audacity? stupidity? both?

yesterday afternoon i received a text message from my brother.

this is strange for several reasons:

#1 i only talk to my brother about 4 times a year. a random tuesday in november is not one of those 4 times.

#2 my brother is OLD SCHOOL. like severely old school. still uses a flip phone old school for him to TEXT? unheard of.

#3 the message: “you missing a smart watch?”

on so many levels, WHAT??

pause, reread, WHAT??

a smart watch? i mean, i HAD a smart watch, years ago. but is it missing? i don’t know? it was literal YEARS ago.

some dude called my brother, left a voicemail that he had found my smartwatch in the trash, found my brother’s number, called.

WHAT. THE. FUCK? 

so i call verizon.

hey verizon- can you look up on my account when i had a smart watch?

purchased: 2019

deactivated: 12/2022

it’s been deactivated for 3 years. and i KNOW when i deactivated it i did a factory reset on it. so. WHAT THE FUCK??

my brother sends me the voicemail from the dude. i call dude and leave a voicemail for him.

6:20 last night dude calls me back:

hey, i found your smartwatch dumpster diving at this apartment building.

THE APARTMENT I JUST MOVED OUT OF.

i found it about 3 weeks ago.

WHEN I WAS MOVING.

yeah, i dumpster dive all the time and find stuff people throw away and sell it. i found your watch and when i turned it on it had a lock screen but i could see the emergency contact information so i called it.

WHAT. THE. HOLY. FUCK??

so much for a factory reset? like. shouldn’t ALLLLLLLL that information have been removed? like WHAT THE FUCK VERIZON?

also, the sheer audacity. or stupidity. or both.

that apartment ALWAYS. ALWAYS. had people in the dumpster. ALWAYS. it was a constant issue. it changed the way i approach trash. it changed WHAT i throw away. it changed WHEN i could throw things away. i would make sure to only take my trash out on monday mornings at 7:30am because the trash truck came monday mornings at 8. i made sure to peel the labels off EVERYTHING so my name and address wasn’t just floating out there. **SIDE NOTE: online ordering/pick up is amazing, do they have to put my name on EVERY. FUCKING. BAG. with stickers that won’t come off?** i would cut up the fake credit cards in those shitty constant spammy offers, just in case. i would tear everything with ANY personal information into tiny shreds (or take it to work and literally shred it). i LOATHED that there were constantly people in the dumpsters.

my trash consisted of 80% potty pads from stella and 20% trash from the house. that’s DISGUSTING to dig through. used potty pads? ugh. the smell alone.

and this dude was openly admitting to digging through it, TO SELL THINGS.

i don’t even remember throwing the watch away. if anything it was maybe in one of the bags that was purge stuff that wasn’t quite good enough to donate (no one wants leggings with  mouse holes in them or sheets that were used as stella bedding). i’m sure it was something that i maybe glanced at, realized it wasn’t working at all when i deactivated it years ago, why put it in a box and take it to a new house?

but that this dude DUG IT OUT, CHARGED IT, TRACKED ME DOWN, and then had the audacity to ask if i remembered the password so he could unlock it and sell it?

MY BROTHER IN CHRIST, FUCK ALL THE WAY OFF.

no, you can’t have the password. smash it with a hammer. it was bricked out 3 years ago to begin with, you DUG THROUGH A DUMPSTER to find it, you dug through MY PERSONAL TRASH to find it, you VIOLATED MY PRIVACY tracking me down through emergency contacts, and you want me to just give you the password so you can try to sell it to someone?

FUCK. ALL. THE. WAY. OFF.

fuck i hated that building. dumpster divers were CONSTANT. all day, all night. didn’t matter what time i got home or left, there was someone digging through it, fenty folding next to it, or camped out in the alleyway next to it.

also: fuck apple and fuck verizon. what the fuck good is a FACTORY RESET if it still leaves information on the device??

as a domestic violence survivor? as an intimate partner abuse survivor? as a rape survivor? as someone who has been threatened with death from men SO MANY TIMES…are you fucking kidding me?

some dude digging through a dumpster can just track me down? from a 6 year old smart watch? that was disconnected 3 years ago? that was factory reset??

ARE. YOU. KIDDING. ME?

fuck verizon. fuck apple. fuck that building. fuck that shitty dumpster. fuck all of it.

