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I woke up this morning, 3am, in a hotel in Grand Rapids. It was a planned New Year’s Eve romantic get away with my love. I booked the hotel, got a great rate, 4 ****, I was so looking forward to this time away, relaxed, yet focused with my favorite.
Get aways haven’t always been a relaxing and soothing experience. My dad told me yesterday, I find drama whereever I go. He told me this after I shared the experience I just experienced while checking in to the romantic get away hotel.
this is how it all began. January 31, 2020. The last day of the longest year of this life.
I met my love in the parking lot. Set the stage: long, sexy kiss in the parking lot, hey baby, want to get a room with me? I wanna spend some time with you, alone and naked. Oh yes! That’s exactly what I wanted when I booked the hotel. Sexy solitude.
We went inside to the desk to check in. There was a young, beautiful, black woman with her right arm in a sling. She was talking to the clerk, relating the details of her accident that morning. She walked out of the back door of the hotel. Fell on the ice. “I don’t know how to handle this ice and snow. it’s so cold here and it’s slippery. I fell and I broke my shoulder. I missed my flight back home. I have to keep the rental car another night, my account is goign to be overdrawn due to new unexpected charges. I don’t know what to do.”
They agreed to give her another room for the rate of $60/night. It was a heartbreaking story and i was a little choked up. She walked away, softly crying, and obviously in pain, wanting to lay down, and let the pain pill kick in. I walked away from the clerk at the desk who taking my ID and checking us in. “Maam! Is there anything you need, right now? is there anything i can do for you?” She replied with tears in her voice, “Would you pull my hair back into a pony”? She had long, long, long braids, thick and gorgeous. Are you kidding me? “Sister, yes. Yes, I can do that. I have 5 (brown) daughters and I have done hair more times than I can count!” I scooped up her beautiful, wild hair and gently pulled it together, taming it temporarily so she had one less thing to think about and one less thing she had to figure out how to do without any use of her right arm.
We got checked in. We went to the car to get our bags and move in to our room. It was on the first floor, 150. We moved in. the refrigerator didn’t work. It was dirty. It was an accessible room, yet there was no phone. It was such a disgusting, disappointment. And not workable. I wanted a refrigerator that worked. the phone was inconsequential but when the door fell off the cupboard. I couldn’t take it anymore. We went to the desk. My love got us another room. One floor up. We started moving. I took the first load while she packed up the rest of the stuff.
When I went up to the new room with the load, the door was wide open. I walked in, freely, unencumbered. there was no TV. What the hell is going on? What the fuck is going on? My romantic vision was melting and not into a puddle of PJ in my bed.
We both went to the front desk this time. As soon as I got into line of vision of the desk, I think they knew I was quite upset. This was room 2 and it was shit too. There were two people already at the desk, one of which was the young woman, Elizabeth, that had broken her should during a slip and fall in the parking lot of the lovely romantic get away hotel.
I pulled out my phone. I started recording and this is what I said, “I can’t believe this. This is the second room, there is no TV and the door was wide the eff open! In addition, how the hell are you going to have a slip and fall in the parking lot, resulting in a broken shoulder on this young woman! Even though she is incurring additional costs as a result of this slip and fall, you are still charging her for the room!!!”
Then i continued talking while recording a video. I talked about the hotel. And the lack of customer service and caring for this injured woman and the lack of cleanliness and attention to rooms at this particular hotel.
I walked back inside. I looked at Elizabeth, still standing at the desk. And she looked like poo, still beautiful and brave through the pain, but obviously faint and weak looking, like she might fall out. And that’s what I said. I walked up to her, while recording, asked her if she felt all right. She said but i said you look very weak, would you like to sit down. She demurred and denied. I walked away, back to my 6′ distancing (we ALL were masked!). The desk attendant, Emma, called me to the desk. She had a room for us. She asked her coworker, Nate, to go check out the room for us, to make sure it was okay, before we moved AGAIN!
He came back. All is well. the room is ready. Follow me, maam!
I follow him. We walk to the room. He opens the door. Holy freaking shit.
We were upgraded to a king suite with a whirlpool tub. It was absolutely GORGEOUS!!
Holy shit. All of the calamities had lead up to the amazing upgrade. Yes, it was a pain in the ass. Yes, I was in some chaos. Yes, I had a wee bit of crying and upsetedness. Yup. Shit. More chaos? And yet, here we are, in an upgraded suite with a king size bed, bigger refrigerator, kitchenette, and a whirlpool tub. Ahhhhh, this is beautiful.
