People Suck

Why can’t people just be happy for her?

It was her third marriage. People kept reminding her and anyone else who would listen to their mouth flap. Yes, it was her third, not that the number counted toward or against anything, though for them it did. They used it as a quantifier in which to judge her, instead of as a fact. Yes, she had been married three times before. They didn’t want to know the rest of the story, only that at one point, she had two other husbands. 

The first one died tragically of cancer. It was painful for her. He was older, and of course they judged her on that too. Even then, they didn’t care that she was stable, happy, and loved. Only that he was so much older than she was. When he died she was alone in the loneliest of ways. Three children who could barely understand where their father had gone. People pretended to mourn with her, but they didn’t really care. They judged. As they always do. Thus, she pulled away as she always did when she sensed toxicity and resentment.

She tried to love again, but the toxicity of others brought someone into her life that was fueled by their toxicity. It turned him against her. He manipulated her, threatened her, convinced her to marry him or else he would say, but the else would change. He’d find her, he’d hurt her, he’d hurt the kids, he’d hurt himself. He was desperate, and it made her desperate. So she married him to protect herself and her children, besides she could handle it she thought, and of course they judged her for that too. For trying to love. For letting his threats get to her. For ultimately marring someone else betraying her first marriage like her late husband was still alive. 

Nothing she did was good enough for them, and as the poison of their presence in her life seeped in, she began to believe that she would never be good enough ever. They all would find reason to talk. 

After having enough, and deciding to ask for her worth and being refused, she left him. They judged her once again, but this time for leaving. She decided not to listen to it. She took her children and moved away. Started going to church. Started learning to love herself again. Her children felt more free to be creative. She felt more free to be creative. Finally, she was ready to love again, and she did. They got married and are happier than ever! Of course they judged her again. They still do. But this time she shut the door on their words and made a home of love and safety for her family. They live happily and functionally. She finally feels that kind of safety and love she once had felt. Yet, they still judge. Out of ignorance. Out of malice. Out of loving to hear their own voices. They say the children must be emotionally torn apart, as if she had never spoken to them or gotten their input about it prior. Like she was being selfish. Like she hadn’t sat on my couch for several hours pouring out her soul about how the kids would feel and if they would let her get married again. Because she needed their permission. Not that those who judged her knew, and not that they cared. They just wanted to pretend to have empathy. 

I was so angry to hear how many people so openly talked about her in front of me. So willingly thought that I’d agree with them. So openly shamed her. So I spoke up, knowing that I too Would be judged, merely asking if they knew all these accusations for certain. Asking if they were living her life for her and felt as if they could come along and have a say in it. Asking if they enjoyed talking about her more than talking to her. So they stopped speaking to me. 

Neither she nor I have felt loss at their absence. 

I’m just getting so sick and tired of ignorant people talking about things they know nothing about. Especially when it has nothing to do with their lives. She’s not a relative. Her life has zero impact on theirs. Why open your mouth at all? LET HER LIVE HER FREAKING LIFE WITHOUT BEING AN OBJECT OF YOUR JUDGMENT! But, of course, we all judge. It’s our nature to want to. To gauge our lives against the lives of others and assure ourselves that we are doing the right thing. As if there is even a definition for that. I do it too. I catch myself being that person all the time, and realizing that I’ve got my own problems too. People ignore the fact that life is messy because people are messy, and a mess is a mess no matter how big or small it seems to be. 

If it isn’t your mess, just don’t worry about it. 


I’ve slept so much the past few days that I find I’m super hungry today. Probably from the meal skipping, but it could be because of boredom. I’m not sure. All I know is I keep throwing frozen veggies into condensed cream of soups in hopes of making them feel more filling.

Part of my problem isn’t just the missing meals. It’s that I really don’t have many groceries, and to be perfectly frank, I can’t afford them right now. Which makes me get more creative in hopes of filling my stomach and giving me enough energy to get through the days ahead. 

Money problems are not new for me, but recently I had a bit of an issue with some tax forms, and my guy and I realized that we had made a mistake on my taxes. It was a nerve wracking day when he called me to go over some things and we realized the mistake. After getting off the phone and pretending all was calm, I broke down and had a panic attack. People go to jail for this kind of thing. I freaked out. Like really freaked out. 

There are few things that trigger my anxiety like money does. Actually only one other thing does: my irrational fear of alligators. Money is my primary anxiety. Do I have enough? Did I save enough? What did I spend money on that I probably shouldn’t have? Did I need it? Really need it? Sometimes it gets so bad I’ll sit and contemplate the ethics of using toilet paper or needing soaps to bathe (I mean the pioneers didn’t have it so why do I?). I only go grocery shopping once a month and can live pretty well off $150 worth of foods if I get family size packages of pork and chicken, sale prices frozen veggies, bag of apples, bag of onions, bag of baby reds, condensed soups, cereal, milk, and sandwich stuff. I do pretty well. If I have money to spare I’ll buy some bags of bagels occasionally…or booze.

Thankfully I was able to get the right tax amendment paperwork together and everything paid straight away. It didn’t leave me much though, and took a good chunk out of my buffer fund, which had been looking sad enough as I found myself taking nibbles out of it here and there without reimbursement. Several hundred dollars later I’m living of buttered noodles and cream of condensed soups mixed with frozen veggies. Soon it’ll all be noodles and a bunch of flours (like rye and soy stuff) my mom gave me when my dad was diagnosed with Celiacs disease (made in factory’s that have wheat in them apparently and that’s just as bad as eating wheat I’m told). Better than living off dollar store food, which is basically candy, cookies, and crackers. Occasionally Raman, but our local branch has a hard time keeping that in stock for some reason, and it’s not worth driving to the far side of town to get stuff. All of course are wonderful foods to snack on occasionally, but only temporarily filling. 

I suppose skipping meals because I’m tired in a bit of a blessing in disguise since I don’t have much food in the first place and having missed my thyroid pills earlier this week I’m sleeping more instead of eating. Thus, I don’t need the food as badly. Tonight I managed to put noodles and mixed veggies in tomato soup for dinner. It was kind of like spagettios. I have half of it left for lunch at work tomorrow. I had a couple handfuls of some trail mix (which should just be called reason mix because it’s seriously just reasons with an occasional nut, banana chip, or dried pineapple piece in it) and a huge 20oz Tervis full of water a while ago to quell my hunger. Tomorrow morning will be a cup of coffee. That will hold me until lunch, and thankfully tomorrow is pay day, and I can go grocery shopping after work. 

I realize this post is not  at all exciting so I’ll end it with “and then I killed a man” to add interest. How I allegedly killed said man and why will remain unsaid because, of course, it never happened, but feel free to leave your speculations or imaginings of such an event in the comments below if you feel so inclined. That is all.