but I can’t help to think what did I do wrong? It turns over and over in my head like a hamster wheel. And you know what keeps popping up as the answer? … I was/am too fuckin’ nice …

I did everything I knew of to be kind and understanding from the beginning of the end of my last marriage through the divorce and even afterward. He was such a jerk to me that other people constantly asked “… What the hell is going on!?…” Ahhh, but the kind and understanding me came up with brilliant excuses for him and even pretended that this is what I wanted. … Again, some of you are screaming the new slogan “… You don’t need a bruise to be abused..” Believe you me, I know this! I should have listened to all those people who said that I should have sued him for every penny he had. But no, I was kind, took only what was promised. Even after all was said and done I still was too kind, and spent nearly €1000 sorting through and getting rid of all the junk he left behind. … OK, he did reimburse €40 and some change. … Ack … Maybe this whole debacle was my penance for some bad shit that I did in a past life … If there is such a thing as past lives … If Heaven forbid that I do this all over again would I have done things differently? Well of course I would have! Would I be able to be relentless and brutal? … I don’t know.  And would it have help my situation now? … Who can say?

At the end of last year. My land lady was in a desperate way financially. Both her Husband and Son lost their jobs, her car broke down and new regulations for property owner renting out their places made our current arrangement unsustainable for her and her family. When my exe left and I struggled with money, the school, and even food, she bent over backward to help me stay afloat. So when she was struggling, I wiped out my accounts to help her out. Maybe I actually had too much faith that the Universe wouldn’t leave me hanging for a good deed. I thought that I would recover quickly, but again no. I didn’t realise that I milked every last drop from my rock. There was/is no money, no savings left. Now I’m in over my head in over due room hire charges, and far enough behind on my payments to my accountant that they won’t file my bi-monthly VAT or year end taxes. Maybe I should have claimed squatter’s rights and not pay anything to my landlady? She would have had to spend more money than what it’s worth to get me out if I did that. I know I did the right thing and would probably do it again. But I question whether doing the right thing was worth it? I understand that in this case I was on the other side of Karma. I was given a good turn and it was time for me to do a good turn back. Still was it worth it?

I have choices. I know that I do. With all the financial difficulties that I have it’s probably best to just drop the whole thing. The school, the volunteering … everything. I’m fighting and fighting to keep it all going for what? There’s so much that I want to put in motion for the community. But I don’t have the money to get them started on my own, or if I tried to get help, I’m being ignored because I owe money and it would look bad if they had someone that owes money organizing the project. It would be a conflict of interest … I know that doesn’t make much sense. It’s not because of my inability to convey an idea or concept, it’s simply because it make absolutely no sense what’s so ever. So why bother? You can’t even do good unless you have money. I use to have faith in people that when push comes to shove that for the most part will do the best they can for themselves AND those around them. Not so much now. I’m believing more and more that when push comes to shove that people will choose the option with the most money, and then pretend that it was for the best. We are all assholes… Sure, you all are laughing. “You just now figured that out!?” No, I figured it out a long time ago. I’m just now conceding defeat. Congratulations, you won.

I’m even struggling in my fight to keep the Shaolin school running. Back to the idea of is it worth it? Three years ago, I managed to get out from under a tyrannical regime and quite literally had to start the school over again from nearly scratch. I didn’t want it to be a school that catered popular martial arts. I didn’t want it to be a day care for kids. I didn’t want to push people through belt levels to stroke their egos and to cash in on their testing fees… I put together a curriculum, and no it’s not perfect and there was a lot of trial and error. But it’s a hell of a lot better than it was before. None of the students really know what I went through to keep the school running. Going up against the tyrants and their henchmen, along with my husband (now exe) as well. So they don’t realise what it means to me when they say and do the things they do. I can’t really blame them for that. I try and maneuver around it and so far so good, but for fuck sake it still pisses me off. I’m being told that this other martial arts school has been around for so long and does all these cool things, and that I should do these things that this other martial arts school is doing and this  martial arts school has all these students and, and, and … And I’m thinking; ‘Why the hell are you even here? If all those other schools are doing all these great things that you want. Go to that school!’ …The complaining about the requirements … I put in those requirements for good reason. I put in those requirements so that they can say that they are a true martial artist under any and all conditions. Not just when the sun is shining, or indoors on a flat surface, or a particular situation. Of course there’s always going to be complaining. I even complain, but the disrespect that is mounting recently is inadmissible. Again, is it worth fighting to keep a school for this?

