Playing Arizona

 So, I'm back to playing...and about to make it a focus again. The community here is incredible, active, fun, and supportive. While I'm here I am going to have fun.

Well, I already am....:)

I think I would have to make a real effort to NOT have fun. After careful consideration, I've decided to enjoy myself. I've met a lot of enthusiastic, inspiring and beautiful (inside and out) women.

 I'm having a blast. I'm fairly certain I'll be able to come out of the pool soon, as it is starting to cool down. Which is good. It's difficult to play guitar if it is on fire.

Mobile Bosemobile

Meet my new car, or as I like to refer to it...my mobile Bose.

It has tinted windows, heated seats, an automated moon roof, and a 6 CD Bose stereo system.

 It has dual climate control, brilliant sound reducing tires, a telescopic self adjusting steering wheel, and a Bose stereo.

It also has leather interior, and a Bose.

The seats auto adjust to each driver when you put the key in. And it has a really cool stereo. It's a Bose.

It has navigation and digital readout.

And a Bose.

It isn't my Red Rambo...but my Red` Rambo didn't have a Bose. This thing has a Bose. Did I mention the Bose? It has a Bose stereo. It can vibrate the dust off of my boots.

So, sometimes I find myself in the garage, just listening to music. On the Bose stereo. Which is apparently surrounded by a very nice car...with an impeccable maintenance record and low miles.

If it does ever develop a clang or a clunk, I probably won't know for a while. My Bose stereo might be up too loud.

This is the nicest mobile stereo I have ever owned...my Bose on wheels. My Bosemobile.

Stick to the road! Don't go out on the moors!

So, I might go to England.

Spot on!

I'd love to catch the trolley to the lift, but I'm stuck in the loo watching the telly.

Someone has unexpectedly offered me a plane ticket to England. Someone I don't know, but who has followed me for years with my music, on my facebook page, and on this blog. And I am actually considering it. I'm going to go ahead and get my passport...which involves lines at the post office, and bureaucratic fun...and I probably won't get it until I need a walker...but I'm going to at least start the process.

Why would I go to a country I've never been to, on a continent I haven't visited since I was an infant? And put my trust in a total stranger? Might you ask...?

Because, life is short, and I don't think I would do much worse with trust in a total stranger than I have with those who claim to care most about me. And, I am trying to start again from nothing-and I am very tired. Very, very tired. Came to Springfield to open a thrift store, ended up in a friggin' domestic violence shelter...

The last two women expressing romantic interest in me turned rather abruptly when I either did not feel the love connection, or had concerns about anger and sobriety stuff...one punched me in the face and called me a whore, the other threatened me with witchcraft. The one who punched me in the face also beat up the one who threatened me with witchcraft. Oh...dyke drama. Gotta love it.

Thank goodness my friend from eleven years ago, from way back when I was in this region applying for grad school, had returned to Springfield. I'm staying in her room with her...an uncomfortable arrangement that I can get out of, AGAIN, if I take a deep breath and do a bunch of stuff I don't really want to do again...again...alone...with change in my pocket...dependent...no room of my own (as Virginia Woolf would observe)...to start again...

I've run all over the United States.  Why not a totally new continent?

England! Big Ben! Driving on the other side of the road! I'll be the one with an accent! Tea! Royalty! Castles! Diversity! Lingering resentments over the whole "Independence" thing!

 I'm insisting on a round trip ticket. Unless I abruptly get married over there or something (thank goodness I'm not impulsive like that or anything), I would come back...the ugly American...although, it's pretty groovy to think that someone thinks I'm shagalicious enough to fly me across an ocean.

No, I'm not a plane ticket ho. Unless it's someplace tropical.

Just kidding! No shagging on the first intercontinental date.

Maybe I'll meet a lesbian named Helga with really bad teeth and run away to Holland, where I will learn to milk cows properly and yodel while wearing wooden clogs.

It is much too soon to hope for such things.

Oh, BEHAVE!

Try It Again Jo's, Part One

 

Things sometimes don't go according to our expectations. 

 

I have dreamed of owning a thriftstore for a long, long time. A thriftstore that would give my life purpose and direction...that would financially support me while also having a reciprocal relationship with the community. A for-profit thriftstore, but one that also served social service agancies, and benefitted my neighbors by giving them a place to find things they need affordably, benefitted local artisans by giving them a place to play or display their works, benefitted the planet by reducing landfill use.

 

I researched and wrote a 75 page business plan that captured exactly how I could do this.

 

Through being an addicted, negative, and heartbroken person, I had lost everything in my life that mattered to me. This store was supposed to build a bridge back to my parents, my daughter, my independence, my pride. ..