AND ALSO:

thank you to the universe for keeping me safe for 6 years. thank you for not having this happen while i was still living there.

it’s fascinating that as soon as i asked the universe to remove the wards from that building and place them on my new home it INSTANTLY showed how protected i’d been. it makes me feel even safer in my new home. the wards obviously work. very, very well. thank you to my guardians. my ancestors. my protectors. my hell hounds. thank you for keeping me safe for the last 6 years. of all the things that happened in that shit building? i was remarkably safe through all of it. yes, i had death threats. yes, there were multiple dead bodies. yes, there were people breaking in through the fire escapes and the roof access and the main doors CONSTANTLY. in the 6 years i was there, i only had 2 unexpected knocks at my door: one from a neighbor who thought he could flirt, the other from another neighbor needing some help. for all the drug dealing and human trafficking and theft and destruction, i was remarkably safe. my car was gone through a few times but never damaged. i was threatened a few times but never harmed. my guardians have been working hella overtime the last 6 years. i hope this new place gives them a bit of a break.

speaking of the new place: all the boxes are empty. all the plants are in their new spaces. all the decorating things have found their new homes. all the things are put away. all but hanging art is done. i’ve met most of my new neighbors now. there’s the nice older gentleman that just moved in who was raking the leaves off the sidewalk. there’s the nice lady about my age with a pure black english bulldog named fat mama. there’s the two nice early 30’s gals above me that have 2 cats. there’s the single guy from iowa who is a regular at my bar. that’s 5 our of 7 units and the one across from me is empty right now, so basically everyone. my mail has been re-routed and the key on the box has been replaced. my first maintenance request is already completed. it is SO FANTASTIC. 

I KNOW (almost) ALL MY NEIGHBORS. and they’re nice, normal people. i’m settled in and so happy. 

as mad as i am about the smartwatch, i’m also that grateful for my new space. life is all about balance i guess.

thankful

i'm pretty sure 2018 has been 900 years long.

Last week was thanksgiving. I was fortunate enough again this year to have one of the best people on earth open her home to me AND she was kind enough to break with the traditional thanksgiving feast to teach me a few recipes I’ve been waiting years to figure out (Harvard beets are still as good as I remember them!)

But, in keeping with tradition, I’ve taken the last week to really try to find what I’m thankful for this year. In an especially chaotic and painful year, it’s been a challenge, but here we go:

This year I am thankful for my health. I have been so, so, so incredibly blessed in the health arena. I’ve given birth twice and had my gallbladder removed in my life. That’s NOTHING. Especially as a single mother. I have been so endlessly fortunate that I’ve never been sidelined with an illness. I’ve never had my health affect my job, cause financial stress, cause long-term anxiety. Even my mental health- the last few months I’ve really been realizing how deep and widespread my anxiety has been my whole life, but I’ve still managed to function around it. YES, I’m realizing the major impact it’s had, but I’m still functioning. I am so, so, so incredibly thankful for my health. I haven’t taken the best care of myself. I loathe working out. My attempts at dieting and exercising have been short lived and never with any regularity. I’m pushing 40 and still hit way too many drive-thru restaurants to be considered anything even remotely close to smart dietary decisions. And yet here I am. Insurance has been off and on over the years with job changes, but it’s always been there when I did need it. I have friends facing major medical problems- heart issues, surgeries, torn muscles, broken bones, dental issues, circulation issues…I can’t even imagine what some of them are dealing with physically AND financially. So THANK YOU. THANK YOU UNIVERSE. Thank you for my health. Thank you for keeping me running all these years and able to keep up with my kids and work and life. I am thankful for my physical health and thankful that I’ve found a great therapist helping me sort out my mental health.

I’m thankful for friends. Not just friends, but FRIENDS. The ones you call at 10:30pm when you’ve just finished dealing with the police and you can’t think straight and you can’t tell the difference between tears and snot. The friends you can call or snapchat or text at literally any time of day and they’ve got you. They may not respond right away, because, you know, life, but you KNOW they’re not ignoring you. You know they’ll get back to you as soon as they can. There’s such a security in that. There’s such a safety in having people that you can say literally ANYTHING to and they’ll respond “…giiiiiiirl…” and you know they get you. You know they’ll talk you down from the ledge, even if it’s the 10^th time this month. You know they’ll help you brainstorm, research, sort through. I’ve struggled my entire life trying to be what I thought people wanted me to be. Being careful of what I say, trying not to let too much of my freak flag out. I struggled to be socially appropriate, not embarrass anyone, be “proper” and fit in. this last year I’ve started just…existing. I let myself be myself. I’ve allowed myself the space to speak my mind, say the things that probably shouldn’t be said. And you know what? Not only did my friends stick around, it deepened my bond with them and more often than not they responded SAME. All my fear, my whole life, of chasing people away by being myself? Turns out when you find the GOOD PEOPLE that’s not an issue. They love you and accept you. That’s a beautiful, beautiful thing. I’m so glad for my friends. I’m so glad I found my people. I LOVE MY PEOPLE. I am so thankful for them. I’m so thankful they accept me and have helped allow me to become ME.

