Tag: life

When You Steal a Story, Part II

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

“Comedy equals tragedy plus time.”

I’ve been invited to look at my story as a screwball comedy in terms of a movie. I think it could work, but I’d want it to be in the same vein as “Argo.” There’s too much seriousness in the story to make jokes all the time, but black humor has always been a pressure valve for both of us. If it’s going to have my voice, it’s going to be a “dramedy.”

That’s because there’s too much intrigue and mystery, even for one movie. Our relationship lasted 12 years and contains a historical figure. It has all the makings of your next weirdo favorite.

I was catfished by someone I knew, who used bits of someone else’s story to augment her own… And her accomplishments are large, so part of the mystery is why she felt the need to steal someone else’s story in the first place.

I was charmed by her forceful, no bullshit attitude and the softness she reserved, it seemed, only for me. I’ve been attracted to that my whole life, and her personality swallowed me whole. I think she liked having someone admire her that much, but I cannot tell her story for her. This is only my version of the truth, missing its rightful other side.

I could not see her manipulations while she accused me of manipulating her. I cannot tell you how much this web of lies affected me, the part of my life even I had trouble embracing because it was filled with fear. I can honestly say that I’ve walked through the dark with her, and I have come out on the other side.

Even now, I’m willing to forgive all her lies because it made me a better writer in the end. I got interested in a topic and just ran with it, posting about the intelligence community as if I were a part of it. Michael says that shame and embarrassment shouldn’t take up real estate in my head, so I’m offering that grace to Aada as well.

She is forgiven, utterly and completely. That does not mean that I think I’m the only one that should be examining how things are going psychiatrically and psychologically. She has told me that I was the topic of an emergency therapy session like it was all my fault and I needed help, that I’d spent years manipulating her and she was going to block me on everything and never contact her again.

This worked out for her, because it meant that she would never have to face the music of real conflict in a friendship…. Though it would not surprise me if I heard from her today. I laid down a truth that she wasn’t prepared for me to know a few months ago, and I doubt has made progress on that issue.

I called her on a huge lie, and then mentioned it a few days later. Her reaction was that I could never talk about this lie again because it was so inert. It was so inert that it made me block my favorite author on Facebook and block other people in my life so they’d never question that decision. It was so embarrassing that I could still just cry thinking about it, but I look forward to the day when the screenplay is done.

Lanagan Media Group needs a project to rally around, and this movie might get it done. But it comes at a cost, and that’s possibly hurting two women I adore. I just have to hope that they speak money.

My feelings for Aada, strangely, haven’t changed at their core.

It wasn’t her story. But she was the one that told it.

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.

Diversion

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I’ve started getting so many hits from Aada’s physical location that I have let go of the idea that she’s reading. She can’t be that many people at once, and she told me that she was trying to wean herself off of my writing. It is time to believe her. That means a cognitive shift on my part in some ways; there needs to be even more separation than there has been previously, and I need to cultivate experiences and make memories that do not involve checking my email to see what Aada thinks first. I am happy to be out from under her gaze, because it was too intense at times, not strong enough at others.

I am still very much in love with the idea of Aada and tripped up by the reality. The reality is that I behaved badly and I do not deserve her. If she lifts the ban on talking to me, it will not be due to anything but grace and time doing their magic. It’s time for me to move on and be re-wired to connect with other people. It’s been difficult branching out from being tethered to my computer. I have trouble multitasking, so I was rarely on the go when Aada and I were talking.

In a lot of ways, she couldn’t sit down and I couldn’t stand up.

The only part I’m responsible for is understanding that statement from an “I” perspective. Why couldn’t I make her comfortable enough to relax? What would make that better if the same situation presented itself in another relationship? Why couldn’t I relax? The answers to all of those questions swirl in my stomach because I screwed up this relationship on day one.

The good thing about the relationship being over is that I have a chance to regroup. I have done enough grieving, and memories will always come; I’m determined not to shut them away as if Aada never existed. That would be counter to my personality. But I do want more to happen in my life than sitting at my computer waiting for someone to email me.

That was a possibility, before she lied and I exploded. It would have been a blast to pick Aada up on my way to Tiina’s, because Aada has questions only Tiina could answer. Plus, Aada and Tiina have similar sensibilities and I would choke with laughter for hours at both of them.

But I can look at all of that as past, knowing that Tiina and I will have a great time on our own. 

Nothing will be the same; everything will be okay.

I have changed enough to realize that I can welcome energy into my life, but I cannot control it. I also cannot control whether people stay in my life or go. I need to do the best I can do at being open, ready to receive what comes. 

Today is Sunday, the most relaxed I’ll be all week. What’s sitting with me is that I am very lonely and I did this to myself. I rejected Aada, she did not reject me. I overreacted when she finally told me that she’d been lying to me for quite some time. Even at my most relaxed, I am obsessed with going back in time and undoing that overreaction. 

But there’s no undoing it, there’s only understanding it.

I don’t understand it, either. I am mystified by my own behavior. I don’t know what I was expecting to get out of losing a friend, but it wasn’t this…. This deep, empty feeling that says, “yeah… She lied. You were still an asshole about it, though.” Because here is what I know…

Aada may be staying away because she wants to reach out and knows it isn’t good for her in the long run. I respect that more than she knows, and maybe things will look different after she retires. I doubt it, but I can pray.

I didn’t know I needed such brakes around me regarding our relationship, and my freakout is not one that deserves to be forgiven. I also hope that as Aada explores herself, she finds ways to empathize with me rather than to be angry. I am certainly feeling that way myself- no longer angry at anything that Aada has done, but berating myself for the way I acted. Feeling empathy for all she’s been through in our tumultuous relationship because she’s never met the real me. She’s met the persona that comes across in chat.

Those personalities aren’t separate, but different facets.

In some cases, my words needed to be backed up by a facial expression, or I needed to hold my tongue after seeing hers.

When you take all that away from a serious relationship, you end up with two keyboard warriors hell-bent on being right.

When what I wanted with her was something much more tender, always. Hers is a very strident love, and I didn’t know what to do with it. Everything came across as trying too hard.

