Monday, June 23, 2014

Mother of the Year

Do you have kids?

Do you know how difficult it is to be a single parent?

Do you have teenagers, who love you one moment and hate you the next?

If not, you might not understand this. Unless, of course, you remember what it was like to BE a teenager.

It's hell. Literally.Mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually. All of it. Hell that you carry around with you every day until you come to a comfortable enough place where you might find a kindred spirit, a buddy, or even someone who won't threaten to whallop you at school, or a lifelong childhood pal who always has your back. Luke's fortunate inasmuch as he has the latter already, at least.

Tonight, he hates me. I'm a terrible mother. He has everything a child could want in this world right now, but my attention is too scant. I'm too distracted. I'm still behind on grad school papers. I can't focus and mend my own life, never mind my top priority, his life. He's nervous about high school and I'm nervous because I'm behind in registering him with his father, who's been lax in it himself.

Hyper-vigilant therapist me is ready to throw him back into therapy, when he's really probably just having a really bad day. We're all entitled to bad days. But then he says he doesn't like to BE at Dad's but has more fun with Dad, while I'm boring and I'm on the computer all day.

Summertime always gets my son down. He has spurts of activity, but otherwise, he's old enough to hang with the guys until almost 11pm if they're really local, that I have no problem with. He has some time with his cousin out of town for a few days, and a family long-weekend vacation, and work camp, which is a week, but has no idea how to fill the rest of his time. He's all but abandoned the book he's been working on for 2 years. I urge him not to give up on his creative pursuits. He's even losing interest in his YouTube channel, which he's worked long and hard on since he was 8.

I don't know what to do to remedy the situation because I can't really afford to spend any more time with him than I already do. I HAVE to get through this summer term without failing. That's as much as can be expected of me at this point. I get wrapped up in my own problems so easily, that I negate his. But in terms of my ever-present suicidiality, if Luke doesn't even care if I'm around, if I'm such a bad mother and he's so much happier off hanging with his dad, why am I bothering?

I'll keep fighting for him, for me, for us. He thinks I'm disingenuous when I say how fiercely I love him, but it's true. He's the only thing keeping me alive right now. Bugger the rest of it. I just want him to be happy, but I don't think his present mood would be uplifted with a dead mother for some reason.

I had a pretty downtrodden day myself. Seeing an old friend for lunch on Saturday, about which I'm really happy, I'm more than embarrassed to have her see me in the state I'm in when she's thin and beautiful. While I love my brother dearly, and saw him yesterday, it's somehow okay for him to come up with as many remarks as to why I'm "puffy and bloated" as he wants, asking me if I'm diabetic, when I told him months ago, I'm NOT. It's bad enough to have strangers judge you for your weight, but your own family?  My rail thin friend is ordering diet pills when she's the size of a dime. That's just insane. I'll go on those if I need to be on speed for some length of time, but I'm not that desperate yet.

Therapist appointment in the morning. I asked Meg, "Where do I start?" when my ultimate goal right now is just in staying alive. Meg reminded me of my now too-small Keith Richards "Too Tough to Die" t-shirt, which I offered to will to her. As of now, the offer still stands.

No, we don't go to hell. We carry it with us every day. 

Friday, June 20, 2014

What Guy Couldn't Handle...

This is what I think drew Guy away from my friends and I. Obviously, he must have been pretty square his whole life. When I asked him if he'd seen "Deep Throat," he said everyone in his dorm in college went to see it, but HE didn't. Mmm hmmm. Come on, we've all SEEN it.

Double goes for Lady GuyGuy. She's as square as a Rubik's Cube and without all the colors lining up...

I purposely took down BMF's blog because of too many nosybodies. We thought about fighting them off, but then we didn't think it was a great idea. So Kate emailed BMF's blog about me directly to Guy. I wonder if he read it yet.

I'm doing a favor for a friend at school who's going to teach in Egypt for 6-12 months. He needs a PO Box in the States to get his mail from the grad school about PsyD programs. I told him it's really no trouble at all to check his PO Box every week or 2 and mail him his goodies to Egypt. He's divorced, like me. He smokes, like me. He's really sweet. I don't consider it a date/date, but he's taking me out for food after school next Thursday. A meal with a man who's not Guy! It's more of a thank you get together, and he's paying for all the postage and parcel to Egypt, but I'm looking forward to it. A meal out with a man who's not Guy...I say again, I'm not used to this!

