Some of you may be wondering where my recent depression posts went. Thanks for your letters by the way. I’m doing okay, and yes, I’m still here! The posts were redacted temporarily. They’ll be back.
The cloud of the depression has lifted somewhat. I’m beginning to function again. (And yes, I’m still sober.)
Turns out Therapist Barbie is now also leaving (NO!!) taking a job about an hour to the east of here where she’ll be working with kids. I think it’s a great move for her. I’m sad that she’s leaving, of course. I have been “transferred” to another therapist in the practice who works evenings. That doesn’t happen for another 7 weeks or so — apparently, getting an appointment with that person is going to be a problem. I already smell trouble. I’ll let you all know how that goes. Therapist Barbie, unfazed by propriety, has given me her private email so we can keep in touch. I think the idea that she’ll be working with troubled children is a fantastic placement for her talents. Yeah, I’ll miss her. A lot. She was really worried, with all the losses I’ve had so far, that I was going to take this really hard. I didn’t, but maybe it simply hasn’t hit me yet. I think that perhaps because I have her email, I feel safe, as if she’s not really leaving at all.
Speaking of abandonment, the Square-Jawed NP called me about two weeks ago to check in on me. We talked for a bit. He’s getting accustomed to his new locale, and he’s getting settled in to the new office too. He’s disappointed (understatement) that I didn’t go back to school this fall like I’d promised. I told him I had no choice. He wasn’t sure he believed me.
I told NP I’d drive down to his new location and we can go out for coffee either later this month or next month; he agreed. I miss him. (And I admit, so want to help him get his private practice going — it’s such a temptation to help him, especially when that’s the sort of thing I do, and the kind of thing I’m actually pretty good at. Oh! A challenge!!) So I’ll meet with him in a few weeks. Depends on when I get my car back.
Oh, did I mention the car?
You may recall the car was in trade for my PR services in (***)’s campaign. About six weeks ago, the car was functional and I was given the key. Two hours later, the radiator blew. So, once again, no car. A friend of (***) was supposed to fix it, but has been sitting on the project, untouched, for six weeks — something he said he could do for $40 and within a half-hour. Yeah, right. While all the political nonsense work continues, I still don’t have the car I was promised, and this is becoming a serious problem for me.
So I have decided to bite the bullet and “donate” a radiator and get it fixed on my own dime since I have some overtime money coming my way. I need that car. Even though (***) is holding the title, he doesn’t have any money to fix it either, so if I want it, something has to get done. I’ll make him pay me back later. I WANT THAT CAR.
It’s not fair, really. That’s clear. If (***) is holding the title, then he should pay to have it fixed right? Well. Yeah. But I WANT IT. A car means freedom. It means I don’t have to walk in the rain or snow anymore. It means I can take a better job somewhere that isn’t on the bus line, that makes me more than minimum wage. That leads to more money and more freedom. That car is everything to me right now, so if it’s really a matter of a hundred bucks or so, I will have to be the one to make that happen.
As I said, with the depression lifting, I’m starting to get feisty again. This is my life, and if that damned car means I can make things better, so be it.
The campaign itself is going about as expected. (***) is running for mayor of this small burg, and the race has gotten ugly already. His main Democratic rival is playing dirty with a smear campaign — actually unfounded (and when you consider how much I know that (***) is capable of, I would be the one to tell you where the skeletons are buried). Their accusations are actually baseless. The competition is paying people to smear (***)’s name with absolute rubbish. Sheesh! You’d think they’d at least dig up a few TRUE things in their efforts. Idiots.
The results of the primary were abominable, but completely expected, by me if no one else. (***) came in dead last even behind another unknown thanks in large part to the opponents’ smear campaigns. Out of five, one dropped out, so four now remain in the race heading into the elections; one Dem, one Rep, and two “independent” lines. (***) is the only one running on a zero budget — so is it any big surprise he’s dead last? He’s also the one, thanks to me, that’s been running a clean campaign so far.
That may have to end.
There is dirt to be had on the other candidates. We have unleashed our minions to dig it up and spread it around — under the condition that it’s true and provable, not bullshit. That’s my only proviso. And if anything big happens, they are to check with me first.
I am also sending (***) out door-to-door to grip and grin with people in person. His campaign manager is now setting up meet and greets, fundraisers, and town halls. I told them there’s NO WAY he can win without any money. Historically, it’s impossible. But nobody listens. Fact is, grassroots campaigns ONLY win if they catch fire and people start handing over the cash.
I also told him that no matter what the competition does or says, (***) is to be polite to everybody. No more sticking his nose up in the air when another walks by. I was horrified. I always make a point of saying hello to everyone, no matter who they are or what I know they’ve paid to have said. It’s simply good politics. He disagreed, but I told him it’s a non-negotiable.
I’m so sick of everything political at this point. Jesus, I so don’t care! What’s frightening is the mindset of everyone to be gossipy little bitches about everything. And viciously mean too. They all — candidates and minions alike — are like rotten kids in the playground pushing, shoving, cliquey, and nasty, pooping and peeing in the sandbox and saying it was the other guy’s fault. I’m the ONLY sane person — the playground monitor — calling the kids on their crap and sending them into time outs. Or at least I wish I could. What a bunch of friggin’ babies. For instance…
There was a debate a few weeks ago. After the debate, the campaign manager and I met with one of the Dems to discuss something of a peace treaty, agreeing to control our minions from spreading vicious lies and being, well… assholes. One of OUR minions had caused an altercation with his team DURING the debate (because our person claimed that one of HIS minions looked at her funny), so this sit-down was a long time coming. I will not tolerate impoliteness.
So anyway, we came to an agreement, shook hands and hugged, and went on our merry ways. A bunch of us piled into the car to go to post-debate dinner and passed by (***)’s opponent with whom we had just agreed to the peace treaty. One of the particularly troublesome minions who was riding in the car (who was not present for the treaty) flipped him the bird. I went apeshit about it.
The next day, the smears were back only worse. That f*cking minion ruined it. All because she said she hated the guy and “couldn’t help it.” My answer: “Yes you CAN help it, you idiot!!”
This is what happens when people get riled up about politics. All manners and civility go right out the window. Don’t get me wrong — I hate political correctness. But there are times when you must handle things POLITELY and not go off the handle because, just like in this case, it comes back to haunt you. The game must be played soberly and deftly, like chess. Anticipate the next move, and do what you can to minimize damage.
So the big question I keep getting asked is, “Do you think he can win?”
Truth is, no. No I don’t. Is it possible? Yes, I suppose. If things go our way and something completely devastating comes to light about the other candidates, then (***) has a halfway shot at it. But without money — without doing all the dirty rotten things the other candidates do like making promises, backdoor deals, buying off people, paying for Private Investigators, buying minions — it’s not a level playing field.
Someone told me the other day that it’s a shame (***) didn’t do better in the primary because he’s intelligent and actually has great ideas that make sense. Too bad he’ll probably never win.
Politics is supposed to be the second-oldest profession. I have come to realize that it bears a very close resemblance to the first. — Ronald Reagan