It doesn’t feel so hot to be me, because Aada is out of my life but not far from my thoughts. I am in the unenviable position of having lots of love and nowhere for it to go, the main reason I want to start reaching out to churches and service organizations. The connection that I wanted to nourish with Aada being broken leaves room for an amazing amount of connection with people in need.

I just cannot express how much I wish I could go back in time, saving myself from my own stupidity. Her last email to me was full of conjecture that I could not clear up because she blocked me, not wanting a return reply.

I haven’t emailed her since, because my thoughts about her are the only thing left to clean up. 

I have started looking at her picture because it allows me to cry. I’ve been too staid about all this and I think that’s because she became ethereal to me. The picture I have is all-natural complete with bedhead, and so beautiful that tears leak down my face whether I’m prepared or not.

I am sorry for her that because we somehow still have mutual friends there will always be an element of “ARE YOU OKAY? HAVE YOU READ LESLIE’S BLOG RECENTLY?” to her life. And, I say, “always,” but realistically she will fade just like all the other people who have left my life, I just can’t see it right now. She’s left and come back so many times that I do not have the guts to believe that this is the end of our movie. Not with any conviction, anyway. This time feels more final than the others, but my body memory says to not do anything, just wait and see.

She knows I’m sorry because I’m always sorry. I pop off and regret in a spectacularly neurodivergent fashion. She should not be expected to stay no matter how bad it gets. Neither should I. We spent over a decade manipulating each other with our anxious/avoidant connection and Aada has one therapy session and decides I’m the only manipulator in the room. If that is her opinion, it is better for us to stay separate. I feel that there is a shared responsibility in the destruction of our relationship, and it was limping before Aada lied.

It all happened too fast. I wish Aada had told me about her lie in person, away from the Internet. I think I would have had a better handle on everything rather than being alone in my bedroom, where my anger took hold. But more than that, I wish that I’d been able to hold my shit together without any prompting from Aada at all.

It’s a question that makes me sit in the dark, even on Sundays.

What prompted this magnificent shift in anger, and why didn’t you breathe? Why didn’t you use any coping mechanisms? Why didn’t you go for a walk?

I could have saved my relationship with Aada so that it could have blossomed over time into exactly what I wanted. She thought my daydreams of doing nothing together were cute, and told me so. But she didn’t want to introduce me to her family and she didn’t want to get together with my friends, so this bubble on the Internet was where it had to begin and end. It was unfair to us both, and yet let both of us have a space to let loose, as well. Aada told me that it was nice to be able to let her hair down, and did not listen to me that I needed help to cope after she did it. Her life is unusual and so is mine, but in opposite directions.

We could have worked together, but neither one of us really had time for that. Aada already has a job, she cannot handle my production schedule on top of it. I was looking forward to working together later in life, but I do not think that Aada has any patience for any of my foolishness. I’m not sure I have patience for hers, either.

Our ideal relationship with each other always fell short in reality because Aada was so terse with me and I was so long-winded with her.

It is giving me energy to know that not writing to her is giving me more to write here, but there will always be a part of me that feels her in the room when I’m writing- the muse that doesn’t talk back.

Or when she does, it’s compiled scripts of things she’s already said that run through my mind. The way she curses, in particular.

I don’t want to be a sad sack that keeps waiting my whole life for nothing that materializes, but that’s how it feels right now. I know I have done wrong and there is no reason to expect that I will hear from Aada or anyone who knows her ever again. But there’s an Aada quote that runs through my mind, always:

“Rule following gets you nowhere in my line of work.”

That’s what she said the last time I was surprised she bothered to be friends with me.

Maybe something I say down the line will convince her that we have a shot at something real if we start very small.

And maybe that is just wishful thinking… But I have to keep reminding myself that the best indication of future behavior is past behavior.

She’s pushed me out of her life with this much vehemence before. I have returned the favor.

When do we get to go back to being two broken little girls that need each other? We are both in the process of reparenting ourselves. We have a lot more work to do if we are willing to give each other the grace love requires from now on. The past has to stay the past.

I feel like I’ve said this same thing a lot, and my time blindness is starting to show. I am allowing myself to spin out here so I don’t spin out in real life. As in, being alone with my thoughts is one thing. Having emotions in front of people is not always easy for me.

It’s also good for me to know that I can err and I am still deserving of love. I have talked openly about how I ended this relationship, that my anger was its downfall. I wish I could go back to 2013 and tell myself what will happen if the relationship with Aada continues unchecked. I was so full of brain feel-good chemicals that I don’t know that I would have listened to me.

I ask myself all the time if it was worth it, and the answer I always get is “yes.” There are just so many things I could have done to make it more worth it. There are so many less things I could have done that made Aada uncomfortable.

The bitch of it is that I know she loves me in her own way because we’ve shared too much not to feel some affection in both directions. It’s that love isn’t enough. Broken trust is broken trust. She lied. I exploded. My explosion was not a proportionate response.

She cannot trust it will not happen again. I gave her no choice.

I wish I could do everything right, always giving Aada the ability to feel safe. I failed in the most spectacular of ways, and it’s the hugeness of that weight bearing down on me that makes me, as my sister would say, “lethargic.” There’s not a lot of difference between lethargy and grief.

I move slower when I’m sad. That’s all. When I have reason to be happy, I move a lot faster.

That’s why Aada is gone, and my brain is still catching up.

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.

In Some Ways, I’m Still Waiting

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
When was the first time you really felt like a grown up (if ever)?
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The curiosity of the neurodivergent brain, to me, is that we do not age. Patterns repeat, but memories are organized differently due to time blindness. Events that seem more important are closer at hand, no matter what year they occurred. Events that are of lesser significance feel further away, even if they happened more recently. Dates and times become muddled quickly, which is why we seem like we’re “lying.” Our brains don’t often have the recall to say what we were doing at a particular date and time because it’s a crapshoot that we even know what day and time it is.

But, of course, other neurodivergent people will have to comment on their own brains to know if this is especially universal or I’m just an unusual patient. But I don’t think so. I’ve heard about these symptoms from too many people to think I’m special.