Now here’s me making up excuses for them … I am very open to new ideas and ways of doing things. I invite students to try other martial arts and even bring those techniques into class and try them out in sparring. It all might be a case that they don’t know how to convey this in a way that is respectful and as a suggestion, yet. The angry complaining on the other hand, is nearly punishable. I probably made the mistake of being me. I’m a silly middle aged woman who’s a bit off kilter. I probably made the mistake of being too buddy buddy with the students. So they see me as a dopy wannabe martial arts instructor that’s better at baking cookies than teaching them how to defend themselves or to throw a proper punch or kick.

Any of this worth the fight? What’s stopping me from dropping everything and disappearing?

… I do have some REMARKABLE students though. They keep showing up even though they failed their belt test for the 3rd time! They don’t complain and take on the curriculum and the training full steam ahead! … I have some INCREDIBLE friends too. Old and new. Friends that have stuck with me through thick and thin. True friends that aren’t afraid to say “Hey, you’re being a real bitch!” and put me back in my place … There is this GORGEOUSE man, this AMAZINLY INTELLIGENT man that walks and talks with me by day and sleeps and dreams with me by night. A BEAUTIFUL soul that hasn’t been harden and immune to life, that I think likes me well enough and for the moment is sticking around…

I suppose the choice is pretty clear … Meaning, the fight needs to change … My situation hasn’t changed though. I’m still going to lose it all if I don’t come up with something soon. People are assholes. Regardless of what anyone says, MONEY IS GOD! It just SUCKS! … But at least I have some REMARKABLE STUDENTS, some INCREDIBLE FRIENDS and one AWESOME GUY!


I Should Have Known … But I Guess I Did …

So I wrote this some time in 2012 I suspect. September maybe? It was titled “An Email To My Husband”. I lost it somewhere deep in the RAM or ROM of the Apple. I vaguely remember leaving it by the worm eating the bug with all the bites. It’s odd reading it. Especially now that the parchments have been delivered by carrier pigeon to the demigods ordained by the immaculate rubber stamp.  I Should Have Known … But I Guess I Did …

This isn’t a “Dear John” letter. You’re names’ not john. … Ha, ha … I know, it’s stupid. I still got a giggle out of it though.

I know that you hate long emails. I’ve tried to talk to you but … *sigh* … you did what you always do. You want the “short version”, you grump and look very annoyed, you do the “speed it up” hand gesture, I get flustered, I try to put it in a nutshell , but I end up leaving out the important points and reasons … you jump to conclusions, and make assumptions, with the end result of you being frustrated, & angry. So I quit and obsess silently over how can I tell you so that you will understand where I’m coming from.

…That’s if we get that far. Maybe it’s because I ask? “Can we talk about this?” The hackles go up and the eyes roll. I did try a few time to just start talking about it all, but stopped when you yelled at the computer. You accidentally put yourself in check on your internet chess game. … There was one time I though I was getting somewhere, but you were staring at the computer, so I said that there was man phuc’ing a poodle out on Grand Parade. … You nodded and said “Uh-huh.”

I know that I ramble, even babble. –  I’m long winded. I want to explain, with reason. I want to have a conversation, meaning you talk too. But I don’t know how to do this with you … *sigh* … We’re broken, and I don’t know what to do …

I knew something was off that Thanksgiving so long ago. We’ve been dating for 10 months. The longest relationship you’ve had since, and you tell me that you’re going to spend Thanksgiving with your friend and her family ‘cos that’s what you always do. I was hurt and upset and I couldn’t seem to explain to you that I was. I tried to understand, but why you didn’t want to spend Thanksgiving with your girlfriend? We ended up spending the day together, but to this day I still wonder if it wasn’t because she didn’t invite you, because she knew about me.

We’ve always been very independent from each other. We weren’t “in each others pockets” as the Irish would say … or at least that’s what they say here in Cork. I reveled in the freedom, even gloated how enlightened we were not to  be bound together with rules or ultimatums. But there was always something amiss. I found myself alone more often than not. Even in times of celebration, esp. in times of celebrating my achievements albeit small. … You never danced with me … Gosh, how I miss dancing … I justified it my head, said it over and over again until it rolled of my tongue as easily as the rain rolling off leaves. “Although I would like him to be more attentive, I can’t deny the independence and freedom that I have.” … Repeat … Repeat  … Repeat … *Sigh* …

We chased a dream together, so I thought, moved to Ireland and started a business, got married … got married …

