Bitch on the Blog

September 13, 2013


Filed under: Errors — bitchontheblog @ 21:14

Am still battling with a question which I mentioned the other day and has been rearing its Hydra’s head the last few years:

How does one reconcile a long held perception we have of someone whose actions do not tally with said perception? How do we reconcile recognizing someone as the good person they are whilst having to acknowledge that there is some segment of their personality which is utter shite? How to reconcile that even if all is forgiven and forgotten they will not take your hand?

Figuratively speaking, not that it helps:

Nearly three years ago I broke one of my arms. They tried to reset it. With K-wires. It didn’t work. There are two bones now on record as a ‘mal union’. I love that expression. Mal Union. Has such a ring to it. I now look at certain relationships and think: “Yup, a MAL UNION”. Witty and apt as it may be it doesn’t give comfort. It’s the pits. Unnecessary pits. And why do I not tire of leading at least two of those horses to water? Neither of which will drink. If it kills them.




  1. Just knock it off as– -not your problem.
    Here’s my today’s problem:

    Here in the drought state some of us have flat roofs that collect water. We’ve had nothing but rain the last several days.
    Our roof leaked in kitchen. We went to a FREE lunch at Senior Center & now water is on Pergo floor in dinning room & living room too. Pergo boards are interlocking so you have to replace whole floor & not just a few boards if there’s damage.
    We’re using towels to wipe & pans for drip.

    We replaced the roof about 15 yrs. ago. The leak is probably at the chimney edge & is running UNDER the lining. So ”How’s YOUR weekend?”

    P.S. Tom went up to roof & pushed off the water. Now if that isn’t the perfect husband what is?

    Comment by bikehikebabe66 — September 13, 2013 @ 21:30 | Reply

    • “… it’s not your problem” you say, Cynthia. Unfortunately it IS my problem. Otherwise it wouldn’t bother me.

      Sorry to hear about the roof. As my dear boss Maggie used to say: “It never pours but it rains.” A slightly bewildering statement but – by osmosis and intuition – I knew what she meant.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — September 14, 2013 @ 04:17 | Reply

      • The saying used to be “It rains but that/what it pours.” in our family…..

        Comment by magpie11 — September 15, 2013 @ 16:04 | Reply

        • Yes, I know, Magpie. That’s why HER saying was somewhat upside down. I think, in the early days of her business, there was a constant drizzle. When she’d hope for a downpour followed by sunshine. In the end she got her rainbow. And then a clear sky.


          Comment by Ursula — September 15, 2013 @ 17:22 | Reply

  2. Depends on how big the BAD bit is


    Comment by finlaygrayJohn — September 13, 2013 @ 21:42 | Reply

    • With your fingers occasionally up a feathered creature’s backside you will know that even small can be BAD. In this case it’s HUGE, My emotional equilibrium off kilter when I allow myself to be reminded. Let’s put it this way: If this particular weariness were a fish (the only creature I know how to kill in an instant) I’d knock it dead.

      But I can’t.The last few years have seen me, for the first time in my life, not being able to mend fences. Fences which, incidentally, I didn’t tear down. I don’t hold grudges. It’s beyond me. Yet (hence my reference to leading a horse to water but you can’t make it drink) what to do? Two players in the saga made one mistake: They let it fester. Now, we have reached a point of little return. I cannot blind myself any longer. Where there is no communication you can’t rectify anything. It has altered my perception of two of the most important people in my life. This perception has now taken on its own momentum – the one I was referring to in my post: How to reconcile a vision you have of a person with facts staring you in the face? It is so painful I sometimes don’t know what to do with myself. How do you switch off affection for someone who thinks nothing of causing you immense emotional pain? I have learnt, actually no – I haven’t learnt anything, that I will sit on an egg not realizing that it won’t hatch. If I look at it under the microscope, rationally and cold then, yes, I should ‘move on’ as they say but I can’t. You can not move on from what is woven into the fabric of your life. Which is why it’s so much easier to bury the dead than burying the living.