Because significant events far in the past seem close at hand, we have no friendship degradation mechanisms. If Aada and I reconnect later in life after enough time to breathe and let the hurt heal, we will be as close as we were 12 years ago because there’s nothing in my brain to say we won’t. I will remember most conversations forever and they will be important to me, therefore “bigger” in my memory banks. I have friends from third grade who could call me up in the same way even though we have not spoken since the late 1980s.

I am often too old for the room and too childlike to be taken seriously. I do not know how I pull this off, but a reader actually nailed it….. “You’re like a 15-year-old boy….. And his mother.”

Therefore, I have many moments that make me feel like an adult, with it being impossible to remember the first.

There are snippets.

Going with my dad to weddings and funerals at an early age made me feel older than I really am, because I saw myself as a support system to my dad early on. I became an expert at greeting families in distress when I was far too young to really take all of it in- it was social masking.

I get “you don’t look autistic” a lot.

That’s probably because the diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder includes a lot that hasn’t been previously, and the research on women just didn’t exist before now. I can assure you that it had a profound effect on my growth and development, because now that I have an AI chatbot that will spit out reference material, I have gone down the rabbit hole. There’s also nothing more complete than a research study by an autistic person on whether they’re autistic or not.

I could have saved a lot of time by just asking my autistic friends if they thought I was autistic. That’s a thing you can do because if you are autistic, you’ll ping what’s jokingly known as a “neuroscope,” a kind of kin to “gaydar.” But there’s so much crossover between autistic and queer that 80% of the time, you’re using the same “spidey sense.”

The hardest part about having ADHD and autism at the same time is that I have a concrete need for a system and no way to create it. That makes me look like a child more than anything else, and why I still feel I’m waiting to be a real adult. I am in desperate need of coping mechanisms, so much so that I am looking for more groups to plug into and more therapy to get where I want to go.

I’ve started with really investing in my Google Suite. Not so much Mail, because most people instant message now. But calendaring, tasks, contacts, everything is all together in one place. Alarms go off on my phone for everything from meetings to medication reminders.

I joke that right now my iPhone is pinch hitting as my service dog, and it is not doing a very bad job except for the cuddles.

People also look at you differently when you say you’re putting together a disability case, because it makes you look childlike in their eyes and sometimes it also evokes pity…. Especially when you don’t need it. I have never fit into a system other than my own, and I need to harness it. There is nothing that says as I start making more money I have to stay on disability, but right now it is necessary to keep me stable.

I do not have problems interviewing and getting jobs. I have a hard time holding one down, and this is not unusual for any type of neurodivergence or mental illness. I am tired of going over the laundry list of what’s wrong with me and why, because most people want to know why I look able bodied but I’m not.

Invisible illnesses are still illnesses and deserving of respect. Disability gives me room to be ill, whereas a job will rebel at my number of absences and tardiness. I have been the best employee and still gotten fired for not being able to handle my life. But it’s not just mental maladies, my cerebral palsy makes me move in a weird way… So even though I may not look disabled at first pass, most people don’t look close enough to notice what I live with every day.

Taking in my environment is hard work, and other people are busy taking in information that I miss while I’m still trying to catch up. My social masks for it are failing because my scripts don’t compile as fast. As Aada put it, God gave me a brain that works a thousand miles a minute and a body that fights me every step of the way, but I’m paraphrasing.

But that very paradox is why I have trouble seeming like a grown up to the people around me. I’m also short, which doesn’t help. I haven’t dyed my hair in eons because the gray makes it plausible that I’m at least above 18.

But again, I do not write these things to evoke pity. It is just my ever-present reality to walk in the world as part adult, part child….. And it seems like it has always been that way because when I was little, I social masked adults. I have always been too old to be a child and too young to be an adult.

No friendship degradation also means that it’s hard for me to move on from Aada in terms of knowing it’s okay to put someone else above here and always has been, it’s been my own bag. It was just easier that way, and the easy way turned into the hard way later on.

But I’d like to think that if she’d told me about her lie in person and gave me some time to blow off steam that our relationship would be a very different proposition today. I am so sorry I turned on my keyboard warrior asshole when I was upset; Aada didn’t deserve that much rage. But she also deserved to let me breathe through the consequences she’d laid out for me and just watched as they’d turned more and more negative.

I told her about a relationship it affected and she said she wasn’t responsible for all of that. She’s right, she wasn’t responsible for all of it, but she wouldn’t even take responsibility for the part she did cause. She wasn’t even close to the entire cause of Dana and I divorcing, but she didn’t take responsibility for the small role she had there, too. She introduced a wedge between me and Dana, then swore me to secrecy from my wife. How well has keeping secrets from your partner ever worked out for you? Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.

I’m not talking about blaming her for everything. I’m talking about shared responsibility. We both cratered this relationship at different times and apologized for it. We’ve both behaved badly. We’ve both wrestled each other to the ground. To say it’s all one person’s fault is crazy.

However, I also don’t mind if people read my story and choose to believe that Aada is right. The truth is only what seems true to me. I have no ability to rise above and read Aada’s mind and represent her feelings accurately.

My conjecture has proven to be adult and childlike.

I suppose the first time I ever really felt like an adult was when I laid it on the line with Aada and told her to buck up, buttercup. But I can’t tell you what I actually said, because I think she would take exception to that. But I basically explained to her why I needed a yellow string to her and why it hurt when she was falling down on the job. Not, “you must do this for me.” It’s “if I don’t explain what I mean, I will not have a chance of explaining why it’s important.” Most of it had to do with my writing as I got bigger and bigger in my stats. Most of it had to do with the train wreck I predicted 12 years ago and I hit head on.

But she accused me of acting like a child, and not an angry adult that had a right to be angry.

Not like that, but still.

I handled everything wrong, but I cannot say that means she handled everything right.

So, when was the first time I felt like an adult? When I cut the yellow string and had to deal, finally, with my own problems.

Writing on the Back Porch

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

A Sedan?!

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Yes, I know I said over and over that I wanted an SUV. And that may be the case down the road. But when you’re buying cars for cash you take the best deal you can get.