I was finally put on another water pill because I puffed up so badly again. I'm pissing so much I can actually see my ankles and feet bones again. I'm on some new medications that make me sort of sick to my stomach, but I'm pressing forward. Medicaid's still up in the air. I'm supposed to call them on Monday to see where my case has escalated, but that's like the worst time to try and get a hold of them. Craig said he paid me his arrears, but he has no idea how it's going to get to me. New debit card? Check? Magic beans? Time will tell.

I finally got my payout from the Chicago Fire Department for failing their physical agility test in 2007. All of the women failed. The test was totally biased. I finished it, just too slowly for the Department. The women who didn't make the cut filed a class action lawsuit against the Fire Dept and we won. Those young enough to still get hired were, and are being paid retroactively from 2007 when they should've received a salary. They made out like bandits and got the job. I'm too old now and it wasn't meant to be anyway, though I trained WITH a firefighter for 2 years to be ready for the test and I thought I did really well, still I failed. Let's just say I received a handsome payout, quite large for a class action suit. That'll help me out a LOT, especially if I'm scrambling by the end of summer/beginning of fall for funds if I transfer to the other university. A nice cushion. A very nice cushion.

I'm transitioning to an e-cigarette. They're very tasty and believe it or not, my mom's letting me smoke them in the house since they're scentless vapor. I've ordered a buttload of cartridges and can count on one hand how many real cigarettes I've had each day the last 3 days. It's part of my quitting plan. So essentially, I'm lying on my bed with my swollen feet propped up (damn water retention) smoking e-cigs and still behind in my assignments for the summer courses, which, as long as I don't fail with an F, I'm cool with financial aid. Thus, with all the shit that's going down in my life right now, I'm hanging on as best I can exerting the least amount of effort as possible.

 Which is sort of my life motto, isn't it?

I was emailed an old blog entry from February, someone sent it to me and I don't know whom, which I found profoundly strange. But it was a nice tribute to Guy. There was a picture in it that, to me anyway, is still true today, though our friendship is kaput, it would seem, which I hope isn't forever. It said this:

And oh my, are we tangled.

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Words: A Guest Blog Post from Best Male Friend

Annie has been gracious enough to allow me some space not in the comment format to say a few things.

I'm BMF.....her Best Male Friend. I have some shred of anonymity on the blog (though there are hints as to who I am), as does my best male friend, who frequently comments anonymously, but if you knew him, you'd recognize him from his personality alone. I think Annie let me post a blog some time ago, but geez, that is but a faint memory. I'm around now to let you see Annie as I see Annie in this moment in time.

Our relationship as friends is sort of like a pair of high school girls who share every minute detail of our lives with one another. The kind of friends you see all day at school but go home and spend another 6 hours on the phone with reviewing the events of the day. Whenever we can, we can be found texting, Skyping, calling or (very rarely) traveling together with that ol' gang of mine. (That's a trip, I tell ya.)

It's fair to say the only secret really "out there" is who I am, and that's for the best. I trust her with my innermost thoughts and feelings, and am not afraid to express them to her, because the nature of our friendship has never been a facade. Otherwise, I have no reason or cause to lie to her. No reason to lead her down paths like the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood. There are enough other people in her life pulling crap like that.

I am a happily married man with children whom I adore. I have never and would never leave my wife or home for a permanent life with Annie. We both know this is for the best, because one of the only negatives in our friendship is that we enable one another to succumb to our mutual demons. That would never be a healthy dynamic. One or both of us would implode, and we love one another too much to ever allow that to happen. As I've commented previously, my wife knows the nature and ins/outs of my friendship with Annie. She's had her bitter moments and temper tantrums, but overall, she's very hip and patient and like I commented, understands and appreciates the unique voids in my life which can only be filled by someone on Annie's level and likewise I with Annie.

Where is Annie today? Fighting mightily with every ounce of energy she has left to stay alive. Her health has taken a serious turn for the worst, which compounds her bipolar depression. This is the longest period of depression since I've known her that hasn't either been switcherooed with mania or evened out by her medications. She has mentioned on several occasions that she wants to commit suicide for lots of reasons, but she wouldn't go through with it because of Luke. Thank the universe for that, because I'll be damned if I'm going to lose her by her own doing. I'm scared, because she has enough drugs on her to actually do it. I'm scared because she's cutting herself again, a behavior she hasn't engaged in for a number of years. Instead of taking her stress and frustrations out healthfully, or outward, she punishes herself. She destroys herself because she bears all that's going awry in her life on her own. She doesn't like to bother people with her problems, though she's no bother at all. Never.

