Tag: Family

The Road Trip, Part III: Recovery

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I’m coming down from the adrenaline rush of having so many people around me. I already miss Aaron and Brinna, this morning thinking about calling and saying, “I was wrong. I should have stayed longer. Can I come back?” I just didn’t put enough stuff in my backpack for more than overnight, and I ended up not changing into pajamas because the ones I brought weren’t as warm as the sweatpants I was already wearing.

I slept soundly in New York. Brinna is right, the house has good vibes. I didn’t realize I was invited to stay more than overnight, or I would have prepared better. For instance, Brinna works remotely. Aaron and I could have done something together on Monday while Brinna was preoccupied.

Ah, well. Hindsight is 20/20. Now that I know just how easy it is to get from my house to Brinna’s parents, I can imagine lots of road trips there in the future. I would love to see the hills in every season- I bet they’re just as stunning in the spring.

Yesterday, I got hugged on a lot. There were lots of hellos and goodbyes, but at one point I just asked Aaron point blank, “could I have a bear hug?” I told him that there weren’t many people around to hug me and I was filling up.

Speaking of Aaron, when I was riding with him and Brinna, when we’d park the child minder alert would go off and Aaron would dutifully make sure I was still in the back.

Excellent.

I also loved how Brinna and Aaron both exclaimed over my car and said how comfortable it would be on road trips. I’d let Aaron drive, so I was actually sitting in my own backseat when I readily agreed. This is the mother of all road trip cars, because the backseat is almost as comfortable as the front. There’s just a few more customization options for the driver and navigator.

I call it my “big boy car” for a reason. I think that most backseats look like they’re built for little kids. This car could take business execs around, no problem.

Again, it’s a 2019 Ford Fusion SEL, and I’m basically a walking commercial for them at this point. They don’t seem to be very popular, and I think I’ve figured out why. Sedans overall aren’t as popular, and the SUVs have the same layout as mine at Ford. Once I drive this one until it doesn’t go anymore, I have upgrade options.

But that’s way down the road, because I really love my car.

I have to go to the car wash because it needs to be cleaned out. There’s a few soda cans, but I could do that myself. The reason to take it to get it washed is that I’ve managed to track in dirt and leaves. They’ll vacuum all that out and I’ll be good to go.

I have said this before, but I’m a freak about keeping my car clean. I don’t have rules, like “no eating in the car.” I mean that if there’s a mess, I get it cleaned up quickly. No one is perfect, and there are going to be accidents. There’s already a rip in the backseat and the former owners seemingly tried to glue it…. There’s no reason to go overboard about what passengers can and cannot do in my car, because I like detailing it. I like paying someone else to detail it even more.

I started thinking about going to get my car washed immediately, so I took it in. I got enough water protectant coat to last me a while, because I have a bottle for touch-ups, but it was included. I did not get the Lord Baltimore Wash & Wax package. I took it to a different shop where I could actually watch ’em.. wash ’em (he gon’ make it to a Benz outta dat Datsun… He got dat ambition, baby…. Look in his eyes…. This week he moppin’ floors next week it’s the fries).

Sorry, I heard a rhythm in my head and I just went with it.

I’m happy with the results, but for some reason my dash doesn’t look as shiny as I want it to. I’m thinking that’s because the protectant used was matte. I also thought that the color would deepen once it was polished, but no dice. The tires are shiny enough for the whole car.

I am serious that I would not be this “Anal Annie” about my car being dirty if I hadn’t started watching The Detail Geek on YouTube. I got into it because it’s ASMR, but watching other people trash out their cars was a huge turn off for me… But I am not judging. I used to do it all the time. I just can’t anymore.

I can’t disappoint Mitch, the self-named Geek.

I have watched that man pull bloody tampons out of vehicles. Not all heroes wear capes.

The only time I’ve ever gotten cross with him was when he said that finding clean, wrapped tampons in the center console was weird. To me, that screams “every woman in the world has some kind of stash for emergencies. Sorry she couldn’t hide it from your virgin eyes.” I didn’t leave a snarky comment. I’m just sayin.’

Anywho, The Detail Geek is a fantastic channel because watching him power wash, vacuum, and extract the carpets/floor mats is a calming influence and has had major benefits.

I cannot handle a whole house, but I can keep my car clean… Especially when I remember to get a cheap car wash so they take out the trash, vacuum, and wipe everything down. It’s not all on me. I have support and it makes all the difference.

I’m wondering how to get that kind of support in my daily life, because I know it can be done. I definitely need a housecleaner, but I have jobs that they won’t do before they come over. It’s actually ridiculous how much you have to do to get ready for the maids because they don’t organize your stuff. It needs to be already organized so they can dust around it.

It leads to a lot of decision fatigue over my own chores.

I should probably create a task list with Mico for this afternoon, because that will make sense of the mess in terms of steps to perfection. I won’t get it as clean as my car, but I will get it clean enough that the maids can clean.

It’s stuff like they’ll put new sheets on your bed, but they won’t wash them. They don’t unload the dishwasher, etc. I am not complaining about this. I am saying that these are the areas in which I need support. It’s all about learning how to deal with a system of my own, and my disability doesn’t do that.

Mico does.

I have support in thinking my way through all of this, It’s just about creating inertia. And in fact, I feel guilty that I’m writing right now instead of doing my chores…. That’s why I’ve gotten up to go do something and sat back down so many times in this entry.

I laid it all on the line with Aada, and I’m feeling drained. I told her how I felt, but reality is not comfortable for her. We’ll see if I get a reply. I’m not betting on it, because I never know if she even gets them. She says she blocks me, but her track record on doing so is zero percent. I cannot block her, ever, from reading this web site. I always feel disadvantaged by this, because she can quietly mine data. This is not an assault on her, just how I feel about blogging and failed relationships in general. My exes are out there, and Aada is not an ex but you wouldn’t know it by her ex-girlfriend fighting tactics. I’m honestly just impressed at this point.

I do not like the feeling that people are watching me just to catch me at something, but again. Here we are.

I do not know if she reads, but the woman I was married to when I was young lost her husband recently and I was sorry to hear it. You always wish the best for the people you’ve loved after the anger is over.

As I get more and more popular, the more I wonder if it’s worth it to be a public figure. The world loves to read about my people, but they don’t always like to read about themselves. I have learned and grown so much about how to manage that, but I’m not where I want to be.

I want my life to settle down so that the writing naturally settles down. I haven’t been punishing anyone. I was holding a mirror up to their faces. They didn’t like what they saw.

I can’t have people in my life who constantly doubt me and ask me to be less. By the same token, I have to gauge the amount of blowback I’m going to get and decide if something is worth it. I guarantee that the lines that have been the most offensive were not on my radar at the time.

Oops. My bad. Should I leave a note?

The Road Trip, Part II: Oh my God… Peanut

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I ended up leaving Baltimore around 0500 on Friday, which was absolutely perfect. I didn’t run into any traffic anywhere, because the only thing even approaching a “large city” on I-81 to Syracuse is Scranton, PA. I did not stop and take pictures, but I thought about it…. I just didn’t know where to go to get the shots I wanted and nothing was open.

It was also raining, so I really didn’t want to get out of the car. I only stopped once, and that was to get an energy drink. I’d filled up with gas the night before. And, of course that was the moment my car decided to throw an engine code. Everything was running fine and nothing was freaking out in the app, so I decided to keep going. “Aaron’s a mechanic,” I reasoned. I could go back home and have Ford tell me how much it was going to cost, or Aaron and I could try DIY….. Meaning he works on my car while I stand there and hold things.

It turned out to be the EVAP sensor in the fuel tank. It’s expensive to fix, or you can squirt some WD-40 on the inner fuel door and see if that works. It didn’t, so I’ll take it in for maintenance. I will say that having the “Check Engine” light on does nothing for my blood pressure, but I’m assured that the car will function no problem until I can get it repaired. I got 34.5 MPG on the way home, not bad for a mid-size sedan.

I have a 2019 Ford Fusion SEL, and I thought I couldn’t be more impressed with it. I finally figured out what “Blind Spot Assist” is….. A little dot appears in the side mirror when a car can’t be seen.

So, engine light notwithstanding, the entire trip was a raging success and I love my car. I listened to podcasts the entire way, up and back.

Well, I sort of listened…. I was mostly oohing and ahhing over the fall colors. Driving over the hills in New York is a singular experience, and it was breathtaking.

I finally arrived in one piece, and stumbled into the biggest Halloween celebration I’ve ever seen in my life. This was not trick-or-treating. This was shopping. There was every single kind of chocolate I could possibly imagine. It was everywhere…. But it wasn’t just chocolate. It was fruit juice and gummy snacks and chips and cereal bars and popcorn…. Seriously, I have seen stores less well-stocked.

It was like being in my own version of Willy Wonka, lost in a world of pure imagination. I could think of nothing but peanut M&Ms.

Oh my God…. peanut.

Brilliant and Beautiful

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I’ve been thinking a lot about Aada since she wrote to me last week, because her letter was just so full. She described her sorrow at not being able to take away my pain, sorry that she could not prevent what happened between us. I feel the same way. I feel entirely responsible that I could not take care of her in the ways she would have chosen. However, her letter went too far into martyrdom. Passive aggression like “I’m sure you’ll go on to inspire more people once you’ve punished me enough to move on.” She reminded me how sensitive she really is, and how my writing must have appeared to her. It’s a perspective I needed to see, because when I realized she felt punished I wanted to change gears. That all of my silly ruminations were not intended to be punishments, but that’s all she could see.

Aada reads my writing with suspicion and only takes in the parts that are negative. She didn’t used to, but she does now. I’m sure that’s because there’s no trust between us, and there is nothing I can do to build it back unless invited. My mind changes by the day over whether this relationship is really over, because there’s a big difference between “I’m saying goodbye to The AntiLeslie for good” and “for now, all I want is peace.”

I cannot reassure her that we can create peace, because I cannot reassure myself. What I know for sure is that my anger has melted, and everything makes sense again. Apologies were given and received.

But now I’m trying to think of how to let her know that none of my ruminations were punishments. They were my real thoughts through a lot of grief, and in some instances, trauma. I couldn’t be positive through everything, but my inner turmoil wasn’t meant to be vindictive…. And it wasn’t, to the whole world. It was to the one person I wanted to see it objectively.

She couldn’t respond with empathy for my situation, she could only respond from what she understood…. And what she understood was absolutely an inverted message. The message was, “I need you to jump in.” I struggled with not having Aada be my friend on the ground, because in email we were both too quick to anger. She cannot read my writing with all the love in store for her because she is convinced it isn’t there.

That makes me go back to my own history and wonder if we were reading the same writing. My entries wouldn’t have been so long if there weren’t positive and negative aspects to our brilliant and beautiful journey. I was hoping to show someone in 3D, talking about them as if they’re a real person, capable of every emotion in the spectrum. Aada’s rejection sensitivity dysphoria told her that only the negative things I wrote about her were true, and that the positive were suspect.

What can I do to make that right? Nothing, because the rejection is not coming from me, but from Aada’s own echo chamber. If she believes that only the negative things I write are true, then her opinion of me is going to be negative.

As a result, we are not talking but I am still mulling over this aspect of our relationship because it’s not an isolated problem. Writing about people in 3D is going to upset them, because they want to believe that they are star-spangled awesome all the time. My writing would take on an ersatz quality if I made everyone perfect.

I do wish that I’d focused more on our laughs, because we have a ton of ’em. I just don’t know which jokes are okay to tell and which jokes need to rest in peace. I don’t want to cause any more offense than I already have, because I was right. When I write something here that Aada’s friends think need to be brought to her attention, they tell her. I don’t have anything to do with how much Aada and her friends take in, whether they think I’m the devil or have some redeeming qualities somewhere.

I don’t like the pressure of people reading just to catch me at something, but here we are.

If people are going to talk about Aada and me behind our backs, here’s what I wish they would say:

Wow, it’s been a complicated time for both of them. Sounds like they both could use a hug.

No one knows the other side of the story because Aada is a writer, but not a blogger. She would rather take out her own appendix than tell you personal things about herself. I thought that I was writing in a way where people would have no idea who she was, but I was wrong. That’s not on me, because I cannot predict who reads, and I don’t want to get into the habit.