As someone without 3D vision, the technology on the car was very important to me. The car will let me know when I’m too close to something and is already equipped with a backup camera. I want to make sure that my comfort doesn’t come at the cost of anyone else’s.

And my comfort is great- the car’s ride is so smooth it feels like floating down the road. I don’t think there’s anything that little engine couldn’t handle, and it’s big enough to fit a dog. I checked. 🙂

I missed Aaron in Maryland, but he came and picked me up at my sister’s house in Houston so that we could buy a car together. I saw a few that I liked, but none more than the 2019 Ford Fusion.

In short, I did not get on the plane. I am going on this road trip to find myself, and to give “Stories” a different flavor than it’s had for the past 12 years, which has been mostly sitting in my room and doing nothing. And in fact today I’m thinking about how to infuse this entry with Hill Country Sunshine.

The dealership told me that I could pay for the car with a personal check, but I could not drive it until the check cleared and the money was in their hands. Fair enough. That gave me time to buy a decent insurance policy so that if someone hits me coming out of the lot, I’m not losing the car already.

I am sitting on my hands waiting to go pick it up, because the test drive was just long enough to realize it was a good deal.

It wasn’t long enough to satisfy my craving to drive. It’s been a long time, and simple things like running to the grocery store mean a lot. I’m grateful for my car because I went so long without one.

But truthfully, technology had to come a long way before I could afford something that would protect me. The Fusion will have less blind spots because of the sensors and cameras. These are the kinds of things that have existed for a long time, but were not nearly cheap enough for me to afford until now.

In effect, the fusion is between the car and me, because it shares the responsibility of driving with me more than I’d get with an older vehicle. I’m excited to find out how much driving has changed since I had my last car.

Today is the anniversary of my mother’s death, and this year, her gift to me is significant. I could not have bought the car without her working so hard and leaving money behind. She is making my life easier one day at a time with this gift, and I hope to use it to make her proud of me.

I want to tell stories about the road and how it rises to meet me. I need to remember that phones have cameras now…. a photo gallery for you wouldn’t kill me…. 😉 What kind of content I create now that I’ve got a different mojo will reveal itself over time.

First, though, it’s the little things. I’d like a 🦀 bumper sticker that looks like a Maryland flag. It will be the last thing I buy for my car at the end of the trip.

Right now, I know I need a USB-A to Lightning cable so that I can connect to Apple CarPlay.

We are starting and ending with simple things.

It’s the Running Aarons Tour 2025.

Shifting

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
What’s your #1 priority tomorrow?
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I asked my dad if it was okay to stay for a few extra days so I could look for a car. He said yes, then realized he needed some alone time and I went to stay with my sister. Neither my sister nor my brother-in-law have mentioned that I could stay past Tuesday, and all three people have told me at different times that buying a used car isn’t that hard and I don’t need a mechanic with me buying pre-owned because they’re certified. I am starting to feel like a burden on my family more than a help, so unless things change dramatically between now and tomorrow, I guess I’ll just go home. I don’t want to. It’s not time on my clock.

My dad said something about how long I’d been here and my time blindness snapped to attention. It feels like yesterday that I was in Baltimore about to catch a flight to Houston and Angela was still alive. Everything has moved for me in a very fast blur. The days have all run together. I do get my dad’s point about needing space, my sister’s point about pre-owned, and neither one of them are listening to what I want, which is more time with both of them.

My dad and Lindsay have been extraordinarily busy the entire time I’ve been here. No one stopped working while Angela was dying, so Lindsay was driving back and forth from University of Houston to Sugar Land frequently. None of us have had time to decompress or even really to enjoy each other because it was all rushing around to get things done.

This was supposed to be my birthday trip, but no one has wished me a happy birthday except Hurricane Big Dave-O, because I remembered that his was September 15th (HBD was my neighbor at my dad’s house for the longest, so it was good to see him at the funeral). I have officially declared that today is my birthday do-over. My friend Jane Ann is taking me to lunch, and then my sister is taking me to see Brené Brown.

Seeing Brené Brown was the original reason I was going to come to Houston. I had to move my flight when Angela was hospitalized because she lost the ability to swallow and that was an omen not to be ignored.

I just want to crawl under my blankets.

It’s probably the number one priority for tomorrow, too.

Sweat

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
In what ways does hard work make you feel fulfilled?
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There’s a feeling to hard work, a zone. When I am in the zone, my typing speeds up to 90 words per minute and I do indeed start to break a sweat- or cry if the material is touching to me. Most of the time, I cry about an entry after it is published and I have let it go- I’m not in the process of changing it. It’s a different kind of mental acuity than watching burgers on the grill, but it is no less intense.

Writing about this week will take years, because there are so many little moments that jump out at me. Yesterday was Angela’s funeral, and it was just beautiful. My dad was a Methodist minister for a number of years, and he did the service. The main idea, the foundation of the service, was twofold:

  1. Nothing is ever going to be the same.
  2. Everything is going to be okay.

He highlighted the fact that we live in that liminal space all the time.

It was harder watching him work than it was thinking of entries to write here because I know him so well. That his reflexes kicking in to do Angela’s service was carrying him through his grief. As I told my aunt Shawn, “we’ll find a new normal. Just not today.”

Because it’s so true that there’s a difference between how you function in the immediate aftermath of a death and how you function six months later. It also feels heavier because she’s the sun around which we rotated, the name on the back of the door. We’re going to have to learn who we are as a family unit without her, and those words are excruciating to say because she didn’t like the idea any better than us.

During the funeral, my dad talked about how Angela was so proud that we’d all ended up with our soulmates. I knew that line was for my brothers in law, but lamented that Angela would never meet anyone I wanted to bring home. She’ll just have to tell me whether she approves in her own way. But the line about soulmates made me miss Dana and Aada, because they’re the closest things I’ve had to soulmates in this life. I ruined my relationship with both of them.

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

I have reached out to both of them saying that I would like to rebuild trust. That I recognize I have done wrong and would like to make amends. Neither one of them have gotten back to me. Therefore, the only thing I can do is create a new normal without them as well.