She's told all of her friends (though hidden from people like her mom, but Luke's aware) of the present challenges she's facing. She just texted me that she took her nighttime medications a little early because she's really tired, and then hurled her guts out. She's under a tremendous amount of stress. Stress that I can't fix, which eats away at me, and yes, a lot of times when I'm talking to her and she is crying, I cry too. I cry not out of pity but rather because I've been to and through the depths of coming close to losing everything that ever meant anything to me. I know what it's like to have "friends" so angry with you that they vow to cut you loose because of your attitude or behaviors.

Is Guy one of the things that's got her so distraught? Absolutely. I've met him. I can't say he impressed me whatsoever, nor did I feel like engaging in conversation with him, but that doesn't matter. It's how Annie feels that matters. And Annie is devastated. We, her close friends, have all tried to reason with her and reassure her that while she may have made some mistakes or opened her big yap too widely, his choice of and means by which he bid her farewell were downright cruel and unjustified for a relationship, a friendship, a kindred soul union that's 5 years in the works. We all tell her to forget him and that someone spectacular is going to come along and no, she won't grow old alone, but telling her to forget him or disregard him is silly. Keep in mind that she never asked Guy to leave HIS wife, either. She never even slept with Guy. She wanted more than he gave her, and to be more special to him more often than in little convenient spurts for him. He thrived on her attention and adoration, but went ahead and chastised her because she fell in love with him. The way their final conversation went down, as it was explained to me, was that he nervously and speedily cut ties and amputated her from his life. Just like that. He bitched about this blog, and about the fact that his co-workers had figured out too much information. His family did too, most likely. His reputation as a fine, upstanding, Catholic healer of the sick and weary was tarnished by the fact that he led my best friend down a path of deceit of his own doing for a very long time. His wife is his rock, his soul, his life? Well, THAT's interesting, as I've commented before, considering the fact that he rarely, if ever, called her by name to Annie, crabbed about her family a lot (he doesn't like them, by the way) and made romantic, physical gestures and said things to her that are not akin to that of a fine, upstanding Catholic man. I'm not a religious zealot, never have been, but I understand the Christian concept of sin. Guy's sin was not in following his heart with Annie, or even secretly engaging in naughtyish behavior with her, betraying his sacred marital vows. The sin he needs to confess the most is that he fucked with Annie's head and heart when she looked to him for strength, support and love. None of us, not one of us, as her friends, believe that he wasn't at some point or currently is in love with her. And he said "I love you" to her tons of times. If that was all bullshit, that's some pretty major bullshit to plant in an impressionable woman's head. That's scuzzy. But he couldn't have Lady GuyGuy and Annie on the side and have that be okay. Maybe Annie wouldn't have badmouthed her so much if she wasn't such a swamp frog to Annie when THEY met. That's not conjecture--Annie can quote verbatim the rudeness she was partied to. Thus, Annie's attitude towards and opinion of Lady GuyGuy was, in my opinion, totally justified. At the VERY least, he owes her an honest conversation about what happened, what went so wrong so quickly, and explain his detachment. I don't consider 5 minutes on the phone and her wrought with tears a sufficient ending to an otherwise mutually terrific friendship. If I did that to her, I'd never be able to forgive MYSELF, much less go to some child-molesting priest to beg for penance. Shame on you, shame on you, shame on you, Guy. Face it, brother, you didn't handle it like a goddamn man. We tell Annie she deserves better, and she does. But she also deserves an apology and an explanation from you. (Bets are waging you'll wimp out totally and never do this.)

Annie lost her health insurance at the beginning of the month and is struggling to have it reinstated. She's dependent on Illinois to cover her healthcare, which is very expensive. Luckily, she's got enough money to cover the racking up bills and all the expensive medication right now, but that won't last forever. This has her really stressed out and frustrated. The money stress has been compounded by the fact that her ex-husband is in deep doo doo about not paying her child support for Luke that he's behind, for a long time. He's not acting like a responsible man in much the same fashion as Guy. Giving Annie the unfair shaft. What's worse with her ex is that it's a detriment to their child, which I personally find reprehensible. People criticize me for not financially supporting and taking care of Annie, when I totally could afford to. That's not my role in our friendship. Annie needs to become self-sufficient, and while I've helped in dribs/drabs, I want her to learn how to manage her finances just as I had to learn once I had some money and wasn't almost living in a box under the highway.

