Howdy all,
We are heading into summer and I am ready. Hope the summer is looking nifty for you too.
I checked my stats for this blog and was blabberfasted' to find out, like, 3,000+ people have read my blog. Lord have mercy. I am tempted to tell you all to get outside and go for a walk...something...so it is with honor I face what appears to be a few fans? Wow. Thank you.
In a previous post, I outlined my married female friends, or not. I don't know what the hell they are. They don't know what the hell I am so we're even; but I did get a rather weird email from my friend Tammy.
Tammy is the middle-aged housewife that is/was addicted to everything under the sun. Prescription drugs, maybe a few prescription drugs, did I mention prescription drugs? After trying to go out together to do things--out to eat, walking our dogs, cooking dinner together, I had to end it when she showed up at a movie stoned out of her mind including some wailing right before the movie started--something like "Dennis (her husband and none of these names are real to protect their identities and my sanity)...where was I. Oh yes,
"Dennis is going to killlllll meeeeee!"
We were seated in the front row (only seats left). She stood up and wailed this in front of everyone in the theater. I had no idea what in the hell was going on only that she was babbling and looked like hell.
People snickered.
"Tammy, what in the hell are you talking about? Are you alright?"
"Oh God. Oh my God."
"What?" I asked, now getting frantic. My God. She was having a stroke.
"You're having a stroke, Tammy. Please. Sit down. Let me call Dennis, someone."
"Noooooo, Dennis is...I gotta go."
"No."
"I'm not...I gotta go."
And with this she stumbled out of the theater. I followed her outside to her car and
after imploring she not get in it, she flung her hand around like she was going to smack me.
(The movie, by the way was Osage County in which Meryl Streep plays a, hmmm, drug/alcohol-adled woman living alone in a big empty house. I stayed and watched it).
Tammy made it home fine because the next day, I got an email from her that when she got home, she tripped and hurt her ankle. Could someone take her to the doctor? Then an email a few minutes later reported "it was covered." By who, I have no idea.
Calling only produced the answering machine and I have a life. I had to get to it.
Two days after this, I got an email from her that she put her dear little dog, Milo, down. She loved this dog like life itself. The dog was old. It may have been time but it seemed sudden. I was shocked. Knowing she would be torn up as hell, I went and bought some flowers that reminded me of Milo, little white campion flowers, with the idea I would plant them for her in her front yard. I put them in my yard in the meantime.
The next day, she called me, her speech slurred, begging me to come and get a dog she was taking care of. Yes, this woman pet sits and when her client found out she put Milo down, they brought their little dog over to keep her company.
"They can't see me like this."
"Like what?"
"I don't feel good."
Yes, I am a little slow on the uptake but who would think a 63 year old white woman living in rural suburbia would be addicted to drugs.
Now I realized she was drunk or stoned, something. Being the daughter of an alcoholic, I know all about enabling.
"Are you drunk? On drugs?"
"They can't see me like this."
"And neither can I."
I then emailed her links to AA and Narcotics Anonymous.
This was the last time we talked. This was three months ago.
Last week, I got an email from her, of course off her iPhone because she is addicted to texting (surprise, surprise) and it said, "step 9 is making amends. I am writing to make amends. I fell off the wagon of sobriety and I want to apologize to you. I know you have other things going on in your life but if you can forgive me, I would appreciate it."
From her iPhone. Do we make amends now from our iPhones?
She was always sending me emails from her iPhone. When we would go out to dinner, she would rather be looking at her iPhone than at me. Once I remember I took it from her and put it in my purse. "I can keep in touch with the kids this way," she always said except her kids are in their 30's.
The woman has an addictive personality. The woman lives alone in a big house. The woman has a husband who has given up on her apparently. (While I used to have disdain for Dennis, I understand). The woman is a sad person. The woman is my neighbor. Is the woman my friend?
I have not responded to her email...or on her end, one of the many texts she punches out every minute. Does she really want to make amends or does she just miss the attention I gave her in her lonely life? She loves the attention.
Some people are empowered. I am one of them. I take charge of my life. I let things and people out of it, and I let things and people in it but I am in charge of it (keeping in mind we live in a random universe). I'm not really a net caster. I don't cast nets to see what I catch because I am empty inside. Sure, I seek out company sometimes, but not with any expectation because people will let you down.
They WILL let you down. (Am I letting her down?)
So, Tammy...poor Tammy. Tammy who goes around, casting nets all over the place.
"You didn't know she was a drug addict?" A neighbor on her street asks me, incredulous.
"No, not at first."
"And now Milo is gone."
While the flowers that reminded me of Milo still sit in my yard.
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