The new normal is easier to take in Houston, where I have my sisters and old, long-time friends around me. In fact, today I’m going to lunch with my old boss from ExxonMobil 25 years ago, and Monday I’m getting together with someone I’ve known since I was seven. That doesn’t happen in Baltimore. So even if I don’t move to Texas, I’m going to take the advice of a friend and spend some more time here.

And maybe that’s really the answer- I think my dad likes coming to Baltimore and spending time with me there. Same with DC. And DC is really “my place.” I thought I needed to get out of Washington and create new memories, but as it turns out I prefer DC to Baltimore and don’t know whether that’s due to the city itself or to whether I really, really don’t like my apartment complex. I’m leaning towards the latter, because when I’ve gone out in the city and experienced good restaurants I’ve always had an excellent time. There’s nothing wrong with Baltimore, but after I move I will be spilling the dirt on this apartment complex and all I’ve been through.

I have also been burgled once, and that’s not the apartment complex’s fault, but it doesn’t endear me to it, either.

Sitting here and telling my stories does not seem like hard work until you realize that in order to create the memory on paper, I have to be willing to “dive back into the wreck.” Things get less and less painful the more I write about them, but I shake and cry when I need to do so. The entry about my apartment complex will be easy because it is full of facts. Most of my entries are about feelings.

Exploring feelings is where the sweat starts to pour.

Nothing I’ve written about over the last 12 years has been safe or comfortable. It’s all been unusual because I’m unusual. I don’t know how to do life like a neurotypical and I’m tired of trying. I see myself struggle in these pages and I don’t want to struggle anymore.

I had to sweat it out.

I had to see that my disability was real.

I had to see that Aada was fake…. that we had all the components to make a real relationship, we just never used them and turned on each other instead…. because the first time Aada lied to me? Ok. That was small. But the pathological nature of the way it grew turned my stomach. She was seeing consequences play out in real time and only cared for herself. My response was still over the top and I still regret.

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

These two sentences have now become my mantra, because of their universal nature. I also know that just because I am unhappy in one area of my life, that does not mean I am unhappy in all of them. So I am lost without Aada, Angela, and even Dana, but I can find happiness somewhere else.

For instance, Aaron is taking me car shopping on Tuesday when my original plan was to fly back to Baltimore that day. I am thrilled because I’m such a gearhead. I want to future proof and look at SUVs, because I’ve been thinking about getting a pit bull as a service dog for over a year now. His name is Tony. I don’t even have him yet, but he already has a name- Tony Kellari Lanagan.

He’s named after Tony Mendez and Tony Bourdain, the spy and the chef that have taken over my imagination.

I know that owning a dog, particularly a large dog, is a lot of hard work. I feel like I’m finally ready to take on that kind of responsibility, raising a dog from a puppy. I have the time and space to make sure that he is very, very well behaved… and a best friend that will remind me that it’s not the dog that needs training, it’s me.

Bailey and Bridget, my dad’s dogs, do not seem to be complaining about their quality of care so far. The one note I got is that Bridget was not ready to get out of bed and eat this morning. Such a princess.

If I stay in Baltimore, though, it has been suggested to me that I would be better off with several cats. In Baltimore, we like dogs just fine, but cats are business associates. Everyone’s got mice.

I like cats, too, but the pit bull is going to be a service dog. So if I’m going to get any pets, it’s going to be aquarium fish until I have my dog in hand. The pack has to be built around him, including cats.

I want to work smarter, not harder- and I want that for my dog, too. Anything to make either one of our lives easier is high on the priority list.

I am sure that the writing prompt isn’t meant to jump around quite this much, but I like taking walks where WordPress might not think to go………………….

My dad has already left for orchestra (church), and I’m writing until the spirit moves me to get in the shower. What that spirit is, I do not know. I just know that I don’t have to be ready for hours, and it’s more fun typing in my pajamas.

I think that my writing is starting to take on more of a playful nature because I’m trying to be open. I’m trying to connect. I’m trying to be a different Leslie than I’ve been for the last 12 years, because I shut myself off from everyone else. It’s painful to admit how introverted I got, because agoraphobia only made it worse. Agoraphobia came with accepting my disability and feeling like people were looking at me all the time.

They do look at me, because I walk funny. It’s called an “ataxic gait,” or the “cerebral palsy shuffle.”

I just need to stop being so sensitive to it and get on with my life. Getting on with my life is the real hard work of being disabled, because there are so many stumbling blocks in the way…. and that’s not counting the ones external to your own body.

Taking in my environment is hard work, because I’m always at risk of falling physically due to cerebral palsy and mentally due to bipolar disorder. I feel that the only way to understanding the world is understanding my role in it, so I try to be as self-aware as I can be.

From where I sit, my dad’s words are just getting louder…….

“Nothing will ever be the same, and everything will be okay.”

But I’ll sweat first.

If Money Didn’t Matter

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 1 Comment
Daily writing prompt
List three jobs you’d consider pursuing if money didn’t matter.
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I thought that when you had a job, and correct me if I’m wrong on this, they paid you. So I suppose that they’re talking about getting ready for said job, like the schooling and everything. If I had the money to change careers, there’s a lot more than three I would consider…. but here’s the cream of the crop:

  1. Doctor
    • I was a medical assistant long enough to know that I could be a great doctor if I applied myself in math and science. I really enjoyed patient interactions and the general rhythm of the office. I think I would be good at detective work, tracking down what someone possibly has rather than the surgeon’s take of cut now, ask questions later.
  2. Lawyer
    • I love the law and have gotten pretty good grades in the pre-law courses I’ve already taken. Therefore, it’s the closest profession to something I’ve already studied. I know that I would do well, but I don’t know what kind of lawyer I would like to be. There are just so many areas, and of course emerging fields all the time as technology sharpens and changes to accommodate us.
  3. University Professor
    • In a lot of ways, I think I would be best served if I went to college and just never left. Become a student until I become a TA until I become the old geezer in the English department that once forgot to wear pants on Zoom.