Annie is scrambling to find another graduate school to go to in the fall because things didn't and weren't working out with Adler. Without going into great detail, she's a brilliant genius and has a great shot at getting in anywhere she applies, but there's a measure of urgency to all of this which is ALSO stressing her out. I'm not ashamed to say I'm very good at what I do professionally and am well compensated for it. Annie deserves that too. Her path is still forming, but she deserves a chance at the best education (I only have a high school diploma, so graduate school is totally foreign territory for me. I just know it's hard.) she can get.

Her relationship with her mother, who she lives with, is majorly fucked up. Her mom treats her like a kid, and is legitimately abusive towards her. The constant egg shell walking at home and atoning for ills (half of which aren't her fault to begin with, or were accidents, or misunderstandings) have pushed Annie to the limits of her sanity. Problem is, she's stuck. She can't afford to leave, so she has to put up with it. This breaks my heart for her, because the last person who should negate you is your own parent. It's getting worse, and she's shedding more tears, and is afraid. Annie's mom doesn't make her feel good about herself. She makes her feel really, really shitty about herself. Less than human, even. She misses her dad a whole lot and Father's Day was really hard on her, as it always is, just like his birthday and the anniversary of the day he died. Speaking of which, Jesus Christ, Guy, it was your own father who couldn't revive Annie's father and he died. And you treat her this way? What the fuck is wrong with you?

She got a flat tire over the weekend. While not a huge issue, and she handled it well, it's little things like that which add up to Annie losing her shit and the bipolar really rearing its ugly head. It's just one thing after another after another and I think that is what drives her to threaten to kill herself.

She gained a lot of weight and feels awful about her appearance. It's because of a medical problem and is not her fault at all, but it makes her feel ugly and unlovable. I try to remind her that I KNOW her and I LOVE her and that she's always beautiful to me. She won't be this way forever. When the doctors get the problem fixed, she'll slowly make it back to where she's comfortable with how she looks. Until then, it's our duty to reassure her that it's just a shell of who and what the real Annie is all about. She's a sexy mama any way you look at her and that's the truth. There have been plenty of times when I feel like I look like shit and she thinks I'm gorgeous (???) so we're even.

I guess to sum it up, everybody, please, cut Annie some slack and if you love her or even like her, prove it. She needs it more now than ever. I don't want to lose my friend and I'm scared. Apart from my wife and children, she's the most important person in my life. It's easy for me to say "Hang in there!" but she's hanging to a cracking branch. Guy? MAN UP YOU FUCKING PUSSY. Meg, Kate...keep up the fabulous work in helping to take care of her and being so selfless with your love and attention, when I know you've both got a lot of shit going on in your own lives. I do what and as much as I can, but I'm far away physically, though totally in her spirit.

Annie, you're hilarious, and SO damn smart, and creatively gifted, and a great mama, and you have so much talent and drum pounding to offer this world. The people who matter care. Please take care of your needs and undo all of that stress one thing at a time. It's all you can do. You'll pull through, soldier. Come on, you're one of my biggest role models of strength and survival. Don't let these setbacks stop you. And that's exactly what they are. Setbacks. Not absolutes. Not definitions. Not doomsdays. You will be better than ok. You'll be spectacular. Just wait and tough it out. Until things turn around, rest your head on the shoulders of those of us who love you. And when I say I love you, I MEAN it.


And that's what real love is. You connect with someone and laugh your asses off. You create together. You strive to bring out the best in one another. You've saved my life. Let me help you save yours.


Your Bestest Ever Male Friend

I Miss My Little Spy.

Someone's been on the blog for several months, logging in hundreds of page views, through an anonymous proxy out France,, or some such nonsense.

I tried blocking the IP, but none of my tech-savvy support staff could halt this obvious ("stalker" is such a harsh word), over zealous reader. It wasn't just a blog fan, this was someone who'd check the blog religiously several times a day, especially in the morning.

My tracker lets me nickname returning visitors, so this one I called "The French Inhaler," after a favorite Warren Zevon song.