I’m thankful to whatever force in the universe has protected me this year. Things at home have been…it’s been bad. Things right now are hard and ugly and heartbreaking. I’m living alone for the first time ever, years before it was the plan. My kids…I can’t go there right now. Things are hard. BUT, they could be so much worse. I’m alive. I’m safe. There’s been moments when neither of those were a guarantee. I can’t explain the pure, heart wrenching terror of finding hidden weapons in your home and wondering why they were hidden and what their intended purpose was. Finding a hatchet hidden in the kitchen, finding an 8” hunting knife, 3 bb guns, an airsoft pistol and countless pocketknives/switchblades/throwing stars. Why were they hidden around the house? Why didn’t I know they were in my home? What was the purpose for them? Where did they come from? There have been so many times I was scared for my safety even without knowing there were things hidden in my house. How much worse could it have been? How close was I to…to harm? Additionally, there have been so many threats, challenges, visits from the police. There have been investigations, questions, visits and phone calls. And I’m safe. All the 911 calls for help, all the threats at school to teachers and other students, all the confrontations with police officers. we have somehow avoided being on the evening news or on the local scanner listeners radar. I’ve seen so many stories come across the local news pages- 911 calls, suicide threats, students threatening other students, teenagers in confrontations with the police…and somehow none of them were from my house. I am so, endlessly grateful for whatever bubble of protection kept us from that spotlight. I’m so grateful that, for the majority, all my interactions with responding police officers have been calm, logical, positive. They’ve listened, kept their cool, helped out with all the resources they had available. I’m thankful for case managers, cps workers, counselors that helped find a safe path and resources. I’m thankful for the safety and the protection and the protected bubble that has kept the worst of the worst case scenarios at bay. I’m so endlessly thankful for whatever, wherever that protection came from.

I am thankful for my jobs. I have 2 great jobs with 2 great bosses and so many great coworkers. I haven’t been worried for a second letting my bosses know what’s been going on. They’ve graciously allowed me the space to make it to court, attend therapy, cry at my desk as needed. They’ve offered help in whatever way they could and made sure to let me know my job was never at risk. Having work, having a “normal” routine to keep me distracted/focused has been so immense. It has been my anchor. Whatever else has been happening, whatever news headlines, whatever personal headlines, work was there for me. I’m good at my job. i’m good at being able to compartmentalize and focus on getting things done. It’s been immeasurably helpful to have one steady constant. I know, Monday through Friday I have to get up and get out of bed. I have things that need done. Timesheets that need processed. Invoices that need paid. I make a difference where I work, at both places. I’m an important part of the team. I’m used and useful and my absence would be noted. That’s lovely. That’s…it’s the anchor I’ve needed.

It’s been a hard year. Fuck it. It’s been a hard 10 fucking years. There’s been pockets of goodness in there, but I just feel like life has been a slow burning dumpster fire since 2009. I’m ready for that to change. I’m working to make that change happen. My therapist homework assignment last week was to start planning for the future. REALLY planning for the future. Not just the “someday” bullshit that I’ve kept on a back burner. Actually planning and working toward specific things. Something I’ve never done. Since 7/1998 it’s been “raise my kids” without much thought beyond that. Now, suddenly, I’m beyond that and have no direction, no goals, no plan. So I’m working on it. And I’m thankful for the people guiding me through that process (my therapist is amazingly patient but firm and honest y’all).

I’m just. I’m thankful y’all. I know there’s so many things I could throw in here: music, books, movies, art, bartenders, beauty crew…all the little pieces and things that I appreciate. I’m thankful that I am able to plan finances and make adjustments as needed. I’m thankful that while I may not be able to COOK (I’m a box and can girl, not a from scratch girl) I’ve never gone hungry a day in my life. I’m thankful that I have a lovely apartment and managers that have been patient and kind. I’m thankful for SO MUCH.

