It has been a very busy weekend around here. Between M cleaning up and cleaning out his new ride and me doing my usual choring around the house, folding laundry, meeting with clients and doing work-work. Saturday was just super busy. Today has been mostly more of the same, but with some weird little twists today. Mostly I’m glad to be busy and not obsessing about the why of it all. Sometimes life is just life and it’s better to try not read more into it.

A high school classmate died of a heart attack yesterday. One of my friends emailed me about it, and I have mixed feelings. He was not an acquaintance, one I have not seen in more than 30 years. But still, we are the same age, and while my heart and all indicators seem to point in a healthy direction.

The thing that struck me about this? What I remember most about the guy was being a sophomore, 15 years old, and having him passing me in the hallway after typing and reaching out and touching my ass. Every. Single. Day.

The first couple of times I thought I was an accident and thought nothing more about it. Except it kept happening, day after day after day. Now this was in the 70s and I was a naive kid. With my history and the sexual abuse I was already trying desperately to forget and hide from everyone in the whole world, I had no idea what to do, what to say, thought sure if was my fault. Even talking about it to my friends they thought it was kind of exciting and titillating. I suppose I cannot blame them – they were 15 year old virgins looking for some excitement.

What kills me about this situation, this many years after the fact? After a few weeks of this he would come near me and I would jump like he’d hit me with a stun gun. And even worse than that? He had the gall to come up and ask me if there was something wrong. But at least it stopped. Fucking asshole. I am sorry his life expired, but I wish no one had told me and I could continue living happily without thinking about him ever again.

This morning in pilates class a woman hurt herself doing burpees. Something in her knee went pop and she went flat with a scream that startled me out of my own inch worming zone. Class ended abruptly 10 minute early, because an ambulance had to be called for her.

We had just be chatting prior to class, and she’d just started yoga and pilates 2 weeks ago after an extended period of no exercise. Part of me admired her enthusiasm, and I was keeping half an eye on her progress as we moved along through the class. In another time I recognize that half eye spy and all it meant to me. The comparison, the competitive, the despair of how much less I was than someone else whether it was real or just a projection from my insecure and fearful mindset. Now I thought her nice, and being no pilates expert myself, wanted to say something encouraging after class. Instead, I walked away even more certain the my burpee anxiety is well founded. This was the cautionary tale of everything i am afraid of befalling me while trying to do these things barefoot or even with sneaker-shod feet in the gym. I will unapologetically stick with the inch worms for awhile longer.

I did feel badly for the class leader, though. She is a young girl, maybe 22, and working her way through college teaching pilates and working at Starbucks. Having one of your students hurt herself and need of an ambulance cannot be a confidence-boosting event.

Tonight M and I went out to dinner up the hill, at a local casino with another couple from K’s complicated family tree. I forget how much I hate being in smokey environments; it’s awful and makes my eyes itch and feel swollen and yucky. Unfortunately for us, though, we crossed paths with M’s stepmother, stepsisters, and stepniece also having dinner. For the most part we ignored them, they ignored us, although I could feel the tension in M’s body the entire evening.


The last time we saw them was almost 5 years ago, at a hearing where stepmonster and M’s father tried to take our a restraining order against M. We had just purchased our home, were in the process of packing up to move, and M gets served with this kind of bullshit. Because stepmonster decided she did not like M’s concern about his father’s care and health. We hired a great attorney to defend M against this action, and they also ended up hiring an attorney. Then stepmonster and stepsisters proceeded to lie under oath about what M had said and done in his final visit with his father. It sickened me. If she did not want him to visit the only thing she ever needed to do was tell him to not visit again.

Needless to say, I did not want M to make a scene, but if they approached us there would be no avoiding it. And thankfully they stayed away. Well, mostly. I excused myself as we were saying goodbye to our friends to use the ladies room, and all 4 of those women followed me into the bathroom. Coincidence? I certainly don’t think so. Anyway, stepmonster spoke to me, basically said hello and asked how we were doing. I am rarely rude to other people, but I simply looked at her and said that I had nothing at all to say to her. She reached out to stop me as I tried to pass by putting her hand on my arm. Now this woman is in her 70s or early 80s, and she’s frail despite being a fuller figured person. I stopped and told her very coldly to take her hand off me or I would start screaming for security. She quickly dropped her hand and asked me why I was so upset. All my self control to simply turn and walk out without another word.

I was shaking with rage by the time I got back to where M was waiting for me, and I told him we needed to get out before one of us did something regretful. M was not happy. I am not happy. But really, what else could we do? It is a public place. Our future daughter-in-law works there, and we meet these friends there for dinner now and again. Avoidance continues to be our only recourse. Dang, some people have so much nerve.

But allow me a paragraph to be superficial. M looks fantastic. Since last our paths crossed with theirs he has lost at least 35 lbs. and all his running has left him tan and healthy looking. I am also thinner, trimmer, and in a much better, healthier place. The shorts and t-shirt I was wearing are fairly new, in a recently graduated smaller size, and I am currently sporting a shorter, more modern bob-ish hairstyle. In other words, we look absolutely great. The 4 of them, however, have probably gained at least 20 lbs. each and look very obese and unhealthy. I tend not to be disparaging about other people and their physical appearance, but these are people who LIED about my husband’s behavior under oath and put him through hellacious anxiety and stress just because they could and we suppose, knowing them as we do, that it made them feel omnipotent and powerful. There is a certain way people’s lower legs and ankles look that I associate with unhealthy; M used to worry about mine when I was still on insulin and not getting much exercise. Anyway, the stepmother’s lower legs had that thickened, skin stretched swollen feet and ankles, as did both her daughters and her granddaughter, who is probably 15 years younger than I am. I also wonder what they were feeding M’s dad in his final days.

My father-in-law died a couple of years ago, so his health is no longer in question. And truly, neither are any of these women, these strangers I no longer have any need or desire to know. They are rather evil, and M and I are better off far and away from them.

My Sunday was kind of eventful, but not in the ways I love posting about. Still, without the ick how would I appreciate all the really great stuff? It was a very good day, despite negative emotion events. Work-work is officially caught up, and I am ready for the landslide of a brand new week.

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