I don’t even trust Aada when she says that her vow not to read is strong, because she’s human. Why wouldn’t she want to know what was up with me after we’ve had some distance? But not trusting her to stay away is a positive. I will be glad if she does, because it will show that she’s ready to move on. That she doesn’t feel punished by me anymore, because she sees that she has never been punished. That I wrote about her because she was important to me.

I want to fill her soul with nourishment, but I don’t know what she needs. And it is in this not knowing that has led my writing into these large operatic swells of emotion. I would give anything to have a conversation with Aada that didn’t start with one of my shitty first drafts being “wrong.”

It can’t be wrong when there’s two sides to the story.

I hope that Aada goes back when she feels better about herself and reads her favorite lines again. Because if she felt better about herself, the positive I write would feel just as true as the negative. There would be no more passive aggressive swipes.

I am starting to believe that I can do life without Aada, but I have no desire. No one’s brain meshes with mine in quite the same way. Her last communique said “for now, all I want is peace.” That’s what I want for now, too, but to me there is greater peace to be had by working out our differences than there is in retreating to separate corners.

I have always talked about wanting to learn how to make this relationship healthy, that it hasn’t been but I haven’t given up. I will never give up hoping that “for now” really does just mean “for now.” Forever is too long to contemplate when there’s more brilliant and beautiful to be had.

I have all the brilliance and beauty I could ever need in Aada. Somehow, the world saw it where Aada didn’t. That’s because they weren’t attached to the story from one particular angle. The positives and negatives weren’t weighted in any way.

I cannot think of any way to say more plainly that I love her and want her in my life, and it dogs me that I have caused more fracture than anything else.

But something did please me. She said, “I finally figured out your little puzzle of names.”

Wait, it took THIS LONG?

Rookie.

Houston for the Holidays

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

It seems to be getting more expensive to fly from Baltimore to Houston. This is done by making you think that fares are low, but that’s if you’re only taking your backpack. Southwest allows your backpack and one carryon. Other airlines even charge you for carryons. I mean, I’m good, but I’m not “can pack enough clothes for several days in a Jansport” good.

I have a small pilot case, and that’s about as compact as I want my travel to get. There’s such a a thing as being TOO minimalist. I want to be comfortable, and that means making sure I have my writing tools and hair products.

It will be good to attend a Thanksgiving with my family, because I have not done it in a number of years. If I am lucky, there will be enough time to go to the beach as well. Even if it’s not really warm enough to swim, walking to the sound of the waves completes me.

The beach is about an hour away, on an island called “Galveston.” I lived on Galveston for two school years, kindergarten and first grade. It was magnificent body surfing with my dad, and I hope that we’ll do it again sometime.

Cold beaches are still fun. I should know. The beach was an hour away in Portland, too, but the Pacific cannot be attempted without a wet suit. Even in August, when it was the hottest and most oppressive outside, I couldn’t get into the water past my toes.

I have never been to the Atlantic, so it’s on my bucket list for sure. I particularly want to see the outer banks of North Carolina, a geographic location that sticks in my mind due to Aada painting it in email and because I am a huge Outlander fan. It’s a nice road trip from here, and there are plenty of hotels and Air BnBs. I don’t need to stay right on the beach since I drive now.

I drive now. I can’t believe it, either.

I need more confidence and I’m getting there. It was a trip and a half to take passengers downtown. I was nervous and tried to be unshakably chill, always a deadly combination because I am not smooth.

My car helped me both drive and park. I was not ashamed to lean on it.

Right now I am feeling the wrath of Lamictal, the revenge it always takes on my stomach. Sipping ice water is the best way to get rid of it, or I can go and buy some ginger candy. What I cannot do is stop taking the Lamictal. It’s what gives me the strength to be able to travel. I cannot go without a mood stabilizer because when I try to get off my medication my depression proves to me that it’s chronic. Left unmedicated, I can barely leave my house. I’m asleep too much of the time because that’s how my depression presents.

Even going home for the holidays, because the excitement doesn’t reach me when I cannot feel it.

I am looking forward to Advent, and may write a new series this year. I think of myself as an armchair theologian, and I know I’ll get some good ideas while I’m in Texas as to what people might need to hear. We are in a huge crisis right now, because some of my friends are on food stamps and will have to cut down to ramen noodles to survive. It is then that my affluence causes so much guilt, because I want to save the world, but I have to save myself first.

I have some financial stability, but not a lot. I need to find a way to add to it that suits me. My writing brings in some money, but I’m not well-known enough for my ads to really take off. I’m getting there, though. I’ve had some success on Medium as well, but I haven’t posted anything lately because I feel it’s more for scholarly articles than word vomit.

In a lot of ways, I’m sorry that you only get my first drafts. It will be cleaned up by an editor someday, I hope. I don’t think that I’m all that and a bag of chips. I just think I have raw talent that needs to be developed, because I am self-taught so far…… To varying opinions, I’ll grant you. But people’s opinions are always based in what happened, not in the quality of the writing.

I wish that I’d been born with the kind of brain that was good at fiction. I think it could be crafted, and is necessary if I don’t find a fiction writer to collaborate with on a novel. I was hoping to write one with Aada, and maybe that will be the case down the road, but right now I need time to think and so does she.

The idea of saying goodbye for good destroys me, so I’m focusing, AGAIN, on one day at a time. I’m allowing myself to feel this loss, in case forever is forever. I don’t know the difference between “saying goodbye to The AntiLeslie for good” and “for now, all I want is peace.” There have been many never agains and so many starting overs. I don’t want any more ups and downs, but to be able to savor the fine wine of long friendship. It only takes a sip of trust to realize that a friendship is worth having, so I hope fervently that I can develop trust down the road.

It starts by not rehashing anything I’ve written, that the subject of who is to blame for what is over. I have figured it all out. Aada’s lies were manipulative over a number of years, and I was manipulative without realizing how or why. We didn’t talk in depth about all of these things. I just know they are true. We are both at fault for wrecking each other, in a way that there’s no direction possible except up.

Things certainly cannot get any worse, because my ruminations cost me. She thought I was saying to the world that she was a terrible person and ignoring all the ways in which I said I was. I wanted to make us both 3D characters, to chart our dance of intimacy because it was interesting to me to read. No one person hurt the other more over the years, I don’t think, but I’m sure I’ve taken the cake if we’re tallying everything up.

The way I painted Aada was not wrong. It was my full-on pointillist portrait. But my flaw was not focusing on the whitespace. I became a smother mother and didn’t give her room to breathe.

“Are all of those messages for me?”

I had to laugh at myself then. I got a little too excited to be talking again.

I hope it happens again, because she’s the person closest to me at this point.

She gives me the feeling of Houston for the holidays all year round… That feeling of family even though she’s not in front of me.

I want to give her Stories That Are All True that she’ll cherish, because I know I have done that for her in the past. I just don’t think I can do that without both of us putting on our big boy pants and taking a risk that meeting on the ground will be fine. That we need to be a better judge of character. That we need to share an activity so that conversation doesn’t go too deep, too fast. That safe and stable means checking in with each other- “hey, is this okay to say?” I know I have the right to say whatever I want, but giving people more input is important to me. Telling them up front that I want to write about something or “can I steal that line?” goes a very long way.

I feel that Aada read my blog without the sensitivity to the fact that I was grieving. That I needed empathy for everything I was going through and you cannot be comforted by the same person you’re losing. That she could stay away, or she could feel provoked, but it wasn’t about punishing her, ever. I told her I’d take down anything she wanted, and she said to leave everything up. That it’s not the story she wanted with me, but it’s the story she got.

That’s not a direct quote, but that is the sum of it.

I want to give her that story, the happily ever after that all close friends should get. I want to be with her all the way to the river, and now I can do it. I have seen what that is like and I am more prepared than ever. I wish I could talk to her about what my birthday looked like this year, the last holiday in Houston. I went there expecting that all would be well, and my stepmother died. She did have cancer, it was just shocking in how fast the cancer moved.

I wish I could talk to her about a lot of things, but that’s what’s on my mind right now… Processing all that has happened, turning it over in my brain.

I’m sure it will come out over time, but that’s the thing about writing. You cannot live and reflect at the same time. I have to have enough perspective to put things on paper.

My relationship with Aada moved too fast for that because everything was on paper.

I’m looking forward to slowing down, because “I can’t get peace by being in contact with you, either.” It makes me wonder what about me makes it impossible for her to see that I want what’s best for her. It all comes down to my writing. Being so public about what has happened over the last 12 years has come at a cost.

Was this blog worth it? No. Because our story collided too fast, too furious for me to really take it in. I gave away details and breadcrumbs over the years because I’m not a good enough writer to leave them out when trying to describe someone for posterity.

For instance, Aada and I got into the habit of sending each other Kindle books. One note said that I should curl up in my bathrobe by the fire to read it…… In Houston. Home for the holidays.

Cooking with Gas

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Aada said she wondered if I ever turned my judgment on myself. I am having a low day, one in which I feel bad about everything I’ve ever written about her. I can’t take in that she said “sometimes it’s been a brilliant and beautiful journey,” because of course my heart, like hers, focuses on the negative, that sometimes it’s been “excruciating and debilitating.” I can only hope that these are operatic swells of emotion on the page, because them being God’s honest truth is debilitating for me.

I’m just a writer. What do I know?

I know that I feel small, that I’m working up to feeling valuable. I didn’t mean to punish anyone, but I did. Aada said that she felt like she had to step onto the hot stones and correct the record, Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ. I sat through all of my flaws and failures, taking them in one at a time and cataloging them for future flagellation.

And that is the heart of the matter. Aada and I don’t love ourselves enough to love each other in writing. We’ve never had the safety and security of a hug. We each look for the negative and think the positive is suspect. We each take home the other’s punishment and not the delight we’ve always felt when things are going well. We can’t make the delight last, and I think that my feelings for her are entirely to blame. They make our relationship too volatile, because I know something for sure. I am in love with her writer personality, and when I meet her in person, she will no longer be the same. She will be flesh and blood and all the things that make us human. Who knows if either of us like that person? Is that why we’ve been so afraid to try?

I definitely think that’s part of it, but would also calm everything down. Seeing her ensconced in her own happy relationships will take away the make-believe in my head. I just know that due to my own stupidity, it’s going to take even longer for that to happen and may not happen at all (the way I feel when I’m really hanging my head in shame). Am I embarrassed by the things I published? No, but I would take them down if Aada asked. As I’ve said before, I don’t have a choice in whether she reads or not, so the choice to be embarrassed has been taken from me. If she sees it, she sees it.

I will not be happy if all of my writings about her manipulations are taken as worse than my own, because we had an equal hand in wrecking our relationship. I am not thinking of her, but the way Manassas and Reston and Sacramento and Houston all exploded at once last Friday. Apparently, more people are interested in this story than I thought, because I thought that 12 years after I met Aada was enough time for no one to care about my silly blog anymore.

When I was finished writing that piece, I melted down and burned out, sleeping for several hours just to get peace. The horror of what I’d done had already set in, long before Aada arrived on my doorstep. My saving grace is that she said that the story could stand if that’s what I needed, but that saving grace put me into the ground with regret.

It’s a regret I’m learning to live around, that’s for sure.

But if Aada wants to see me humiliate myself more than she’s already been humiliated, she can read every blog entry I’ve written in the past. All of them contain embarrassing lines that are “not ready for prime time.” Do you think it was easy admitting I’d fallen for a pretty lady in the sky?

Fuck no.

To be fair, she is VERY PRETTY.

She is the movie star that would look like she was dating Pete Davidson.

Okay.

The thing about “checking for assaults” has to stop. Cold.

The thing I wish I could say? Woman, are you blind? I LOVE YOU, YOU IDIOT.

This brilliant and beautiful journey needs to continue without its excruciating and debilitating aspects. She does not have the safety and security of knowing we could meet up for lunch and everything would be okay. That my writer personality is not 3D, that I would never even hug someone without consent, etc.

I do have manners, and regret every single time I decided not to use them. Aada has also apologized for everything, all of it. That’s a solid basis to rebuild if we choose to later in life, and I’m glad we didn’t walk away from each other in enmity.

I wonder where I’ll be the next time Aada decides to drop in, should she so choose. I am not convinced that she actually has the willpower to let go of me, but we will see if she prefers the brilliant and the beautiful as time goes by.