 

I decided to turn my life around, and go for it.

 

Armed with this business idea, I started looking for things people were going to throw away. Having stupidly sold my truck years before, I was on bicycle when I started. I, of course, checked dumpsters, asked people who had things set out in their yards gathering rust, made the 4am circuit ahead of the trashtrucks looking for items people had set curbside for disposal, bothered people who had yardsale leftovers.

 

It is amazing what people will throw away. Especially in a town with one of the highest socio-economic gaps in the entire nation.

 

 

 

When I found things, I had to get them to the various places I was stashing them...on bike. I did this for six months. I annoyed every friend I had with repeated requests for rides. I walked things like dressers and couches for miles by handtruck...once I roped a large television into a wheelchair I had pushed a half mile just to get to the neighborhood where it had been placed out with a "free" sign on it. To say that people passing me did double takes as I made my way back to where I was staying would be an understatement. (The television worked perfectly, in case you were wondering...)

 

 

I crashed my bicycle over and over trying to carry vacuums, and bags of discarded clothing, and rolls of carpet. One time I found a dumpster full of discarded kid's bikes, so I crashed my bike carrying....other bikes. Wheels and legs and pedals and handlebars everywhere. I was a sight to see, I'm sure.

 

The police came to know me, and had both laughed AT, and WITH me on various occassions-when my feet were hanging over the side of an apartment complex dumpster. Eventually they would just shake their heads at me and wave as they passed by, as they figured out I was perhaps a bit eccentric, but not burglarizing anyone. Or stuck. I cleaned up my messes, and took care not to alarm residents in the middle of the night...which was the best time to treasure (inventory) hunt without being harrassed or repeatedly questioned.

 

I did this for six months, in every kind of weather. One time,  I had seen that a store was discarding some display racks. I rode my bike- in the dark and rain across the Brookings/Harbor bridge in 75 mph gusts of wind. I was repeatedly blown against the railings. But, I got those racks.

 

People who cared about and supported me starting giving me donations. I had things stashed with every friend I had...garages, backyards, sheds, under eaves and tarps, car trunks...some friends started running when they saw me, fearful I would make their homes look like an episode of Sanford and Son's.

 

 

After renting a small storage and having stuffed it so full it became dangerous to even open the door, my friend told me I needed to stop the cycle and just get a commercial building...and get the store in motion.

 

This made a lot of sense, because was starting to run out of patient friends with garages....but I didn't have start-up money. And I was still scraping every dime to try to pay my friend and former co-worker for the room I rented...and I had been doing this largely through recycling. Again, on bicycle.

 

 

 

 

 

The reason I am telling this story is because first, I am posting a bunch of pictures from my store because I am still living in uncertainty in temporary situations....and I have gradually lost photos, computers, cameras, photo albums...and what I still have, I want to archive.

 

And secondly I AM going to open and operate a successful thriftstore....again...having learned this time from my mistakes. I'm not sure yet exactly how I will get there from where I sit now. But, I will. I thought I had a plan, and it has come apart-in the most painful way I can imagine.

 

 

 

And thirdly, because even though things are turning in very different ways than I had expected, there are amazing and wonderful unexpected things at work. Even if they seem awful in the moment. And this may be the lesson I was meant to learn...I NEED to tell my story. Because there are a lot of assumptions. There is a lot of misinformation.

 

I NEED to have added my voice, even if no one ever hears it. Because somehow and somewhere...there is going to be another try at Play It Again Jo's.

 

 

 

 

 

 







Herby and the Hoodie

It's weird what we hang onto when feeling scared and broken. Some people might have a favorite blanket. Others might have a comfortable pair of slippers, or a one eyed teddy bear (who is lacking depth perception) from childhood that they cling to.

I bonded with a mouse. A real mouse. I named him Herby.

I came to Springfield with the intention of re-opening my thriftstore, helping my ex and her son restore the beautiful 100 year old homes she had purchased, and generally just to start again. I was to have the "rental" home to stay in while we fixed up the commercial building she had also purchased. When she called to have the gas turned on in the house, they discovered that the furnace was not in working condition. So, there was no heat during a time when it was getting to be twenty degrees and under at night. I was sleeping on a twin mattress set placed directly on the floor, and would crawl in at night wearing three shirts, a hooded jacket and a down parka....with lots of fuzzy blankets heaped on top...

One night I awoke in the dark to the sensation of something brushing against my face. Thinking either "SPIDER!" or "RANDOM CHARACTER FROM A STEPHEN KING NOVEL!" I jolted awake. I started slapping my head and neck. In a few seconds I realized what was going on, because the thing that frightened me so badly was trapped  in my sweatshirt hood.

It was a panicked mouse.

As I slowly came to and calmed a bit, Herby had made his way from my seatshirt hood to my jacket hood, and was running around my head trying to find the exit. He was actually squeaking, probably additionally frightened by my hair...(anyone who knows me understands this fear).

He finally got free and ran lightening speed along the wall, disappearing under my door.

We had scared the shit out of each other (in his case, literally...I found the evidence in my hood)...and you would think he would have just been thankful for his second chance, and stayed in his little mouse hole with his little swiss cheese wedge. (cartoons....too many...I know)

But, no.

I left the light on this time as I went back to sleep...and it wasn't long before his little mouse nose poked back under the door, and he had made his way back into the room.

He did this repeatedly for several nights. He was a brave little sucker. He would come right up to the edge of the bed and look at me. Of course, when I even flinched he would squeak and run for it.

I think he was freezing, and that first night had simply found a warm spot...probably thought he had hit the jackpot...I mean,  it was so cold you could literally see your breath. There I was wrapped in blankets like a big warm burrito...

My ex had offered to put a few traps around, but I declined. Somehow, I found Herby to be comforting in an otherwise stressful and humorless situation.

Herby had found other places to explore when it warmed up, and I didn't see him anymore.

But, thank you Herby...wherever you are.  

Existential Angst and Other Venereal Diseases

Ok....existential angst isn't a venereal disease. I made that up.

This post isn't even about existential angst, which is a good name for a rock band...if you ad the suffix "er" after it.

Anyhoo...

This post is about kids who scream for toys in Walmart.

Sort of.

It's a post about the nature and fragility of trust...and a basic psychological principle.

"Mom told me 99 times if I screamed for a toy and threw a tantrum, we were going out to the car. 99 times I screamed , and 99 times she took me directly to the car. I didn't get the toy. I got in trouble. But last week mom gave in. It worked....so I'm prepping for my hissy fit in aisle five. GI Joe with the Kung Fu grip, here I come."

The kid will only remember the ONE time it worked. Not the ninety nine times you consistently showed you meant business, and the consequence was for sure. The goal would be to end the tantrums, of course. But, even ONE variation from the plan...even ONE "Crisis Shelter Barbie with matching bathrobe and shopping cart" won through an embarrassing display that made you wish you had remembered to bring the duct tape...that is ALL the kiddo will remember.

Trust is like that. Especially for those who have been damaged by placing trust in someone who hurt them You can be consistent and loving for years.. It only takes a moment to lose it.

Broken trust can be repaired, but it is a long and hard fought road. Break it again and again...that person is long gone.

Remember that the next time you yell to your friend or family member across the store, "HEY JANE SMITH! I FOUND THE PAINFUL RECTAL ITCH CREAM  YOU WANTED ON AISLE TWO!"

Some things just can't be unsaid. Know what I'm saying?

Handwriting in the Squall

This is a silk fireweed stalk given to me long ago in Alaska by my friend Tara. I've managed to hang onto it for years, as I've gradually lost nearly everything else sentimental and material in my life. I post it now because I had recently unpacked it...after managing to carry it with me across seven states waiting for the time I would have a home again.

When I pulled it out of the bag it was in, it was smashed.....flowers matted against the bent stalk, leaves twisted and poking out in odd directions. It took me about a half hour to gently unfold and fluff it. I placed it in a caraffe where I had also placed black and white rocks from my favorite beach in Brookings, below where I used to live...and the last place I had dared to upack my symbolic flower. The last place I had felt home. The last place I had felt safe in love, and sure in my direction.

It is back in the bag where I had taken it from...and through a series of painful events...for which I hold nothing but heart hurt and sadness for everyone impacted...I am staying at a domestic violence shelter.

This has actually been a gift in my life, oddly enough...exactly where I am supposed to be...but it will be some time again before I unpack this fireweed stalk. And that is okay. It is safe, and so am I.

I haven't had peaceful internet access in a while. It comes irregularly and with frequent interruptions . But, I have been writing my blog entries, also waiting for time to post them. I'm going to start posting them...not that I am under the impression that the whole world has been eagerly awaiting...but this is how I process my life and my journey...as overly wordy as I may frequently be. "Locquacious Jo" is a good name for my rock band. I can haughtily throw dictionaries at the imaginary audience...instead of guitar picks.

Anyway, here comes the flood. My therapy.

Thank God for all that hurt.....

This is the very last mention of Nicole or my marriage that you will see in this blog. But, after years of agonizing, letting this toxic thing disrupt and irreparably damage my life, I want to share the closure...because it is real...and has been so long in coming.

See that comment following the "second hand plans"...? So vague..so .unclear...

Just kidding.

As venomous as that comment was, it was actually pretty typical. Keep in mind I had heard words like that before...many times as a matter of fact, only to be later reversed ..

SHE would call me...usually with a "So, what are you doing?"...as if she hadn't verbally disemboweled and dismissed me weeks or months earlier...and the calls would usually come just when I was finally forgetting, letting go and getting on with it...

She would swear she loved me...and THIS was the real her. Don't worry about that other stuff. She had just been pissed. Or drinking. "I always loved you Jo. I was on a drunk...what can I say? Never listen to people when they're drunk....I chose you. I married you. It's me..I'm right here...I mean it..." After convincing me to let my guard down, she would turn at some point...usually without any obvious cause...she would offer NO explanation...I would be dying inside...crushed...and she would get angry at me for asking what was happening and why? If you push someone into the mud, and then blame and ridicule them for being muddy...it can drive a person a bit nuts. How many times can a heart totally break? If you actually wanted to drive someone insane, that emotional whiplash and cruelty would be a good strategy.

Fifteen times over four years. Fifteen fucking times. Back and forth. I HAD NEVER STOPPED LOVING HER...AND ENDING WASN'T MY CHOICE EVER...so of course I would WANT to believe her when she called me.

She finally did it...

Guess what she did? I mean. after years of friends wondering if there was anything she could do short of directly dump a trashcan over my head that would open my eyes?  Cut that 142 lbs of dead weight loose?

Well....weeks after writing that disgusting comment...I was with a potential business partner and my phone kept alerting.  I had ignored it. When I finally looked, there were about three texts and several missed calls from Nicole herself asking me to pick up.

 "Jo, please pick up.."

"Come on Jo! I need to talk to you."

"Something is wrong. Please Jo...I'm scared."

That last one is the one that got me. I called her.

She was afraid she was sick.

Anyone who knows me knows that wild horses and anti-aircraft weapons couldn't keep me from her if she was sick.

We talked briefly. I was angry. Hurt still.

She said she was going to the ER the next day, that her friend Lois was coming to take her.

I flat out told her I was coming- and that Ishould be the one taking her.

 I received these texts from her during that night..."I know you, and know are on your way. I hate to admit it, but I really need you right now."

"I need to talk to you. You don't even know where I live, dork."

Something kept me from going...from fucking myself up for her over a probable false alarm. She always thinks she's dying of something. But I made her believe I was on the way....I just HAD TO KNOW before actually leaving this time.

 I fictionally texted her that I was tired and I was going to stop in Salem. There was no reply....none...she knows I am driving 600 miles...because she is scared...she's my wife...to me...

The following afternoon I notified her that I had arrived, and was waiting to hear where she was.

The response I got was "You are not welcome here. Nicole is fine and doesn't need you here."

 I shot back texts that I needed to hear that from Nicole herself. I said had encouraged me to come, and had asked for me. That I had just driven 600 miles to support and love her.

 Nicole obliged by calling and unleashing an "I never asked you to come. I will NOT see you, I don't care about you."

 I  forwarded back to her the text she had sent stating she "needed me now"...and her response was, "I was scared and called everybody. So what?"

 I pressed her to at least tell me she was ok, and she shared her diagnosis. she was fine. She stated that she could care less about me, couldn't stand me, and had felt like that for four years.

Why is she still upright instead of laying on a floor where I should have knocked her ass out ?
What spared her me just coming unhinged on the spot?

Because I didn't really go....unbeknownst to her, I had never even left. Somehow I had just known... that I shouldn't do it...that  I should wait and see......

Thank God she is an idiot, because a most amazing thing has happened...and I now can see that the pain, desperation, loss...all was supposed to happen and had to happen to prepare me for the next chapter.

This last time totally freed me from loving Nicole. I could almost hear an audible "snap"  At this point, disgust and anger  is coming with the realization that she used me, used my family and friends, damaged my relationships, and repeatedly fed me bullshit- usually while working  trying to free her from her own  messes.

I am left with a new feeling...

Gratitude. I never have to go through this again with her...and I am thinking of other people now, for a change. For real.

I'm free. Merry Christmas!

Stoned cold.