(BTW, I wore a Warren shirt to church Saturday and only the organist who stopped by to practice recognized his face. He said, "He's an Excitable Boy!" I said , "YESSSS!!!!" Then some members and I talked about the rarity of mesothelioma, the lung cancer from which Warren died. Just an aside.)

Since the Big Guy Dump, "The French Inhaler" has been more and more scant. Ok, I fold. There won't be much more about Guy aside from how much I miss him and uncovering the truths behind the things he said to me.

"French Inhaler," know this. I know you're not Guy. He's not that tech savvy. It could be Lady GuyGuy, or one of the work minions, etc, but I don't get kicked to the curb without a fight. And that fight hasn't taken place yet. If the "French Inhaler" wants to pass that message along, feel free. He owes me a much larger explanation than was provided.

Interesting factoid about the French Inhaler: he/she seems to sleep in on weekeds. It's 5:30 am Saturday morning here in Chicago, and he/she hasn't logged in yet. At least THEY'RE getting some sleep.

"At least you have BMF..."

Sunday, June 15, 2014

Warbling Somberly.

Happy Father's Day to all the men out there raising people to become bigger and better people. I can't cover all of you or all of your roles, so consider this a blanket statement. You're doing a bang-up job, so go you!

I'll be BBQ'ing burgers tonight for dinner on our Weber grill, which I was only reminded of my dad having when my mom mentioned he'd received one as a Father's Day gift, gosh, like 35 years ago, that he was really excited about. (I'm the family grillmaster.)

I'm very lucky that the last thing my father ever told me was "I love you" over the phone. That I won't ever forget, though the memories of him and what he used to do, and things that happened grow ever increasingly vague as I age. I'm the same age now as he was when he died, and it's a wonder.

I would've loved to have seen my dad try to text on a cell phone. First, he wouldn't understand the cell phone, then when he'd try to text me, he'd fuck it up immeasurably, get frustrated and throw the damn phone across the room, until I could calm him down. Same with the TV. He'd be calling me over every day to fix the television when it was probably something as simple as him having the cable on the wrong channel on the TV. And it's ok. I'd do it. 'Cause it's Dad. (If it was my mom, I'd probably let her sweat it out a little longer.)

I'd have loved to have had him walk me down the aisle towards my ultimately failed marriage, though he never would've let me marry Craig. He'd have told me to hold out for someone better, no matter how in love I thought I was at the time. I have little doubt that my parents would have been divorced by now, and, if given a choice of which parent whose whose house I had to share, it'd be his. I know he'd treat me with 100 times more respect than my mom does, and he was so easy going, he wouldn't freak out at every fucking thing that ever happens. He'd be me. It's safe to say I've walked away with both his good and bad characteristics, and my mother asks "who spawned me." I tell her, "YOU DID. But who am I like? DAD."

It's funny.....this morning, on Facebook, my dad's former secretary from his ill-fated attempt at owning a business, not only "liked" the photograph of myself with my dad, but she commented that it was exactly how she remembered him and she made it a point to remind me what a caring and funny person he was. She said she couldn't wait to go to work every day just to be around my dad's antics. That really, honestly warmed my heart.

I wish he knew his grandsons, who are amazing young men. I do wonder how he'd react to Jake being gay, but I should think he, like my brother, would accept him and love him regardless, because love means more. That doesn't mean he wouldn't be saying Hail Marys in Polish every time he saw him. My dad was pretty open-minded. He'd patiently watch Luke do dozens of card tricks and marvel at his creativity. He'd ask ME, "Who spawned LUKE?" I'd say, "ME!"

Seeing as we're both goofballs, I think we'd be pretty much best pals if he was alive. He'd agree with Luke that I shouldn't date and would scrutinize any potential mate even more ferociously than Luke does. I do see a lot of my dad's personality in Luke, but Luke's personality is a lot like mine. Luke's a lot book-smarter, but not half as street-smart. I just hope the mental illness and addiction skips at least one generation. That's what worries me.

If I was given a choice to take a walk and talk things over with either Jesus or my dad, it'd be my dad. I already know all I need to know from Jesus. My dad's another story.