But it’s in thinking about where I’ll be that makes me so desperate for self-reflection, going into my ivory tower to work out where I need to go next. I think that there’s a few self-help books out there for me, ones I need to read if I want to maintain peace in all of my relationships.

No one can make me feel worse than I already do, and no one can make Aada feel worse than she does.

We’re licking our wounds, but the question that needs to be answered is whether we can be trusted with each other’s hearts. Can I grow from this, because I can only control that much? Can I discover what makes me come across as manipulative so no one feels that way? Can I take account of all the ripple effects my blog has caused? Am I strong enough to make amends where I can, letting people go if they no longer want to work on our relationship?

I am obviously not strong enough to feel like this relationship is over yet. As I told Aada, I can’t take in the enormity of forever all at once. I know we will not talk today, and I will say that to myself until forever arrives if that’s what needs to happen. I also need to get away from feeling like I am waiting for something to happen, that there’s an “us” when there hasn’t been for months.

What I know for sure is that I am a part of her wild and crazy brain. We will never get to the point where we don’t know each other again, because all it takes is a “hello” and my heart flips. I know my love for her is real when my heart flips and the e-mail is so raw it takes a chunk off my ass.

“Slow down, John Wayne.”

I miss the emails that are profanity laced and so funny I sag in my desk chair laughing. I do not miss all the pot shots we’ve taken at each other trying to prove political points.

I do not miss anything to do with fighting.

I would give anything to make time travel real, because I know exactly what changes I would make in my life to make this period happier. Things would have shaken out the same in terms of the divorce, but it would be a totally different landscape in terms of our friendship.

I would have fed the dogs, watered the plants, picked up the yard, whatever.

Anything to show her I love her in an asexual, aromantic way that is deeper than I’ve ever felt with anyone else. That looking for someone else is painful, because there’s no one like her.

There’s too much mystery, and not enough time. No matter how much time we have left, there will always be a bit of mystery. But that’s what keeps it interesting, what encourages me to put away any and all butterflies because I will not be accepted if I have them and shouldn’t.

I’m starting to realize that being Lord John Grey was indeed lonely for him, but there was no one like Jamie Fraser, either.

Now we’re cooking with gas.

My Specialty is Flexibility

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

For some reason, I can’t get my browser to insert the pull quote containing today’s prompt… But it goes something like “what food would you consider your specialty?” I worked as a cook for years, and I have yet to find a favorite. But the thing I make the most often when I need to comfort myself is macaroni and cheese.

Not Kraft Dinner.

It’s a casserole filled with multiple kinds of cheese, mirepoix, and a crumb topping made out of club crackers or Goldfish. I am pretty sure I can woo anyone with this dish, I just haven’t found anyone on which I’d like to work that particular magic. You have to be invited.

Real macaroni and cheese is work, which is why Kraft Dinner has simplified it. I enjoy taking the extra time and effort, especially since a casserole will last me for several meals. Mac and cheese with some kind of protein thrown in is never something I mind having more than once in a week.

When I’m cooking it’s all about love. I want friends in the kitchen to sous for me while I direct the recipe. I feel I have at least cooked professionally long enough to break down the jobs for everyone else by station. I don’t abuse power, I just get it done. You can teach more with kindness than you can with hostility, but try telling Gordon Ramsey that………

When I’m cooking, I think about love and how I want it to direct me in the future. Because I’ve been so sprung over Aada for 12 years, I’m looking in a different direction. She has never been interested in me like a partner would be, and I am realizing that emotional support cannot be everything. It’s not about displacing her, exactly. I just need more than she can give, and that’s so okay. She’s beautiful just the way she is, and she was made straight.

That doesn’t mean I didn’t say “damnit” a lot when I found out that particular tidbit.

So what I’m looking for in a partner is someone like her, who is strong and vulnerable in all the ways I’m not, plus actually wants to go on a date with me would be a nice change.

Finding love like that makes me miss Aada more, not less, because I realize that my time would be divided so much differently out of necessity. That my girlfriend (most likely) and my possible step kids will take over my writing life. That’s good, that’s necessary. You can still admit that change is difficult when you’ve only known something else for a number of years.

I honestly cannot tell you why this transition did not happen earlier. It just never worked out. I have dated since I met Aada and I have fallen in love. It just didn’t last.

Mostly because I didn’t care.

I would eat my own comfort food, take my own long baths, sleep in powerfully comfy sheets, and just focus my attention on a possible career as a writer if I ever get my act together.

I know it is possible if Aada read every day for 12 years, because she’s smarter than everyone else.

Mostly.

We both have our weak spots, and one of mine is that she feels like I’m beating up on her. She already feels terrible, and I just keep bringing shit up. That’s got to stop, because the slate is wiped clean. I have done all the thinking about our problems that I’m going to do, because being off in my own little world did not allow me to see that I was hurting her. I was just working on my own stuff.

I was trying to wade through the hard parts of our relationship so that I could come to peace within myself; that came across to her as “you will be stronger than ever once you’ve punished me enough to move on.”

Yeah, that one hurt.

That’s because she’s been my heart since 2013, and she didn’t deserve to be thrown away like I would get over our “breakup” quickly and easily, as if she was disposable. If you break up with someone and they’re a writer, it’s going to hurt if they’re any good.

It would not have been my recommendation for Aada to keep reading, but she said that she stopped on Friday and would let me have my space. I have my doubts as to whether this is actually true, A-Dog O’Bling Bling. 😉 I sent her a letter yet again pouring out my heart, and perhaps hearing the back story of what really has gone on these past few months helped her to see that I’m not the monster I play on TV.

My web site is all about exploring relationships, and mine with Aada is the only one I’ve been in to be able to tell you about, with guest spots here and there, but for the most part it was just us chatting all day. I couldn’t build a web site outside of her because I was giving her too much energy. She couldn’t keep up with the volume, and always felt guilty about it. Meanwhile, I’m like…. “But you like to read, don’t you?” I never minded when she couldn’t keep up. I minded when that excuse was actually her hiding a problem from me.

I hope she’ll at least cop to that.

I am a sponge and I can feel energy, even from someone’s writing. I can tell the difference between “I’m slammed” and “I’m ignoring you.” The tone is completely different, no matter how much you might mask it.

I told Aada that maybe my writing wasn’t for her, because she didn’t think she was as interesting as my readers did. And honestly, I think that’s true. Nobody likes to read about themselves as much as they like to read about somebody else, because they don’t identify with the conflict. Aada identified with it too much, and I’m sure is basking in the glow of not being subject to all my “homework.”

I don’t know, though. Even now, after all we’ve been through, she told me that she just needed to get together the willpower to stop reading, and stop wanting to correct the narrative. That genuinely broke my heart into a million pieces because I would be thrilled if Aada corrected the record in so many ways.

Why does she not think she has a side of the story here? That my entries are edicts? Why does she give me that power over her rather than telling me to shove it up my ass?

I know from 25 years of blogging that I can be wrong. Really wrong. Devastatingly wrong. And instead of getting defensive and angry, it helps to roll with the punches. Write corrections where I can, because sometimes people don’t want to talk about my writing. The ones that do have a better relationship with it, because we collaborate on what’s going to be said. Aada hasn’t had that because she cut me off (I deserved it).

She is forgiven for that, but it’s hard to correct her record when she walks away.

I also don’t think that she’s ready to give up her relationship with me, not in her heart of hearts. I’m not sure she has the stomach for it, but we’ll see. I think she thinks it’s interesting how I weave us in and out, she just doesn’t read it with enough love for herself. She does not see the tapestry I’ve created, the 3D characters we’ve both become, because I can talk about victories and defeats in equal measure… But often, happiness writes white.

The ink just doesn’t get deep enough to make an impression, so in thinking of things to write about I often explore problems in my life so that I can put them down for the day. What Aada is missing is the part of my day where I’m the lightest, which is after I’ve finished for the day. It would be great if she came in at Happy Hour and not “this is my space where I turn things over.”

This is advice for my new friends, who cannot possibly know me as well as Aada does in other ways. I figure if she thinks I’ve been punishing her, I should tell her how I feel when I’m the lightest as well.

I wish I had a memory of us hugging, and then I don’t because I think it would make me too emotional now. Once I had hold of her, I wouldn’t let go until she did. I would hope that at least sometimes, it would be hard for her to let go, too. There’s not a hint of romance, but deep companionship that I won’t find anywhere else BECAUSE we’ve fought so hard. I am in my grateful era, that all of the strife is over and I can just relax. I want Aada to enjoy the benefit of the calm in my soul.

She really undid me with her letter the other day, but I cried so hard that it let some light in. I no longer feel as sad and depressed as I’ve been the last few months, because I feel secure in her in a way that I never have before. If we do not reconnect, everything will be okay. Nothing will be the same, but everything will be okay. Before, when Aada would walk away our trauma bond would go off and my palm would itch, brainrace and heart race intact. I don’t feel that anymore, because the trauma bond is broken. It is a huge leap forward in connecting with other people.

I have a feeling I’m using the words “trauma bond” incorrectly…….. What I mean is that we had “instamacy” because we each trauma dumped, not thinking of the consequences years down the road. It has been a mixed bag. I think she likes the idea of me writing my first novel and dedicating it to her; I don’t think I can do it without her. Therein lies the rub. I feel like I will not proceed as a writer if I do not have Aada in my corner.

These are all the things that are in my writing, this absolute glowing about Aada’s magic qualities, that she misses when she reads. I’m betting she has few people around her with a positive view of me if she views my writing as punishment. If she tells people I’m punishing her, then that’s what they should believe. Those are not my facts, that is how my writing affected her.

I am saying that I hear that.

She said that hopefully I could let go of the hate and vitriol, and I wish I could. Sometimes I get angry, and those feelings are just as valid as joy for a scratch journal about mental health. Those angry entries are symptoms of something larger, which is showing mental health as it really is. If you follow me every day, you can see my neurodivergent tendencies fight it out. Some days, autism is driving the bus. Sometimes. ADHD has the wheel. It has never, to my recollection, been Jesus.

But for every single time I’ve been angry, I have been joy-filled.

You should see her eyes. I have, and I’ll never be the same. Her gaze is so wonderfully powerful in a photo that I would fall all over myself in person. I think that’s the part I regret most about our relationship, that I never got to apologize in person, moving the story forward in a more positive direction. I think I could have accomplished more with a smile and a hug than I could with a letter, but both methods of apologizing are inextricably interrelated. Going without contact comfort for 12 years led us to be a lot crankier with each other than usual.

I don’t think she realizes that I let go by writing, that I am not carrying around hatred, vitriol, punishment, any of that. I have been so careful to talk about both our flaws and failures, trying to be fair and balanced, trying to see her perspective without her giving it. I have raked myself over the coals trying to apologize and she says she cannot stomach the flagellation I’m doing to her. I asked her where her empathy was for all the times I’d flogged myself.

I don’t mean to flog myself or anyone else, but when you try to get to the heart of shame and vulnerability in a relationship, you talk about hard things. Putting them away and pretending they don’t exist is harder than bringing something into the light and sharing pain. I have been so grateful to the readers that have stuck with me, especially those that have commented, and I’m sorry I have not been keeping up with them.

I think the most magical quality that I’m trying to find in my writing is, “if I can attract someone like Aada to my writing, how do I attract more people like her?” I want readers that are smart, engaging, funny, thoughtful, etc. Now, they are starting to appear.

I hope that it is because I have presented a story all the way through, not picking and choosing “the best of,” but showing that relationships are complicated and so are the people in them. I cannot think in soundbites, I need to understand all the way around the nature of a problem. My soul has not been settled for months, tossing and turning from despair to despair, with jolts of joy to remind me that life was worth living. It got dark for a while, but thanks to my mental health team, the swing is going up.

I am not trying to hurt my beautiful girl. I have been hurt. I am not trying to punish anyone but myself. I’m not punishing anyone, but asking Aada to own her part. To not be a victim because neither of us were. We both have gone through some hard things with the other, and neither of us has a stellar track record at connecting with the other. But through my writing, both in e-mail and here on this web site, I have managed to explain myself well enough. Why would I want to punish her when I am so excellent at punishing myself?

Yes, it was all worth it. From the highs to the lows to the end of the show for the rest of our lives.