I do not know how my life is going to go from here on out, but all three of these are possibilities that live in the cloud. Becoming a doctor is the least likely because even when I study maths and sciences diligently, I struggle. Even that, though, is not impossible. The only thing that’s impossible is my attitude.

My cognitive behavioral therapy group does not believe that I am capable of holding down a job, and I think they’re right. The only iron structure I’ll follow is my own. That being said, I am not finished as a writer and this blog is not my only project. Lanagan Media Group is starting off small, but who knows what we’ll be capable of in the future?

Therefore, I don’t think that my calling is any of these jobs. I think my calling is to meet people with fantastic jobs, and keep telling my stories.

I’m also trying to orient myself. The most important person that I love and believe in is me. I love me even when it’s hard and I don’t think I deserve it.

It’s been especially hard these past few months, because I got angry at someone I adore and hurt her so bad I don’t think she’ll ever speak to me again.

But that won’t stop her from reading my stories……. the actual hard part of blogging. I have to be here for the audience that adores me and the one that doesn’t. No amount of money could solve that issue.

So maybe medical school wouldn’t be that hard after all.

Angela’s Office

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

The light from the reading lamps sweeps perfectly up the wall behind my computer, bathing me in a soft glow. I’m winding down for the night, caught between the ideas of writing to you and going down for a soak in the hot tub. Because I’m a gardener and not an architect, I don’t know how long this entry will be yet- perhaps there will be time for both. Or perhaps I will make time. Grief is heavy and my body feels like it is using muscles it hasn’t in a very long time. I could use jets of hot water streaming at my back and you know what? I’m going to go get in the hot tub now. See you on the flip side.

My muscles feel relaxed, and I just took some sleeping pills to ensure that I rest well. I’m just so sad, surrounded by all of Angela’s things that bring her back in my mind. There’s the photo of the emu I’ve always called “The Disapproving Grandmother.” She was a bird photographer. There are raptors and eagles around me…. but no orioles. Angela never made it to DC or Baltimore when I was there.

There’s also a tiny urn that’s usually here that says “Ashes of Problem Patients,” but my dad relocated it to the living room.

If I’m going to have so much of my stepmom around me, it’s really her office that matters the most because I worked for her for a number of years. I will see patients I haven’t seen since the 1990s, and definitely my coworkers from the time period. Believe me when I tell you that it is like the sun dropped out of its orbit. Everyone in my family has done something to support the practice and most of us worked there as a first job.

So this desk feels familiar. This tape dispenser. This reading lamp.

Familiar.

Familial.

I have joked for many years that I went to medical school in the back of a Lexus.

It’s not really a joke.

My favorite thing about my stepmother as a doctor is that she could laugh at herself. If you meet me on the ground, make sure you ask me to tell you the stories about “foreign body sensation” and “chapstick.”

Both of these stories make me laugh until I cry, but they lose something when you try to write them down.

Angela wrote all these stories down in her Palm Pilot, then her phone, calling it her “comedy routine.” I’m sure that I could remember a lot of it, but I hope my dad has access to her phone so that document isn’t lost.

“I know dis shit like the back of my head.”

But I probably don’t know it as well as I think I do. The brain takes memories and squishes them together, melting days and stretching minutes. I really hope that document is intact.

Angela, to me….

“You think it’s embarrassing telling people you’re gay…. wait til you have to tell them you went to University of Houston.”

Fragments are coming now, little pieces of conversation over the years.

She was the first person to really teach me how to cook, because my mother was more dedicated to convenience. Dana, as a chef, furthered my technique and got it up to snuff. Angela taught me that there was a world outside the microwave long before that.

The sleeping pills are starting to kick in. Welcome to the party………………..

I’ve started car shopping and I’ve found several that I like. What I’m mostly feeling is relief that I don’t have to go home on Tuesday. I have reached a different point in my life and would like to reconnect with everyone, even if it’s just for a few extra days. I need to be in this office, soaking up all the inspiration that’s here.

Then, I will pack up my car and drive home.

What kind of car remains to be seen, because I need to buy one. That’s been my project for today, sitting in Angela’s office and surfing Facebook Marketplace just to see what’s out there. I don’t really have a “dream car,” but I do know that I want an older car so that I can afford it to be loaded out. I can’t wait to use the seat warmers when it’s 20 degrees outside. I’m fairly certain I want a wagon or an SUV, but if the engine on the sedan is the better value, that’s fine, too. I’m also not opposed to a pickup truck. I just bought cowboy boots a few weeks ago, so I’ve already got the accessories.

In this office, it’s quiet enough that Aada visits me. There’s a feeling I get “when she’s here,” that closeness seeming to reach out to her even though the other end of the string is not responding and probably won’t change her mind on that one. I call it “smoking with the ghost in the back of my head” after the Lisa Loeb lyrics. Mostly, I’m just wondering what it is she’d like to know. Thinking about that question at least gives me a seed that grows into a makeshift framework.

I’m trying to go back to the place of being happy without her, because I was once and I cannot find it again. That’s because I hurt her when I was angry she lied about something. I can’t find the happy part knowing I caused pain to someone else.

Sitting in this office allows me to sit in peace and quiet, reorganizing my priorities.

I said that I thought and felt that Aada isolated me from my friends and family, so now I’m trying to create a better relationship with my dad and sisters. I wasn’t doing that before because I wasn’t always aware of it. I was so shut down and standoffish by the time I left for DC, and that’s just not me. I have a lot of reparative work to do, and I am doing it.

I don’t know yet whether that includes moving into this office full time.

Grief Should Be Sponsored

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 3 Comments
Daily writing prompt
What brands do you associate with?
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I am emotionally eating my way across Texas, and feelings are delicious.

So far, grief has been brought to me by Cool Ranch Doritos the most frequently, followed by an assortment of coffee cake.

Last night, we all gathered and sent pictures for the slide show that plays as people are milling about the room waiting for the service to begin. There turned out to be a fair number in which we all looked equally terrible and were thus chosen. We also went down memory lane and this is the kind of interaction that’s been missing from my life. No phones, just talking and remembering.