Fortunately, during the long walk to the room with Nate, almost a city block, and up two flights in the slow elevator, I was able to joke with Nate and the tension was slightly relieved. We got to the room. It was acceptable and good and romantic and YAY! I chatted with Nate. I shared with him that I hoped his New Year’s Eve was calmer and easier. He replied that this was a perfect evening. He shared that it was the first new year’s in a year or so that he was clean. He shared that a year ago, he almost died in front of his son during an overdose and that he was clean now. he was clean. He was alive. And that this was easy living compared to what he had lived. He got choked up. I got chills and choked up. He tried to run away with his feelings. As the tears started to fill his eyes, he tried to leave, “I gotta go! Happy New Year, maam!”
OH HELL NO!
Get your ass back here, man, you don’t get out of this without a hug.
And we hugged and I told him, “I’m so glad you are here! I am so glad you are alive. You don’t have ever to use again. I’m so thankful for you, man. My partner is in recovery and keep coming back. Love you, man”. And he hugged me so hard like he was never going to let go. he gave me this hardcore NA hug. He went back to the desk. He left and we forever were bonded in a way that holy crap, I didn’t know it was coming but each part of this debacle of the romantic getaway hotel lead to this moment of connection, support, yes, love. Because we need each other and we gotta give each other love when we can. I’m thankful for this freaking moment right here. Thank you.
He left. My Minnie finished moving us into the room. We settled in. Putting items in the refrigerator, cooler, starting to run a tub, because guess what? We were blessed with a whirlpool in the room and i was going to absolutely take advantage of that blessing.
i went to the window to see if it cracked or opened at all. Ya know? Can I kind of get away with some recreational activities without freezing my ass off or would I be banished to the arctic area out side the exit.
The window was fucking broken. Wait. What? The window had a big hole in it. A punch? A head? What the freaking hell.
Is this for real? Wheere is the camera? Who the frick is punking me?
I look at Minnie and say, what the hell do we do? Tell them? they might move us AGAIN! and the room might not be as nice, it might not have a tub, and are you fucking kidding me? I want to settle into the romantic weekend and get my sexy juicy on!!! When does the romantic getaway even happen? When? Sheesh.
We take pictures because we don’t want to be held liable. We walk down to the front desk. Emma and Nate look at us and duck and hide. Yup. We have become those people. Bitching and complaining people. Sigh. But it really is not my fault!!! lol
I show Emma the pictures. She tells us that we have to move because it is a safety risk.
NO MAN, NO!
I cannot move again. I don’t care about the risks. I am a mom of 8. I have dealt with so much glass. I don’t care about the cold. We didn’t feel it. We are menopausal. What the helllllllllllll NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I am crying and pleading at this point. Please don’t move us again. Plastic it. Just let us stayyyyyyy.
These were my pleas to Emma & Nate. Please. Don’t. Move. US. AGAIN. Please let the romantic get away begin.
I walked away. I don’t know what was said after I left but I wanted to get a tub in before we were moving again. My Minnie returned and told me it was taken care of. She told me that it was okay and they are going to fix it. So yeah, we weren’t going to get much privacy. And yeah, we didn’t know what time they would be back to fix it. And yeah, it was disruptive. And yeah, it was a little chaotic. But it’s okay. I’m getting in the tub while we wait.
They called within 20 minutes saying they were on their way. YAY! They were being timely and attentive. I like that!
Emma and Fernando (maintenance guy) showed up, masked and sort of ready to go to work. They stared removing the glass. Neither one of them had work gloves. WHAT??!
They were not very prepared. But BOOM! Here ya go! I provided them with MFR Warrior Work Gloves. Yup, shore the eff did. I got you BOO. No cuts or injuries on this nurse’s watch.
He put the gloves on and they got to work. It took him awhile to get the window pane/frame out of the track. He had to break some of the glass. Emma was very supportive with her designer back pack and phone flashlight. She was funny. She shared how all of her hotels were having issues. LOL ALL of her hotels? oh, yeah, they have 18 and each one was having issues: key card machines out on the blink and offline for a huge Holiday Inn Express and flooding in another location.
Seriously, 2020? Staying strong and spiteful til the end, aren’t ya?