It’s been a hard year. It’s been a sad year. It’s been a scary year. It’s been a heartbreaking year. But I’m still so thankful. I’m thankful for insight and awareness that allows me to process and experience.

I’m so thankful y’all for so much. I’m so thankful.

safe?

well, as the superstition goes, bad things come in threes.

i've taken my three punches in as many weeks. it's been a helluva run at my house it seems.

i've been hiding while i sort through each happening, but hiding hasn't stopped more from happening. nothing will stop more from happening.

as forest gump so adequately said: shit happens.

i'm fortunate enough to have great friends that understand both my need to talk out and my need to hide. i've been able to reach out to my sounding boards and support systems as needed to work through some really shitty stuff. i'm also fortunate enough to have a therapist that doesn't deal in traditional talk therapy- i do enough of that on my own and it only gets you to a certain point. she is trained in non-traditional therapies (you may remember me babbling about hakomi therapy lately) and understands the way the body processes and knows physical ways to deal with and eliminate negative experiences. AMAZING balance when i've reached the limit of what logical analysis can do.

aside from the friends and the therapy- WRITING is my biggest outlet. i haven't been writing because- well. it's hard. i don't want to talk about terrible things. i don't want pity. i don't want people to look at me different.

BUT I ALSO DON'T WANT TO HIDE AND KEEP IT INSIDE.

so. here it is. the ugly, horrible month i've had:

a few weeks ago i was raped. one week later my house was ransacked (not robbed, but they made a good mess). last night my son was stopped on his way home from school by a person asking him to get in their van and give them directions somewhere.

any one of those is a pretty nasty blow to a person's sense of security. all three of them together has me reeling. the ironic (?) thing is that i *just* went to my therapy yesterday to get better tools to deal with the rape and ransacking then i get home to my son being violated. still recovering from a left right combo and the universe lands a core body shot.

i don't know how to handle all this. i want to take my son and move far away and hide somewhere. i know however that shit like this happens everywhere. there is no "safe bubble" that we can move to. there is no place that is exempt.

but what do you do when every sense of personal security is stripped away and violated? i've learned tools to work on how i respond to the individual events, but how do you regain a sense of security as a whole?

i know people would say: GET A GUN. what the fuck good would that do me? the rape was someone i thought was a friend. someone that had been to my house countless times and just...i guess decided that respecting me was not on his list of things to do. a gun wouldn't have helped. the ransacking happened when i wasn't home- if there had been a gun on the property now they might have it. not great. and what good would a gun have done my son last night walking home?

i do the easy things- i've cut communication with the rapist. i make sure my doors are locked ALL THE TIME now. i'm researching personal alarms for my son to carry on his backpack (the leading contender).

but what do you DO? i'm the type of person that worries about having the cops at my house two weeks in a row and getting on some annoying citizens list. i don't want to go crazy and install razor wire around my property and adopt 6 junkyard dogs and a personal body guard to walk my son to and from school.

i don't know how to fight back against the unkown. the rape was...easy? to deal with. i knew the person. i cut contact. done.

but when you don't know who's been in your house. when you don't know what stranger is stopping your kid. how do you fight an invisible shadow? how do you feel safe again?

but i'm not giving up this fight. i'll keep swinging even if it's just at shadows. i'm going to make sure my son doesn't live in a bubble of fear. i'm going to make sure our house feels like OUR HOUSE. i'm going to not let one drunk asshole make me scared of being touched.

but like any fight, it's exhausting. i worry too much about burdening other people or sounding like a hotbed of drama by talking about it. so i bottle it up and try to deal with it as quickly and simply as possible. i have days when i feel safe again. then days when i don't want to open my curtains or look outside. and i realize i'm still at the epicenter. these things just happened. i'm still in the first few circles of shock waves. i think (and hope and beg the universe) that all the shoes have dropped for a while. we've taken our three hits. just like when death came calling. it took our three and we found a way to make it through.

i don't know if there's a point to any of this other than just pure brain vomiting. calling the demons by name and acknowledging their presence.

it's been a rough few weeks. but i'm still here. licking my wounds and hiding but still here. staying back and plotting/figuring out a battle plan, but still here.

i have the silver linings- at least my rape wasn't brutal and bloody and violent. at least my house wasn't robbed and destroyed and left a total loss. at least my son knew to run away straight home and i'm not contacting the milk carton company today. i have my pillars of support. i have my horribly morbid sense of humor that handles dark shit like this in a terrible but therapeutic way.

this too shall pass.

painfully like a kidney stone.

but this too shall pass.