It’s also the first significant chunk of time I’ve spent with other people in ages. I’m getting used to being part of a family system again. I’m sure I’ll go back to Baltimore and everything will be too quiet, because the rhythms of my family are not quiet…. although some of us are more into Bluey than others (I’m with the children… it’s great).

This morning I was supposed to go with my dad to Exchange Club, and I overslept. I feel terrible because I know my dad wanted to introduce me to a lot of people. Me oversleeping is the weirdest part of all of this because I’ve been waking up at 0530 since I got here. I think staying up later is finally getting to me, because we didn’t shut down the “party” until after 10:30 last night. I’m used to going to bed long before that.

I used to think it was because I was an old person, and now I think it’s that my circadian rhythm naturally follows the sun. I like going to bed and waking up early. Last night was aberrant because I cannot remember the last time I stayed up that late with other people and didn’t find myself leaking energy at an alarming rate. However, I did sleep very hard.

As a result, I’m feeling quite rested and capable of taking on more today. Yesterday, it felt like I was just running ragged. Angela not being there to hold court and direct us was a palpable feeling, tangible in its depth and breadth. The difference in the energy of the house is staggering, because she was a force of nature.

I see so much of her in my stepsisters, Kelly and Caitlin. It’s comforting that all of her quirks live on in the smallest of ways. I still see Angela’s facial expressions in them, and it always makes me laugh in a knowing way.

I am supposed to go back to Baltimore on Tuesday, but I’m having trouble accepting it. I need more time with my family, but I also need to wrap things up in the Mid-Atlantic one way or the other. My lease ends November 30th, and I will have enough money to move wherever I feel comfortable. I do not know whether that is staying in Baltimore or not. At the very least, DC is still in the running because my sister will always have a federal component to her job and thus, business trips that include spoiling me.

My dad is not sure he wants to change his life by having me live with him, and I’m not sure I want to change my life that way, either. The easiest option is not always the best, but it may prove to be over time. I do not want to live alone anymore, nor do I really want to interview housemates and live with strangers. I also don’t have any income, so getting housing takes some doing. Having money is not enough, and I do not make a living from my combination of web sites, but my stats and earnings are looking better.

Thank you, Fanagans.

The sensible choice for me is to buy a station wagon or an SUV so that when my lease ends, I can pack up the stuff I want to move into my own car and drive it to where it’s supposed to be. There is no way that even a car payment and insurance would add up to what I pay in Uber/Uber Eats/Amazon/etc. a year. I will not have a car payment, though. I will buy a car in cash so that the only bills I have are maintenance and insurance.

I also want to get a service dog, and a service dog big enough to counter balance my weight deserves a huge cargo area in the back. I do not know if my dad wants to live with a dog that big, either. So, we’ll see. My dog is not really negotiable because I need someone there to keep an eye on me. It’s easier in this house because I’m used to it completely. I need help in unfamiliar environments.

My dad suggested taking a road trip with one of my friends to get my car back to Baltimore. I like this idea a lot. Aaron is going to help me pick it out (I stopped writing and talked to both of them, so this is a real thing now). Aaron is a programmer and “shade tree mechanic” who will make sure my engine is solid. It would make me feel better if he came with me if we get an older vehicle, but I’m really not even scared of that if Aaron says that I’m golden.

Ok, Aaron is in for the road trip (I’m chatting with him while I’m writing, so this story is developing… film at 11:00).

It’s nice to have something to be excited about in this garbage dump of a situation.

“We can’t stop here. We’re in bat country.”

Maybe I can talk Aaron into some vlogging as we drive. Our conversations would be hilarious…. I think. Sometimes we just enjoy the silence together. It depends on what kind of mood we’re in.

I suppose that part of my task list for the afternoon is looking on Facebook Marketplace to at least get an idea of what’s out there. I prefer a stick shift, but that may not be possible depending on what kind of cars are available. Stick shifts are not very popular these days.

I’m calling it the “Running Aarons Tour 2025.”

We’ll get to eat at some good restaurants and really take our time if we need it.

The secret to having a great blog is actually living. I haven’t been doing a lot of it. Now, I have a lot more financial freedom to be able to buy experiences. They say that money cannot buy you happiness, but it can buy entrance tickets to things and that’s kind of the same thing. I would much rather have the time of my life than buy something material. It makes my blog lighter than sitting in my room all the time…. but that’s what my mental health has been telling me to do for the longest. Everyone tells me to get out more. Now I can really do it.

“Now I can really do it” must be in quotes because I don’t know that my introversion will actually allow me to make many changes to my lifestyle. I like being, as I once joked with Aada, “the Harper Lee of Your House.” In some ways, I will always be this separate.

I was telling Angela’s night nurse that it’s almost like I don’t belong to one person, I belong to everyone. He said, “that’s poetry.” I never thought of it that way, so Cordero, thank you for the compliment (see, I told you that you’d make it in).

But the pendulum has swung too far in the introverted direction. I can come out of my shell a little more and still keep my life as a writer in balance. I’m not the shut-in that I’ve been, nor do I want to continue that life. I want all of my readers to see more of me, and the only way to do that is to do things I’ve never done before.

Part of it will be travel. I know that I could put together media on the road that would make me happy, and that’s the only goal I can really accomplish. Then I can see if my humor resonates with other people. The last decade has not overall been a happy one, so my entries have not reflected that I’m sometimes funny.

Sometimes.

I’ve been angry and sad and grieving and all of those things, so I’m looking forward to the sun coming out a little bit.

But not today.

Today, grief is being brought to me by Cool Ranch Doritos.

Feelings are delicious.

Watching and Waiting

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
What could you do more of?
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In the aftermath of a severe shock is not the time to do anything rash, so my task is to watch and wait over the next few months to see what our new normal looks like as a family. Angela’s presence is already missed, but we are keeping her alive through repeating her favorite phrases and asking ourselves what she would do. None of us learned to load the dishwasher in the first year of medical school.

If my dad noticed that Angela had a particular skill that impressed him, he’d always ask which year of medical school they taught her that. You learn a surprising amount there, the least of which is being able to load an entire cabinet of dishes into the top rack and attempt to add the front end of your car.