He finally got the window out. They cleaned up the glass. But they didn’t really have a plan. But wait. Can we take this window to another room and take he window out of that room and bring it back. Heck yes, we can!!! Solution found and carried out. We were in business with an enclosed, unbroken window. They left. We laughed. We bonded. All is well in Wyndham.
But wait! There’s more. the window STILL OPENS! how rare is it to find an opening window in a hotel on the 3rd floor? lol Thanks Goddess for arranging for cross draft to air my room out so I didn’t have to brave the cold for my recreationals. #thankful #findingmyjuicy
We settled into our room. We had a romantic picnic. We watched Grease. We got some sexy juicy and then some more.
It wasn’t all perfect. The people below us partied all night and got into a fight at 3am and destroyed the rooms ($700 worth of damage!!!) So I was awake a lot. But overall…
When I think of how I left 2020…I was snuggled up in a big cozy bed with my favorite, safe, grounded, satiated, and juicy af. That is a good way to welcome 2021.
Welcome 2021! I look forward to all of your juicy adventures! Bring on the magic and the miracles. I love it all. It is all juicy!
#findingmyjuicy #livingmybestlife #womanfestmybestlife #mfrmagic2021 #mfrsisters #sistertimeinthepines
I planned a work crew for today. I planned it as a gathering of women during a time of uncertainty. Uncertainty due to Covid. Uncertainty due to new roles & expectations.
I have never been sole producer of a festival. I have co-produced with a fierce & extremely competent womyn. She was blessed with mad skills in electrical, carpentry, mechanical, plumbing, and just general fix it skills. And now, I am left with the blessed responsibility of rallying the tribe and recruiting 6-18 people to do the things that were within her scope.
I showed up at the farm today. I started to unload tools & supplies. Whoa. Back up. I was solely responsible to plan the work & to plan for the tools & supplies we will need. Shit. Okay. I packed two of my small tool bags. I packed an air compressor, drills, circular saw, and sawzall. I didn’t bring a charger. But I really didn’t think we would need the drills. I just thought I should be prepared, even though I wasn’t quite sure what I was preparing for since this part was mostly all new.
But it wasn’t all new. I had been training with M for years for this. In years past, I asked questions. I asked about supplies, tools. I asked how to use them and I asked why we used those particular ones. I asked lots of questions. I was blessed with really thorough answers.
Today, after unloading tools & supplies, I walked through the spaces. I surveyed PC, trying to figure out the best “plan of attack” for what I was trying to accomplish. What was I trying to accomplish? I thought I went there with the idea of moving soft or cloth items out of PC and over to She-Shed. I walked over and surveyed She-Shed.
I broke down crying. My thoughts were slightly panicked and I just kept thinking, what the hell am I doing? how the hell am I going to do this by myself? Why the hell am I even trying? I don’t know enough. I don’t have enough. I am not enough.
Then I came up with a plan. I remembered that I SHOULDN’T be doing this alone. I remembered that this is a community project. This is a tribe job. This is something that should be built by the community. This somehow got lost and sidetracked when we got into a stress & clutter of rage, anger, frustration, and broken expectations & disappointments. We forgot. I forgot that we should never be the ones that are doing the majority of the work. We forgot because there weren’t volunteers. I forgot because I was tired and I had expectations and ego. I forgot that the community will work for what it wants and if it doesn’t work for it, then it’s not my job to make it happen. I can’t make the commitment. I can’t make the community feel the excitement and the dedication if it doesn’t want it, need it, or desire it. If the community doesn’t support it, then it’s time for me to let it go.
I stopped crying and I got to work. People showed up. We built a shelf. The women showed up and we already had the supplies. And I had grabbed drills and other tools, just in case. I planned for something that I wasn’t sure was going to happen.
And I, no, we were ready for it. I learned more than I give myself credit for and the community will step up, if we give them space to take the steps.
Today, I thought we were coming together to move items from PC to She-Shed. I called it MFR moving day. I realized the real reason for coming together today was to move my attitude of belief & faith. It was a moving day from the vision of how MFR was put together and moving into how MFR is going to come together and how that can and will look.