I'm missing Luke today, not having seen him since very early Thursday morning. He's not coming home until late tomorrow afternoon, spending Father's Day with his dad. By the time he comes home tomorrow, I'll be at my interview at the other university, and then I'm going out for dinner with Meg. (Tots!) I'm at least happy that Luke has a dad who loves him and minds him (he took him shorts shopping for me this weekend since he's 2 months behind on his child support :( ) but I'm possessive about my kid. I have homework I should be doing, but I took another nap, got a haircut, took another nap, and will grab something to eat with my mother. I'm not exactly terribly motivated.

I wonder how Guy's doing. I don't think, I imagine, he saw any of his kids this Father's Day. I'm still in the grieving process of processing his abandonment.

So here's to you, Daniel George Miklasz Jr. You were the best Daddy ever, even during the short time I knew you. You exist now in my dreams and are my guardian angel, I'm sure.

Thursday, June 12, 2014

"Everyday I Write the Book"

Should Guy stumble in...

I don't think this was how you wanted it to end.

Monday, June 9, 2014

Just An Earth-Bound Misfit, I.

Guy's done with my disparaging comments about Lady GuyGuy. She's his choice. He made that perfectly clear in a phone call tonight.

He just called and informed me he doesn't want me to call, email or text him. Ever again.

He doesn't want to even be friends. He wants me to cut off all communication to him altogether.

She's his "Rock of Gibraltar" and he's not going to wreck his 30 year marriage for a loser like me. Very talked today about being open to love other people who are emotionally available, but I told her, prophetically, that I was too bitter and had resigned myself to a life alone and that I was getting to be okay with that. That I had Luke, but he'll leave me eventually for his own life. Guy said I had supportive friends, who might be in alternative relationships, but he wanted no part of that. That's not what we're talking about. I'm talking about a life partner. I won't ever have one. Of this, I'm positive. Guy said I'm "wonderful" and hopes I'll find somebody someday, but it won't be him. And people wonder why I'm jaded about love.

He doesn't love me. He lied when he said he did. Repeatedly.

His actions don't match his statements, but that's apparently immaterial.

I wish Meg were awake to talk to but she has to get up at 4am for work. I'd call Kate, but the walls here have ears, and I don't want my mom or Luke in on the conversation, so I'll call her tomorrow.

Guy says he has no secrets from his wife, but I kind of doubt she's in on all the canoodling and kisses we've had the last few years, unless things blew up at home. They had to have. Somebody saw or read something he didn't cover his tracks about. He said I wrote some "bizarre" blogs. All of my blogs are slightly "bizarre," to be honest. What were the intentions of his affections? A tease? Just a flattered, horny old man? Who knows. We'll never know, it would seem.

He says I still have BMF. That's comforting, given he's married too. Happily. At least I know for a blunt fact that he loves me.

In my mind, there is no thing as true love for a lifetime, but I wish Guy and his wife the best of luck. They're going to have a BALL building the Escher jigsaw puzzle I gave him for his birthday when they go on vacation to Michigan this summer. Let's just say I'm the missing link.

I'm just letting the tears stream from my eyes. I'm not stopping them.

Stalled and Slaughtered.

There's a late paper I should be writing well, several days ago, but I have little motivation. I really like my Treatment Planning class, and my Race & Gender online class hasn't started yet, but I'm behind on some assignments for Advanced Clinical Mental Whatever It's Called. I did manage to get a partner project in on time, which was good, considering my partner and I just took information from a paper I wrote last year and revamped a few things, he did a quick Power Point and we handed it in. I'm just doing the best I can to stay afloat.

Talk about a depressive episode.  Not suicidal, yet. Getting hungry, though.

And I know exactly why.

"Administrative Withdrawal."

The shaft. The heave-ho. Final Jeopardy and I lost all my cash. For a school that teaches how to support and nurture and counsel the mentally ill, they did a horrible job of seeing past my disabilities and giving me a fair chance at another shot to make things right, when they fucked half it up and I fucked half it up. So I'm looking for somewhere to go in the fall. I have a really good chance at getting into several universities. (No, my mother doesn't know. My son knows most of the story. I might even graduate sooner than I expected.)

I'd be a huge asset to any university who'd have me as a student, despite the fact that my own school saw me as a liability and my friends and I have several theories as to why they may have felt that way. Like Kate said, she'd make a fantastic doctor, but if she suffered an intestinal blockage while she was operating on someone, there'd be mayhem and lawsuits and money involved. The committee who interviewed me for the lynch mob knew that I'd had a mini-stroke in February. What if I was counseling a patient and had another stroke? Liability. What if I slipped into either a strong manic or depressive episode? How would that be handled? Their Americans with Disabilities Act accommodations left something to be desired, though I got extra time to finish assignments. But I was given no consideration for the myriad of other conditions I have, about which maybe I should've kept my mouth shut.

