Dude, Where's My Autonomy?

In the wee hours of the morning this past Saturday I made a post on social media about a guy I had met that night. I was at a bar having drinks, he was friendly enough at first, and he kinda looked like my guy bff which I found a bit endearing. He suggested we leave the bar we were at and go to a show. I knew a band that was playing around the corner, but had planned on just catchingthe last bus home. He offered to split a Lyft home since we discovered he lived just a few blocks from me.

We went to the show. It was fun. The band ended. The bar was closing, so he called the Lyft. The driver said he'd meet us at 8th and Red River. We were at 7th and Red River, so I started walking north to 8th. He insisted it was west (shoulda been my first hint, but I was intoxicated). I told him it wasn't and crossed the street. He continued walking west, and hollered my name from across the street. I looked up at the homeless guys standing on the corner as I approached the other side of the street and said, "He thinks 8th and Red River is that way!" nodding my head westward. The big guy laugh and hollered back across the street, "Dude, she right!" Then he listened. I was incensed. We got in the Lyft and argued about it until we reached the 7-Eleven down the street from my place. I asked the driver to drop me there and said I could walk home.

The guy got out still expecting to go with me. I headed into the store. At this point I had already told him he could leave multiple times. He asked where I was going, and I said to get cigarettes and that he could just go. He "reminded" me that he'd bought me a pack. I knew, I just wanted him to leave. He came up to me and was friendly again, apologizing even. I told him we could hang out if he was respectful and would actually listen to me. He agreed. I was drunk and being too friendly, but also fearing that I had been too bitchy. We went to my place. Less than five minutes in the door and he suggested a movie and started putting his arms around me. Nope. Strike three and you're out. I told him to leave. Protests of "What did I do?" and implying I was being irrational dripped from him. I got angry and he left. A few minutes later he was back at the door saying he'd lost his keys in my apartment. I told him he'd been there for less than five minutes and didn't go further than the couch, so if they weren't there he'd likely lost them elsewhere. He tried to talk his way back in, but I insisted he go. I got pissed all over again as he still tried to argue with me. My bad ass, punk af Kiddo walked out of his bedroom, sat next to me, and said, "I think she told you to leave!" That's when the dude left.

I was not truly scared yet, just pissed that I, as a woman, was not being heard or respected. I must not have known which direction I was going because I'm a girl. Never mind that Red River has been my stomping grounds for the last decade, or that I have a really good sense of direction. He knew better because he was a dude, and it took another dude to convince him otherwise. Don't listen to me when I say I'm not interested because I'm a girl who's supposed to protest, but he knows what I really want. No, motherfucker. I like sex... a lot... so if I'm telling you no it's because I'm not interested. And when I tell you to leave it should not have to be backed up by a guy in order for you to listen. Maybe you could take a page from my 19 year old's book. When a woman says stop, he stops. Because he knows he should respect a woman's right to her body autonomy.

So that's what happened. Thanks for letting me get it off my chest.

Friends and Others

I recently called out my former partner publicly for the emotional abuses my son and I sustained while I was in the relationship. There were threats of and eventual physical violence against my son, regular emotional abuses, threats of leaving and the list goes on. If someone were to ask what you would do if your partner drunkenly made physical threats to your teenager for arguably normal rebellious teenage behavior, I think most parents would say that they would, at the very least, stand up for and protect their child. Some would be outraged. Some would end the relationship. Some would seek outside help in the form of counseling, as we did. But how do you address the emotional damage the offended parties endured that has had lingering affects? Talking about it helps because light needs to be shown on those things that are mostly hidden and kept in the dark. Therapists are great, but we need the support of those who love us, those who call us family and friends.