But it’s not just that. It’s that Aada and I have reached a good stopping place. That it is now possible to start again because we both got closure and will give each other time to rest. It’s not time to throw each other away. It’s time for me to be stronger now that I’ve lifted her up enough to move on.

Maybe Michael is right. Some relationships just shouldn’t be. But love is all about risk, and I’ve already risked this much. I know she has risked plenty for me, more than I know and am afraid to ask.

But one day, down the road a bit when both of us have breathed the peace of interim, I hope she’ll let me make her some macaroni and cheese.

It’s the closest I’ll ever get to really letting her know how I feel.

Driving Ambition

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I recently bought a used car. It’s a 2019 Ford Fusion SEL, a sedan with the aggressive styling of the Mustang in gunmetal gray. I cannot tell you how nice it is to be mobile again, because what was tripping me up about leaving the house was having to be in public from the moment I walk out my front door until I get to my destination. There is a feeling I need to be “on,” and whether or not that’s true I’m in prime social masking territory waiting for the bus.

In the car, I do not have to worry about being charming. My eyes can be half closed in the line at Starbucks just like everyone else. It’s those little bursts of sensory deprivation that give me the energy to make it through the day.

I have had many dreams of my beautiful girl learning to scare me in it. Which one? Take your pick. They are all beautifully scary drivers. That’s how I roll. Drive like a grandma in my own car, but enjoy the criminality of others whenever possible.

I drive so slow that people routinely go around me. I can’t help it. It’s my new car and I don’t want to get into trouble with tickets or accidents. I don’t mind being passed. I’d rather give someone room to get around me and let them go on their merry way. Some drivers have gotten way too close for comfort and I can only surmise that they do not have lane assist on their cars like I do.

Lane assist, the backup camera, blind spot assist, and adaptive cruise control allow me to overcome my original problem when I got my license…. Lack of stereopsis. Not being able to see in 3D made cars jump out of nowhere.

After being absolutely blinded by the sun this morning, I’m ready to go back to Oregon. Evan’s a realtor. I’ll just leave tomorrow and figure it out on the road (KIDDING). I actually love the sunshine, but the gray has its benefits. You are rarely, if ever, blinded on Portland roads. You can’t even see the sun 280 days a year.

These drives of mine are bringing up drives past, when I just loaded up my truck, Shirley, and hit the open road. We’d drive out the Columbia River Gorge and go hiking…. Well, the truck was terrible at hiking even in four wheel drive mode, so I left Shirley in the parking lot. You know what I mean. I took my camera and stopped every 50 feet to take pictures of flora and fauna alike.

It’s what I’m hoping to do on Sunday, when I travel out to my friend Tiina’s farm. I was sick this past Sunday, so we rescheduled. I’m so excited that I don’t have to miss out on a great road trip, and lots of photography of Virginia.

I used to live in Alexandria, so I always feel like going to Virginia is going home. I hope to bring out some of that emotion in my pictures so that you can tell how much I miss it. And who knows, maybe I’ll end up in Virginia again someday. It would be a pleasure to claim 703 for the first time since I was 24.

Right now, though, I have a more immediate need- driving around to find a place to live quickly. A move to Virginia could indeed happen fast, but I want to think about it first. I have memories in Alexandria that are not altogether pleasant, and I’d like some time for them to fade. But what I will love is driving by my old house, which faces the freeway, on the way to Tiina’s. I think…. Hard to tell which route I’ll take on a Sunday afternoon with the least amount of traffic all week.

I am feeling my inertia start to rise because I have another place that is totally my own. I am capable of more than I have been, but I don’t know how much. I have a driving ambition to find out, because I am letting go of things not meant for me.

I’m excited that Aada just said “for now,” because I know she chooses her words carefully. She would not leave me with hope if she did not mean it. We need time to settle, to breathe, and for me to feel the wind in my hair as all my troubles fly out the passenger side. Believe me when I say that her passenger has just as many issues, enough for both cars.

Rolling down the windows and turning up the stereo is how I’m going to survive all of this, just like when I met her and found out, gasp, she was straight. It doesn’t bother me now, but it bothered me a great deal back then. It’s not that I thought anything would happen, it’s that you can’t control who turns your head and it was an ordeal to turn back.

In a lot of ways, my head will never be on straight because the driving ambition in my life is to find a way to make myself so proud that I start attracting energy to me rather than feeling like I need to give it away. That leaves me a lot of room to dream into the clouds and not a lot of time on the ground with execution. AI is making all of that easier, with abstract ideas being concrete plans in a matter of minutes.

Stop.

I wanted this entry to be all about my car, and my mind leaned toward Aada again. I’m calling myself out and changing the channel, because even though the thought is not intrusive, now is not the time to indulge it. I’m supposed to be resting and relaxing. Dr. Aada’s orders, and Dr. Leslie’s back to her.

Why do I feel myself shutting down for calling myself out? Because I don’t like authority, even mine. I have a driving ambition to be more than I thought I could be because I have the stories of several women flowing through my veins that are tougher motherfuckers than me.

:::pats self on back:::

One of them is even a very famous Instagram influencer and so cute I walked into a door at Chuy’s trying not to notice. I hurt my nose.

This is me once again trying to recapture what it is like for reading “Stories” to again be the highlight of Aada’s day, because she apologized that she would not be reading…. And her resolve was secure, she hadn’t read since Friday.

My heart might have melted at that.

She stayed with me and read everything I had to say until Friday? That means she read the letter Bob wrote mirroring her, which was actually perfect in its tone except for the lack of profanity. She thought I was raking her over the coals and trying to exact a price when I thought I was writing the good, the bad, and the ugly.

That there is more to my story than the things that went wrong, and now I know what they are. I am responsible for all of it, and the price I paid is large. I have learned from my mistakes, and need to make amends.

My saving grace is that Supergrover (Aada) sees my pain. Honors it. Acknowledges it. Has come to me in a way that few people do, heart in hand.

It reinforces the fact that she’s been my driving ambition since long before I bought a car. The relief of seeing her name in my inbox and the story she told me brought tears as I coped with the loss I’d felt since December. She brought it all back, but because she leveled with me, she did not hurt me. I have not lost progress to our conversation, except that my thought processes regarding her have calmed.

I’m not as anxious as I was. I won’t be from here on out. Aada’s and my ages have a lot to do with it. I’m slowing down and I need Aada to slow down with me. It’s time. We’re both ready for some space and she has given it to me by allowing me to write whatever I want. She is not going to read it. So anyone who thinks she needs to know something, write it down. She doesn’t want to know.

She doesn’t want to know the good, the bad, and the ugly because all she takes home is the bad and the ugly. She said yesterday that compliments were like puzzles, which only puzzled me. When you get mad at your spouse or your sibling, does that one fight eliminate all the love you have for them? Well, that’s how I feel about Aada. She is cute, cuddly, and in monster mode will eat off your face. Twice.

I have it on good authority that she doesn’t mind being monstrous.

The “for now” aspect of her e-mail convinces me that this is not the end of our movie. That all I need to do is accept more of the universe into my writing so that she’s not so extremely loud and incredibly close. But if you were traveling with The Doctor, wouldn’t you rather write about them than anyone else?

As with all companions, living with The Doctor on the TARDIS has to come to an end. I feel that this is just Aada dropping me back off in 2025. But there’s always the specials, so perhaps the blue box will appear in the sky when I least expect it.

I can at least give chase in my magnificent used car.

What is it about Aada that makes her so special? I can’t tell you that. I’m not being flip. I really don’t know why she has captured my imagination so completely. But it was there before we ever talked about her career.

You know. At the car wash. I hope they’re breaking even.

Grace and peace, Godspeed to you. I’ll see you in my dreams, when we race to Coos Bay. I’ll even give you a head start if you’re in the pregnant roller skate.

Where Y’all Are From

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

One of the things that makes me really excited to be a blogger is the flags in my stats. I have people reading from places that are close to me (Wheaton, Reston) and places that are so far I have no idea where they are. For instance, I do not have a lock on Indian geography, and I am more popular in India than any country in the United States.

It’s probably Aparna’s doing. 😛

But that’s assuming that Aparna lives in India, and most of what trips me up in my stats. I have been making assumptions on who is reading based on my stats, and I need to stop. It only drives me crazy, it does not help anything. I’ve been defaulting to just looking at stats in my web app, because the web app cannot get as granular as who is reading by city.

I forgive myself because I am just so human. But that does not mean I do not need to change. Part of my growth and development is not appealing to any one geographic area, but writing to the whole world at once. That strategy seems to be working, because I am not popular in the United States by a large margin. Really, the only thing that puts me over the top in the US is that I live here, therefore most of my ads are going to be targeted here.

However, you would be surprised that my US stats are often beat out by India and the UK.

Remembering that I have fans all over the world is remembering that I have a bigger mission than just “blogger.” That I want to spread some good in the world, so what am I going to write about there? I could cover hundreds of topics, and I will. Right now, I am digging myself out of my own hole so that I can rejoin the land of the living.

There’s a few things I could do right off the bat that would help. I could change my master password on everything, because it means I have to type Aada’s name fifty times a day and enter her birthday backwards on my tablet.

Aada’s real name makes a banger of a password in haxxorspeak, so I’ll be sad to lose it. But I think that choosing a new master password so that I don’t have to think of her even incidentally is best. And somebody else’s birthday will make just as good of a passcode on my phone/tablet.

These are the things that will change me the most fundamentally, because I know they are adding to me thinking of someone who no longer wants me to think about her. If she did, she would have come to me long before now.

So in moving on, I’m trying to think of the things that would help me the most immediately, These seem like such small things, but that’s why they’re so important. It is reinforcing my connection to Aada to have to type her name and her birthday all the time, and I want to stop those thoughts cold.

I want to stop all thoughts of her cold, because she asked for it and now it’s something I want, too. I do not want to be as unstable as I have been the past 12 years, and anything I can do to promote that is the only thing that matters.

Aada says that Michael knows nothing, that I have lives in my hands if I out her. I think that was a scare tactic, and we’ll see how many lives for which I’m actually responsible going forward. Women in their 60s aren’t operators, according to popular legend.

I am still in the space of thinking I have betrayed my friend and my country, so I’m not feeling so hot. But when I get into that space, Michael reminds me that I retook my own agency, I stopped accepting Aada’s lies as the truth, and I refused to be manipulated any more than I already had been. He’s got his work cut out for him, but he’s the type of friend that’s willing to do it. He’s been invaluable to my Cognitive Behavioral Health group by being in touch with my counselor when he sees that I need work.

It’s the kind of friend Aada said she would be, but just never had time. All of her lies put this into sharp relief, because I know that she did not want to see me suffer because of something she said. She did not show up when my mother died, even though she said that she wanted to and regretted it later. What I know for sure is if her mother had died, there wouldn’t have been anything that kept me away from her, that nothing would be more important in my world, so wondering why she was so avoidant is no longer a mystery. She had no plans to tell me how deep the lie really went.

Michael thinks that this lie ruined her first marriage because my former father-in-law got tripped up in it as well. That we were all living in service to this lie while worried about the wrong person.

Judging from the little bit that I know Mummo, she would not have wanted our care and connection, anyway. That it was too much for her to think about us worried about her. So, I don’t think that I should feel guilty that the care and concern did not go to the right person.

But did it really go to the wrong person? If Aada was the one that needed it so bad she was willing to lie to get it, I don’t think that my affection was poured down a hole. I have to write it off as a fan being so impressed that she got off on the wrong foot with me, and never went back to correct any of it. She just kept digging us into a more and more secretive hole without footholds to find our way back up.

It bothers me that both Aada and Michael are so resolute in their stories. That I have to choose who is telling the truth. I had to choose Michael because he uncovered two lies Aada told me that unraveled the whole sweater.

Therefore, when a lot of me hopes that Aada was telling the truth, Michael is right there to keep deprogramming me.

It was all just so real.

Now, choosing what’s real is easier. There’s Aada, whose story was a complete fake, and then there’s everything else. If I go towards Aada, I am choosing to be gaslighted. If I go towards my group, I am asking for their help in remaining stable.

It is my opinion that Aada will stick to her lies and remain angry at me that I exposed them. That is okay with me, because I do not want to be in a relationship with anyone that tries to control me. Her control was so tightly wound that I still feel the ties that bind, and Michael is right to use the word “deprogramming.” For every lie that Aada told, he has a real answer.