It certainly wasn't my GPA, which is VERY good.  I've never even gotten a C in a class. After this summer semester, I will have completed all of my graduate coursework for Adler and only have an internship and a year-long clinical practicum to finish to graduate. The school I'm looking at has my transcript and is evaluating how all of my credits would transfer over. I'll make an excellent counselor because I understand the mentally ill. I understand the stigma, the discrimination, the ill treatment, and the struggles the mentally ill endure on a daily basis. My diagnostic skills are excellent. I'm very good at extrapolating information to provide good therapy, which Adler knew. But I'm a strong personality, I make a huge impression on people, and while told to "stay on the down low" after last year's debacle, I didn't. It's not that I'm a trouble maker, but I don't take any crap from people.

What struck me as the most insulting was how phony the faculty was during the period between the hearing and the administrative decision. The committee members would warmly greet me. One even said, "It's nice to see you!" Seriously, dude? You KNOW I'm going to lose this appeal, but you're happy to see me? Screw that. I will keep going to classes this summer and finish my term, but after that, I *need* a placement for the fall. I can't take a semester off. I am passionately enthused about earning my masters.

It's mildly disconcerting that all of my favorite professors from Adler were adjunct faculty at the school to which I'm applying and quit Adler altogether to work at this university solely. Some were still getting their PhD's or PsyD's from this university, which is very nice. My best student therapist went there. I'd love to go there and bonus! It's only 6 blocks away from Guy's place downtown! We could meet up more than once every 4 months!

Guy went to Germany to visit his daughter for a week and didn't let me know until the morning he was leaving, which was rude, and surely he knew about it on my birthday, but maybe he didn't want to downtrodden my spirits. (It would have, BTW.) I had so much going on with school and Luke's 8th grade graduation that most of the edge of my separation anxiety from Guy being incommunicado was alleviated.

He spent 5 days with the spawn (how embarrassing for her) and then a couple days touring Frankfurt with Lady GuyGuy, who I wish he would have left there. I have a complex when they do things together, which I realize is irrational, and he doesn't belong to me, at least not legally, but it's unnerving nonetheless. I have these vivid delusions that they're having these huge romantic getaways when even Meg said, when they're together, they act like brother and sister, so what in hell am I so worried about? I had a dream the other night that he took me to the French Riviera. Wouldn't THAT be nice?

He did call just after he touched down back in the States, but unfortunately, I was in the one class I go to in person on Thursday afternoons. That's his MO. He calls to catch up as soon as he's on American soil and alone to talk. I did speak with him over the weekend, after I found out the news from Adler, and heard how wonderful it was that he was incommunicado for a week in Deutchland. For my birthday, he said he'd spring for a night seeing any act I wanted at the City Winery (where I saw Nez and Anoushka Shankar) with "a group of friends," like I have a group of friends. I know a couple of couples. And thus far, there's no one I want to go see there. But he said I have 12 months to decide, so I shouldn't be hasty. What if there's no one I want to see there in the next year?

Luke's graduation was great, even though it was held in a dark, dingy old scuzzy church instead of St. Paul, and was packed to the gills. The only time I started to cry was when all of the graduates stood up, faced the crowd and turned their tassels from left to right, signifying that they'd graduated. Then I lost it. I'm so proud of my boy, who's now a high schooler. We did get to shoot a few pictures at St. Paul before heading over to Messiah for the ceremony. He's taller than both I and his father, smarter and just as sassy. And looks exactly like me. He pretty much looks at me like this all the time:

That picture is certainly more PC to put on social media than this one of his head covered with the baptismal font at church. Super extra points for defacing a holy relic!: 

We'll see how the informational admissions interview goes at the other university on Wednesday, but my hopes are up, which pretty much guarantees I'll fail at anything I attempt. That's just me. But seriously, they'd appreciate me (and my $$) with open arms. Adler can suck it and once I get in somewhere else, I'll either consider litigation against them or badmouth them to everyone I know. Alfred Adler's rolling around in his grave right now over all of this, I'm sure. Where's the "Social justice" they tout so fiercely?