Mean Girl Monday

"Why would she do this to me?" asked in bewilderment by a lovely lady through her tears. Betrayal, the hardest of all pills to swallow, the actions of a so-called friend throwing trust into disarray. Making you question your judgement of others.

I had no answer. I do not know why this person hurts with intent, I do not know if it is her insecurity or a purile power play. I do know she is not someone anyone needs in their lives. She is toxic. A mean girl. The mean girl who turned on me almost two years ago, the toxic former friend who made my life hell, and still tries to even now.

But for this other friend the betrayal was fresh and raw and bleeding. Even though the actions of this person were a long time ago she had only just found out about it. And she came to me because she now understood words I had spoken to her months before. "Be cautious, this is a small town, watch your back." That was all, no accusations, no ranting, no names, no pack drill. With her newfound knowledge these words resonated and the reason became clear.

"Was it her? Is that what you were talking about?" Yes. I knew of her disgusting claims and behaviour, there are so many she has maligned, lied and bitched about. So many power plays hidden below a smile as she plunged the knife deeply again and again. I could not tell people, I would not stoop to a he said/she said battle. To be honest I think back then when the campaign of shadows and whispers began, most would have believed her. She plays the sad, little victim so well - it is an art she perfected. Maybe my reasons were not quite so noble, maybe I was afraid to ask people to choose. Hell, I believed her for years and it is only with the clarity of hindsight I see how truly absurd some of her accusations were.

Whatever, it was all over now as she seriously underestimated her power and control over others, alienating more and more people. It was another of her disgusted former friends who outed her. One who grew sick of the nastiness and vile attacks, one who had the courage to call enough and walk away. One who knows all I know and more. One who will not stand by and tolerate any more bullshit.

And as each person finds out the truth, the word spreads. Last Friday as I talked with this woman, her pain turned to anger. And revenge. My advice was to walk away, cut the festering wound out, let her cut her own throat. For she will, and has already begun to. I do not know if my words reached past the need to hurt back, an emotion I understood all too well. I hope, for this lovely woman's sake, they did. If not, then others will be hurt as they are told of her lies and deception. But maybe they need to know. It will not be me unmasking her, but I am no longer keeping silent. If asked I am open and honest... or as others accuse me of, blunt and brutal. Sometimes if the scab has been pulled a little it is just better to rip it off fast.

"Why would she do this to me?"  Because she does it to everybody. She is a mean girl. Soon she will be a mean, lonely girl who nobody wants to play with.

The One I Didn't Want to Write: Or the Second Worst Thing...

The phone broke the silence at 1.30 this morning. It is the sound you dread in the early hours of the morning when someone you love is at risk. We were bringing Wise Woman home today. Yes, she was frail. Yes, we had big battles ahead. But we were ready.

And at 1.30am the worst living issue we could face came roaring into reality. She had fallen. At first the garbled message led me to believe she had broken her leg and her kneecap. Jumped in the shower (because I needed to), jumped in the car and DROVE like hell. It is an hour to the hospital and I know the road inside out after seven weeks of daily driving. Once there I tracked her through the hospital from rehab to emergency to ward. And found my fragile, tiny mother swaddled in blankets, scared, in pain, vulnerable. With a fractured hip. Our worst living nightmare due to the state of her bones.

This time I cannot rant and scream at THEM. This time it was a foolish choice by her to pick up something because of her dignity, to put herself at risk due to her pride, to lose the gamble so tragically. I understand why, I know the what for's, as angry as I was at first it has now drizzled down to sadness and compassion.

In the wee hours of first light I sat in my car and sobbed. People walked past watching, understanding, for where else but the carpark of a hospital would we cry so freely? Then I did what she has always taught me. Suck it up, get on with it. WW has always had the belief where there is life there is hope, where there is hope there is no excuse to chuck in the towel. Plenty of time for tears when the battle is lost, never when there is a lull in the gunfire whilst the enemy reloads.