Then, not more than a year or so later, there was mutiny, a disturbance in the force, and our business was caught in the middle. We were bullied, brutally bullied. Money was so, so tight largely because of your condo that you for some reason wouldn’t let go of. You did put it up on the market but did nothing to sell it. You had to barrow money from your parents to keep up the mortgage payments. There was not a light at the end of the tunnel, there was no tunnel, not to mention the growing black mold in the our rented hovel. It stands to reason that you would spiral down into a deep depression and despise everything that brought you to that point, including me. I’m not a psychologist or a psychotherapist.  Not a mind reader either, though that would be really cool! I started a new chant “I’ll make it better, I’ll fight the war, I’ll prove that the dream is still alive.” … Repeat … Repeat  … Repeat … *Sigh* …

I was winning! … I am winning … I WON! … While I was in the trenches though, you decided to leave, … not me … just leave.

You went behind my back and contacted your old boss to see if you can get your old job back. You told me that he approached you. You wanted to go back, but you told me that you were torn so I thought there was hope. That if things were better here then the choice would be obvious.  You wanted to leave but you couldn’t tell me that because then, you wouldn’t have anything to fall back on. You strung me along, weaving your safety net. I knew that you wanted to leave but unless you actually say it, I would only be acting on assumption. For 6 months you dragged it out. For 6 months I tried to prove to you that we can still make things work here. Knowing that my efforts were futile, knowing that you were stringing me along, knowing that you wanted to leave … Well, some days …

Well they offered you your old job back and only then did you say to me that you were definitely leaving. Finally we can talk and come up with a plan … finally … finally … We weren’t going to split up, you were going to go back and get your condo and financial dilemmas  sorted and I was going to hold down the fort and make “our” business grow. It was an easy adjustment to make. We had our independence and freedom. We had space and who says that we have to live together to love and support each other? … You were so happy, and it was such a long time since I last saw you happy. … You agreed that you would come back in 3 years, … when you had absolutely no intentions of doing so. Aaahhhhh, who can blame you? I left the back door wide open.

Now we live in 2 different countries on either side of the world, and I find myself alone more often than not. Even in times of celebration, esp. in times of celebrating my achievements albeit small. I find myself chanting that old line; “Although I would like him to be more attentive, I can’t deny the independence and freedom that I have.” … Repeat … Repeat  … Repeat … *Sigh* … But it doesn’t roll of the tongue so easily now. I would have thought with all the ways of staying connected that I would hear more from you. Not a constant stream on Skype watching each other sleep, but something more than and hour on a Sunday ‘coz that’s your “day for calling people”. … I can count how many times you said “I love you” without being prompted on one hand … “Although I would like him to be more attentive, I can’t deny the independence and freedom that I have.” … Repeat … Repeat  … Repeat … *Sigh* …

You still haven’t told your boss that your wife, your wife being me, is still living in Ireland. You told me that you would flip for my plane tix to your Brothers wedding, but you didn’t and I was left telling them that I couldn’t make it. You complained when I asked if I can get on your insurance. I visit you 3x a year, might as well get a Dr appointment in, but it would cost you too much money. You couldn’t even bring yourself to introduce me to your soccer teammates when I last visited. You choked when one of them asked if we were a couple. It was your Brother that did all the introductions, it was my Brother-In-Law that told everyone that I came all the way over from Ireland to watch the game.

I’ve accomplished a lot since you left. I won the war. I made a name for myself and “our” business. I have achieved more than I or anyone could have imagined.  So, in that hour of Skype’ing frenzy I tell you as precisely as I can so to avoid the “speed it up” hand gestures and “in a nutshell” demands. I tell you with all the excitement of a child winning their first race all that I accomplished, all that I’ve achieved in that week. … “Ah yeah, that’s nice.” … I post on that damn Facebook and if I’m lucky I just might get a “like” from you. It makes me sick to my stomach whenever I see a post of a husband praising his wife. … I’m so jealous … You can’t even publicly acknowledge that I’m your wife. I get sicker still when I get a message saying something like “Oh your husband must be really proud of you!” about something that I had achieved that past by you completely unnoticed. I’m completely mortified when I get messages from people questioning your support or even your existence. … “Although I would like him to be more attentive, I can’t deny the independence and freedom that I have.” … Repeat … Repeat  … Repeat … *Sigh* …

Why are you pulling this whole Jeremy McGuire act on me? Except there’s no happy ending with this. Why are blowing me off as if you want to pretend that I didn’t exist?