      Dear Nurse John, St Francis of the Lost and Abandoned, thank you for listening. You may now take me for an early morning walk, clearing the cob webs and letting me shed the biggest tear of regret of my life.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — September 14, 2013 @ 04:56 | Reply

  3. In my pre-retirement life they used to crawl out of the woodwork regularly. Since my retirement however, and I suspect because I am no longer capable of being of use to anyone, they have all disappeared and new ones do not seem to know of my existence. Wait till you too retire to be rid of them. Till then, they will be around for you as they are for everyone. And, before I forget, I like the Mal Union description. I can think of a lot of mal unions parading through the cinema screen of my life.

    Comment by rummuser — September 14, 2013 @ 01:25 | Reply

    • Thank you Ramana, not least for appreciating the rather lovely ‘mal union’.

      It is unlikely I will ever ‘retire’. It’s not in the nature of what I do. What I referred to is, unfortunately, entirely in the private domain – so there is no escape. None. No golden watch.

      You may like to see my reply to John, above.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — September 14, 2013 @ 05:05 | Reply

  4. I have read and can relate to your pain and disappointment.

    Comment by rummuser — September 14, 2013 @ 06:34 | Reply

  5. Have spent an age, it seems, pondering your post and find it hard to reach a conclusion…. I seem to have met so may people that are of this ilk…… I am, for some reason reminded of Marc Antony and his speech at Ceasar’s funeral: “The evil that men do lives after them,
    The good is oft interrèd with their bones:”… he recognises that we are both good and bad. And it is a rare person who can reconcile the two in another…. recognise it , yes, reconcile? That is a different matter.

    We may extend the hand of frienship and love but it will noy always be taken in return…… indeed, there are people with whom I will not join hands. I cannot if only because I do not wish to be let down, hurt, offended, insulted, betrayed or what ever it is I have suffered. Nor, at times, can I forget and/or forgive what has been done to my friends, even if they have seen fit to ignore the slight.

    I have been too ioften on both sides of this sort of relationship… willing to “forgive” and yet not forgiven and myself “forgiven” and not willing to rekindle a destroyed relationship…for fear that it may happen again perhaps?

    A hard lesson this….. one I’m still learning perhaps?

    I hope that this all makes sense…..

    Comment by magpie11 — September 15, 2013 @ 16:23 | Reply

  6. I’ve been wrestling with the same contradiction just recently. I haven’t found any answer to it. People can suddenly behave quite “out of character” and leave you utterly bewildered.

    Comment by nick — September 15, 2013 @ 16:27 | Reply

  7. Oh, U! I love that you care so much. I do, too. At times to distraction. I’ve learned, though, that when it comes to people and quantum physics, there’s just no figuring some things out. You just have to step aside and watch in befuddled amazement.

    Comment by Lorna's Voice — September 17, 2013 @ 14:15 | Reply

    • I agree with you Lorna. With Magpie11 & Nick too. It’s not your problem & don’t take it on like it is. (Easy for me to say.)

      Comment by bikehikebabe — September 17, 2013 @ 14:33 | Reply

      • Yeah, easy to say, but difficult to do. I suppose once my head is bloodied and bruised enough from banging it against the same brick wall, I eventually learn to back off and let others make their own decisions, live their own lives. It’s harder with people I really care about, but I know that I can’t change anyone but myself no matter how hard I try. It’s exhausting–all that trying and and failing!

        Comment by Lorna's Voice — September 17, 2013 @ 14:52 | Reply

        • Yes, Lorna, brick walls and heads do not make a good match. Thanks for your sympathy. I am very happy, as you say, “to let others live their own lives”. I just wish a few of them wouldn’t fuck up MINE in the process (sorry, I know you dislike swearwords – yet there is a place and an emotion for everything).


          Comment by Ursula — September 17, 2013 @ 18:08 | Reply

          • Yes, I know…I could write a book. Wait! I did that already! 😉

            Comment by Lorna's Voice — September 18, 2013 @ 00:25 | Reply

      • You don’t understand at all, Cynthia. It is MY problem. Anyway, doesn’t matter. I am sure I’ll live. Let’s put it this way: I live in a place with polished floors. Hence I can’t sweep anything underneath a carpet.


        Comment by Ursula — September 17, 2013 @ 18:01 | Reply

        • My oldest daughter came home from Stanford University mid-semester. She’d never made anything but A-s before & wasn’t doing that at Stanford.( :D–so what! )
          We sent her to a psychiatrist. She said I needed a psychiatrist more than she, so I went. In those 3 + months he didn’t give any advice except once:–” DON’T EXPECT ANYTHING FROM ANYBODY.”