And so I am loaded back up. Placing one foot in front of the other and remembering to breathe. Most of the time. Kick me when I forget. Please.

To Those of You Still Following

And not on my Facebook, this was my status update last night:

Soooo, because I *requested* nursing staff listened to my totally mentally competent mother instead of adversely affecting her physical state YOU, the one who ignored her the night before and insisted on rolling, sliding and injuring her EVEN whilst she begged you not to do it, decided to tell her you would NOT help her at all. Even when she asked for your assistance in a very unpleasant situation?

Well, I hope you are happy. I hope your little power play on a frail 90 year old woman felt good because her MADMOTHER of a daughter has now written a formal complaint. Oh, and those lawyers I mentioned after the first incident? They now have copy of said complaint and are following it through for me. Do not mess with the weak because you never know who stands behind them.



BITCH...

You stupid, stupid woman. Karma may not bite you on the arse but Madmother will.

Memoir Monday: The Fighting Spirit.

The events over the last few days have had me looking deeply into myself and my principles. When the facebook group I was a member of accepted a mere token gesture, which did not address the true issue at hand, and in my eyes, the whole point of why the group was formed in the first place, I was disappointed. When I was accused of having agendas, and being a trouble-maker because I voiced said disappointment and disillusionment, I was seriously unimpressed and began to question the reasons behind the group, and what hidden machinations may have been causing such a strong knee-jerk reaction to myself several others, disagreeing with the admin. Once censorship entered the picture I deleted myself from the group.

Yes, I am referring to the link I posted in my last thread. The group once called PRUE MACSWEEN AND CHANNEL 7 SHOULD APOLOGISE which is now called PRUE MACSWEEN and CHANNEL 7 HAVE APOLOGISED....FINALLY!!! Which is sad considering all Prue Macsween apologised for was her use of the word retard in relation to boys. Not for her comments on segregation, not for her antiquated views on locking away the little disabled kiddies as not fit for human eyes, not for recommending we train them before allowing them out like a bunch of circus animals for the latest exhibit, oh no, NOT A WORD ON ANY OF THAT! But to each their own. If they choose to believe this is a win and not patronising at all, so be it. I just want no part of it, them, or their own agendas for fifteen minutes in the spotlight. Just my take on things after messages sent with accusations, deleted comments, censorship, and little tanty's erupted yesterday.

It did make me sit and look at my own ideals, actions and motivation however. I am further along in this journey than some of the organisers, and would have thought my fighting spirit would be jaded, less driven, and more tired than theirs. A little more rational and accepting, less raw.  I guess I assumed they would have more fight in them than I do nowadays. I was wrong.

Now, you're probably wondering what this has to do with a Memoir Monday? Well this sense of right and wrong, this belief in fighting until you win (or receive an apology), I think it came from here. Just maybe.

Memoir Monday: Don't Mess with Grandma.

Yes, yee-ha Grandma once more. As you probably have gathered over the other two posts about her, this woman had a very large role in shaping who I am today. I have been incredibly lucky to have had such a wonderful person to inspire me, and teach me by example. And now I'm going to tell you a little story. Yes, another one.

Yee-ha Grandma, as some of you know, was a Real Estate Agent but she also owned a number of investment properties of her own. One of these properties is the centre of today's story.

We lived in a largish rural town, and one day a beeg company decided this town needed a shopping centre. The shopping centre was to take up all bar a small section of a large country town block. Yee-ha Grandma's property was dead centre of the main arm of the retail centre. 

Now being a private development resumption laws did not apply. Which meant the beeg company had been quietly buying up a lot of properties prior to the announcement being made, and then grabbing the rest as quickly and cheaply as they could. Until they hit Grandma's place.