Several years ago, on one of the supposed multiple attempts at reconciliation, Nicole had returned to Brookings. I had scrambled to find us a home....a place where we could be together with some comfort and privacy to at least have a chance. This was no easy task given the fact that I had no resources to work with, and every place required a first, last, deposit. etc. I managed to find a house that I could get us into for rent only...and I waited there for her. She was supposed to come with Charlie, one of our beloved cats...our pistachio ice cream eating, "dark dangle," meow/howl at the door, obsess on Coley, face rub guy...who had been up with her in Portland, In an awful twist of fate, Charlie had run out the door when she was trying to leave Portland, and after hours of trying to corral him, she was forced to leave him behind with her supposed best friend. It was the last time she ever saw him...and one of those defining moments in the history of us.

Once again, the "try" for both of us was little more than lip service-with neither of us contacting a counselor or embracing sobriety. I guess we were still under the mistaken impression that doing the same thing you have always done will somehow, magically, result in something different. What it resulted in was our being homeless. Nicole found a place to stay, with a former friend of Candra's..a friend who supposedly wouldn't allow her spouse to stay with her. Not enough room. Didn't want any drama. Nicole accepted the offer. To say that I found that disturbing would be an understatement. I couldn't even imagine a world in which either my father or my mother would have accepted housing where the other couldn't be...thereby leaving the other with no shelter. I knew that, without a doubt, I wouldn't have even entertained the possibility of leaving Nicole in trouble while I took care of myself. But...that is how she handled the situation. And, she was safe and warm-which is ultimately what I wanted to happen. I got a tent and headed to the beach below the beautiful home where we once lived. Nicole was coming to talk with me the next morning. I wanted to do something special, I spent the afternoon and evening walking the beach, gathering firewood-and heart shaped rocks. After dark I arranged them by firelight. I had found a few large ones, and I had set them up as a little table, I had found some beautiful driftwood pieces, and had made her a bench seat, trying to consider which direction to set them so that she would be protected from wind and campfire smoke (as I imagined she might sit and stay with me for awhile), but still be facing the incredible view of the surf and seastacks. Finally I took a charred stick and wrote "I Love You Nicole" on several of the rock faces along the little pathway to her makeshift "seat"...in the morning I awoke early and picked some wildflowers, laying them on the her table and other places around my campsite. She was late arriving by several hours. The campfire had gone out, and I had gone back to sleep. When she came down the trail to the beach she didn't want to sit and talk, seemed to be in a hurry, and didn't notice the rocks, the driftwood, the flowers at all. She wanted to get back up to the car. I finally pointed them out to her, saying, "I did this for you..." What had taken me hours to do, she dismissed with an impatient wave of her hand and, "yes. yes. Very nice. Let's go..." 

Why do I bring up this tragic, blues album inspiring story now? Because the picture above is of rocks I have been gradually collecting since Jamuary-January....when Nicole contacted ME again. Again. The time before she had contacted me as well-to tell me she loved me and knew we were going to be ok this time, that time once again dashed just before Thanksgiving when she inexplicably stopped calling, or planning with me...agonizingly cruel emotional roller coaster...the way she generally "dropped the other shoe" included becoming extremely mean, along with accusations that my pained reactions were evidence that I was "crazy...", my expressing feelings and asking her to explain what happened were, "blowing up her phone..."

...anyway, the rocks. I wanted to do something special with them...symbolic of hope, healing, love. I was planning to include the stones into something I would have for our house and give her when she came. THIS time we were to have a counselor before we even attempted to diseuss anything....this time sobriety was something we were to take seriously and gather help and support around us as we did...this time she SWORE there wouldn't be the other shoe. I told her how it always happened, and how afraid I had become to let myself hope...to feel anything...ANYTHING....and she absolutely promised upside down and sideways that I would be safe this time. To prove the point she had called one night with the suggestion of registering as "domestic partners" in Oregon, or Washington, or wherever we ended up this time. "That should make you feel safer, right? And who would ever have thought it would be me suggesting a thing like that?" Of course my heart soared. I let myself feel peace again. And it took about two weeks before she started with the long silences, excuses for not calling...and then the blame for my pointing it out and desperately asking her to truthfully tell my WHY?

Amazingly enough, the response that I published on this blog is nothing new. When I state that her habit was to be ruthless and mean each and every time she decided (for reasons never honestly shared with me) to pull away, and eventually end again with me, that is exactly what I mean. I hear those who love me say, "why do you want her back if she says things like that to you?" Prior to this time the answer has been, because she has said things like that before to me. And then after time passed, called again to tell me she loved me, was sorry...and because I am definately no innocent in the pattern. I have come unhinged on her-though only in response to her erratic rejections. I have called her every name in the book, spit absolute venom at her, and even evoked the sacred and forbidden by slinging my hurt and rage in the one direction I knew would cut her the most-her mother and her brother. Ultimately, I had hope that, as they say, would always spring eternal. I just loved her. Her strengths and weaknesses. Her sources of both pride and shame. Her beautiful and her ugly sides. I loved her. I married her. And I had faith that if we could just get help, we could stop the nonsense and recapture what had been really great once. To me, it was worth the effort and the risk.

