My transition back home; we’ll call it bumpy. It’s so weird to me how everything can be the same yet so different.
Their schedules: Different
Traffic intersection change from four-way stop to roundabout: Different
Vast amounts of people who STILL don’t know how to properly use it: Same (also quintessentially a perfect example of "this town")
Attempting to meet new people: Different
Listening to them endlessly talk about themselves and then leave: Same
Having spare time to do things: Different
Feeling uninspired by my surroundings: Same
Attempting to meet new people (take two): Different
Having a person stare a me for an entire minute before saying something vague/useless: Same
Having a bazillion pot stores open up all over including the old Eagles Lodge (sad): Different
Having the smell of weed in the Fall air: Same
Now I’m sure at this point, some of you will think, shut the fuck up already and leave if you don’t like it; problem solved. However, the one true bright spot in my current life is my job. Holy Shit. My job is amazing. So there you go, I cannot leave.
Town filled with way too many narcissistic people and no accountability for their actions: Same
Amazing unicorn job: Different
Since my return, I’ve struggled (even more than before I left) to find a place where I never really fit to begin with. Untethered hardly describes the amount of times lately I’ve yelled at myself in the mirror to get my shit together. Seriously, I bought a new mirror a few days ago and the first thing I did was lean it against the wall to sit in front of it and scold myself.
Being away has turned my sharp, all knowing, feral puppy spirit animal into a half blind, marshmallow mess. I’ve become trusting and all too pleasant of a person. A recipe for success anywhere else but in this town I might as well slather myself in fresh blood, sound a bull horn and wait patiently for the narcissistic zombies to descend and feast.
A few weeks back, I had made a new friend (see the ice cream blog) and thought I was involved in an instance of some miscommunication. Being the trusting, half blind marshmallow that I had become, I continued to be kind and attempted to rectify the situation. This led to some pretty awkward moments which were eventually implied as my fault.
For real though on the awkwardness. lol Have you ever told someone you were bored and offered up Redbox as an option? I did and I thought it was perfectly normal. In your scenario, did the person make you wait 20 min before you had to text them again to ask if they were still coming? Did they make you wait another 20 min before finally arriving? After driving you to said Redbox, did they inform you they were returning their movie, renting their own, then going to bed? That they thought you just needed to return one? (whaaaaaa?) After driving you back home, did they eventually admit they knew you were supposed to watch a movie together but they were simply too tired? (okaayyyyyyy…) I waited 40 minutes to be driven to a Redbox and back home again. You guys, this is just ONE example. My marshmallow mess let this drag on a few more times.
Eventually pieces fell into place and I realized the person had actually omitted information on more than one occasion. “Omitted” is the key word here folks. The people in this town are HUGE fans of omitting information. Somehow, to them, it’s not lying. It’s apparently a special loophole to fall back on when a person doesn't want to take responsibly for decisions they’ve made. Not even bad decisions; just decisions in general. Like, god forbid anyone ever make a solid choice, for fear the choice they made is wrong. That they won't be able to go back to the prior decision and choose differently. It’s a magical loophole that, when the time is right, they can imply or say, I never said that and you just misunderstood.
Life is all about decisions. I am a firm believer in, “nutting up” and making them. If I make a mistake, I learn from it. (Eh. Sometimes I repeat mistakes.) If I’ve done something that requires an apology, I apologize. If I’ve attempted to fix things repeatedly and I get no where, I leave. (Rarely do I return.) Regarding this situation, I stated I was leaving and was promptly told I was weird for doing so. *shrug* Can’t win ’em all.
The following week I reached out towards an old friendship that had tapered off since I had been gone for two years; a security blanket of sorts. Even though the conversation remained pleasant, I quickly became grumpy. The stress of all of my transitions was taking its toll and my feral puppy heart lashed out in an attempt to eat my half blind marshmallow self. What the fuck was I even doing?! I was being an obnoxious child because the conversation felt weird even though the person was respectful. Basically, I was a real dick about it. Ug.
The next day, I profusely apologized with sincerity and remorse for being a total asshole. The person reassured me everything was fine and things between us were not damaged. We continued to text and after I asked a specific question, the other person went silent. About 20 minutes later the person responded and there it was. They had omitted information to delay the truth. I was right; the day before had been a curated excuse. It was too much for me and I just started crying. Also, that person blamed me for our undoing; classy.
Why can’t people understand that omitting information is lying? That lies fucking hurt. Two times, within two consecutive weeks, two different people omitted information because they didn’t want to vocalize a decision they made on their own. The worst part is that in both instances, if each person had simply told me the truth, I would have been fine with it. We’re all just living our lives people; do what you’ve gotta do. All I ask is that you don’t fuck me over in the process.
In order to not become more damaged and stagnate for the zombie hoard, my feral puppy persona has mostly eaten my marshmallow self. I’ve regained my awareness for this town’s propensity towards narcissism but will still move forward with my desire to find my place here.
I’ll continue attempting to give new people a chance, only now I will ask them a series of multiple choice questions which can be answered on the scantron sheets I will supply. (Also known as compatible testing forms. Coincidence? I think not.) For fuck’s sake though, I will not have an endless supply of number 2 pencils. So if I’m out and you try to convince me you can use a pen, I might just use it to mustache your face. *shrug* Just sayin’.
Drawing up at: