My trip to Seattle was hellish, and that is an understatement. It has taken me days to try to recount this. To want to relive this, to get it "out." Do you know the kind of person you think you know and when you spend and entire week with them and they take off their mask, you actually see who they are? Yeah, that was my week. Try sheer ignorance marked with the importance of thinking she knows everything, and I mean everything. There are no real sins in this world but ignorance.
First of all, the trip there was exhausting in itself, I was already using a cane when I arrived, as it was 4am Thursday for me (Aug 28th) and I had left 8:45am on Wednesday the day before. When I got to this girl, E's house, who I'd worked with for over a year and hung out with in many other situations, it was a disaster area. My mouth dropped. It smelled like dank dog smell. Wherever I turned there were mounds of clutter on every surface. I tried to excuse this with the whole "wedding craziness" coming up for them in a few days. I was exhausted and just wanted to go to sleep. In hindsight, I should have checked into a local motel!
In an e-mail I wrote her on July 17th I wrote some concerns to her, because she had been nice enough to invite me out and pay for my ticket (round trip) to come out. I was a bit anxious, as I wanted to let her know how bad my symptoms could get and if was she "up" for it:
I guess there are a few things I feel I need to let you know before I come." I wrote, "I sometimes need to walk with a cane. I am going to acupuncture right now, and after the treatments, I can walk without a cane for a day or two, but then the weakness and leg trembling come back. This makes me pretty limited... Which frustrates me. I also get out of breath very quickly, like, light-headed kind of out of breath, where my legs will give out if I'm walking uphill and breathing heavy. At times I need help, like serious muscle help walking. It's a little scary, E.
I wanted to tell you this before I came, so you would know what to expect and wouldn't freak. It threw my step-brother for a loop last weekend. He knew what I was going through but hadn't seen it for himself. When he actually had to help me walk, watching my legs shake and almost give out, he had a reality check.
I also get pretty tired easily, especially after activity. I am a little anxious about how my symptoms will be at the wedding and reception, because I'd like to dance with everyone, and not just sit in a chair and just shake my upper body to the music! heehee
Every day is different from the next, and it's hard to know how I'll be on your big day. I just don't want to be any kind of burden to anyone... that's what it pretty much boils down to.
I also wanted to tell you too that I have 2 surgeries coming up... Yeahhh. They found a growth in my uterus which needs to come out August 13th and they are also doing a biopsy on my underarms, as they are very swollen again. There may be a connection between the growth and the underarm swelling if the uterine growth is cancerous. Hopefully, and most likely, it is not.
I am hoping the underarm surgery is sooner than later, so I will have enough healing time before I come out.
Tina
In a July 18th e-mail from her, she wrote:
I don't want you to worry about it. I don't want you to worry about anything. I will have a wheelchair here for you for any of the day trips we take because we have a couple of them and C (her husband) can help you get around. He's a great guy like that. I am looking forward to seeing you in any condition you're in.
Let me know if you would like to visit an acupuncturist or naturopath while you're out here and I'll make all of the appropriate arrangements. You just tell me what you need and I'll make sure you have access to it. We'll clear out a space in a cabinet for your meds and you'll have someplace comfortable to rest.
You just get your sexy butt out here and party like a rock star, even if it is from the waist up. ;)
Love you, girly and I can't wait to see you too. I am very excited! I've missed you!
E
Well, after that, my anxiety was put to rest. I decided, I would come out. After several treatments of acupuncture, I was walking again, and I let her know this, but I also let her know that if I got too tired, I might need a walker. She said that would be no problem.
So, I guess I should have asked about the definition of what a comfortable bed is... It was the bottom bunk bed in bedroom shared by 3 other people. It was extremely uncomfortable being concave and there were no sheets on it. There was a comforter on the bottom and one on the top, and honestly, I do not think they or the pillow were washed before I came.
The room also had a mattress on the floor for her best friend, also with no sheets or comforter at all on it, but it appeared this woman didn't mind this at all. The room was for the three daughters, ages 8, 15 and 17, and there were piles of clothes scattered on the floor, which were very difficult for me to walk around with a cane or a walker (there were none on the premises, as she had promised). In the bathroom, clumps of black hair were strewn all over the place. I would have imagined that if you invite people to come all the way across the country for your wedding you would at least pick up a bit.