It's diffeerent this time. This time her long absent father has returned, checkbook in hand, and is providing all of the things she needs as he makes ammends in his own life. This time, she doesn't need to keep me on a back burner. With her home and school paid for, she can be certain there is no possible use for me. And this time, the dismissal is accompanied by another replacement. I explained that I never had a choice in how this marriage ended. I explained how I had counted on her promise to try everything as an anchor that made it safe to be myself around her. I clearly told her.how by refusing counseling she would be sentencing me to a lifetime of regret and wondering "what if?" What IS different this time is that  now I can plainly see that she never had a real, mature love for me. A love that did not seek it's own. The more I accept that fact, the more I cringe at the implications. Things suddenly come into sharp relief that had seemed so 'off' at the time they happened. Most of all, it is painfully apparent how used I have been. How my parents were used. My friend of twenty years was taken advantage of, and I spearheaded the effort. I still haven't found my footing or healed enough to be able to re-enter my daughter's life-with all of the emotional struggle it will entail...I have remained broken, Relationships impacted permanently. Aside from the obvious heartbreak, I am again dealing with the esteem stuff. I am repulsive to the person I loved as my partner. It has been hard to reconcile the person I married...who I once saw myself reflected through her eyes and felt beautiful...with this person now, who would be indifferent if I died....would actually feel pleased...

I don't want her back now, and it is the first time I can honestly say that. But, there are a few things I have to figure out a way to live with. She definately put my heart and mind at great risk, benefitting from doing just that. I let her...even encouraged her...but often after getting faulty information in the form of lies or huge omissions. I am trying to guage whether this rage is a thing that will pass, so that I just won't care. She isn't sober, has chosen someone who has her own addiction crap...both actively using alcohol at the very minimum...and those who refuse to learn from history are doomed to repeat it. The outcomes there are but formalities, have nothing to do with me, and I could get on with things knowing the inevitability...will that be enough for me when my life is not even recognizable as the one I lived prior to meeting Nicole? The damage is so extensive and reaching into every corner, Her newfound "family", with the bankroll, untested as they all may be...it's hard to take. Very hard to take.

The fact is, if you really want the truth, you have to be prepared to HURT. I have asked for truth for a long time. It does hurt, more than I can say. I should have had it long ago.

Second Hand Plans

 

 I know that I disappeared from thr internet for eight months or so. This was., because I was attempting to open a thriftstore. It all started with a 70+ page business plan that I wrote in an attempt to realistically find out if  they are as fun to run as they are to shop,

 

 

They are!

And it is a wonderful thing that I have accumulated nearly 500 glass vases, 257 blenders, countless coffee cups, random things like a giraffe costume and wheel from a circus unicycle.

The business plan called for two people for operations, In January, Nicole had said she was coming to co-own and operate "Play It Again Jo's"...with her managing the retail operation- which a full time job, I would have been managing inventory acquisition, sorting, restoration, and delivery to the retail operation I remember havinh a conversation with Nicole where she stated, Wow! We're business owners!" As with anything else to do with us, her enthusiasm quickly faded, and before long she had stopped askinh questions or offering suggestions. When I pointed that out and asked if she was still coming, she would say, "Yes Jo, I've just started a new job, I'm getting oriented and I've been exhausted," So, I told her I was overwhelmed, and we needed to get her here asap,,,there were crucial things with the store set up that she needed to be part of. Meanwhile as the weeks crept by, she would call less frequently, yawn during the calls,. and give one word responses to questions about her day, ask me nothing about the store itself....and become defensive if I expressed concern. Finally, we set a target opening date of May 5th...and I was to go get her immediately after. By this time the store was seriously compromised by having only a single operator handling remodeling (the building had been a welding shop before I came).acquiring inventory, sorting cleaning,/repairing donations that kept being dropped off in the driveway, handling liability insurance quotes, setting metchandise displays and pricing after painting and nailing up shelves.I literally worked 16 hour days for weeks on end, hearing less from Nicole by the day.

