emotional abuse

Dude, You’re Stepping On My Personal Space

Posted on by akiwifreund

I wrote this article for Patient Worthy on February 14th; since that day I got daily (sometimes twice daily) texts from this guy saying, “Good morning cutie” or “sweet dreams cutie.” The most recent ones – because he still won’t stop – say “Just got to my hotel” and “How are you?” For the life of me, I can’t figure out why he would bait me with the hotel remark because that one really came out of the blue. I haven’t traded texts with him since February 10th. Was the hotel text his clumsy attempt at a booty call? Or was it not intended for me, and instead should have gone to whomever was playing the part of his dirty little secret?

Dude, just…stop.

Boundary Waters and Dating Boundaries

Valentine’s Day is 80% Off

Posted on by akiwifreund

10363795_461119117413686_8488688079924407159_n

I’m going to do a little update on Walks with Wood (https://thesickandthedating.com/2015/06/10/hello-world/) because as I stated before, I snoop to keep track of exes. Though he and I no longer live in the same state, he did try to contact me out of the blue at the end of March of 2015 because he wanted sympathy for driving drunk without his seat belt and crashing his car (and his head in the process).

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
Diamond Dust Necklace (I’m assuming. He claimed he spent “a lot” on it.) WwW gave it to me on Feb. 11, 2015.

So this is their post confirming one year:

WWWandOphelia

The last time we saw each other was February 28th when he showed up late and drunk. Either Ophelia has no idea there was an overlap, or she has forgiven him because he is a project to fix. Either way she has not had it easy; he told me his friends assumed that I was ugly without even meeting me. That didn’t exactly endear them (or him) to me. Maybe they are kinder to her because she was already part of the circle.

In other news, Walgreen’s has all of their candy on deep discount. Unfortunately, just like my love life, I am being forced to clean up my diet before it maims or kills me, so no sugar, soy, gluten or dairy. Welcome to February 15th, where the chocolate is 80% off, and so are the relationships.

one billion rising

Posted on by akiwifreund

Source: one billion rising

With so many women affected by dating and relationship abuse, you would think we would have worked out a better way to raise awareness (and boys to men who don’t believe they have the right to use and abuse women’s bodies however they see fit). But here it is. I guarantee you, if not you, then more than just a few women in your life have experienced violence at the hands of a date or partner.

What I Know, What I Don’t Know

Posted on by akiwifreund

Okay, first of all, a very specific search appeared on my radar yesterday: “Indian sites for compression hose fetish.” Hats off to your freak flag flying proudly, whomever you are. Also, hats off to wanting your objects of desire not to have to suffer from varicose veins. I’m sorry that my mention is probably repeatedly bringing you back to my blog; I wish you luck.

Second, I got a diagnosis.

I’m going to start where I think I should, and that is May of 2009. I was living with the very controlling and very violent Drummer #2 in a beautiful 3 bedroom/2 bath on a man-made lake. My friend who is a CPA and has taken care of my taxes for 16 years as of this year flew down from Cincinnati. Drummer #2 was on the verge of nearly smashing my head with a drinking glass, but I didn’t know it. He made me feel like absolute dirt because my friend was visiting, so much that the friend had to stay at a hotel rather than in the spacious home we occupied.

My friend rented a car so that we could run around the state of Arizona, and most importantly to the Grand Canyon. We hiked down into part of the canyon; it was not easy for me because I had already had fibromyalgia since I reached adulthood, but I did my best to keep up. I was so happy that my friend had made it down to visit, even though the nastiness of Drummer #2 put a damper on things. Drummer #2 didn’t accompany us and that was absolutely fine with me. I wanted to be able to relax. My friend flew home and life went back to walking on eggshells to try to not make Drummer #2 angry – which proved impossible. The week after that trip was when everything went down with the asshole and I moved out in a hurry.

Fast forward to October of 2009: I went to the emergency room because I developed a stiff neck and excruciating pain. Every time I moved my neck I cried. I didn’t sleep for four days and was starting to hallucinate. The ER doctor had no explanation for me because I didn’t have any other symptoms like a sore throat or a fever. He sent me on my way with muscle relaxants. The pain didn’t abate for a full week.

Around the same time, the naturopath I was seeing started documenting new symptoms for me, mainly that I had a constant rocking feeling, and I was always nauseated. We tried different remedies including Dramamine, but nothing even made a dent.

Have you thought up a diagnosis yet? Just wait.