After a crappy night sleep, the next morning, I learned that her parents also lived there. That meant that she asked 2 people to join the already 7 people who lived in a cramped 3 bedroom apartment, with one large and one small dog. On top of it, the 2 dogs there were losing their fur due tot the fact that they were so ridden with fleas. In fact, the large black lab had an infection in her tail, with dried pus on it. She stunk so bad - and I felt so horrible for her. I was also getting bitten by fleas as I sat on the couches, in the bed I slept in, and anywhere else in the tiny apartment.
In her minivan, there was dried vomit on the back of the passenger side. Her youngest gets carsick, I guess, and this seemed to have happened "a while ago." Her excuse was she had no extra money to detail it.
As I watched the interaction with her and the family, I realized how verbally abusive she was towards pretty much everyone, having a short temper and a loud yell for the smallest things. She tore open a present one evening, left the paper on the floor (where all the other trash was) - and when her 8 year old walked over it, she demonically yelled, "Throw it away!" I was flabbergasted by the different personality I had seen for the past year working and socializing with her. Why should her daughter throw something away that was her mother's trash to begin with?
Her kids would cower and so would the dogs. She would even yell at the dogs when they would incessantly itch and lick themselves. Finally, I spoke up and said, "Well, they are infested with fleas, so that's what happens." This was after I had had enough, and had bent over backwards after her totally disorganized wedding, and rushing around doing things that should have been done weeks if not months before, like last minute decorations. I was one of the big "helpers" for this launch, which she ended up complaining about. By this time, I wanted to shove them in her loud, huge mouth.
I had even waxed peoples' eyebrows, did peoples' nails....
When I had to ASK her maid of honor to HELP ME and her reply was, "in a minute," because she was too busy texting guys back home in Missouri....
And I wasn't even in the wedding party, and I don't even know why I was helping put the fruit plate together, putting the cheese plate together, blah blah blah. I don't know why now.
Even her parents thought I was "heaven sent" that day, as I fixed a lot of the mistakes that were made by the freaking TEENAGERS (her daughter's friends) she sent to set up. She hardly thanked me.
I was surprised to see that over half the people that had RSVP'd did not show. Apparently these were people from her work on the West Coast. Wow. I was also surprised to see that they got about 5 presents from the people that did come. I was not being judgmental, I was putting the pieces together in observation.
Overcome by exhaustion from the past week and then that day, I was using a cane my the end of the night and as she walked 50 feet in front of me, she screamed for her husband to come and help me, because apparently, my legs were giving out and I didn't know it. Her husband had to carry me inside.
The next day I was completely exhausted and in pain, I mean 8 or 9 on a scale from 1-10. I don't really talk much when I'm in that much pain, and a fuss was made as if I was "mad" or something. At this point, I was not comfortable anywhere and I was itching so much. I had flea bites on me and I felt disgusting. And I knew at this point I was having a flare.
I tried to have a nap, but that didn't work. The eldest daughter came in once, her boyfriend then came in three times in 10 minutes, then her best friend came in three times then her husband came in for the vacuum.
Lord knows we don't want to stop ANYONE from cleaning, but why oh, WHY do you store a vacuum in your kids' bedroom? So that was my nap. My only solace was to go outside to a fountain with ducks at the apartment complex and meditate and/or call some friends back home. I thought of coming home early, but I didn't know if I could afford the change in the ticket. I thought about getting a hotel room, but a cab into actual Seattle (yes, I found out I was actually an hour away) would have been about $100. With being on disability, I just had no extra cash, and I really didn't in my wildest dreams think I would be having such a terrible time. I felt completely stuck.
So Monday she tried to pawn me off on her mother and tell me that she was spending the day with her in-laws and it might be too much for me to walk. I still hadn't even SEEN Seattle. Her mother was supposed to take me - but then I learned her mom was afraid to drive in the city. I don't know why, but I chose to go with the family and in-laws. I just couldn't stand being in that apartment any longer. But I should have taken the chance to have some time and changed my ticket home, because the next day I was still in excruciating pain. My back and legs ached and my lymph areas were becoming extremely inflamed again, just like they were last February. My neck, underarms, elbows inner knees and groin, hurt to touch and were totally inflamed. Interestingly, the more pain I seemed to be in, the more this "friend" seemed to IGNORE me. What a far cry from what she had painted a picture of previously.