When I expressed my experiences with my former partner, someone who is well liked and considered a cool guy, someone who is very charming and personable, as we are making our way through an ugly divorce I was told by some "friends" that I needed to keep my "dirty laundry" off of social media. It quickly became apparent to me that, while I had my supporters, my experience and the experience of my child did not matter to others because they have not seen that side of my partner for themselves. Therefore all they saw and still see is the "rock star" persona, the good-looking guy that is quick with a joke and has some cool stories. I was actually told by one person that she "lost a lot of respect" for me for discussing my experiences on social media while she remained friends with my ex despite his dispicable actions. Many simply chose to look past my allegations, tell me that they "love" the both of us, and then turned their heads away from his actions. Still others have quietly slipped away.

What is baffling to me is others' willingness to overlook his evident wrongdoings, the things being done in the light of day, that he is simply able to explain away with his propensity for deceit. His attempts to cancel out my voice are mind boggling to me still. I feel shunned by people I once held dear. My dreams are filled with death more now than ever because if the levels of betrayal I have experienced through this disolution of my marriage. The first came when he lead me to believe that he was willing to work on and put forth the effort to improve our relationship and build a life with me. This ebbed and flowed throughout our marriage, only to finally have that very relationship I've invested in over the years ripped away in the time it takes to say, "I want a divorce," without giving me any sort of viable reason for doing so, which was the next level of my betrayal. The third level came with the discovery of the truth: that he had turned to another woman who could carry him financially although I had been the one investing in him as a person and in us as a couple for the last eight years. The most recent blow was realizing I am losing friends, people I held dear, who chose not to hear me when I voiced my anger and loudly proclaimed that I was indeed the injured party. I was the one who watched my child suffer the consequences of a choice I had made. I was there to support my partner through physical and emotional mending. I was the one put upon with impossible demands, the one who suffered for loving him, and, finally, the one to be kicked to the curb, spent and used.

There are those who have told me I should "play nice," by the rules, or take the high road. I don't have the time, patience, or energy for that anymore. I did that all throughout our relationship to no avail. It got me absolutely nothing. Zip, zero, nada. Why should I continue? Now is the time for justified anger. Now is the time to voice my pain, to cry out, to openly mourn, and, yes, to call out the perpetrators' wrongdoings against me. I will not be told to be silent for the sake of my "sweet spirit," my good nature. That same spirit needs a warrior's voice in this pivotal moment of my life. One is not mutually exclusive of the other. We are, as a society, so accustomed to the dichotomy of the Madonna or the Magdalene. One is pure and light and the other is immoral and dangerous. This is such a bastardization of who we we are as women. I can be both. I will be both. I can be sweet and caring and understanding. I can also be enraged and wrathful. I am allowed to stand and fight for justice for myself and my child, particularly after coming to the realization that I was duped and had been taken advantage of by someone I wholeheartedly believed loved me but was, in truth, broken. Someone who I thought needed my care and would, with it, improve. Those who think differently need to examine who they are and who they are allowing to manipulate them.

I don't need a hero. I am my own. I will not told to lay down and take it, either. I have the strength to fight. I need to rage in order to become whole again. And when I come down from that fight, I need those who love me to surround me, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to hear me, and arms to hold my pieces together while I crumble. Because I need to be allowed that, too.

"All the world is
All that I am
The black of the blackest ocean
And that tear in your hand."
- Tori Amos, "Tear in Your Hand"

Kids, don't get old if you can help it. I know I make it look glamorous, but... damn.

I fell the night before last. Flip flops and uneven sidewalks don't mix. At first I just noticed the skinned knee and ankle. It took about 16 hours for the pain in my lower back to really kick in. Now it's ibuprophen, and alternating heat and cold. Fun times!

I have tried to do this blog thing on and off over the years. I am restarting yet again. Not just the blog, but a new life as well. To both ends I think I have a bit more focus this time around...maybe. I feel a bit more settled and secure in who I am. Sort of. I have grown up a bit. I think. We shall see!

Tales from the Multi-family Industry

I wrote this one a few years back. I hope you enjoy. Be nice to your apartment management!