In July 2010, I developed crushing fatigue. I drove over to San Diego mid-month to spend time with a man from Germany who made yearly trips to Comic-Con, the big one. I struggled to walk a few blocks between my hotel and nearby restaurants. He was used to walking up to ten miles a day; I felt a bit ashamed because I felt as if I embodied the lazy American stereotype. I was also plagued by deep bouts of vertigo to the point where I nearly fell down an entire outdoor cement staircase.

During the last week of the semester at school in July, I had to drop out and not take any finals. Fatigue and vertigo ruled my life. My parents were concerned because I spoke like a zombie, no intonation – very unusual considering I was a theater major in school. My speech was slurred, the top portion of my face became paralyzed, and my head began to nod uncontrollably. Because my body was under so much stress, my cortisol levels shot up to ten times the normal amount.

Have you guessed it yet?

In July of 2011, I finally started getting relief from the pressure in my head because a neurosurgeon installed a shunt. However, I had a total of 10 shunt surgeries in 46 months because my body fights them, clogs them, breaks them, strangles them. I have had horrible abdominal pain since July 11, 2011, because that is the first day a drainage catheter began living within my peritoneum and my small and large intestine, and there is a war being waged 24/7.

46 doctors and two states later, a naturopath in Saint Paul suggested I get some blood tests for Lyme disease. I ended up having to pay full price for them up front because they were not covered by insurance/medical assistance. I will admit that I didn’t think I had Lyme but I just wanted to rule it out like I had done with everything else up to that point. Two of the tests had inconclusive results; the third one lit up like a motherfucking Christmas tree.

I have late stage aka chronic Lyme, and have had it for nearly seven years. It wasn’t on anyone’s radar. Why should it be? I didn’t have a bull’s eye rash. I lived in Arizona, a state with a very small tick population compared to other states. The CDC has very strict guidelines about what can be reported for Lyme and I may not fit their parameters; however, I am still going to contact the state health board and let them know I was infected while I was a resident in the state. I think that only 8 cases have been reported to the CDC for Arizona. I don’t even know if they will take my data because I was diagnosed based on antibodies specific to bacterial exposure, and they only want tests showing the bacteria, which may not be detectable because of the time that has passed.

I know that most of the doctor visits and labs are not covered by insurance, so I will truly be destitute in short order. They are not covered because insurance companies and even the government get bucky about late stage/chronic Lyme, sometimes refusing to acknowledge it exists. There are now temporary laws in place in Minnesota that allow physicians to prescribe antibiotics far longer than they have before, for years instead of months, and the law is set to expire in 2019. I feel like my diagnosis is sitting on the cusp of being dismissed and being accepted. I don’t know how they will deny that my facial paralysis ties into the positive results on the blood work, but I’m sure they’ll find a way to tell me I just need counseling. It wouldn’t be the first time I heard that.

I don’t know what will be irreversible with the neurological problems when treatment starts. I think the facial palsy and ptosis may go away. I think the tremors will take years to adios if they stop at all. The left side of my body has lost some sensation. For example, when I am descending stairs, I have no concept of the pressure my foot exerts on the steps (and vice versa) and so must go very slow. I have been doing exercises to counteract the bed rest and try to gain some of the muscle I have lost, but I always feel like my nerves are disconnected on my left side, and I tire much more easily when I work on that side. I’m also having some cognitive difficulty including word recall. As I type, I fight to spell words correctly – I have developed some weird form of dyslexia. If you knew how particular I am about spelling, you would be as alarmed as I am. Sometimes it takes me a dozen tries to write single words correctly that would have been a breeze previously. Ultimately there is a 50/50 chance that treatment will work, and it may take years to get any positive results.

Besides notifying the board of health in Arizona and Minnesota, I have decided to write letters to my team of doctors in Arizona to let them know about the diagnosis. I am not trying not to think in terms of, “Oh, if only someone would have tested for Lyme, I wouldn’t have had to have 10 brain surgeries.” Honestly, the disease has really fucked up my body, and it’s possible I would have needed the surgeries even with the right diagnosis.

If my symptoms do abate, I’m going to have a serious conversation with some neurosurgeons about removing the current shunt. It has adhered to my chest and the abdominal pain is still constant, and I just think I would have an easier time without it. However, that also leaves me more vulnerable to CSF leaks – and I don’t ever, ever want that pain again.