Ever notice how people underestimate the older generation? Well, the local agent representing this company was known to Yee-ha Grandma. As a small boy he was found to be deceptive and sly, not trustworthy at all. As he grew his reputation remained unchanged. Having dealt with him on a business level for many years, Yee-ha Grandma had NO respect for him whatsoever. And when he knocked on her door, flashy tie and smarmy smile in place she opened it, and promptly shut it again in his face. He rang, he cajoled, and finally, desperate and with masses of pressure bearing down on him, he came around to canvas her dear family to make her see sense. The offer had been increased again and again by this stage.

I can clearly remember the conversation on our front verandah (I was around sixteen at the time). Freddie, yes that was his name, stupid name for a forty-something year old, initially tried to flatter Wise Woman. He had somehow learnt of the loss of the flame-haired hellraiser, and offered to put a monument in her honour at the front of the shopping centre. The look of disdain which showed on all our faces at his tacky suggestion and inappropriateness quickly had him switching tactics to hint that Yee-ha Grandma was hitting senility and should have control of her financial matters taken from her. I think it was at this ridiculous point my gentile, refined mother told him to go peddle his wares off our property or else she would set the dogs on him. (Mind you, we were lucky he didn't call our bluff or else the geriatric miniature silky terrior would have had his work cut out for him.)

Wise Woman went inside and rang Yee-ha Grandma to dob him in inform her of the latest development, after which Grandma rang the property development company directors and told them if they wished to ever come to an arrangement with her the board needed to fly to country town to meet with her directly. Oh, and if Freddie ever contacted her or any family member again, said property would be put into a perpetual trust NEVER to be sold.

They arrived the following week. And paid her triple the market value of the property. I still remember the awe and admiration this earnt her within the community. Also the respect shown to her by this bunch of powerful businessmen who were in charge of a mult-million dollar company. Never condescending nor patronising, they knew she had them by the short and curly's, and were impressed by her negotiation skills in that face to face meeting. I don't think they nor Freddie ever again disparaged the wisdom and experience age brings.


I guess the lesson here is she always stuck to her guns, and fought for what she believed in. I was brought up with the conviction if you feel strongly about something then you fight for it. You do not capitulate, you do not censor those who disagree, and you do not become some egotistical buffoon who bullies those they are meant to be working with for change.

Sometimes in battle the truly brave and honourable are those you never imagined, and the black knight turns out to be someone you never expected. Sad, really, when adversity reveals true colours.

Fighting My Inner Self

 At what point do you let go of all morals and integrity, the essence of who you were, and scream ENOUGH! At what stage do you spill all the truths no matter who it hurts?

Some moments I am raging inside with the injustice of it all, others I just want to curl up and die. I know I have a few solid, good people on my side, but the fact that others still believe the drivel, well it floors me and I must admit quite a few people I thought I knew well have dropped in my esteem.

Nine months of constant manipulation and bullshit. Nine months of shadows and whispers. Nine months of dripping poison and vitrol. Too long, too hard, too much. A lot of the time I was okay, fine in fact. Even though aware of the crap it did not get to me. But like all toxic bullies they have a honed sense of when to strike, when you are weak due to outside pressures and forces, when it will be most effective.

Someone suggested in a comment that I spill all here, and at times I am truly tempted to do so. But somewhere deep inside me I know if I do I become like them. And they are both so ugly inside and out I would hate to be like them.

So I hover undecided, fight or flee. The ammunition I have is lethal, if I choose fight then a lot of innocent people will be hurt as the horrific things they accused others of are revealed. Because, like I once did, these people perceive these two as friends and would be destroyed if they knew the truth.

And then there is also the biggest bombshell of all. The one that would annihilate people's perceptions forever. The one secret that only few know about the one master puppeteer.

*Tick*Tick**Tick*Tick**Tick*Tick**Tick*Tick**Tick*Tick*

Well?

Am trying to work my way out of this black funk, determined to keep blogging even though my mojo has packed its bags and run as fast and as far as it can.

You just may have to wade your way through a quagmire of tedium for a while.

I AM feeling rather Doryish these days...