I had a girlfriend, I'll call Cheryl. I'd known her from work a few years ago. Poor thing had a rather unfortunate life, starting with parents. I normally wouldn't make such a claim, but I heard her on the phone with her mother and woo chile, you couldn't pay me enough to deal with parents like that. After that, she was in an abusive marriage, and was separated from her children, her youngest who eventually died of cancer at the age of 12. Followed up by a narcissistic psychopath of a boyfriend (she referred to him as her husband, but they didn't have any papers, so I refused to acknowledge him as such).
The whole time we worked together, Cheryl was with psycho boyfriend. She'd show up to work, covered in bruises. She'd explain how she'd like to leave, but her check is directly put into his account. I offered more than once to take her to the bank to obtain her own account. She always had an excuse or two why she couldn't go.
She did manage to leave him some years later, but as you can imagine with such trauma, it wasn't easy. She had a goofy ass "friend" she'd lived with and the friend continued to allow him access to the home. I explained to Cheryl that no real friend would allow that asshole to have access to her, especially knowing their years of abusive history.
Some years later, Cheryl broke free and became a truck driver. I was beyond proud of her, and watching the progress she made. She did it! She was free! She was making her own money, and no longer subjected to the whims of shitty parents and abusive boyfriends. Time went on, and the details are fuzzy here (not accidentally, I'm sure of it), but Cheryl lost her job as a truck driver.
I was doing pretty well, so I offered to let Cheryl crash at my place. While there, Cheryl was the worst house guest I've ever had. Left her luggage in the middle of my floor, didn't cook or clean up, when she did cook (once), she didn't clean up after. I don't expect maid service, but I've let enough people crash in my home and I've done it enough to know that when you are calling someone else's house your home, you do everything you can to minimize your presence.
Cheryl continued to speak to her goofy ass friend who'd kept her ex around. I warned Cheryl about her. More than once. I'm not a hater. But I see toxic ass behavior and I call it out and I remove myself accordingly. I'd tried to explain to Cheryl that the reason she was so drawn to her shit show of a homegirl was because she'd lived in dysfunction so long, that she didn't know how to just enjoy moments of peace that were genuinely drama-free. My words fell on deaf ears.
Anyway, Cheryl was gone. Out of my hair. I'd wished her the best. But then, one night, about two weeks later at 3am, Cheryl called me and asked for directions to get to my home. Huh? She explained that the goofy ass friend got mad at her out of nowhere and put her out of the car and they happened to be in my area at the time. Even though my neighborhood was pretty safe and I've walked it at night myself multiple times, I wasn't going to have her lost and walking around in the middle of the night. I climbed in my car to pick her up.
*exhales*
The next morning, I told her, point blank, that if she hopes to continue living with me and getting any support from me, she cannot be friends with goofy ass anymore. I'm not your mama or her mama. But the moment I have to climb out of my bed at 3am, you're making y'all's problem my problem. And I don't take on problems that aren't mine. My friends are good people who support me and keep me safe, even if we don't see eye to eye. I don't keep people around me who would do something like drop me off in the middle of the night. My life is drama and problem free, which is how I prefer to keep it.
I'd never realized how much of other people's problems I'd taken on until Pete died. Afterward, I went into a deep funk, and pretty much isolated myself, going into a very basic survival mode, enough just to pay bills and keep my son fed. But once I emerged from said funk, I realized that I had no problems. Like NONE. I wasn't worrying about some sorry ass dude cheating on me or lying to me. I was the sole person paying household bills, which I was able to do. Health was good. No drama, no games. What I took from that period was that my problems tended to stem from other people. And that I was the one responsible for weeding out the problematic individuals. Granted, there were moments that I back slid into problems, but nothing like before.
So with Cheryl, I wasn't with the shits. We were also in the middle of the pandemic at the time. I wasn't trying to entertain foolishness. I let Cheryl know that if she continued to be friends with goofy ass, there would be absolutely no returning to my home. She had plenty of examples of goofy ass being, well, a goofy ass. She was spoiled and toxic, enabled by a family for her clear mental illness. I wasn't trying to take that on. Cheryl said that after being put out of the car, she was fed up with goofy ass and was absolutely severing times.
A month or so later, I looked on Facebook to see that goofy ass had tagged Cheryl in a pic of them in the club. Wow. Word sis? Look, okay. I'm tapping out. You win. Have fun and I honestly wish you healing.
I'd gotten in touch with Cheryl again when I moved back from California. She'd been living with her son in my old neighborhood, and as he had roommates, she was crowding their space and they were nicely asking her to leave. She'd had a job previously, a contracting job that allowed her to work from home and save money, but the contract ended suddenly. She was up the creek again.
She'd taken on a roommate who basically tried to bully her out the moment after she paid to move in. She never asked me to move in with me, but I could practically smell the question on her breath. She wanted my couch again. Yes, I was sleeping on the floor, but at least my housing was secure. I waited for her to ask. She never did. And I never volunteered it. I held firm in what I said. You go back to fucking with goofy bitch, you'll never call my home your home again. Because I don't take on problems that aren't mine.
***
Tim is heavy on my brain today. All those times we spent cuddling on my floor and with all of those drunken phone calls, in a million years, I never would have suspected that he'd just drop one day. Like I said before, he made it known that he was into me. And I had a major crush on him in the beginning. I dunno, perhaps if I'd met him before Theo, things would have been different.
But because Theo was in my life, Tim had to play the role of friend. And I learned a lot about him, without the rose colored glasses of a relationship. He'd often call me, discussing his frustration with trying to do for others in his life. There was his heaping mess of a brother, who had mental illness that he refused to manage. There was his spoiled daughter, and her reluctance to care for her own children, hoping that he would instead. There was also the cousin who he was hoping to find an apartment with, the hotheaded lesbian who stayed in fights. She also had money problems. Tim called me often, discussing his frustration with his family. I reminded Tim that he was homeless, so trying to save grown ass people from their own mistakes is just ridiculous when you're house hopping yourself.
When Theo and I broke up, naturally Tim called me and started hinting that we hook up. Sure, I'd admitted to him early on that I was into him. But that was before he made it known to me that practically everyone in his life was dysfunctional as hell, in addition to being codependent. What tf I look like getting involved with a dude who I know is going to constantly be trying to save alcoholic family members from their own problems? Tim shared that he loved how warm and welcoming my home is. I do that on purpose. Because first, I have good energy. Two, my goal of any home I live in is for people to be relaxed and at peace. But I'm not crazy enough to bring anyone or anything that is going to disrupt what I work for. My home is my castle. I stand by that.
Today was my first time hitting the gym in a while. The diabetes medication in addition to a healthy, low-starch diet that I'm on, has me melting off the pounds. I'm starting to enjoy my silhouette for the first time in forever. My problem at the moment is that I need to focus on toning the loose skin on my stomach and arms. The last time I lost weight, I never got to fully enjoy it, because of the loose skin that took on the appearance of fat. I don't want to do that this time. I'm taking collagen vitamins and going to try to get in some aerobics and strength training, so that I can tone as I lose.
I was talking to Fred, a man who has a body that most men his age would give their mothers for. Fred is the one that encouraged me to hit the gym in order to tone as I lose weight. Ya see? THIS is the kind of problem I want! Something fixable! Something drama free! Going to gym allows me to socialize, especially as I transition to my new work from home position soon. So it solves a few problems. For just $30 a month, I can tone my midsection, and I can socialize and make friends.
I love that I'm in a space in life where peace comes before everything. No drama. No toxic friends. My bills are paid. My son is happy and healthy. I'm doing the single thing and I really enjoy it. This is how life is supposed to be.
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