Lastly, I don’t know if this is a “rare” disease. The data is poor. On a survey of health, chronic Lyme rated the worst for quality of life as outlined in this article – worse even than congestive heart failure, multiple sclerosis, fibromyalgia, diabetes and depression. In other words, I truly won the shit cookie.

Chronic Lyme Disease

 

Super Bowl Sunday will feature another powerful anti-domestic violence PSA

Posted on by akiwifreund

Domestic violence happens in all financial demographics from the poorest of the poor to the richest of the rich. Domestic violence is a part of the lives of the football players and their domestic partners, first because they take their violent sport home with them, and second because they have repeated blows to their head that cause permanent damage (CTE – chronic traumatic encephalopathy). When you watch the Superbowl, just keep in mind that a portion of those players are going to go home and punch, kick, strangle and humiliate their partners while you eat chips and talk game highlights and best commercials.

Source: Super Bowl Sunday will feature another powerful anti-domestic violence PSA

Life Lessons Learned From Being Homeless – by Kenny Murray

Posted on by akiwifreund

These are all wonderful points; some of them will save you from homelessness if you ever find yourself close to it. (The only one I don’t practice is believing that it can always be worse. As I like to say, it’s not a competition for the shit cookie.) Be well and be loved.

Kindness Blog's avatarKindness Blog

I’ve been homeless four times in my 25 years on this planet.

When I was 7 my father kicked my mother, me and my four siblings out of the house.

When I was 9 my father had found where we lived and my mum fled with us for our well-being.

When I was 11, he found us again. We ran.

The last time I was homeless was when I’d refused to get involved in my local gang in Easterhouse (one of Scotland’s poorest housing estates), so drew attention from one of the local hooligans. I was beaten up so badly that we left the area for our own safety.

I’m not writing this so people feel sorry for me, rather I’m writing it to illustrate that yes, whilst I was homeless four times I’ve not let it dictate my life in a negative manner — rather I use it as a means…

View original post 768 more words

strong as a suffragette

Posted on by akiwifreund

I am grateful for campaigns that aim to teach the masses that it’s wrong to prey on other people simply because you can, be it because of social status, mental capacity and reasoning or physical ability. However, the message is still too slow to spread. As I was reading the blog of this very brave woman who has chosen not to remain silent, I am struck by the fact that we women (and girls) have to constantly have a recording running through our heads, and that is, “What can I do to not be attacked?” With what happened to the suffragettes, they had to be aware that simply demanding the right to vote would result in verbal slander, humiliation, beatings and rapes. It was their punishment for being female and wanting to vote. In the present day, we women still have to think about what we can “handle” when we go out into the world – can we handle being verbally assaulted, humiliated, raped or beaten?

Really, the question should be, “Why do we teach men and women that it’s a woman’s fault for being verbally and/or physically assaulted?” If she just would have stayed silent, if she just would have found a man to walk with her, if she just would have stayed inside when it started getting dark, if she just would have had water to drink instead of a cocktail, if she just would have smiled at that man, if she just would have NOT smiled at that man, if she just would have carried a gun, if she would have just taken self-defense classes, if she would just not gone to school…well, the list goes on and on. But where is the recording for those that carry out these acts of violence against women?

Where Have All The Good Men Gone?

Posted on by akiwifreund

Yesterday I posted an article on Twitter from The Good Men Project site.

http://goodmenproject.com/featured-content/bots-wedding-feminism-marriage-cost-jrmk/

With the post, I said, “If men are butt hurt by women having careers and their own income, they’re not worth marrying.” Then I included the hashtag #feminism.

I always, always hesitate to include this hashtag. It’s not because I don’t believe in equal rights – I do – but some days I’m just not up to being attacked. There are a multitude of men on Twitter who create mask accounts and watch hashtags like “feminism” because they immediately jump on that thread of conversation to argue with women and tell us we don’t know what we’re talking about, and that we’re stupid, and that we don’t know how to read, and that we are emotional, and that we are fat, and that we just need a good dick to stick it to us.

The first kid that jumped in wasn’t using very strong language. In fact, he was a lot less forceful than the others, but I am thinking this is because of his age; as he gets older and continues to buy into this thought process that men are the “victims” of feminism – rather than understanding that a more equalized and emotionally connected society brings happiness and contentment to most rather than just a select few – he will become more and more angry and disillusioned about his life. When I remarked upon the fact that the ex Dumb and Angry wanted to shoot me because he felt threatened by me earning my own income (that was behind the fight I had to call the cops on), at first the kid said he didn’t know if that was true, but if it was, he wouldn’t continue discussing this topic because I would only be able to see my own experience. I keep saying “kid” because I’m guessing this one can’t be a day over 19. His next argument was that his dad wanted to be the breadwinner and his mom wanted to stay at home, though she ended up having to work. Did I deny those people exist? On the contrary, I absolutely know they do, and told him he can still find them in the 1950’s household fetish group on FetLife. I’m not speaking for them. I’m speaking directly about the men who feel threatened about women earning their own wages.

Another guy jumped in. I’m not sure if his picture was actually of him, but I’m guessing him to be about 27. His first statement was something like, “What if men won’t marry because when they divorce, the ex gets custody?” My reply was, “What if you’re assuming the sole purpose everyone gets married is to procreate and overpopulate the earth?” Then he started MANSPLAINING. He was alternately condescending and insulting. I could tell that he’s been hating on women for a very long time and participating in these “manosphere” groups and picking up their vocabulary. At one point he told me I must be “thick” if I didn’t understand what he was saying. I had restated his argument as “Marriage = children = divorce = custody.” He also pulled up some statistics saying that men work harder and longer than women (not taking into account, of course, that the imaginary children he was so worried about would be taken care of first by his imaginary wife – meaning, if the imaginary children got sick at school, the imaginary wife is traditionally the first one called if she can be reached to pick them up from school, therefore she misses work. We were also missing a chart that allotted time for each spouse for household chores like laundry, cleaning and yard work. Guys, the work doesn’t end when you leave your job). Then he started using the ultimate phrase that is the favorite of all white men from ages 18-60, and that is “strawman.” It didn’t matter what I said, he made sure that became a regular part of the exchange. Then he started calling me pet names (adding to the condescension), so of course, I used them right back. At one point I said something like, “Oh, Bunny, it will be okay. I’m sure some women will worship you – or at least you will tell them they do.”

A third man jumped in. My guess is that he is, again, white and probably around age 47. He said he would never ask “her” because if they got divorced, she would get custody of the kids and he would be ruined financially. He did not use any punctuation. Basically, his argument was the same as the 27-year-old’s: Marriage = children = divorce = custody (with a little child support thrown in). My guess is that he has already procreated with a long-term girlfriend and works at a job that he greatly dislikes; he’s one step away from living in mama’s basement.

A fourth kid (again, maybe 19-22) jumped in and said to me, “You’re a fucking retard.”

A fifth guy cutely said I just needed to get shagged. The 27-year-old agreed, then crowed about how happy he was being a white guy living in Asia (thereby revealing his oh-so-common fetish for Asian women as complacent sexual servants).

So a couple of accounts were reported for being abusive. Keep in mind I didn’t know these guys before they jumped my shit for including the hashtag #feminism. I wasn’t hanging out on the hashtags they use to talk about how stupid women are. They came over to my side to call me an idiot and a retard.

Today a friend sent an article without knowing what had transpired on Twitter. It very well could have been written about these guys. Why it resonates so deeply with me is because it seems to be EVERY man I encounter on OKCupid: not a single one I have interacted with has been interested in a relationship and commitment; rather, they want to fuck as many women as they can, and they are constantly on the lookout for a better choice. It happened most recently with Nashville, and with the guy who is currently separated and probably going to go back to his wife, and with countless others before them. Motherfucking internet.

“The systematic, quantified pursuit of women tends to make men bitter and resentful.”

This statement was written by the author of “The Game” as well as the most recent book, “The Truth: An Uncomfortable Book About Relationships.” He’s a male who has fallen into the trap of fucking around and always looking for the next best thing, never placing any value on the person he is with, and he has fought his way out of that harmful thinking multiple times. There’s a whole subset of vocabulary used in the manosphere. I invite you to read the article below. It’s the most enlightening thing I’ve read in a very long time – mostly because I realize that it’s not my imagination, and that men are actually congregating and deciding to be heartless, nasty, promiscuous, belittling, dissatisfied, condescending, derogatory and abusive. As was pointed out in the article, all of them have missed the conclusion of each book where the writer talks about how all of that behavior is destructive to the man (and women).

As one of the guy’s grandmothers pointed out, “We’re women too.” Women are not anonymous islands; we are just as interconnected as men in our roles in this society. We are mothers, daughters, aunts, granddaughters, friends. Violence carried out on women affects ALL women. It’s not okay to punch your girlfriend and then turn around and kiss your mother.

It’s a long article, but I promise you, it’s absolutely worth the read from beginning to end:

http://nymag.com/thecut/2016/01/jared-rutledge-pickup-artist-c-v-r.html#

As a side note, no one – male or female – joined in this conversation to speak up and say, “Hey, it’s not okay to call her “thick” or a fucking retard or say she just needs some dick.”

That Girl Is Poison

Posted on by akiwifreund

Recognize this phrase? I have a station set up on my Pandora titled “New Edition,” and since some of the members of the singing group New Edition split off and formed Bel Biv Devoe, the song “Poison” comes up on my play list. Bel Biv Devoe sang about the dangers of getting tangled up with a woman who was bad news; however, it’s not just romantic relationships that suffer when someone is nasty or devious – friends can be poisonous too.

I am eternally grateful to the friends I have made over the years who tolerate my weirdness and bluntness. Without a doubt, I am humbled by the friends who have mopped and sanitized my house when I have returned from the hospital. I am indebted to the people who have shuttled me around to doctor appointments and grocery store runs, and who have replenished my stock of food and supplies. I have tried to be a good friend in return when I have been able to, which admittedly has been very infrequent for the past 5.5 years because I can’t seem to stay well enough to be out of bed for any length of time.

Unfortunately, because I have the reputation of being a good listener and the voice of reason, my bedridden status has trapped me into being something of a therapist for some. One friend helped me get to a doctor’s appointment about five years ago. This woman and I had become friends back in 2006 when I was working a couple of jobs to pay for my second trip to Europe. That one ride of eight miles nearly cost me my sanity.

Because she found out that I was stuck in bed when I called her to help me get to the appointment, I believe she saw it as an opportunity to unload all that was bothering her – after all, I didn’t have anything better to do, right? This friend was going through a nasty divorce. She would call me at all hours nearly every day, crying and asking me what she should do in certain situations. She would never actually take my advice.

Our interactions became more strained. I finally resorted to telling her, “I don’t know what you should do” every time she called with a new crisis. She switched to texting me instead of calling me. I’m not sure if she thought my answer would somehow be different. Just for the record, it wasn’t.

This woman had a good heart, and I did get a ride from her when I needed it most. I just did not think that I was forever obligated to take on the stress of her failing marriage. For that reason, I cut her off completely. Subtlety wasn’t working, and telling her I was exhausted and stressed from fighting to be heard in doctor visits had absolutely no effect. I feel a twinge of sadness when her birthday shows up on my calendar, but I know that if I pick up the phone and wish her a happy birthday, the cycle starts again.

Another woman I became friends with was introduced by a mutual friend. We became acquainted after we spent a holiday together; I brought a movie that she had watched many times in her native country as a young girl, and she translated the film for us as it did not have any subtitles. I’m going to christen her Ms. Lederhosen.

I met Ms. Lederhosen as she was going through a nasty divorce with her second husband. I had suggested we get together for movies or nights out because it seemed like she needed to do things that would distract her from all of the emotionally draining stuff she was going through. Unfortunately, it was all she would talk about. I’m not exaggerating when I say that. I could say something like, “This tomato soup is good.” Ms. Lederhosen would reply by saying, “Oh, R. (her ex) likes soup too. You know, when we were married, he used to make me take care of his daughters, but they were lazy and did not like me. I would tell them to do something and they would go to their dad and he would tell them they didn’t need to do it.” It’s how every conversation would go. Everything tied back to her ex, no matter what I said, no matter what I tried to talk about.

I remember one time we made plans to see a movie. When we picked our seats out and got settled with our beverages and snacks, she started talking about the ex. The lights dimmed and the movie started; Ms. Lederhosen was not letting that stop her. Other patrons in the theater started saying “Shhhh!” loudly, turning towards us. She wouldn’t shut her trap. I told her that we should wait to chat until the movie was done. She kept talking in a loud voice because she had to finish that story. Well, she finally did…and then throughout the movie, she ran a commentary on what was happening on the screen. At that point I made a mental note to never see another movie in the theater with Ms. Lederhosen.

The ex was dragging out the divorce, filing extensions and demanding spousal support. Ms. Lederhosen was constantly calling and texting to rehash what he had done. At one point she asked me to proofread letters and documents for her because they were going to be used in her case. I would always set aside what I was working on and comb through her submissions because I knew how picky judges could be.

