My own success weighs heavy on me.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOBY!!!!

My boss gave his two weeks notice. Now people will look at me, pay attention to when I show up for work and how I behave. My responsibilities will increase and my hours as well. I will make hard calls, keep up with purchasing in all regards. I will make schedules, update need to know information. I will have to check the sales ladies information, because she’s a little spacey at best.

I got pulled over by a highway patrol the other day. I was going to try on wedding gowns and I told him I was late. Now, it has been some time since I got pulled over on the highway, and I accidentally made him follow me for awhile, not knowing what to do. I just took the nearest exit off the highway because that’s what made sense to me.

However, when he caught up to me, he was quite irate. He was sarcastic and mean. He saw I definitely need corrective lenses to drive and he was like, “So you can see. Don’t know why you’d blow past a highway patrol like that.” Well, obvs… I didn’t see you lol

He ended up coming back to the car and he had only written me a warning. He let me off, and said it seems like there is a lot going on in your life, and you need to pay more attention while you’re out here on the road.

Pay attention. I guess you could say that has been hard. I have paid attention while my waistline expands and paid attention to my sudden spikes in anxiety. The prospect of being the big boss is making me want to run the other way and not step up to the plate, I want to be lazy and stay where I am but not if it means anyone will think less of me. I regretted it the last time I didn’t take a management role and I had the opportunity to. I was jealous when I let my last opportunity go, at our hotel I could really have things good if I could just get my personal affairs in some semblance of order.

My life falls apart around my ears. Nothing is really wrong with it, but everything is. I eat all night out of boredom and don’t care that I am supposed to be minding my p’s and q’s and watching out for the deadly disease that killed my grandma; diabetes. I am a likely candidate, and still I stuff my face.

As if that is not enough, I worry all the time about my parents. My parents who make me feel ashamed whenever I spare the time to think on them. I feel like I never say anything real to them, because I keep my anger to myself. I let them think I’ve adjusted to the way things are and that I’ve forgiven them their youthful foolishness.

My mother was a beautiful teenager. She had many suitors at the time she became pregnant. There was speculation about who the father could be, each candidate less desirable than the last. She had (and still does have) horrible taste in men, and they were all related to gang activity in some way.

The real story of my birth is that during the time my mother was pregnant, my father was carted off to rehab against his will. He had a record and he had to go, and he had no way to call my mother in those days and tell her what happened. He asked his mother to go and explain, but she never did.

When Johnny was released from rehab and knew my mother had a baby, he came to see if I was his. The story goes that when he came to the door, my uncle answered the door and told him my mom didn’t want to see him no more. She had moved on, as any young beautiful girl would once she’s assumed the father of her illegitimate baby has disappeared on her. She chose another man to be my father in his absence, and she had to stick with the story.

Johnny went away, mad at her. If she didn’t want him, he didn’t want her. He thinks I have forgiven him for this, that they were young and somehow I guess not at fault for that reason alone. He called me on Father’s Day to tell me how proud he is I was his first creation and that he thinks our connection is very important. I wanted to say very badly, “Yeah, it was real important the first 20 years of my life.”

He knew about me. He could have tried harder. He wrote my mother and me off. Maybe he wasn’t completely certain he was the father, but you would think a guy would not rest until he found out before he gave up. They were young, and he didn’t want me. No one wants a baby when they’re that young. I still feel upset though, that my heritage was hidden from me. It was for the best, since Johnny would not have been a good dad for me either, growing up. I was better off with the family I had. It makes it hard though sometimes, I feel alienated from him in that way. He had all that time to try and seek me out, and he never did. Now you think you can worm your way in so easily….?

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