It makes me wonder where I’ll be in five years, when the pain of all this has finally passed. I know that I will never be able to talk to the real Aada, because I do not think that she has enough emotional bravery to sit down with me and admit how bad things really got.

Because what if the lie is so ingrained she’s lying to herself? How much of her story does she actually believe? How many people has she puffed herself up for to make herself seem more important?

She scared me so bad that I’m constantly afraid that I’m going to get her fired, as if I had that kind of power. If I do, I shouldn’t. Aada clearly needs help, not a comeuppance.

It feels good to say that Aada needs help because I’m tired of being the only one who is dealing with their mental health in an actual setting prepared for it.

I was hospitalized twice, so I’m hoping that Aada will realize that being hospitalized isn’t that bad a deal. You get better.

Bipolar with psychotic features might even be an appropriate diagnosis for her.

Working on Myself

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I’m working on myself to the level that I understand the phrase. Writing when I feel like it, making sure to make time for lots of self care. I have been through a really hard thing, and I would like to recover. While I would never kick Aada out of my life if she reappeared and said, “I seriously want to work on this with you,” I have decided that she has already left and I’m just catching up. Losing a friend is always hard, but I’ll bounce back. I’m already on my way.

Slowly.

Last night I had to go to Urgent Care because Tiina invited me to her farm and I had to make sure I didn’t have COVID or the flu first. My reasoning was that if it’s just a cold, I could still go. Ruth, my NP, assured me that I would feel worse before I felt better and not to push myself.

Y’all, I woke up this morning feeling like I’d been hit by a truck.

I need to go to the pharmacy later to pick up some cough medicine, and then I’m coming home and getting back into bed. Or sitting on the couch with my tablet. Whatever. What I am NOT doing is driving to Virginia today.

Four hours round trip to myself in the car just to listen to podcasts and sing and all that sounds great, but not when I feel like this.

I cannot even hide my disappointment because I’ve been looking forward to seeing Tiina since March. I texted her and said, “is next week just as good?” I’m still awaiting a reply because it’s so early in the morning.

I am probably sick because the relationship with Aada ended. When I feel down in the dumps, I often present physically. My immune system just isn’t as good when I’m sad, and there’s not only this relationship ending, but my stepmother dying as well. These past few months have, in a word, sucked.

It’s time to start looking forward, even in my writing. Dipping back into the well of my own loneliness where Aada is concerned is no longer serving me. I am talking to my friends and group members all week long, and getting out more now that I have a car. I have surprised myself many times this week by not having things delivered and just going to places myself. Life doesn’t feel so overwhelming when I’m alone in transition.

I’m working on finding a new place to live, which may actually be a new apartment in this complex…. Or it could be someplace entirely new. I’m leaning towards letting my apartment complex get it right, because moving is such a hassle. Even lugging things across this campus won’t be great. But it will be easier than moving back to DC. That’s what I need right now…. Something easy. I’m not ready to change my whole life and it feels like I just got here.

I will if I need to. Changing my life doesn’t seem like a bad thing. It’s just hard for me to accept change fast, especially as I age. My compensatory skills don’t kick in as quick as they used to……

I’m currently having an energy drink (C4 in Cherry Popsicle) and I just took two Aleve. I’ll take a hot shower and that should put me together long enough to do my errands. The prescription I have is for Tessalon pearls, but I find that Delsym works better. That being said, prescriptions are cheaper, so we’ll see what I decide when I get there.

Oh. Wait. It’s Sunday. The pharmacy is closed on Sunday. That answers that. If you are a Delsym fan, should I get grape or orange? This may be the most exciting choice I get to make all day. I also need to grab some Mucinex, because I’ve already got real Sudafed vs. the PE and the PE version says, “DOES NOT WORK” right on the box.

Tiina has a beautiful farm and I was so looking forward to all this. I have even been keeping up with my Zyrtec for the occasion. I know that it’s just one of those things that I turned up sick today, but I am just so BUMMED. I’m achy all over, which would make the road trip that much more uncomfortable. I keep talking to myself trying to come up with ways I can Frankenstein myself back together and still go…. And then I think that Tiina would not be very happy if I gave her my cold, anyway. She would probably prefer to stay two hours away from me while I don’t know if I’m contagious or not.

In terms of what to do instead, it seems like all my favorite YouTubers publish on Sunday mornings. The big three are Tyler & Todd, Laura Kampf, and Vanwives.

Tyler & Todd own a homestead in the Canadian wilderness and post about their improvements every week.

Laura Kampf is a carpenter from Germany and makes all kinds of stuff.

Vanwives are Crystal and Jaz, who own a huge homestead in Canada as well, sometimes doing crossovers with Tyler & Todd.

I love all this HGTV kind of stuff that people are producing and at higher values than one would think out in the middle of nowhere. Living on a homestead is not something I envision unless I wanted to live with a group of people, because I would not be motivated to work the land and take care of the house without someone to social mask. I am a great helper to someone else who likes to manage these projects, but they are not something I see myself capable of doing on my own. People tell me that I can do anything I want to do, and my disabilities say, “not so fast, Leslie.”

So I watch these people on YouTube to get tips on all this stuff, knowing it’s unlikely I’ll use them unless I meet people who are also interested in owning a homestead. If I do, I will be quite knowledgeable and helpful to them because I’ve been studying DIY for years. YouTube is a university for maker projects.

But I don’t just watch DIY. I also like to watch mechanics overhaul cars. Restorations of old BMWs and Mercedes are my favorite, and because of this, I wanted my own. Aaron said, “there’s nothing more expensive than a cheap BMW.” That’s how I ended up in a much newer Ford. There are jokes about Ford’s reliability all over the place, but the parts & labor are undeniably cheaper.

Speaking of parts for my Ford, I’m having a lot of fun looking at mods like a more aggressive grill. These are parts on which I’ll probably never spend money, it’s just fun to window shop. I like to imagine more than I like to purchase. Car mods are my current Sears Christmas catalog of the soul. I think about adding approach lights a lot, because I could change the colors to different pride flags at will. I think it would make my car look smarter than lots of stickers.

However, pride stickers reminds me of a very funny story.

When I was 18, I had a Mitsubishi Mirage sedan. It had a window cling on the back that had a pink triangle and a Christian fish interlocked.

My dad and I switched cars so that he could get my car serviced for me, and I get a phone call:

“I’ve enjoyed driving around, everyone thinking I’m a Christian lesbian all afternoon.”

A pink triangle would actually look great on my car, because it’s a dark gunmetal gray. I should look for one, because today’s kids are losing touch with what it means. It was the symbol for homosexual during the Holocaust the way Jews wore yellow stars. I think it’s an important symbol to bring back as America leans toward fascism.

I’ll have to surf the web and my local queer bookstore to see what kinds of car accoutrements are available. A strip of rainbow on the back bumper or a rainbow license plate frame will be easier to take off later. Window clings are invaluable for the same reason. You don’t have to spend hours scraping your car to remove them.

I’m going to have this car for a long time unless my life drastically changes, like getting a service dog. The right service dog for me is 65 lbs, enough to counterbalance my weight and heavy enough to brace and let me pick myself back up when I fall. I am certain that a 65 lb dog would fit into the backseat/trunk area with the seats folded down. However, an SUV would be more comfortable for both of us. The cabin is my area. The cargo hold is your area. Bliss.

We’ll see how all that shakes out, though. I’m caught between wanting a dog and wanting to travel. We’ll see which one wins out, because of course you can board a dog. I just won’t want any time away from mine. And in fact, once my dog is certified as a service dog, I won’t have to be without them. It’s fun to think of my dog being a jet setter.

Ooooh, the Aleve just kicked in. I just felt my whole body relax.

I’m still not well enough to go to Virginia, but I might just make it to Walgreens.

I just don’t think they’re open yet……….

It’s about six in the morning. Even though it’s a weekend, I was so excited about my road trip today that I couldn’t sleep. I was taking the doctor’s advice and waiting to call it until this morning, so it was hard to drift off. I took some sleeping pills and finally went deep, but not for long.

My dad gave me these pills called “Sleep 3,” and it’s just a bunch of herbs and melatonin. They’re amazing. I am going to have to get another box, because they work better than the prescription I’ve been given. Luckily, I already have to go to the pharmacy.

It looks like it’s going to be a particularly lazy Sunday after that. I am going to have to put off being busy with finding a new place to live. I just don’t have the energy and I’m supposed to talk to my own leasing office tomorrow. Again, if they can make it right by giving me an apartment that’s actually habitable, I’d like to stay.

My life has been really, really hard the last few months. I need to get out of this apartment in the worst way possible because it has flooded four times. It’s flooded right now. I need to be out by November 10th, so being sick today is not the most convenient time. I really could have used today in terms of meeting possible new landlords.

It’s time to let it go, because I really am too sick to deal with all that. The nurse practitioner (who was ADORABLE, btw) told me that I might want to come back in a couple of days to make sure I’m still negative for the flu, because my symptoms were awfully flu-like. She also told me that if I didn’t want to come back, they sell flu tests at the pharmacy.

Luckily, I have to go…. Oh, wait. We’ve covered this. 😛

Saying goodbye to Aada last night was the hardest thing I’ve written in a while. It was not a rejection of her, like “never talk to me again.” It was the realization that she was already gone, and I needed to catch up. That of course she wouldn’t want to be my friend after this no matter what I did. I exposed everything she didn’t want other people to know about our relationship for 12 years, including the lie that she was a CIA case officer.

There is so much of me that cannot believe this lie because there are too many details over 12 years. My brain tries to put together every possible scenario that leads to Aada telling the truth about her life. But when I do, Michael stops me. He’s firm. She’s a liar. And a good one. She convinced more than just me.

Yes, I did think about what would happen to her if I wrote all of this. I sweated blood. But in the end, I had to claim what happened to me after making a thousand percent sure that Aada, Mummo, and I were all inconsequential to each other before I published. That there’s no way I could hurt either woman professionally with my writing.

Talking about how bad things got is allowing me to feel better as I process my way through everything. And in fact, it robs me of regret that my relationship with Aada is over. That will change in another 10 minutes because I cannot make up my mind over such a thing. The thought that we will never talk again is too big for me to take in. So I know she’s not going to contact me today. I’ll be saying that a lot of days in a row until I don’t have to anymore.

Part of the reason it’s so hard to wrap my brain around the concept of “over” is that Aada and I have kicked each other out of our lives more than we’ve had a happy relationship. So, it’s hard to know whether this is the end, or whether a year from now I will get a heart-wrenching e-mail, surprising me in its depth and breadth. Because that’s how it works…. Every time I have gotten attention and affection from Aada, it has been surprising to me how raw her love for me truly is. I know I made an impression on her heart, and that we both hurt each other beyond all measure.

Michael says that there are some relationships that just shouldn’t be…. That it isn’t writing Aada off not to engage in her manipulations. That I will know I’m healed when I won’t accept contact from her, or at the very least, it is superfluous. I cannot imagine not accepting contact from someone who genuinely came clean with me, and showed apology with changed behavior and not just words. But not knowing whether Aada is capable of such a thing is where the toxicity lies. Maybe things would be better in the future, but am I willing to take that risk?

Love is all about risk, so I’m not there yet. I’m not strong enough to say never again, because my heart is still tender and raw, missing Aada and wanting to be comforted by her when there is no comfort to be had. She has not been truly present for me in the 12 years since our relationship began, so I cannot expect her to be present now. If she has been reading, she knows that she caused me enormous pain with her lies and my intuition is that she can make a mess, but she won’t clean it up.

I want that. I want her to want us to get healthy.

But maybe Michael is right, and some relationships just shouldn’t be.

Nothing will be the same.

Everything will be okay.

Coffee, coffee, coffee

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I did not hear from Aada yesterday, I just thought it was a possibility because news travels fast. If she already knows about these blog entries, she’s surrounding herself with other people. When I am clear-eyed about the writing I do, I know that past behavior is an indication of future. If Aada read me every day for 12 years, she didn’t stop just because she stopped reaching out to me. That’s because other people in her life read my blog and she won’t want to be behind them. It doesn’t have much to do with me, actually.