But seriously, it was awful in that apartment. When I showered, I would take the towels (which were not really even clean, but covered in black hair) and put them down over the counter and the bottom of the shower. I would also put them on the floor. Everything was covered in hair, grime and nastiness. I actually did clean the bathroom surfaces a couple of times while I was there just so I could use them.
Also, I was never asked if I ate, or if I was hungry. If we actually left that squalor, I would ask if we could stop somewhere so I could eat. The water from the tap tasted like bleach, so I became pretty dehydrated. The only thing I ate was eggs and usually I had to wash the pan before I could make anything.
Tuesday, Sept 2. I had had it, she had been rude to me all week and I was at the end of my rope. I don't know why she brought me out to be there, unless it was to treat me like the rest of her family, which was like shit.
I had kept asking, when would I see Seattle, as she had said previously she was going to take me "here and there". All of a sudden she had to bring her 15 year-old to swim tryouts and her 8 year-old to a welcome back to school BBQ and said, "Sorry, Tina. You'll have to come back to see Seattle." Like I was EVER coming back to see her. Maybe Seattle, but not her.
I just sat there and laughed. After all I had put up with, and the whole trip here for a week, all I've seen was a whole bunch of toxicity and an apartment full of squalor.
I said, "Jesus, I've been here for a week, and I didn't even see Seattle?"
So the mother and daughter bicker about who is going to take me. I say, "Well, I don't want to be a burden to anyone."
I get up and limp away, totally disgusted and just wanting to go home at this point.
So E says she'll take me. I figure I'll put up with her for a few hours, knowing I can get out of that nasty apartment, knowing I'll see something nice and just keep thinking I'll go home the next day.
So when she's ready (she hadn't even taken a shower in DAYS, not even for her wedding, saying she had dry skin). She walked 50 feet in front of me, didn't even wait, as I slowly walked with my cane. I was shaking my head at the disrespect and the downright rudeness going on. This was not the person I thought she was, and when I got back home, she was not going to be in my life anymore. What a horror of a person.
She slammed the car door, bitched about how she needed gas, scared me as she swerved into a gas station, and when she saw all of the pumps were full and immaturely muscled the car into a spot. Slammed the door again on the way out and again on the way in.
Finally, I said, "Ok, E, what is up??"
She said that nothing was up. She didn't want to take the whole mess of a week out on me. I told her she was already doing so and that damn it, she had been verbally abusive to just about everyone including myself and I did not come all the way out here to be treated like this. She apologized.
It didn't mean anything to me, but I did not say this.
So she said, ok, let me know how you really feel. I said, ok, you have been a complete bitch to me the entire week. I went on to say that she had bitten my head off numerous times about small things that I in no way deserved. She interrupted me and said I was an opinionated, hypocritical bitch.
Now, I had been listening to this person get off on her racist jokes, mostly about Mexicans and "Hispanics" and her daughters are half Mexican. I was shocked to see this, especially because her father watched his own father being shot by Nazis in Hungary.
The hypocritical behavior was astounding and to top it off, she was calling me that name. Her stories about doing mean-spirited things and actions to people, her anger-management issues, her projecting her terrible faults onto others so she wouldn't have to look at them herself. Her husband even called her egotistical and hypocritical. This was before he made a motion to pretend to strangle her. This was the DAY after they got married. Yeah, that's love.
While speeding along, she continued telling me that I insulted her and her family by voicing my opinion. This "thing" has a louder mouth than Jabba the Hut, and I couldn't believe what I was hearing. All week I was biting my tongue, and yes, made a comment or two about the fact that the dogs had fleas and do they know about Advantix or Frontline? This was when I got my head chewed off. I also opened my mouth when this ignorant thing, who thinks it knows everything, was trying to tell her daughter how to write notes in class before school started.
As a teacher, I know she is not just a "kinetic" learner as her mother would like to think. But has learning disabilities, and ADHD, most likely from the chaotic and toxic upbringing she is exposed to. When telling her daughter to write "important notes" down, the daughter replied innocently that she does not know what is "important", and that is the problem. Of course, control freak wasn't listening, and that's what I gently tried to tell her that that is the biggest problem: that kids that have problems taking notes don't know what is "important".