My mind has moved from a place of not know how I could ever do it without someone, how I could do it on my own, to a place of belief in the power of womyn & community and my own gifts & talents. I am gifted, talented, and skilled in my own way. I have moved to a place of believing that my gifts, talents, and skills are just as valuable and worthy and wonderful. I have moved to a belief that I have the skills to gather the womyn & witches that will electrify and enliven this Framily. #mfrmovingday
the biggest heartache of my life is to be a mother. The overwhelming, total body encompassing, heart full, body full of love that happens when you meet your baby is only a small iota of what happens when a woman becomes a mother. The love is expounded and multiplied with each smile, coo, laugh, toddle, crawl, walk, and graduation. That describes only a small fraction of the love a mother feels for her child.
But there is also pain. Being a mother means you are now responsible for another person. You are responsible for their physical, emotional, spiritual, and psychic growth. You feed and clothe them to the best of your ability which has wide variance, as we all have felt growing up with more or less material wealth than our peers. Each mothering experience is unique and special. It is challenging even with the best planned support team. The experience is strewn with varying levels of guilt, insufficiency, doubt, insecurity, and what the fuck am I doing at any given time.
And this is what an “ordinary” mother experiences. But what is an ordinary mother? Is a stereotypical family with two parental units, a home that is mortgaged, normal amount of pets and kids and debt, an ordinary family with a ordinary mother? But I digress to an equally important point but not the one of this blog.
I am not an ordinary mother by most people’s standards. (Again, I must repeat, As if there truly is an ordinary mother). I raised 8 kids by myself. I raised 8 kids without support from my ex-husband and with quite ridiculous obstacles from seeming support people. My parents were way too active in my life and the lives of my children due to close living proximity and the erroneous belief that they were trying to help me with my family.
Sigh. AGain, I digress with another important facet of the complications and tribulations of the raising of the Dawn Smith children. Another day will bring that chapter.
It’s hard on the heart to have a lot of kids. Yes, they are all grown. But they are still my children. They still want and need their mother for love, support, advise, and sometimes, financial help.
I’m thankful I am in a position to help and support my kids. Times are hard right now with Covid isolation, chaos, and confusion. Navigating this world of racism, poverty, hate, and despair is hard enough, throw in a pandemic requiring social isolation and anxiety and depression are having a field day on people everywhere and specifically in my family.
As much as I love being able to emotionally support my kids, I also have my own feelings, emotions, and life. I feel some kind of way now about the balance of adult kids and my life. Raising teenagers was such a drain on my spirit, compounded by the obstacles that my parents through into the mix by undermining me and filling my kids’ heads with disrespect and hate of me. They were filled with the normal teenage angst, rage, and hate for their mother. In addition, they had a higher level of disrespect because that’s what my parents showed them by gossiping in front of them.
Although I loved my kids, it was hard to raise them alone. It was hard to keep it all together. I cried a lot. I felt guilty a lot. I felt overwhelmed and incompetent. a fucking lot. And I cried and overreacted. I had uncontrolled anxiety.
As much as my kids think I fucked shit up with my anxiety filled tantrums, they have no idea how much it fucked me up knowing the full extent of how much work it entailed to raise 8 kids by myself. It was hard. It was scary. It was unappreciated by anyone. The kids hated me (i know they didn’t really hate me but their rage was convincing enough). My parents didn’t think I was doing it right and constantly undermined me. My ex-husband never missed an opportunity to bad mouth me, harass me verbally, or through the courts demonstrating to the kids repeatedly disrespect of me. I felt like I was against everyone just trying to do the right thing: raise my kids to be kind, loving, respectful, hard working people.
I was just trying to raise my kids to be responsible. I was just trying to spend time with them. I was just trying to be their mom. Imperfectly but doing my best and trying to do better. And I was alone. I was alone for a lot of the time, arguing and fighting with the kids, for the kids, against the kids for the kids. Always fighting.
Now they are grown. I am tired. I want to help them. But life is hard for me right now too.
I know I am resilient. I know I will get through this. Hell. I know THEY will get through this. Because through it all, I did teach them to be strong, to be resilient, to keep working through it and to it.
We will get through this. I hope to get through it with more self-awareness, self-compassion, and self-forgiveness. I hope to remember, then and now, I am doing the best I can do and as I know better, I do better.
It’s so damn hard to be a good person when I am in pain. In my head, heart, and soul, I am a kind, loving, and FORGIVING person. I don’t hold on to grudges. I release and let go. I am enlightened. My past does not determine my present or future.