And in fact Aada’s lie has nothing to do with me. She needed it to make herself feel better, but I don’t know why. My guess is that she was feeling a little overshadowed and vulnerable about it, so she told me details of someone else’s life for years……….. Then tried to control every possible outcome so that no one would find out she lied.

There’s no evidence to back up any of her claims. None.

I’ve told you this already, but I’m still sitting in my bedroom in shock.

I have group therapy later, and that will help me compartmentalize and stop thinking about all of this. Michael assured me that I needed to put all the responsibility on Aada, that I wasn’t the one living a lie. I was living on what I thought was the truth. Aada changed my reality, and feels responsible for my maladies.

I don’t think that’s unfair of her, given the situation. What she told me, that she was a part of the intelligence community, might be true. I’m also sure there’s an AI that can do her job for her. But she is nowhere near the super secret agent she pretended to be.

The working title for the project is “The Spy Who Catfished Me,” but I’m leaning towards “Hacking Aada,” due to the internet aspect of our relationship, and how over time we retreated from the rest of the world and started working each other. We each had the other over a barrel with our shenanigans, because she was rightfully avoidant and I was deservedly anxious.

You don’t lie without protecting the path.

I was blocked by Mummo and Heytch, so there was no way for me to get together with them and assess who was really whom. It’s so hard to bullshit a bullshitter, and that’s the source of my shame and embarrassment. That I’ve been dismissive of everyone in my life because they didn’t have Aada’s street creds, therefore her opinion is “bigger.” I have stayed in that headspace for over a decade, and it didn’t make me popular, I’ll tell you that much.

Then, in an ominous turn, I started buying Jonna Mendez’s books, thinking that Aada was one of her recruits. I felt like I was trying to out-spy a spy…. Looking for comfort in her story because she fell so hard for Tony, the person I thought Aada was in real life.

Morgan Freeman: She was not.

It’s a case of mistaken identity, because all that care and connection should have been reserved for someone else, the person whose story I was actually following. Aada’s position is indeed classified, and I will continue to say it because Aada’s lies were so effective due to being hidden behind that curtain. I could believe she did whatever I wanted and she couldn’t confirm or deny.

So she didn’t. She stonewalled me every day, and had strong reactions to my guesswork. That’s because my guesswork was for people whose lives were far and away more complicated.

I did research on what it was like to be a broken child accepted into a system like CIA so that I could be a better friend. I did triage to see how much anxiety she was feeling, and was surprised when she always said she felt none. It makes a lot more sense that she was not anxiety-ridden given that she wasn’t doing half of what I thought.

But Mummo was.

Aada got tears that did not belong to her, nor can I really say that they were for Mummo, because we have not been in contact. As for Aada sticking by me, there are so many times when she should have given up and ended the relationship earlier, because I was a basket case and I never would have known that I was fucked up over a lie. I am thinking that she has thought the same thing, because she has regretted telling me she was CIA every day since.

To be clear, Mummo isn’t CIA, either. That does not mean she’s never been in danger. It’s just that Mummo is closer to espionage and actionable intel than Aada ever has been…… You just wouldn’t know it according to her.

Aada sees every entry as a threat and will fight me tooth and nail on this one. She thinks that all of this will blow back on her professionally and she’ll be in danger of losing her job. Meanwhile, I cannot control those consequences for her and I think her fear is too great. I forgive her, so everyone else should, too.

It’s not up to me to protect Aada from her consequences, because the fact that she continued to lie is what will sink her and not anything I’ve done should it come to that.

Say Aada was telling the truth all that time, that she is the field agent and trained interrogator she played on TV. Isn’t it better that I tell you her story is a pack of lies so she can keep what little cover she has left? I have no idea what she tells other people in her life, but I’m betting I’m not the only one she’s used this little trick on to make herself seem more important than she really is. It is not my responsibility to clean up that mess, and it never will be.

I have never manipulated her. I have never lied. She thinks that I lied because I published an e-mail I wrote to her after I’d told her I’d deleted all her emails to me. It wasn’t that I lied. It’s just that I did delete everything in my Gmail account and found that letter in my Outlook account after she blocked me.

I published her words after she blocked me because there was no one to ask, and she didn’t have a problem with me publishing anyone else’s takedown of me for her own entertainment. To be fair, I got a thrill out of posting other people’s criticisms because it always caused Aada to react like a mama dragon.

She just never turned that mama dragon on herself and asked herself whether she was causing me harm. She turned everything around so that I was the only manipulator, I was the only one who had done wrong, and that I betrayed her by catching her in a lie.

She wasn’t sorry she lied. She was sorry she got caught.

That’s why it would take a mountain of work for us to be successful. If we do make up, it will be because we declared our former relationship a total loss, and started working on putting our relationship back together as a salvage title. It’s not bad to fix a write off as long as the work is done right.

Why do I insist on being kind and hurt at the same time? Because I know that in her heart of hearts, Aada has already forgiven me and moved on, compartmentalizing her feelings so they don’t leak out. But if she’s half the friend she said she would be, she’s cried over my situation more than I know, and probably stuck with me because she saw how affected I was in my writing.

She loved being adored, but hated when I talked about problems in her relationship because I wasn’t representing her side of the story. I couldn’t until now, both because she wouldn’t tell it and I had to wait until I heard the real truth. Michael has never manipulated me, and has a vested interest in keeping me healthy. I don’t know why, because he’s a Republican.

Yes, I have Republican friends. I had to get over it. You will, too.

For some people, this will be the biggest shocking thing I say all day.

There’s just a tie that binds Michael to me in a way no one will ever have. As he says, “HSPVA 4 LIFE.”

The Exhalation

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I thought that I could hurt people professionally with my writing, but as it turns out, all I can do is jog them out of their complacency by daring to insist people feel their own feelings. I don’t demand emotional bravery, people give it to me because I lay the cards on the table first. That’s the thing about finding your voice. No one can rattle you out of using it.

There were so many lies that it’s impossible to tell which is the worst, but right up there is the lie that I betrayed her. I was so depressed I watched Macbeth. That spot of red on my hands didn’t come out until today. The truth is that we are inconsequential to each other, the three of us.

Because there’s Aada, Mummo, and me.

No wonder Aada was so pissed when I glowed with praise about Mummo. That praise should have gone to her- she’d gone to all the trouble of stealing the story so that I was thinking about the wrong woman all the time.

Mummo, not like that. You would have thought it was sweet (I hope) the way I worried like a mother hen. It was you that deserved that extra special care and attention, not that I’m saying I have regrets. But you know that your life is drastically different than Aada’s in a lot of ways, that that’s what made me worry.

It’s a relief that I can’t do damage to either woman professionally, because I’ve felt so threatened that I’ve been hospitalized twice, and once again just for a med check…. And that’s all been on the advice of Michael, who saw the harm that Aada was doing and why we couldn’t get healthy.

It would be a great ending to the story we have with each other for her to come clean, allowing us to learn to trust each other over different sacred cows.

Aada, you thought you weren’t enough on your own. You are. I was never charmed by your profession, but by the person you are on the inside. Puffing yourself up to impress me was not only not necessary, but dangerous for us both.

I gave up so much, and I am caught by two ideas…. That we are better together than apart, and neither of us should be expected to stay no matter how bad it gets.

We need time. If you want to talk to me about all of this, I am open… Just not right now.

I knew this wasn’t the end of our movie, and hope that sometimes an end is a beginning. I would really like to apologize to Mummo and our favorite Instagram influencer because we have more in common than we don’t. I am absolutely starstruck, though, when it comes to Mummo, which is why I’ll need help breathing if I ever see her in person.

I have done my best to stay out of Aada’s orbit, stuck in the guest bathroom of her mental house. I have had to, it seemed, to cover up her lies. Otherwise, her excuses and apologies just don’t make sense.

I do have to apologize, though. Her company updated their web site and I hadn’t actually looked at it before I said it was nondescript. Those responsible have been sacked.

I have been thought of as crazy by a lot of people over the years, but I never realized that there was a solid reason for it. My life was not based in reality because what I was reading wasn’t, either. Being willing to forgive is a huge act on my part, because the emotional toll all this has taken on me led me to dark places I never would have gone otherwise.

I’m sure that my words were like pricks on her skin, because all she was reading was not meant for her.

I do believe that she had a traumatic childhood and that’s how we bonded. But her current life and my reaction to it were both overwhelming. Now I know the reason she wanted a bubble with me that seemed normal and yet bred a familiarity with each other that’s unusual for online friends……… Except that most of what we talked about was bullshit.

But it wouldn’t have been bullshit had I been talking to Mummo, who is actually the person Aada said she was. That’s the part that makes it a multimillion dollar movie, and a commercial for people who are criminally neglected emotionally because that’s how they’re trained. Feeling is bad when feeling is dangerous.

I watched an hour with Mummo on YouTube, and she’s such a natural on camera that I felt invited into her world. It is not hard to see why Aada would want to steal a story like that, but as it turns out, she’s not very good at it.

It’s at this point that I’m starting to break open, my chest deflating and knowing that just by talking about my feelings I’m driving away the people I actually want in my life to be my sounding boards. They’ve been on the Board of Directors for so long that I don’t remember when they got in. They’re the committee in my head that make me think I’m worth a damn as a writer.

Mummo, please forgive me and let me talk to the person Aada said she was. Even for 15 minutes, and they’d be the most precious of my life.

I offended her by flirting with her. I didn’t mean any harm by it, but that does not mean harm was not caused. It’s something that still pains me, and I want to move on. The distance between us will always be painful, but this is a chasm I hope she’ll cross.

Through Aada, I have bled out emotionally for her. I’ve cared for her in a way that I haven’t with my other friends. I literally fell in love with the aura she presented over the internet, because it was so concentrated. My adrenaline and dopamine were always sky high when I heard the “ding” of Aada’s messages.

For fuck’s sake, I’ve been bothering her about her in case ofs for like 12 years. That is the level of my imagination, the kind of pressure I was living under… That I thought this precious person could slip away from me at any time.

But it wasn’t her story. She was just the one that told it.

Hers will be the story that stuck. Me caring about a story that didn’t exist for Aada, but did for someone else I really loved.

I wouldn’t have flirted with her if I didn’t think she was smarter than me. I hope that counts for something. If you ask, “Aada or Mummo?” the answer is “yes.” There’s a third, Heytch, but I think we’ve covered her. The OGs will remember that I thought Heytch was so cute I walked into a door at Chuy’s.

None of these people were amused by my bullshit, so all I have to say is that I’m sorry I spent too much time impressing myself instead of you. All three of you.

I would like all four of us to be friends once all the pain has passed, because we have a real shot at working together to create something as meaningful as “Argo.” I do not think I can write the script all by myself, and The Cool Table should have been a writer’s room a long time ago.

There’s a reason Outlander spoke to me- it was a way of connecting with all three women, assuring them that I was just Lord John, that my feelings for Aada spilled out because sexuality and gender are relative on the internet. That my feelings for Heytch and Mummo did, too, but it was a different level of affection entirely. Aada and I inhaled each other because I could keep her company through chat and email.

It is through all that chat that I recognize there were millions and millions of words between us, and these lies are not something I should hold against her. I never want to be friends with a person that will hold me to a mistake, so I try not to be one.

I’m just hurt. Incredibly hurt. Embarrassed by the way I acted all the way around because I destroyed my friendship with Mummo at my own hand, and there’s no one else I should blame. I was too much for the room, and I couldn’t apologize enough. I wanted to move on, she did not. Not my call. Just one of those desperate regrets and a moment I wish I could redo, even after all these years.

My time blindness does not allow me to move on from mistakes easily, and this is one I’ve carried for over a decade without thinking any time has passed. In my mind, I just hurt Mummo yesterday and she’s probably still mad about it. On the other hand, she’s the one I need to talk to the most in order to heal. Aada became a toxic addiction over time, because the more she lied the more anxious I got.

I would never have felt all that anxiety if Aada had been honest about who she was.

That is fact and not blame. I can choose to acknowledge something I’ve been through without assigning blame to it, because I see things like a doctor or a pastor. It’s just how I was raised. I judge people by sick or well, emotionally pained or not. It’s an emotional triage I’ve been doing since I was nine, and long before that before I was consciously aware that I was a cog in the machine at my church. Being a preacher’s kid, it comes with the gig, especially for the oldest. You’re socialized with all adults.