Well, she took that as opinionated and that I didn't know what I was talking about because it was HER child.
I guess I don't know what I'm talking about either when the eldest, clearly sexually inappropriate daughter almost falls with a dress on, legs wide open, and asks me in front of everyone if I saw "anything." I answer a disgusted "no" and she disrepectfully asks, "You wanna see it again?" upon which I also reply a disgusted "no." There was no correction there from her family. Surprised?
This mother has posted on her myspace, a totally inappropriate almost soft-porn photo of this same 17 year-old daughter, with a caption underneath that says something like, "Good thing I trust this girl." She shows me and my response is not fake, it is: "I'm surprised you posted that."
At the wedding, this same daughter is obnoxious, embarrassing her parents during the toast. Outside, she is bragging in front of 20 something men that she and this other 17 year-old girl are "the best in bed." Although she has a boyfriend, she is clearly showing off, and clearly out of control. She plows into a guy she has a crush on, and by the look on his face, obviously annoys him instantly. She starts picking on her younger 15 year-old sister, telling her to "go away" in front of everyone there.
The teacher in me cannot repress any longer. I tell her to knock off the behavior, to stop being so mean to her sister and to stop showing off. This is when she brags about being the best in bed. I say, excuse me? The best? HOW OLD ARE YOU? SEVENTEEN? Do you know all the women in the world? Do you know when a women's peak is? Do you know how old I am? Best in bed? I don't think so. I excused myself. The rest of the guys in the group agreed with me as I walked away.
I later told her parents who agreed her behavior was atrocious and they would talk to her.
Back to the car ride...
This is when the tables turned so strangely and I was accused of VERBALLY ABUSING her children, insulting her family, being hypocritical and SELFISH (for wanting to see Seattle).
Selfish? I waxed her eyebrows, did her maid of honor's and daughter's nails, did decorations that should have been done MONTHS before AND set them up - I did TOO much and my body was PAYING! And I never was thanked - But no, all I wanted was to see Seattle. Yeah, that's selfish...
She began to SCREAM at me. I screamed back. All of my anger at being treated like dirt came out. She kept accusing me of interrupting her, of trying to CONTROL her (huh?) - that I had INSISTED on coming out (double huh??!!).
I told her that all these things she was saying about me were all the things about herself that were true. The rest made absolutely no sense.
I said I NEVER insisted on coming out, I said REREAD the e-mail I sent her back in July. She never even HAD a wheelchair, not even a walker. She said if I was so disabled I should have not insisted on coming out. That she PAID for my ticket and that is the GRATITUDE she gets?
I SCREAMED, "RIGHT, I did NOT come out all the way across this country to be in SQUALOR and your TOXIC energy for a goddamn week and to be treated with disrespect." She denied that she treated me like this, of course. And when I said, "Why it was that when I have called 3 friends they all could not believe how poorly I have been treated?"
She said, "Because you LIE and that is all you do!" And so I most likely lied about what I was experiencing here, apparently. She said I lie about my illness and that I was walking before I came out (which I was - the severe exhaustion and fatigue was causing my body to flare).
I said that she had some serious issues. Of course, she threw it all at me, like a high schooler who doesn't know how to have an adult discussion. All I asked was what is up, E. I wanted to talk, and she unleashed all her many, many demons.
I told her to take me BACK to her apartment, NOW, so I could get my luggage and so I could go to the airport. She REFUSED.
She SCREAMED that I needed to calm down before HER CHILDREN were going to be around me. I said she was the one that needed to be calm and that I wasn't interested in talking with anyone. I wanted to just go home, I said I didn't want to spend another MINUTE with her. I would rather sleep in the airport.
I had NO idea where she was going, she was driving all around. Then CLICK, all of a sudden, she clicked into another personality, and she said, "Tina, are you thirsty? I'm thirsty. Do you want to stop and get something to drink and talk? I would hate to lose your friendship the way that I lost B's." (B, a mutual friend went to visit her and now is not speaking to her - I now know why).
I broke down and said that I didn't think I could ever be her friend again because of the way she was being and treating me and that I didn't think I knew her, that I EVER knew her.
Then something clicked again, and she said, "I don't think I know you."
"Hell," I said, "I am me. And I don't ever lie."