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I think I've got a pretty interesting day job. No, its not my dream job, but it pays the bills and keeps me on my toes. I am a leasing specialist for an apartment community. Yes, I'm that girl, the overly cheery one that greets you  ready to lease an apartment to you, and the one you get tired of talking to should anything go wrong once you've leased said apartment. We, the management staff, have a bit of a bad rep, I know, but the honest to goodness truth is that we are your ambassadors to the corporate collective that owns the building.
I've been doing this type of work for about five years, and as I said I find it pretty interesting. The job is part sales, part mediator, part accounting, part babysitting. I have to be knowledgeable of the law (at the very least real estate law, but in some instances other forms of law as well), versed in basic home maintenance, and highly perseptive and resposive to each individual's needs. I'm constantly hounded about numbers, occupancy percentages, income and the like from the higher ups, and always know that my job is on the line.

I've worked at small "A+" properties (properties are usually graded, much like your high school exams) to large, average (think high "C" to high"B") communities. I've worked on older properties undergoing full renovations, beautiful new properties and one that just needed to be bulldozed.

I've had residents from all over the world, and many who were born and raised down the street from the neighborhood the apartment community is in. There was the elderly Italian widow, who's name escapes me, but used to tell the most amazing stories. The Japanese couple who told me I would always be welcome in there home (even if I "was ever in Japan!") simply because I remembered to take off my shoes when I entered their apartment. Mrs. Hammer, an elderly woman who would call the police if she heard her air conditioner kick on too late at night. I could go on...there are so many that leave an impression. A mother who came into my office worried because she hadn't heard from their adult daughter who live at my property, and wanted me to investigate. Same scenario, but with a worried son who was supposed to meet with his aging father, and the father had missed the meeting.

I've been there through pregnancies, marraiges and divorces with my residents. I've seen them at their best, and at their worst. I mean, you may not go to work, but you gotta pay rent even if you're running a 102 degree temp! You get to know who keeps a messy house, and who keeps theirs pristine. You get to know their children, their pets, their pets they treat as children.

You learn that there are a lot of different forms of crazy, lazy and just plain stupid. There was one young guy, maybe in his early to mid twenties, who was needing out of his lease early. I explained to him that he was bound to his contract for the remainder of his lease, or else pay additional fees, and his response was, "Do you really think people read those things?!" ...um, its a legal and binding contract...How do you say that
delicately and without sounding patronizing?

I've seen a darker side too. The poor soul that lived in absolute filth too horrid to even describe here. We had to hire a company who normally cleans up crime scenes after that man left because they were the only ones equipped to clean up hazardous material, and they were shocked at what they saw. The apartment had to be completely gutted, fixtures, sheetrock and all.

At one property, dead, decayed bodies were found in a trunk of a long abandoned rental car. At yet another property, a young girl, 18 years old, got mad at her boyfriend and locked herself in a room and lit his clothes on fire. Everybody made it out of the building okay, but many families were displaced, their belongings and treasures water or smoke damaged, and she had ruined her life all over a silly boy. Needless to say, I've dealt with local news and camera crews as well.

I've put potatoes in the oven for one sweet lady and her husband who were expecting guests that evening, but she was stuck at the "beauty parlor," her terminology giving away her age. I've made phone calls for frightened little ones who's parents were running late picking them up from the bus stop.

I can tell you where the post office is, the nearest bank, how to contact the electric company, what information you'll need, and what they'll charge in deposit for a new account. Yes, you're responsible to change the light bulbs, air filters and smoke detector batteries in your apartment. No, I can't notify you ahead of time for an emergency water line break that requires us to shut off the water for repair. And I promise we don't shut off water or cause power outages to get our kicks. Power outages DO need to be reported to the electric company, as we do not control the grid, and no, I do not know how long before your electricity will be back on. And I try to say all these things with a smile, even if its the thousandth time I've said it.

So when I'm asked what I do for a living and I say, "I'm a Leasing Specialist for an apartment community," if they respond, "Oh, so you're in sales?" you'll know why I roll my eyes!