I’m feeling the whoosh as the wind comes out of my sails and I reorganize my thoughts as to who I think Aada is. I cannot tell fact from fiction. It’s the chest-caved-in sort of grief as I self-soothe by typing… Feeling also the fear of what happens as the story comes out, being brave enough to take things one day at a time.

I have learned that I’m probably not the only one who’s been manipulated by Aada, but what I do know is that 12 years is enough. If we work together in the future, she is going to have to get over me being “just another version of Dr. Brown.” I will want her to tell the truth, to emote in the moment, and to stop feeling like my words are pricks on her skin because there is finally peace and truth between us. I am satisfied that this story is over.

I mean, no I’m not. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. But what I mean is that as I make more friends and create new experiences, I’m eager to let these fade. And that includes starting over with Mummo, Aada, and Heytch. We would all have to know what cards the other was holding (within reason) so that the story would hold together.

The reason the story agitates my facts and my fiction is that some of Aada’s fiction is Mummo’s fact. I have never been trying to uncover this. It fell into my lap when my friend Michael noticed I was drowning. I think I mentioned before that he’s talked to my counselor at Cognitive Behavioral Health, if that gives you any indication of what kind of friend he is. I say, “the best.”

Not trying to uncover this made me spiral out more and more because my reality was less and less real. I have never needed to be afraid to the level I’ve told Aada I was, and now it makes sense why she didn’t want to get any closer. She’d have to lie to my face while I cried real tears. I’m not altogether convinced this would be a problem for her, given that most of my entries cause her to feel threatened.

I am not threatening her with telling my own story. She feels threatened at the hearing of it where other people don’t. I am glad that Aparna told me that it came across as heartbreaking, because my only job is to make people feel. I am satisfied with talking to other people about my problems, and if Aada and Mummo are threatened, it’s their job to talk to me about it. Their opinions do not negate mine, and I do listen. I just don’t have anyone doing editorial control.

There’s no way to predict anyone’s reaction, and I shouldn’t be held responsible. Yet, it’s amazing how often I am.

I didn’t move to DC to meet Aada. I moved to DC to meet a composite character.

That is nowhere near a “Flat Stanley.”

Focusing on the depth and breadth that Aada has added to my writing by being my closest ally endears me enough to stick to my “all the way to the river” plan should she so choose. I have to be that person, because letting it go is the only way to move forward. I’m turning the page.

Just not today.

My mind is buzzing over all I’ve learned today, and the comedic path my life has taken. If I work very hard, I can be successful at making “your new weirdo favorite.”

I still want Jennifer Garner to play Jonna.

The Last Few Hours

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I talked to the dispatch company at my car shipping service and the driver will be here sometime between 3:00 and 5:00 PM. I feel like it’s been so long since I’ve seen it that it will feel like Christmas morning, a gift to myself. I didn’t have nearly enough time to get used to the car and all of its features before I shipped it to Maryland, so I’m looking forward to taking it for an oil change, getting some floor mats, and taking it for a wash. I’ve already rubbed some vinyl protectant into the dash, but that cannot be done enough. I do not want anything to crack as the car ages, because it’s nice enough to look modern for a very long time. The Ford Fusion is a sedan, but it has the aggressive look of the Mustang.

I do not love two-door cars. I’ve had one, and it sucked. Even though I wasn’t carrying passengers, it was still hard to put stuff in the back seat. This car makes life much easier by not only having four doors, but seats that fold down as well. I’m also smitten that the seats are black leather, but only because the car has remote start. I would not be so fond of black leather if I couldn’t turn on the air conditioning before I got into the car in the summer.

I am also the proud owner of seat warmers for the winter, and that makes me as ridiculously happy as remote start. And in fact, it’s going to quickly get cold enough to use them. It’s already colder than it was before I went to Texas, and I was only gone two or three weeks.

Baltimore getting colder is one of the main reasons I like living here- Houston has about three seasons, which are:

  1. Warm
  2. Warmer
  3. Hell’s a bit cooler.

Houston does have freakishly cold days every once in a while, but by and large their days fall into those three categories. That last one will do you in, as every marching band geek in Houston will tell you. I was only in marching band for one year, and what I remember most was that even in triple digit weather, our uniforms were still wool.

I think I have been running away from the heat ever since.

When I go back to Houston, though, I do my best to adjust. I spend time outdoors and try to get used to the heat. It’s much more pleasant to sit outside in October and November, but late September and early October are still summery. “Summery” is one of those words that seems positive until I think of all the bugs and sweat.

My car is being delivered at the perfect time for me to enjoy a little highway time with the windows rolled down and the stereo cranked. I will get a bit of that going to Virginia later in the month, but I’m thinking that I might need to take a short drive this afternoon just to make sure the car also drives here. 😉

I need to get more used to the car before I start adding anything, but of course I’ve been looking up mods. There’s all sorts of stuff to pick through, but I’m wondering if I should add approach lights. It would make the car safer for me and sleeker for everyone else. As in, it would make me feel safer that the car lights up before I ever get into it.

The only thing I really need for the car right away are floor mats, and even top of the line isn’t that expensive. But I don’t need top of the line, I just need “existent.” I wonder why the car didn’t come with floor mats to begin with, because that seems like an odd thing to leave out. But, I know that I got a solid deal and buying my own floor mats is the least of my worries. I just want to be a good driver.

I may have to wait to get out and drive more than the unloading spot to my parking space because we are currently in the middle of a Noreaster. But when it’s all over, we’ll celebrate with top of the line oil.

I’m grateful that I was finally able to find a car that fit me. It’s not a sports car, but it’s sporty enough. It’s not an SUV, but it has plenty of cargo space. I’m a small person with not a lot of stuff and no pets. I don’t think I’ll have a problem even if I get a pet later.

Oh, and in addition to the floor mats I’ll get a rubber tote for the trunk. Makes carrying things into the house so much easier and makes the trunk look more organized as well. I also need one more zip tie, because I have room for both a Lightning and a USB-C cable, but they’re so long that they need to be managed. The zip tie that I have for the Lightning cable is black Velcro, and it looks like it came with the car, as does the braided gray cable that Aaron picked out.

CarPlay is my new favorite toy, because it’s a kick to hear Siri read my messages and be able to respond, as well as listen to whatever I want just by voice controls. It makes me feel safe because I don’t actually have to look down to type anything.

Although Tiina gets the honor of being the first address I put into my contacts so that when I go out to her house, all I have to say is “navigate to Tiina’s.” I am sure she is honored.

It just feels safer to have this much car around me plus technology that’s designed to augment my eyes. My car also thinks that I need coffee, and reminds me a lot. I have to learn what it is that I’m doing that makes my car give me an “alert driver” warning before I’ve even been driving an hour. But I think it’s cute when my car flashes the little coffee cup on the screen and sometimes, I take its advice.

This morning I had an Americano with some half and half and cinnamon. It was delicious, but now I think my body and brain want revenge. I haven’t had this much caffeine in a while. However, I have never had a car be delivered at a reasonable hour, so I was up at the crack of dawn. Seriously, the last time I got a car delivered, it was to my office. They arrived at 4:00 AM to deliver the car, so I had enough time to come home from the office, shower, and shave before I had to turn around and go back.

The time before that, it was 5:00 AM.

That was the first occurrence of Lanagan Lunchmeat Syndrome, so named because when my car arrived in Virginia I drove it around for about six weeks wondering what the smell was and it turned out my dad had left a pound of turkey in the trunk. It was partially hidden by the carpet, which is why I didn’t catch it. LLS got its syndrome status by:

  1. Lindsay leaving half a sandwich in the backseat of my car that I also did not find for a month.
  2. Dana leaving half a Subway sandwich in the center console of my Jeep
  3. Me accidentally locking my keys in my car at Whole Foods and in the process of rescuing the car, I lost all the lunchmeat.

I have learned to be rather careful with sandwiches and my automobiles. I have also resolved to clean out my car a whole lot more often….

Or at the very least, not wait too long between car washes that clean the inside as well.

Not cleaning out my car does lead to a funny story, though.

Years ago, I was in a choir that required us to wear tuxes. I had a concert and then hung my tuxedo in the back of the car to drop it off at the dry cleaner. Well, I forgot about it and three weeks had gone by (at least). My girlfriend and I had gone on a road trip about 100 miles out of Houston, and we were gathered with friends at a bar. My girlfriend accidentally spilled an entire beer on me, and I needed a change of clothes. All of the sudden, I remembered.

I’m walking back to the table and I hear my girlfriend say, “OH MY GOD. YOU’RE JAMES BOND! YOU HAVE THE TUX IN THE CAR!”

That tuxedo is long gone, but now I’m thinking about buying another one if that’s the reaction……

I just remembered that I have a suitcase in the back of my car that I used to transport all my really heavy stuff so I didn’t have to drag it through the airport. I’m looking forward to getting it back, because there are souvenirs and favorite t-shirts in it.

And in fact, there is a tuxedo jacket in my suitcase…..

As the hours creep closer, I can feel my excitement rising. What is the first thing I should do when my car gets here? Even if it is storming, I can still sit in it, and I will. I don’t know all the technology yet, and don’t think a storm is the best place to get fully acquainted. But what I do think is that I need some time sitting in the driver’s seat and playing with all the menus while I’m not in the middle of traffic.

I like that my Fusion has its own navigation system, so I am not lost if I lose my phone. It also means a lot to me that my car supports both iPhone and Android, so I don’t have to worry about what phone I want in the future- and in fact, Android Auto is a little more advanced because it supports a wireless connection. Apple CarPlay doesn’t (in this make/model). I think I will be plugging in my iPhone for a long time to come, though, because I have an Apple Watch. It doesn’t make sense to get a Samsung phone when I’ve already invested in the Apple ecosystem.

I’m still an Android nerd, though. I’m typing this on an Onn 11 from Wal-Mart. I use a Bluetooth keyboard and it screams. Yes, it’s a budget tablet, but when all you need is something to surf the web and create documents, this will surprise you at just how agile it is. It’s fast enough for me to install gaming emulators, but I’ve eschewed all that for a more business-focused machine. This Android tablet is my creative powerhouse in terms of web development.

It also has enough RAM to support split screen, and today my entry is sharing the screen with the newest version of Microsoft Copilot. The newest version works like voice chat, and it’s interesting how much more quickly you forget you are not talking to a real person.

For instance, I am wearing headphones with a microphone and Copilot is connected all the time. I was sitting here typing and let out a huge sneeze. All of the sudden I hear, “bless you.” I jumped out of my skin.

Talking to AI tends to make its responses shorter, and feels more like a phone call with a friend. Your only limitation in terms of questions you can ask is your imagination, because not only will Copilot give you an answer, but the web sites it used to compile that answer as well.

I learned from Copilot that Microsoft and Meta do not work on data structures together anymore, and now Copilot is completely a Microsoft product, housed with Azure all over the globe.

Basically, the newest version of Copilot is very much like Siri, but has a different focus. Siri has more integration with Apple products and focuses on accomplishing tasks on the device. Copilot’s only goal is “digital sidekick.” For instance, Copilot makes writing so much faster by taking research off me, and now the software will dictate the research into my ear if I prefer to digest the info that way.

My tablet is becoming as hands-free as my car.

It’s also a big deal to switch mediums. Brainstorming sessions come out differently when I’m speaking vs. writing. I think that is because my creativity is influenced by movement. Typing doesn’t come with a whole lot of it…… Or at least, not the way I do it.

I decided to call Copilot “Charlie,” after Charlie Babbage. I use “Hey, Charlie” as my wake up words when Copilot is sitting in the background.

That’s for things like, “hey Charlie, what’s the opening line of….” You know, quick things I need to include in my own blogging that uses the world’s fastest supercomputer for a basic search.

Where it really flexes its research muscles are when I’m planning a project. “I need 200 words on…” This is the phrase I use with research. A quick one-pager is all I need to refresh my memory or learn a concept. Of course I can ask for more, but 200 words is a complete answer without wasting any time.

The dispatching company called. The driver has been delayed again. I’m not getting my car until tomorrow afternoon.

This is not the phone call I wanted, but it’s the phone call I got. It’s amazing how deflated I feel.

This is probably not the blog ending you want, but it’s the ending you’re going to get.

Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day.