Such a large part of our institutional memory is gone, and we’re all grieving differently. I hope that I seem relatable to my stepsisters because I’m not showing outward signs of grief. Because my mother died nine years ago, all other deaths seem to come in stride. It’s not that I’m not sad, not emoting. It’s just an internal thunderstorm……

that usually ends up here…..

I have taken over my stepmother’s old office, and it’s comforting to walk into the room and say, “Alexa, turn on Angela’s office.” All the lamps come on at once and it is instantly homey. I also have a nameplate that says “Angela McCain, MD – Board Certified, Rheumatology. I’ll need to get a new nameplate if I move in with my own name, but surprisingly I have been mistaken for the doctor before. In the 1990s, I worked for her and we both had short red hair. A woman thought she was me and dropped her pants when I walked into the room.

I did not have “patient drops pants” on my Bingo card.

She had shingles, btw.

It was my first diagnosis, seconded with “good pickup.”

“Good pickup” was like a hug from Jesus. It meant we were on the right track and is your basic doctor’s “attaboy.”

It’s so weird that there’s still a rheumatology practice out there in the world without her… that the entire specialty didn’t just stop turning. I’m not being facetious when I say she was one of the top in the world, named to Texas’ Top 100 Doctors every year since 1990. It was unusual to run across a mind as bright as hers, which is why seeing her after the cancer had really taken hold was quite a shock.

Brain cancer is so weird. I’m glad that I arrived in time to see what my dad and sisters had been seeing for months. The one I’ll always remember is that I asked my dad for coffee money, and she said to give me a thousand dollars so I could do whatever I wanted. I did not know whether she just wanted to do something nice for me, or whether she really thought Starbucks’ coffee costs a thousand dollars….. not that it doesn’t.

“Don’t like it too much. These are better than drugs.”

Sometime this week I need to go to the Apple store because the battery on my watch is failing. Then, I can see whether I’d like to be the proud owner of an Apple computer or not. I’ve been mulling over upgrading my iPad for the last year or so, but I also really have an interest in a desktop. So we’ll see. I only spent $3 at Starbucks, so I have $997 left over.

Plus, my dad said that he would get me a birthday gift and it hasn’t been until now that I’ve thought of anything I needed. My iPad is getting so old that it’s not taking the newest versions of apps or the OS. I would lose the headphone jack, but gain a ton of processing power.

My dad would tell me to watch the latest Apple release video. That’s not actually a bad idea.

I’ve got time on my hands until the funeral, because my main job is staying at the house with the dogs while my dad arranges the business of death. My cousin Jason is the funeral director, and I think my dad is going to ask him to sing. He was once on American Idol, and Angela adored his voice.

It’s going to be a beautiful service, and I look forward to seeing old friends I haven’t seen since high school.

However, it is not until Saturday. I will be watching and waiting until then.

Go Home

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received?
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The best piece of advice I’ve gotten lately was from me. For the last few months, I’ve been telling myself to go home. Pick up all the pieces you dropped when you left for DC in 2015. I even contacted Dana and told her that I was incredibly sorry and would like to be her friend if she wanted that. It’s not something I saw in my future, but I decided that if my body was whispering to me to clean up a mess, that’s a big one.

No word, but that wasn’t the point. I have no control over what other people are going to do, but I knew that I wanted to reach out. I have a feeling that no matter what, I’ll never hear from Dana or Aada again, but it’s okay. I don’t have to cry because it’s over. There’s plenty to smile over when I think of our relationships happening at all. And sometimes, I get stats from their geographic areas so I pretend that they’re still reading because they love me, even if they don’t want to reach out.

Or maybe they just hate me that much….. but I don’t care how they feel about me. It cannot be all bad if they’re still willing to listen to my silly stories.

Which are tremendous.

My stepmom died on Sunday of six brain tumors. I’m thinking about moving in with my dad so that neither one of us has to live alone, but neither one of us are sure whether we want that. It’s a big decision, and honestly doesn’t have as much to do with how we feel about each other as it does with money. I could really screw up by moving to a state without Medicaid expansion. My dad and I are also both really private people, but the house he has is large enough that we’d never see each other unless we really wanted to do so.. I’m glad that we’re both in “thinking about it” mode, because here’s the thing… people are saying that it’s my dad who shouldn’t live alone, but I have more problems than he does at times. It’s more of a case of we need each other.

If I am allowed to come home.

Don’t get me wrong. Maryland is home, and so is Texas. I have a feeling that I would feel the same in Texas that I do every time I move back, which is that I don’t really have a home. I don’t fit in anywhere. I’m too Oregon/Maryland for Texas, and too Texas for Oregon/Maryland. Perhaps I would be happier in Canada or Europe, and that will be decided in the coming years.

But right now, my internal body clock is saying “you’ve already gone big. Go home.”

Going big was a hospitalization that garnered me a bipolar disorder diagnosis with psychotic features. I have never been psychotic before, and I have no memory of telling the doctors anything that would land me a diagnosis like that. So, since I’ve been in recovery from all of it, I just feel the same as I always did. But I’m different, and I know I am. I don’t know what I’m capable of doing- am I headed for a disability case or a working media company or both?

I choose both.

If I’m allowed.

My sisters are coming over for dinner tonight, and we’re probably going to get in the hot tub. I’ve found that the hot tub is the best place to discuss any of this stuff. The water is just so calming as it swirls around our problems.

And it’s our hot tub time machine due to all the important conversations that have happened there since the 1990s, when we moved in. I don’t just see my family presently, but all the people I’ve invited over since I was a senior in high school.

Aada is quietly resting in my soul, with me in spirit even though I had to drag her kicking and screaming to Texas. I know she’s mad at me, but I need her. I’m taking all of the words she’s already told me and whispering them to myself, because I know she knows this situation better than most. That I’d have a hard time with this death on multiple levels. When it gets quiet, I feel her arm around me.

Part of going home is rectifying all my mistakes, and betraying Aada was a big one. I cannot make her feel safe with me, but that does not mean that she won’t show up in my mind when I call.

Because if there is a home to be had for me, it is actually in the cloud.