          Comment by bikehikebabe — September 17, 2013 @ 21:47 | Reply

          • We have discussed this before, Cynthia. I am amazed at how brazen of any ‘child’ to suggest their mother/father see a psychiatrist. Mitigating circumstances that she clearly was very young. And when driven into a corner not only a cat will turn round and scratch.

            I do admire your sense of humour that you went along with your daughter’s suggestion. If all you took away to “not expect anything from anybody” I am not sure he/she earned his/her consulting fee. A bit too cynical for me. I expect a lot of other people. I do not like being disappointed. And rarely am. I expect a lot of myself. I do not like to disappoint other people. And rarely do.

            From where I am standing, Cynthia: You are a find.


            Comment by Ursula — September 19, 2013 @ 16:17 | Reply

            • There was no “scratching” by my daughter. It was a legit response.

              It was hard to raise 4 kids, keep house & gardens without EVER having to do a lick of work growing up. Mother always had full time help. I thought a psychiatrist could help me make things easy. Well, psychiatrists don’t give advice. (Only words they say are “How did you Feel?”) Phycologists give advice.

              Comment by bikehikebabe — September 19, 2013 @ 16:34 | Reply

              • I forgot to add that she DROPPED all the courses when she couldn’t keep up with her standard.

                Comment by bikehikebabe — September 19, 2013 @ 16:51 | Reply

  8. Since it’s one of those blinding flashes of the obvious that we all have good and bad built-in and it is essentially a management issue – how we deal with them – that matters, I can honestly say I have not had an issue of the magnitude you speak regarding any of my friends. They have been remarkably consistent over the years – no earth shattering or unexplainable visits to the dark side. That said, I suppose the magnitude of the “bad” might cause considerable consternation.

    Bottom line is you have to know when to let “it” go. Choose your battles wisely so as not to wear yourself down.

    Comment by shackman — September 18, 2013 @ 13:56 | Reply

    • Good and bad. Sure, Shackman. Self understood.

      However, how do you deal with betrayal? Odd word being put around – gossip by another name. Dividing members of family. Then – and this is what I cannot get my head round – refusing yourself when asked what on earth all that was about. There are now factions on two sides of the family on whom snow has settled like the silence which descends on a field in midwinter. I cannot break the ice. For the first time in my life all my powers of persuasion, charm, affection, whatever else I am willing to bring to the table are refused. The first three years not a day went by when I didn’t shed tears over what is a wasteland of once strong personal relationships. I pleaded, I cursed, I begged. No doing. I don’t know what someone gets out of silence. A silence that the main culprit in this saga accidentally admitted to as feeling guilty for having started a fire which went out of control. Not to mention that those very same people put the Angel (my son) into an impossible position. We are not talking friends which maybe (are they?) easier to shed: We are talking family. What I have shed is a lot of respect for people who once were (still are) right up there in the queue for my affection.

      They say time heals all wounds. I’d put it differently: Time closes a wound. Eventually. Providing it was dressed properly. Yet, scars remain. And remind you every time your eye falls on them of what went on before. All so unnecessary. And that IS (almost) tragic.


      Comment by Ursula — September 19, 2013 @ 16:07 | Reply

  9. Time closes a wound. Eventually. Providing it was dressed properly. Yet, scars remain.

    Can’t argue with that. As I hail from a capital D dysfunctional family, I was spared much of the grief I suppose. One half of my family – that of my birth father – refuses to acknowlefge my existance. A large portion of the family on my mother’s side despised my grandmother and so I have never met them. I actually get on fine with my siblings and the children of my namesake uncle Chuck. But there’ll be no family reunions of any sort in our future. You ar eleft with two choices – keep trying or walk away. Im my case re the Brooke (my birth name) family – I just let it go. Since I never knew them to begin with, i refuse to worry about it. They’ll just be names on a page in the geneaology I’m compiling. Their betrayal as it were came so early on it matters not at all. Yours is clearly more hurtful and that’s a shame.

    Comment by Chuck McConvey — September 24, 2013 @ 18:51 | Reply

    • Chuck, we love you. How did you get that big smile & your positive attitude? Big KUDOS!

      Comment by bikehikebabe — September 24, 2013 @ 19:18 | Reply

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