Those are the stories I tell myself. And these are the goals I set for myself. I read the mantras. I repeat the mantras,
I read the empowering memes and repeat them to myself, knowing they are powerful and truth.
There are so many ways to learn to release resentment and let go. There are so many quotes. There are so many memes and mantras. Most of which are powerful life truths.
And yet, I still feel angry, hurt, confused, and resentful because of the pain I feel from past experiences with people. I feel resentful that it is tolerated. I feel resentful at the fakeness. I feel mad that they are lying and manipulating. I am angry for all the crap that I experienced at their “hands”, i.e. hurtful, abusive words, manipulation, meanness, and mind fucking.
Am I angry at myself for allowing it for so long? Am I angry at others for not seeing their fake bullshit and cosigning their bullshit? Yes, yes, I am angry at others for believing their crap. I am angry at people who are friends with my parents since they are racist, homophobic, abusive, and neglectful to their daughter.
I am fucking pissed and I want everyone to hate the people that hurt me.
But that’s not the whole truth.
While I have these feelings of hurt, rage, and resentment, I also have feelings of love, compassion, and acceptance of people right where they are. I have lots of love in my heart and I am loving to lots of people. But then I get so angry.
Which just goes to show (me) that it is a process. Forgiving others is a process. While I would like to meditate on “release and let go” and “forgive and be healed” and poof, those feelings are gone; the truth is those feelings persist unless I consciously work on changing my attitude, my beliefs, and my thoughts.
So every day, I will continue with my mantra to release and let go.
Every day, I will do loving acts for myself to support me and love me the way I should have always been loved.
Every day, I will meditate, forgive, and release myself and others for their (my) treatment of me. I will correct my stinking thinking as soon as I feel it coming on.
I will change my thoughts every single time. I will practice the art of forgiveness. I will practice the art of compassion to myself and others. I will practice forgiveness, over and over and over until past hurts don’t creep in and cause me anxiety, insecurity, and stress.
I don’t want to be a grumpy, resentful, cantankerous old biddy.
I want to be my light-filled, juicy self. I am my light-filled, juicy self. I just want to keep reminding myself of who I am and who I want to be and who I called to be:
I am called to be this and I will do the work to fulfill my calling. I want to be all that I can be and all that I deserve. I don’t want to feel mad AT MYSELF for not taking the time to do my work because
#findingmyjuicy #bemybest #lightworker #leolight #dobetter #bebetter #dothework
I have spent several years making up stories. I have been making up stories for myself. I have been making up stories for other people. These stories sound a little like this
“She’s doing the very best she can.” She doesn’t really mean to be like that. She really cares. She really loves you. Her intentions are really good. She really wants to help you. She is committed to this mission. She didn’t mean it like that. She really does love you. She really does love me. It’s okay. We are going to get through this together. We will find a way together. She has my back. She would do anything for me. She is so helpful. Even though, it comes across wrong, she does care.
I have spent a long time convincing myself of the goodness of others’ hearts. I have spent a long time telling myself that if I just did this or maybe if I learned a way to talk better. Or maybe if I talked softer. Or if I look at my part at it…My part is this, I will work on that and this and then the conversations will be easier. I will work on me because that’s the only part I can change (true story but…). I have a part in this too and I will work on my part (true story but…)
I spent so many hours making up stories for me, about situations, trying to justify abusive behavior. I felt that if I could just get my actions right, then it would be all right. I thought that if I stopped yelling, I would be heard. I thought that if I wasn’t defensive, I could truly hear and do better. I thought that if i could just get it right, then she wouldn’t be so mad. She wouldn’t be so hard to work with. i Made so many excuses for why I was allowing myself and others to be treated horribly, disrespectfully, rude, inconsiderate.
I made the excuses so she wouldn’t look bad.
And truthfully, so I wouldn’t look dumb. if I could justify her actions and align them with good intentions, then I wouldn’t be stupid for staying. If her actions were justified by good intentions of creating a safe space for women, no matter that she is creating harm through her actions, then I could explain to myself that I was being supportive, loving, and a good partner.
Well, the yolk is on me. I was dumb for staying and justifying shitty, abusive behavior.