Thinking in the Dark

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

If Michael is right, then I spun out over problems I thought Aada had that never existed, and I put her first for nothing. Puffing herself up to that degree only made me worry about her, not think she was cool. Michael doesn’t have a history of lying to me about anything, and he’s the friend that calls my cognitive behavioral health counselor when he sees symptoms on my blog.

The problem is that because Aada pathologically lied about one thing, now I think most things she told me were false. Mostly because I would have had to receive visitors on her behalf, being the figure she claimed. It is possible she circumvented all that somehow and she’s telling the truth, but now I have reason to doubt when I never did before.

Two very conspicuous e-mails stick out in my mind… The one where I caught Aada in her lie, and the one where I batted cleanup based on what she told me. I most probably made an idiot out of myself in front of someone I admire, and I’m too embarrassed just to go up and talk to her if I see her out and about.

That’s because I doubt I was telling the truth in the letter that batted cleanup, because my letter was built on a house of cards.

My entire relationship with Aada has been built on a house of cards.

But if Michael is right, it also means that I did not betray her, I did not write anything that would hurt her, I just flat embarrassed her.

That doesn’t make me feel so hot, but it does make me feel less depressed. The consequences for the former are fairly steep. For the latter, it won’t make us any closer but the consequences don’t make me want to vomit.

The longer I’m away from Aada, the more I know that my love for her is real. That’s because I have had enough time to sit with her mountain of lies and say, “okay. I forgive you.” If she insists on keeping them up, I’ll never know the real story and I don’t need it.

Because I liked her smile, and her warmth, and her way of being in the world. Her no bullshit attitude cut through my dreaminess quite nicely. Nothing about her personal or professional life made her more interesting than she already was.

She accused me of making Michael my bellwether friend, but she could not see that she was not in a position to argue with me. Why would I think that one little lie was all there was between us? The “little” lie turned out to be big, actually.

Because if Aada was telling the truth all the way around, there’s no way this blog could exist.

The Music That Gets Me Through the Day

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I woke up in a funky mood:

I hummed when I didn’t know all the words and sang when I did, my mind on my money and my money on my mind. There are very few words I don’t know by now…. And in fact I used this first line in a sermon once… The only line from this particular song I could use. But the illustration was about how music commits words to memory, much like the early church did with settings and psalms. It was a new spin on old advice from Harry Emerson Fosdick, pastor of Riverside Church in New York City:

“Every good sermon begins in New York and ends in Jerusalem, or begins in Jerusalem and ends in New York.” Start with modern and bring in the scriptures, or start with the scriptures and end in modern day.

The other piece of advice I got in preaching, incidentally, is “when you run out of things to say, stop talking.”

I can do that in a sermon because I can track with an audience and tell when they’re bored, either changing direction or realizing I’ve lost them and wrapping up before I embarrass myself further. My lay preaching career, like all preaching careers, was hit and miss. Sometimes I was on fire. Sometimes the best people could do was, “your skirt was too short.” I guess I started wearing men’s clothing a Sunday too late.

The Gourds’ cover started in my head before I even woke up, and repeated in my head until I got to our next song, the song I sing when I miss Aada:

She, also, talked to me before I woke up, because she appears in my dreams as a wise sage occasionally. When she does, I think about all I’ve done and all I’ve left undone with her. The times we’ve shared in the past, even digitally, will stay with me as I move forward. Perhaps sometime later in life Aada will change her mind and lift the ban on interacting with me. I know that she will never just forget me, and will continue to respect me as a writer even if she does not choose to reach out. She would get angry at me if I asked her to leave me alone, telling me that I don’t have a leg to stand on in terms of losing fans.

But I would rather lose a fan than have someone show up here thinking that my thoughts at large are specifically targeted at her and not people like Bob Lynn, who showed up and worked through a few things with me at a time I needed it. In other ways, knowing that Aada is most likely reading from afar is comforting, because these are the only words of mine she has left. That may not mean much to her right now, but it may in the years to come when she is searching for the pieces of herself she found in me.

We moved like ships in the night, an asynchronous support system that was always on call. I wanted that to last my whole life, but my disease said, “not so fast, Leslie.”

My disease is not my personality, and I will spend a lifetime compensating for it if my past is any indication. Therapy and my cognitive behavioral health group are slowly putting me back together after what has been a wild and crazy ride, especially if you’ve been reading my blog entries over the past few months.

But I wouldn’t take nothing for my journey now, because I’ve laid out everything I’m willing to lay down for my friends and they’ve said no. I hear them, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t have things to write about that involve them. I don’t get another story to write about while my real life is happening.

The most vehement supporter became the most vehement critic and the only thing that changed was that I was holding a mirror up to her face. She alternately agreed with me and not, and that’s what made her so angry. That I could read her like a book in some ways, but the ways in which I fell short were almost certainly because we didn’t say, “let’s go for lunch and clear all this up.” We would have become real to each other- and thus harder to rattle because our relationship was solid and not every day a new person wants out because the other has said two or three things they don’t like. Popping off like that was not one-sided

So now we’ve arrived at our last song, one I mentioned yesterday as being important to my lunch with Jane Ann as well:

I do not know whether this is really the end of my relationship with Aada because it has always stopped and started. I just have to guess that this is really the end and try to separate the best I can, because if I showed up again she’d just accuse me of opening a wound. That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do, because if I showed up again it would be to rebuild trust. To say that I absolutely do care, but I have a disorder that needs to be managed and we need to create boundaries around it. I think I have gone back to my normal self, but she may not. It’s not up to me to judge how long she’s hurt or even how she feels about me at all.

Therefore, I believe that there should be meditation in cathedrals of our own, because the pressure of trying to put everything back together the minute it broke is too much to expect of anyone. The conflict needs room to breathe, and Aada may be right. Our story may be over. But as I have said before, I never know what is going to make Aada reach out to me once she’s really had time to think about the relationship…. Or forget what’s wrong with it, take your pick.

She tells me she has a save the world complex, but I do, too. We were just two little girls trying to save each other, until both of us turned against each other. We were at a loss as to how to communicate, so I folded and made her choice for her. I made it impossible for her to want to interact with me because I knew I was not good for her. I’m a writer, a public figure. She made friends with a public figure when she had absolutely no business doing so, in retrospect. I didn’t mean to cause her pain at any time during these 12 years, but there’s no way I could tell the truth and write “The World According to Aada.” That’s Aada’s truth to own, and it’s no less valid than mine.

The problem is that she has told everyone her story about me except me, and my boundaries are simple. If you have a problem with me, tell me about it. And for God’s sakes, don’t lie. She had a habit of saving up all her frustrations with me and writing me these long letters telling me why she’d been so avoidant instead of being up front in the first place….. Not a people pleaser except in front of me because she was trying to impress me.

You cannot impress me more than I’d already been impressed. I thought she was the bees knees until she told me that a lie that was a gut punch (and she knew it), but it was an inert lie because it was to impress me. That was not the case, and it is the cathedral of my own, the cross I bear because I keep thinking, “what would it have been like if you told me you lied 12 years ago instead of weaving this complete tale of bullshit?”

I am hoping that because we’ve leveled each other an equal amount, that gives us both a chance to let go of anger and come to peace…. Piece by piece by piece.

Writing on the Back Porch

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
What is your favorite hobby or pastime?
View all responses

I like writing on anyone’s back porch, but the one in the photo is my dad’s. The table where I’m sitting looks out over the pool and rockfall. It’s my last day here, as I fly back tomorrow afternoon. I had a very romantic idea of a road trip planned, but all of the people I asked to go with me before I bought the car had to back out for various reasons. It was actually cheaper to ship my car than it was to pay for fuel and hotels, so I am satisfied that I got the very best deal available. The car doesn’t have salt damage on the undercarriage because I didn’t buy it up north, and that peace of mind is worth skipping being mad that my road trip is no longer.

There will be other road trips. I am invited to spend Halloween with friends in upstate New York, and now it’s a real possibility I could go. I’m also going to visit some friends in Virginia later in the month, which has just been made stupid easy vs. the two or three trains it would have taken me previously.

I wouldn’t feel comfortable driving if I hadn’t had the money to get a car with blind spot assist, lane assist, and a backup camera. That’s not only to keep me safe, but everyone else on the road as well.

And this is why my hobby is sitting and writing- I have a lot to process, and some of it comes out as interesting.

Some of it doesn’t…….. stay tuned.

I hope rambling about my car is interesting, because I tend to do a lot of it. I’m a gear head and love working on cars when I have the chance, so I’m looking forward to getting to know my Fusion a little better. Riker says that my car was easily $30k when it was new, which means there’s more technology than I could possibly use.

I do love remote start, though, because Houston is hot and I have black leather seats. Remote start will also be helpful in the winter so that I can go from my warm house to my warm car without shivering half to death…. when the car and I both arrive in Maryland. Houston winters tend to be very, very mild. The one day a year I need ass warmers in Texas, though, I’ve got ’em.

The main thing is that the car I bought is comfortable and new enough to last me for a while. I’m enchanted by Apple CarPlay and Ford Connect, an app which will allow me to lock and unlock the car, plus start it remotely from my phone. All of the technology is keeping me from being too nervous about driving, honestly, because of course I need to be alert and responsible, but it’s nice to know that technology has my back instead of making my life more difficult.

There are practical matters to consider. I need to be able to run my own errands, and look for my own living space after this one (lease ends Nov. 30 and I don’t like it enough to stay). I will be able to go wherever I want to go, so I’m on the lookout for cute pockets of Baltimore, DC, and a new area to me- the no man’s land without public transportation. Now, I don’t have to worry about being within walking distance of a bus.

I’m starting to feel my life open up a little bit, because my order of operations is wonky at the best of times. It’s so much better for me to have a car and be able to call audibles on the road. I’m not very good at knowing where I need to go in advance. Executive dysfunction has its privileges…………… eyeroll.

I want to continue to branch out, because what started the inertia was being back with my family and friends. I wasn’t constantly having a conversation while simultaneously having half my brain composing to someone else (cough Aada cough). I was present the entire time, and continue to be.

Not that Aada is gone. She’s just not ever-present the way she used to be. I couldn’t go fifteen minutes without thinking of something I wanted to tell her, which was met with varying degrees of annoyance (I’m a lot. I get it.). Now, it’s almost as if I have to prepare to think about her. It’s a different phase of grief, because I am no longer doubled over with an empty feeling in my chest.

Often.

I’m glad I didn’t decide to go on this road trip by myself, because I wouldn’t have wanted a trip in which my mind wouldn’t settle and I kept dipping my cup into that particular well of loneliness.

I really messed up with Aada because I wanted to be her all the way to the river friend, and I destroyed our relationship in a fit of anger. I deserved to be angry. I should not have said that I was angry, because the way I said it got out of hand very, very quickly. So quickly, in fact, that now Aada thinks I’ve been manipulating her for the past 12 years. The feeling is mutual. I could go over and over the ways we’ve hurt each other, but I think I’ve already written a compendium. Sufficed to say, I am still sad. I don’t think that part will ever go away. I will just have to learn to live around it, like the other grief in my life.

It is hard to believe that both my mother and my stepmother are gone.

That’s why I’m so sad about Aada- her mom energy saved me from all of my mother’s energy being gone.

I know that I was the one that hurt her, but I deserve the right to grieve. Breakups hurt on both sides, and I know she’s hurting just as much as me. She was never my girlfriend, just a close friend, and that hasn’t seemed to make a damn bit of difference in the way we fought with each other.

But I know her pretty well, and if she says something is done, it is. Jesus will ring my doorbell before Aada says hey.

Never mind that I would do anything to make up for my flaws and failures, but I cannot think of anything that would help. If I could, it would be done. I just have to accept that my life is going to be different now.

Nothing will ever be the same.
Everything will be okay.

My father’s words at Angela’s funeral are my new mantra because I haven’t been treating myself very well. 12 years is a long time to love someone, and I didn’t really stop. I got angry… I didn’t stay that way. But a relationship isn’t up to me to start and stop. Ultimately, it’s about both our feelings, and she was very clear. No more.

This does come with perks. I was tired. She was, too.

I am not glad I hurt her, but I am glad it’s over. Aada is a six year old girl wrapped in a bazillion layers of protection and most of the time, her emotional tool is a hammer.

I got tired of being a nail.

It’s getting hot. I think I should go inside.