There are things that we never want to let go of, people we never want to leave behind. But keep in mind that letting go isn’t the end of the world, it’s the beginning of a new life.

Wishing things were different and the way they used to be….but I put that wall up for a reason…to protect me from you.

When you make changes in your life FOR THE BETTER you truly find out who your real friends are…

Need to seek forgiveness for my poor behavior. Months of hurt is no excuse for it. Growth is painful but very necessary.

I wish she’d just delete me already, so that I don’t have to do it and never hear the end of it. If I think the status updates are bad now, I can only imagine how much worse they’d get if I was actually bold enough to erase her. She’s the one who keeps carrying on about her problems with people…

I love the bit about putting up a wall to protect herself. She’s become religious all of a sudden and seems to think this newfound faith of hers is turning her in to a better person. Good for her; I hope it actually does transform her for the better, but I’m skeptical because you know the old adage… can’t teach an old dog new tricks. She’s been the way she is for the last 26 years. I can’t imagine her never being a snide, bossy bitch again.

Well I just came back from Leamington. A couple friends of mine invited me down for the night. I didn’t know they were having a party, so I said yes because we’d talked before about me going down to see them. I arrived (after driving about 3 hours in that NASTY downfall) to a house full of people. I guess they were celebrating Amye’s birthday. Once I had a couple glasses of wine I was very social and it was fun. Mo made a pot of chili and had all sorts of munchies that I got in to. I shouldn’t have eaten as much junk food as I did. I shouldn’t have drank as much as I did either. I hadn’t planned on drinking my entire bottle of wine, as I’m not much in to that anymore… but I did. And I got sick. So I guess  I didn’t have to worry about all the junk I ate afterall.

Woke up this morning feeling ok, but I took an aleve just in case. That seemed to bring on a massive headache, so I went back to bed and woke up obscenely late and hit the road. The roads were much better today. I actually nearly slid right in to a ditch on the way down to Leamington when I made my turn onto the on-ramp to the 401. I couldn’t really see where the turnoff was due to all the snow, so when I finally found it I slowed down, but I guess not enough. I went sliding right towards the ditch. I kept turning the wheel the other way, but the car wasn’t agreeing with me. There must have been a small curb because I slid in to something that stopped me from going any further, but I didn’t hit it hard. I put my 4-ways on and sat there for a minute to let the guy behind me know he could go ahead. He was just sitting there and watching me. I think he thought I was all shaken up, but I wasn’t. I was more concerned whether or not my car had a scratch on it (she doesn’t). He was a douche anyway; he’d been tailgating me all the way to the turn-off, and when I went sliding I yelled out loud, “There you go, asshole! See what happens when you don’t slow down in a fucking snowstorm?” And I WAS going slow and I still nearly ended up in a ditch. My sincerest apologies that my reduced speed is an inconvenience to you and your shitty Roadster. I hope his trip ended with him sitting upside down. I don’t understand how people can be so careless when one split second of black ice can be enough to end your life.

Anyway… when I got home I went to my parents’ for dinner and my mom kept asking me who it was I went to see and seeming to be bugging me to clarify. I had told her at least 2 or 3 times that I was going to visit a friend from work, but then it dawned on me… she must be badgering me because Dad told her I went to visit my LESBIAN friends. “Well Mom, I went to visit my friend Mo and her fiance Amye, if that’s why you’re asking.” She always gets so weird about me having gay friends – guys or girls. It makes me uncomfortable talking about them because I get the impression that my mom automatically thinks I’m hiding some secret homo life from her and it’s really awkward. I know she sits around and envisions the horrible thought of her daughter and another girl, and as ridiculous as it is, I have to constantly remind her that I do indeed only like men. She made a real snide remark when I told her they were getting married. I said that our friend Trish was invited to the wedding and bringing one of our guy colleagues with her as her date, and that maybe I should ask the cute deckhand I like if he wants to be mine, and I knew this was coming when she said: “Oh good, you’ll bring a guy.” I just about lost it. “Well I’m not gay, so of course I’d bring a guy…” and she sighed and said something like, “Thank god” so I fired back with, “Why does me having gay friends automatically mean I’m gay? Is it so hard to imagine that I can be friends with them without being gay myself? How long have I had gay friends, Mom?” She just got quiet and left it alone.

I love her to pieces, but she comes out with such terrible comments that stem from absolute ignorance… and it doesn’t help that she doesn’t know when to control what comes out of her mouth. She insulted me a couple years ago because we got in to a fight about something, and even though this had NOTHING to do with the argument we were having, just to be an arse she brought up my social circle and said something to the effect of my gay friends making me look bad by association and telling me I shouldn’t be hanging out with “people like that”. Meanwhile, she befriended a gay guy she was working with and invited him and his partner over to the house a few times, and she talked about him CONSTANTLY like he was her new best friend… she goes back and forth so many times. But I honestly think my mom worries that I’m gay just because I haven’t dated much in the last few years. It’s so stupid how she draws conclusions sometimes, but there’s no arguing with someone like that. Everybody in the world who knows me knows I’m not gay… except my own mother. Now how ludicrous is that?

This is such a problem for me. It’s not a crime to have gay friends. It’s not a crime to have black friends, or native friends, or Muslim friends. My mother will never understand that straight white Catholics are not the only people in the free world. She grew up in a much different time than me, AND she grew up in Northern Ontario with all the rednecks who have never been exposed to other ways of life. I don’t blame her for being ignorant… you’re a product of influence… and at 56 there’s certainly no changing her. But it’s so frustrating when I have to defend myself and explain myself, and PROVE myself, any time she’s confronted with something she’s not used to. It’s not my fault that my relationships bother her.

My dad of all people said it best last summer when some of my friends were down for a visit. My two best friends were here because one had just flown back home for two weeks from Whistler, so the other came down to spend a weekend so we could all be together… and one of our mutual friends from London came down to join the party. Well the two guys are gay, and we girls are straight (straight girls with gay guy friends? Shocking, I know.). We all went to my parents’ place because I was BBQing up a storm and we were all going to go swimming. My parents came outside and ate with us and then the table got engulfed in socio-political discussions. My dad got engaged in debate with one of the guys over all sorts of stuff, and gay rights was one of them. My dad holds old-fashioned points of view and he was honest about it, but he and my friend Jason enjoyed debating with each other and my dad actually said to Jason, “You know I might not be totally comfortable with gay lifestyles, but my daughter here is accepting of all people and she’s always been that way, and I love that about her. She’s got friends from all walks of life and she’s just an all-around good person that way.” My dad might be a bit old school, but he never questions my sexuality over goofy things, and he certainly NEVER bugs me about the people I choose to be friends with. I wish my mom would pick up on that.

In terms of my friendships, I love people for who they are… not who they love, or what colour they are, or what neighbourhood they grew up in. A person’s sexuality is the last thing I think about when I’m meeting them and getting to be friends with them. IT DOESN’T MATTER.


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