There is something that has been drawing me to talk to Mike. Ryan's father. So I made contact. We've interacted a few times over the last month online, and every time there is contact he achieves hurting my feelings. I think sometimes I'm actully an idealist, and not the realist that I think I am. I guess sometimes things just aren't going to happen. Even if something is drawing you to them. I was hoping to salvage some kind of friendship, for Ryan. My intention was not to hurt, was very pure actually. But I guess not.
When Mike is ready to talk to me, if ever, he knows where I'm at. But I don't need any hate or anger towards me right now. I'm trying to get those things out of my life. I should never have tried. I have this theory that your potential to hate is directly controlled by your potential to love. The depth of your hate is as deep as you once loved someone.
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Baby steps. Baby steps are good. Today I was all prepared to write a letter to my neighbor. My nasty neighbor. My nasty neighbor, who lives in filth, whose house is covered on the inside by animal feces, rotting everything, trash, filth, has no air-conditioning, whose house smells, who is the reason I can't even sit on my porch at night, have a barbeque in my back yard, or invite friends over because of the smell. I never had roaches until they came into my house. Now I have to keep a bottle of Raid around always. Who has a flock of pigeons on her roof that shit all over my van, my window sills, my porch, and inside my van if we accidentally leave the window down. Who just delivered a baby, yes a baby, which I've never seen yet (at least 2 weeks ago), a baby that I think died because of the conditions in their filthy diseased home. Who is affecting the value of my property by being next to me. Did you ever see Steven King's Carrie? Think Carrie crossed by the nasty cat lady with a zillion animals in her house who never bathes. Yeah. My nasty nasty neighbors. But because we live in an old neighborhood with no neighborhood association no one can help us. Trust me we have explored every legal avenue. Have tried everything short of arson - which yes, sounded very appealing at one point. I get so angry, so frustrated, so hateful when I think about it. And rightly so, they are so disgusting. I wish I could show you pictures. But the hate isn't helping me. I had a letter all written in my head. Once again, I was feeling valid in being hurtful because I had a right to be angry. I was all prepared to ask them, in so many nice words, to please do something about the smell. To let them know how disgusting they are. To let them know I think there is a place in hell for evil people like them for being the cause of their baby's death due to the plain filth and disease in their house. Oh, I had a really good letter.
And I stopped myself. I stopped. No letter. I let it go. At least for tonight. Baby steps.
I think I'll just have a really nice night with Royce tonight. Tyler and I are going for a walk right now. Its after dark, cool enough to be outside. Gonna walk to the Chinese Center, my place of solice, my place of peace. My place. Gonna try and find the stray kitties we feed over there, and give them a snack.
Its all good. Baby steps.
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Good for you, Angel! Those babysteps are hard to make sometimes. Especially when it goes so directly against what we feel like doing. I can SO relate to your story about the filthy neighbor! When my husband and I were in our legalistic phase, we co-operated a health food store. There was this lady who would come in. She was really BIG and wore sweat pants all the time. She would come in a sit for hours and talk to us. She smelled so badly, the flies would land on her. She would show up with period mess all over her pants. She came in wearing sandals one day and demanded that someone cut her toenails- which were about an inch in length. I was big pregnant and used the excuse that I couldn't get down on my knees to do her feet. But the real reason is that just getting close to her was enough to make me vomit. I felt SOOO incredibly sorry for her. I wondered what had happened in her life to make her such a wreck. She lied to us several times trying to get us to LET HER LIVE WITH US! When we said no, she told us God would punish us for our lack of charity. Can we say GUILT TRIP? She died not long after we moved to WA. But everyone I ever spoke to about her said that the way she lived was mainly due to her being just plain lazy.
The part about the baby dying reminded me of something I saw when my brother and I were kids. We were poor and lived in the projects. Our Mom worked all the time, so we were latch-key kids. Well after a gang of guys put out the word that one of them would be the first to rape me, Mom decided to send us to a sitter. Our babysitters husband was a butcher if that tells you anything... Anyway, one day the sitter decided we should go see a friend of theirs in the ghetto across town. When we got there, the first thing I noticed was the HORRIBLE smell when the door opened. There were kids all over the place from ages 8 down. None of them had clothes on- just undies. They weren't playing like normal kids. Some were glued to the TV while others sat in the corner looking dazed. I've NEVER seen such a filthy place in my life! Trash, food and dirty clothes everywhere. There was cat crap on the floors. Since our babysitter didn't have a car, we had to walk all the way there and I had to pee in the worst way. I started looking for a bathroom. The lady of the house was constantly yelling at the kids and insulting them. My brother stuck to me like glue, we were scared to death. You can imagine my horror when I opened what I thought might be the bathroom door and there, in a dark closet was a baby boy in a tiny, cage-like crib. The smell was horrific! Roaches scattered as the light hit them. There was barely room for the baby to lay down on the filthy sheet because of all the baby bottle half-filled with sour milk. Under the crib a pile of dirty diapers lay open on the floor. The baby boy started screaming and reaching for me, I was attempting to lift him out when the Mom came and started screaming at me, "What do you think you're doing! Who the Hell do you think you are? Mind your own #$*&^% business!!!". She shoved me aside and shut that baby back into the darkness of the filthy closet. We only stayed for about 15 more minutes. I could hear the baby crying the whole time. It was so disturbing that my brother threw up on the walk home. We told our mother what we saw and she reported it. I still have nightmares about it to this day...
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