Finally there was a breaking point, and we had the argument where she stated she "was done"-a thing both of us has said no less than 4 billion times each in the course of the relationship. I immediately started spreading the word that I needed a business partner. I was exhausted. I tried four different people out with varying degrees of disaster. Supposed friends had also taken to stopping by under the guise of "helping"..which actually turned out to be more "helping themselves..." Over the course of the next few months, literally thousands of dollars worth of clothing, jewelry, collectibles, supplies, tools and knik knacks disappeared. One of the potential co-owners even went so far as to attempt taking out a capital loan in the business name, She also wrote a check on a closed account for our storage (which I had unknowingly reimbursed her cash for) and sorting unit-which left me abruptly dealing with a m manager's lock keeping us from most of our inventory. I ended up recovering it and having aa near warehouse sized unit's worth of things dumped onto the driveway-where much of it stayed. My truck clutch went out and I was unable to transport anything.

So....I think that the universe may have been telling me that it wasnt the time or the place to do this. Yet. I closed the store, and I can't even describe how awesome it feels to be able to go out again without feeling pressure from a "to-do" list as long as my arm. Without storage I ended up losing about half the inventory when shaqdy people stepped up with offers to either consign items or to temporarily keep them. Still, I learned a lot this time around. I also learned that when someone can devote their full attention to the retail side, the thriftstore was a money maker. Just by word of mouth when opened for sales andwe would average about $500.00 per day. There was just no way to maintain it with one, My landlords were sick of the mess I could never address (and I really tried-to the point of compromising my own health)...

At the end I'm lucky I didn't die under an avalanche

To discover what I now know to be true about my supposed spouse and partner has devastated me again. For the last time, however. I am setting things more equal so that I may move on without rage at her deception, numbness, absolutely selfish ways having been totally profitable for her. That is a thing that has kept me up at night. She flippantly played with my store...my only source of income and survival...taking for granted the fact-even though I told her repeatedly-that by holding co-ownership for her, I was sinking farther and farther behind.

She finally made it down early September...not to see me, but to check on her storage unit. She came drunk. We argued. She pointed the finger at my weight loss and absolutely insisted it was due to drug use. That's the one thing it's actually not related to. but she wouldn't hear me.She came to walk through the store. The same that I had just spent all night trying frantically to make as ordered as I could before she saw it. I kNOW HER. I was exhausted, defeated, unexpectedly facing the love of my life with so much riding on her willingness to see beyond the problems I was buried under. Halfway through touring it, she stopped and said, "you call this a store?" I walked out. I asked her to leave. The love of my life has turned out to be nothing but a parasitic blight on my existence, And hers

The next week the rent was stolen with the entire bank bag....along with another laptop. The one that had the business plan on it. I managed to raise the rent again, but it also disappeared-with the woman who had been purporting to be very interested in being involved in the business, She was involvedm alright, I raised the rent a third time It came two days too late.

I never officially opened the doors. I could never get ahead of the curve with only myself to carry the load. I realized  recently that I did not have a day off from February 14th, until the end of September whenI finally surrendered to the inevitable.

I am not done though. "Try It Again Jo's" will emerge soon, with a different name, look, and approach to the second hand biz, It has me excited again. The proposed location is even better, and I have people involved now who are actually giving of themselves and their time without the intention of ripping off the store-but of being involved in something they see as potentially great..

To My Wife

Nicole,

I will start by making one thing abundantly clear. This is not about "breaking up" for me. Some people just don't work together. I have been through breakups...painful ones...I have even been cheated on before. No, this is about basic respect, caring about someone on even the most normal, human level, and about taking responsibility for the fact that what you say and do...whether it be making promises, statements, portraying things as facts...impacts other people's lives. Mine has been impacted...altered...I would say nearly destroyed...and this is largely because for the past three years you have told me things that I have based major decisions on. MAJOR decisions. and when I have been lied to, misled, or had crucial  information withheld from me, and then tried to question discrepancies, I was either lied to even more, totally ignored, or completely cut off and dismissed. All of this started with a marriage. Which is really nothing more than a promise, A pretty serious one though. Joining lives...trust guaranteed,,,in financial, legal, family ties, sharing resources, absorbing exisiting issues the other has, integrating goals...ALL WITH THE AWARENESS THAT THERE WILL BE BOTH GOOD AND BAD TIMES AHEAD... AND YOU CAN BE COUNTED ON TO NOT ABANDON EACH OTHER is a serious promise. 