I have spoke in code for so long so I wouldn’t look petty or accusatory or finger pointing. But this last action cannot be justified by intention. She took “her stuff” quitetly, without a discussion of the involved parties, never giving anyone a chance to say, wait a minute, that is not yours, let’s talk. She took her equipment, at least she says it is hers. She took her tools, at least she said they are hers. She took the motor home, even though she gave permission for someone to stay there during her work commute. She took the motor home without talking to this person so this person left work at 10pm, drove to the farm, and when she got there at 1115pm, there was no place for her to stay. She did this quietly with no discussion. She did this while posting videos extolling people to reach out to people and show that you care. She stated she was going to do her reaching out quietly, privately. Maybe she did reach out to people to say the words, I care. But her actions left someone homeless with no place to stay in the middle of the night after working 12 hour shifts. Her actions, once again, do not align with her intentions.
Now I grieve. Now I try to make sense of someone’s hurtful and hateful behavior. I try to understand so I can make excuses again because this is my pattern. One again, I have to remind myself of this lesson: I will never understand cruel behavior. I will never understand hurtful actions. I will never relate to someone that values material stuff more than integrity and thoughtful consideration. I will never understand someone that values material goods, that she has no use for but she must hoard and possess because they are hers, more than being a kind, loving person. I will never understand.
Even though, I will never understand this behavior, I do need to forgive it. I need to forgive it and let it go. I need to let it go and take the high road. I post this becasue I know not many people read it. I don’t want you to think bad of her even though she did bad, hateful actions, exemplified by the same administration that she states she wants to change. She would rather hoard her stuff and hurt me and the women’s community we tried to create instead of working from a place of what the community needs and forgiveness.
I cannot change it. I cannot sugar coat it. I can only forgive and let go. It no longer serves me. I do not need those things. things will be available as we need them. It would be nice to have those items. But we don’t need them.
I do need my community. I will keep working towards building a loving community. This is my work. ONly by forgiving, letting go, and building others up, will the community grow stronger and more loving. I can do me. That’s all I can do.
just for today, i forgive. I forgive and let go what no longer serves me and my peace.
I won’t hide the truth anymore. But I won’t bad mouth or tear down. Hateful actions always come out in the light of day. I am Dawn. Let the daylight start.
Today was a day. I didn’t have a lot of energy to write a blog tonight but I wanted to share my beautiful experience.
Not only did I encounter a lovely young man, I also single-handedly (well ALMOST, thank you kind sir!) finagled the experience. This is new for me. I am digging being more independent and COMPETENT. I didn’t always feel competent. I know self-esteem is an inside job. Unfortunately, I was in a position where my worst stories about myself were reinforced by my surroundings and I didn’t have the belief in myself to remove myself because i didn’t feel worthy. It is a very circular messy situation and it’s hard to extricate yourself from the pattern when you are in it. I got out though. And now I know. I can handle my shit. I know I can handle my shit. Or I know how to find the information to get it handled. #power #amazon #findingmyjuicy #thankful #goodmoms
That shit really hurt. It hurt to hear you say things about me that haven’t been been present in so long. It hurt to hear you recount things about me when it’s not who i am anymore. It hurt to hear you not recount other things. It hurt to bear the brunt of the whole responsibility. It hurt to be on my own. It hurt to bite my tongue and listen. I listened without interruption. I listened without speaking. I listened without saying but what about. I listened without saying you aren’t around me, you don’t know. It hurt. I said nothing. I said nothing until you were done. And then when someone else joined the conversation, I summarized, no, I repeated verbatim every word you said about me. It hurt to have no one, not the one that just joined say that was not the story of recent years. It hurt. It hurts. It hurts and I’m crying so hard. It hurts that I am not seen. It hurts that I am the one responsible and the one that has gone back over and over and asked these questions. And yet, this time when the questions are asked they are most definitely asked to send me a message of my harmful behavior. That hurts. And yet, it was true. It was very true. There was more to the story. More that wasn’t seen. more that wasn’t discussed or revealed. But there was more. But I was the one that bore that guilt and responsibility for harmful and destructive behavior. I did it. I did. But I am so much more than that and that person and those things I did and said. I am more and I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry. And then to have a meeting to discuss more organization and she is late. Said she would be 30 minutes late but she was 32 minutes late. Once again, I am small and insignificant. I can’t say a word because we are in a break up and I must take the higher road and yet. My time is valuable too. And these meetings were not my idea. But here we are. Here we fucking are. And I want to have it peaceful. I want to be peaceful. I want all to be well. But is my time worth anything? Is it just me overreacting? Am i crazy again? Am I crazy again? Jesus fucking christ.