Then the driving continued. I was a stranger on this highway, I had no idea where I was. I told her if she didn't bring me back to her place NOW, I would call the police.
One of her last comments to me was, "You're not disabled, you lie, you just want peoples' attention and pity."
My mouth dropped. I muttered, "You goddamn bitch. Let me out of this car now, before I belt you in the face." And my step-dad, who was in the Navy, had taught me how to throw a good right hook. I was ready to use it if necessary, but I would have rather gotten myself out of the situation.
We were going 80 mph on the 405. She slowed down on the left shoulder. "Right here?" she snickered.
"Yes," I said, relieved that I would be able to get away from this terrible excuse for a human being.
This demonic smile overcame her face as she drove away. She thought it was funny, abandoning a limping woman with a cane on the left shoulder of a highway. The woman's legs were giving out from the shock of what just happened. Where she was, she had no idea. That woman could have been killed by a car, abducted and/or raped. That woman could have been murdered. That woman was me. I had never had anything like this happen to me before in my life. And I had never known anyone this had happened to.
I broke down, balling and sobbing, and then my brain snapped on, and I called 911.
I was there on the cold, windy highway for over 90 minutes. I didn't know where I was, and she happened to drop me off where there were no signs. I limped with my cane to find them, but by that time the State Police had traced my cell.
Thank God for cell phones. Thank God for Police.
The Statie didn't know what to make of me, my eyes were so red and swollen. I'm sure he thought I was on meth or something. He checked my bag, and I noticed the strap was broken at this point. I was shivering from the cold and shock.
He made me ride in the back, the stereo blaring and hurting my ears. But I didn't care. I was safe. That was the longest 90 minutes.
He drove me to the local police, where they helped me figure out where E lived so I could retrieve my luggage. Thank God she left it outside the door. Thank God no one was home. I could handle no more drama.
I told the policeman the story. He was so sweet. He let me check everything inside the bags to make sure everything was intact. He then took both bags to the cruiser, as my legs were shaking at this point, about to collapse. He traced her mother's license plate and I told him about the kids and the poor dogs. I told him he should get the local ASPCA as well as DSS involved. I told him that that woman had to be severely mentally ill. He said with the lack of hygiene in the place, most often times mental illness is shown in the squalor people chose to live in. He was floored when I told him 7 people lived in the tiny apartment, including a small child and that the dogs and the place were infested with fleas.
When I got back to the police station, I was still shaking and tears were still flowing. They gave me water and I was so dehydrated I drank the whole thing. The lady behind the counter made an arrangement with what was left in my credit card to have a shuttle come to bring me to the airport. I asked if I could press charges, but apparently there are no laws in Washington State against highway abandonment. What a damn shame.
The people at the police station were angels. I had talked to my parents about 12 times at this point, and I'm sure they felt powerless. But the shuttle came within 20 minutes and I was getting the hell out of there at last.
An hour later, I was at the airport, and not walking whatsoever. I needed a wheelchair. I was a mess, my eyes were so red. I'm sure I looked like I had been through hell, because I had. I kept telling myself it was over. All I had to do was make it home.
I soon realized that insane human being tried to cancel my ticket home. But because I was sitting in a wheelchair in front of airline agents, knowing that the same person had abandoned me on a highway a few hours before, the airline agents quickly reinstated the ticket. I was on standby for the 11pm flight home.
More angels. I just prayed and prayed.
So I sat and prayed for hours. I learned I was the 2nd standby for that flight 11pm. Didn't look good. But I continued in my total exhaustion and excruciating pain to pray and meditate. I know I must have looked dreadful, as people were looking at me and I could barely walk at all. My legs were twitching involuntarily, all over the place. On my face must have read pain. I didn't care, I was in my own world. I had enough left on my credit card to eat dinner and get some juice and water, and enough to get something to eat breakfast the next morning in my connection in Newark.
God, thank you for credit cards... food and water. Thank you for wheelchairs... airports. Thank you for airplanes...
At 10:30pm, 30 minutes before take-off, I sat in the lobby and I went into a trance. I would find out soon if I would make the flight or sleep in the airport until the next flight to Newark at 8am.
Something kept telling me I would make the flight. I thought it was against all odds. I meditated and saw this white light in my third eye. Angels, millions of them, popped out and separated into their own separate lights, surrounding me. I felt, for the first time in days, especially now, so safe and secure. Tears welled up. It was so wonderful. I saw the number 2. Not all the standby's would make it on, as there were 3.
