November 12, 2012
Delusions of Grandeur
Things were getting sort of boring, right? The kids were even bored and were beginning to overuse their British accents. I was just thinking the other day that I haven’t done a public service announcement in quite some time. When lo and behold, a cause has landed in my lap. So here’s a little public service announcement for “Dave’s friend.” She has now left two hysterical, angry messages on my answering machine, where she shouts about how sober she is now, provides me with detailed information about her urine testing, then angrily screams that she has spoken to her lawyer, and will be filing suit for defamation of character. She goes on with outlandish babble like “if you can write a book, I can too!”
Apparently this delusional person has gotten wind of the Diary, and is alarmed that a book may be forthcoming. Of course one minor detail is that she hasn’t actually read the Diary. She has erroneously jumped to the narcissistic conclusion that she is an important part of the story and that I have called her out by name. But, alas, we regret to inform you that your character has been eliminated. In other words, that means, “You ain’t a pimple on my ass, crackie.” Not that the madwoman has pimples on her ass. Occasionally, I might have one on my chin. Anyway, what she says is so true. Anyone can write a book. But convincing others to read it…well…therein lies the challenge, right? I’m not even sure I can do it. So, good luck with your little book. And please, never, ever scream and curse into my answering machine while I have PMS. If you are not aware of the intricate details regarding my cycles, then you should err on the side of caution and just do that…never. Not to mention it took me 16 days to even know you left a message on my home phone. Little darling doesn’t even think that phone is real.
You all are probably wondering what in THE FACK is even going on here. So, let me just say that negative, weird, insane people who were friends with Dave have no place in my life. And that any person who colluded with my husband to secure pills on a regular basis did, in fact, contribute to his addiction, and thus ultimately contributed to his death. If that thought makes you a little uncomfortable, it’s because it should. I don’t provide the discomfort. I just provide the words.
I’m so disgusted that the door to the past was absent-mindedly left ajar, and a sliver of Dave’s addicted past was able to slip through. I’m seriously thinking about throwing that phone away, and buying a new one. Just thinking of the vile message and even all the words that were spoken between Dave and I over the years on that very phone make me feel quite sick.
All the many times I pleaded with him, threatened, cried, said crazy things, poured my heart out, begged, promised…just all of it…so intense, so frustrating, so SAD. No wonder it was so hard! I had no clue what I was even up against. I realized today after I was left shaking from her message that Dave’s death gave me the ability to close the door, once and for all, on all of that. And I vow to put a lock on that sucker that the Navy Seals themselves can’t penetrate. Cause I’m done with crazy. I’m on the healing path. Surrounded by positive, loving, sane people. We ain’t cray cray here no more. No indeed. We’re British.
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