Ms. Lederhosen finally decided to pursue her U.S. citizenship. She didn’t have many friends, so she asked me to prepare a letter of good character for her attorney. Again, I set everything aside and whipped together a professional piece to convince the Court that she was a productive member of society.

She didn’t care for her job or boss, so Ms. Lederhosen sent me her resume so I could send it out to my contacts and enter it in my employer’s database. She wanted to respond directly to her ex’s demands through family court but didn’t want to pay her attorney to do it, so I arranged for a friend who was a paralegal in family law to assist her.

Ms. Lederhosen met a man through a woman who facilitated a social group for foreign-language speakers. I had hoped that meeting someone new would calm her down regarding the ex and encourage her to discuss other items of interest, but no. She even told me that her new man was complaining that she was too focused on the ex.

I was able to meet the new boyfriend when Ms. Lederhosen brought him and her little sister over to my house to visit; it was her sister’s first time in the U.S., so I made an effort to speak slowly – her English was good, but there is always a huge adjustment period when anyone is suddenly immersed in a country where the language is not their native tongue. Often Ms. Lederhosen would interrupt to talk about her ex. At one point, her current boyfriend grabbed her face, squeezed her cheeks and said “Stop talking.” She didn’t, of course. Her sister got completely put off and eventually just fell asleep on my couch while the boor hijacked the conversation.

A few months later, I had reached the point of blinding pain with my shunt – I had developed an uncontrollable leak. Ms. Lederhosen had indicated that she was at her boyfriend’s house but that if I needed a ride to the ER, she was more than willing. I took her up on the offer. They didn’t end up keeping me to bring me into surgery as I had hoped, because at that point they wanted to figure out which parts of the shunt I was allergic to, which would take months. They sent me home with big bad painkillers instead.

Facebook can make or break friendships, and in our case, it broke ours. Actually, for me it was the last straw. I had posted a story about a product that was being given to girls in sub-Saharan Africa to allow them to continue safely attending school during the bleeding days of their menstrual cycles. This charity was distributing silicone cups that could be used to collect the fluid for up to 12 hours and then be emptied and washed in private. Well, Ms. Lederhosen did not like that at all.

She hijacked the post by first saying that she would never want to use a product like that and that she was perfectly happy with her birth control pills. I explained that birth control pills were not an option in this region, and that it was a much safer alternative for the girls instead of their normal methods, which included stuffing their bodies with dirty rags, newspapers or mud. Ms. Lederhosen said she asked her boyfriend’s mom, and she agreed that she wouldn’t use a product like that either, and they were stupid for not using birth control pills. I explained that in this region, pills were not readily available or transported easily, and not everyone could or should be on hormones, and that the girls just really wanted to attend school and the cups were a viable option. Then Ms. Lederhosen posted a huge paragraph about how American women are stupid, fat and lazy, and she was able to lose weight by eating organic foods and exercising (which had nothing to do with what was being discussed).

I blocked her on Facebook. It’s no wonder she has few friends! Unfortunately, my phone at the time was not able to block calls or texts, so for two days she sent me all kinds of nasty messages about how she was prettier, smarter, more successful and thinner than me. Ms. Lederhosen told me how I was jealous of her relationship with her boyfriend, and how my college degree was the equivalent of elementary school in her home country. I sent back one message saying I was not interested in competing with her, and her messages just got nastier. She told me how she was a much better friend than me because she drove me to the ER that one time; of course, she conveniently forgot about all of the ways that I tried to help her when she needed it. Finally she stopped and went radio silent.

Two months later I got a card without a return address. I opened it to discover it was a note from Ms. Lederhosen, telling me she missed me as a friend and that we should be friends again. I didn’t have a return address for her and so couldn’t send anything back, and her info had been deleted from my phone long before that. A week later I got a text message from her saying that she didn’t hate me anymore and that we should be friends. I again told her that I did not want to compete with her, and that she said horrible things that made it difficult for me to want to be friends with her. Well, that just set her off again – 16 messages of vile, nasty words.

Around Thanksgiving of 2015, I received another text from her. Ms. Lederhosen said that she missed me and that I probably still had some bad feelings, but she was there for me if I needed her. The response that I didn’t send but really wanted to? No fucking way.

Can You Hear Me Now?

Posted on by akiwifreund

I recorded a 20-minute interview with Daniel (“Danny”) Levine about this blog and this crazy life. I’ve only been here for six months and already the Minnesota accent is creeping back in. There were a couple of times where the sound dropped, but you get the general idea.