I opened my eyes. The airline agent came to me on my left side and handed me my ticket. My mouth dropped and I gasped. I asked, "How many standby's made it on?" She replied, "Two."
Again, my eyes welled and I could not hide my smile. I called my parents, for them it was 2am, and told them I was coming home. They had been praying too and were so relieved.
I sat next to a guy who was from my hometown of Worcester, Massachusetts. I didn't even get his name, but caught him looking at me before we boarded. I knew it was eyes of compassion, and that he knew I was going through a lot.
He made some small talk with me, that he knew people in Portland, ME. He told me he had a wife who was expecting a baby at home. Most of all, I felt protected. My eyes were chafed at the outsides from the tears that day, and my eyeballs burned from the irritation and extreme exhaustion. It wasn't long before the plane took off and I was thanking God for planes again, and angels, and thanking God for God, and for nice guys on planes.
His broad shoulders put off enough heat and when they brushed against mine did not move awkwardly away. His legs did not either, and I was glad, I just needed the warmth of another human being, a gentle person at that moment. And I fell asleep.
As we landed in Newark, the sunrise was salmon, purple, light yellow and pink. I felt it was a welcome home. Thank God for the East Coast. I am an East Coast Girl.
The connection wasn't long and I was dead to the world during my flight to Portland. By this time, at 10:30am, though, this smaller aircraft let their passengers off by a set of stairs to the ground. As for me, I could hardly make it to the bathroom on the aircraft. A team of 8 or 9 people had to put me in a contraption which made me think I might be shot up to the moon. I was strapped in to this padded seat while a ramp came onto the plane. Then I was pushed onto a small forklift (for people) to get onto the ground.
The airline workers were so compassionate and nice, but the fact that my body had declined this much in days was so saddening and angering to me. That I couldn't simply make it down a flight of stairs, that this much shock and trauma had been imposed on me, I was so overwhelmed. I had been up for 25 hours and had barely slept. But I was home. I started to cry. All I said aloud was, "It's good to be home."
One lady just patted me on the shoulder and smiled. They were more angels. Thank God for nice people.
By the time I saw my mom, I was being wheeled by an airline worker. I was itchy with fleas and what I thought could have been lice in my hair. I didn't want her to touch me. Mom checked me in the car. No lice, but flea bite marks all over my body.
On the way home, I told her the whole story. When we got home, I could not stand, and I had to crawl into the house from the yard. I peeled my clothes off and threw them outside. My parents fumigated everything. Dead fleas were found in my clothes and in my suitcase the next day. How heinous.
I hung on to the counters and got into the shower, the first thing, and soaped up 4 times with Irish Spring. Washed my hair 2 times with shampoo you can wash the floor with.
On top of it, this is an e-mail I received from that insane person when I got home:
I'm going to tell you this just once. You post anything negative about my children (...on top of everything else, you verbally abused my children! ) I will sue your sorry ass for libel.
You're a liar, an abuser, a user, and a hypochondriac. I hope you had a miserable trip home!
Oh don't worry, I told her if she harassed me just one more time, I would sue her for abandonment on a highway. Hopefully she's too busy talking to DSS and the ASPCA right now to bother me anymore.
She sent this threatening e-mail after she posted something about me.
Interesting, I am a user? I used her... for what? Fleas? And I am an abuser? Wow, that seems hard to believe. I am also being tested for MS right now by a neurologist... but I guess I really am a hypochondriac.
A good friend of mine commented that she sounds so lucid. Yep, that seems to be her mask. She is a complete psychopath. She has to appear sane to everyone else so people in her life will believe her, as they are the mirrors of her perception, her web of her life.
The Truth is difficult to look at, especially when you do not want to see yourself. There are 2 reactions usually: 1) the desire to want to improve; and 2) unleashing of all your demons that keep Truth at bay and your perception of lies alive.
I believe I was the target of reaction number 2.
I believe I have fought this person's numerous demons and have lived. I am exhausted and traumatized, but I am alive. I could not write about this until a very dear friend wrote to me today and asked me how my trip was... so I had to respond.
And still, I never got to see Seattle. Maybe someday.... But I will get a hotel room next time.
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