I totally meant my vow to you. I am the person who would have had faith in you and in us, no matter what happened. For this week, I still do. I think you have forgotten. I think you are tempted by easy. I think you have little stamina for difficult things. And I think emotional stuff is the place you are a coward. All that aside, I can tell you without a doubt that we were in love. I was me, and you were you....and we were in love with each other. We were good. Better than good. We invited other influences into our life together, we started an avalanche of mistakes, each one costing us more, each one leading us away from who we were together and as individuals. It is a sad and familiar story. We simply got lost. But here is what I KNEW to be true, because you MADE THAT INITIAL PROMISE TO ME. We were in trouble. Scared. But I was safe because you were the one person I could be weak around, be myself without having to pretend anything, and you would love me anyway. You wouldn't just abandon me. We would find a solution together. We were so happy. Nicole...hear me now...I completely trusted this. I trusted YOU to keep me from harm.

What you did do...was a gesture to save yourself...and it was not only totally self centered, but it threw me under the wheels. At the lowest and scariest time in my life- when I most counted on your promise to keep me sane and safe-you shamed, humiliated, discarded, replaced, stunned, lied to and about, insulted, and totally abandoned me, and then followed with a series of shockingly cold actions that left me questioning EVERYTHING i thought I knew. Alone in our big house. Alone with our financial obligations. Abandoned during the holidays..holidays that we had planned together...so when the rest of the world was warm with loved ones, I spent my nights begging you to make it stop, sobbing on the floor listening for your tires on the gravel driveway, praying for you to just come home to me and our boys....while you took her to your work Christmas party...visited with her family...hung out with her friends spent Thanksgiving with her... Not only did I have to somehow survive you leaving, but I had to somehow live through knowing you were fucking her every night. In her arms. Being loyal to her while turning on me. Parading her around town. Publically proclaiming to be in love with her within 30 days, and officially making a mockery of what I treasured more than anything. I wanted to die. The pain was relentless, and nothing I could do would ease it. You broke me. My warmth, my love, my ability to trust anyone, my joy, my confidence, my belief that I might be beautiful and worth loving, All the best in me was crushed. Then you laughed about my reactions with others making fun of my pain and desperation, You misled people about our drug use, painting yourself the victim of an addict. You led others to believe I was a traitor who put your brother in jail. Yes...I think I went a little bit crazy.

But, I love you Nicole. I chose you. We chose each other. I was totally willing to forgive what ultimately wouldn't matter in the long run. Not if you loved me like I did you. And I could understand the human side of what you did. I married you, and your mistakes are just that. Human. You told me you were sorry and wished you could take it back. All I wanted was my wife and my life back. I'm not the one who left. I ache for you every day. I NEVER WANTED YOU TO LEAVE IN THE FIRST PLACE. In the beginning we argued about her. You said I would never forgive you. But I did, and I have. We have been through some amazing things. JUST WEEKS AGO WE TALKED AND YOU TOLD ME "WHEN WE MAKE IT THROUGH THIS, WE KNOW WE CAN MAKE IT THROUGH ANYTHING." You told me you knew we would be ok this time. This time we would actually do what we knew we must, but hadn't yet. Counseling....and sobriety. I think we both know that would change everything. But....the easy way calls again. A senior ATM machine for instant fixes, and a younger, ego boosting lover you allowed in- during a time of life when we were both struggling. Who wouldn't be tempted? But, why did you even allow that to develop? You ARE married. I say this because you have STILL failed to do the one thing we both SWORE we would do.

Do you remember the conversation we had about marriage? We agreed that the one thing that made marriage different than any other relationship was NOT a pledge to be until death do us part no matter what...but instead an absolute rock solid to the core promise...PROMISE...that before saying goodbye we would exhaust ALL avenues. That if we felt love failing, anger building...if we felt like bailing because it was hard or painful...we would go to counseling first. Because every marriage that is saved is faced with damage, distance, changed feelings, anger, fighting, fear, complications, and broken trust. And the goal is to remember the person you fell in love with, finding our way back to what we took apart together. "It's too late. Too much has happened. I don't trust you. You hurt me. There is no way..." Bullshit. You don't know that until you try. And Nicole....you are married....by choice....and YOU HAVE NEVER TRIED. WE HAVE NOT TRIED.

You want to tell me it is too late because of your new young person? Don't insult me. Our anniversary was in August...and as recently as that we were talking about making life together. That person is new. Shiny and new. And hasn't earned a goddamn place in MY life by going through shit with you. And I HAVE put up with the shit, along with the good. You say everything right one day...miss me...love me...I'm coming home...we will be ok...I'm excited...let's get a kitty and talk about furniture...Then you disappear abruptly..."the other shoe" as I have come to call it...without explanation...without me understanding what has been going on in your head and heart to create such a roller coaster...coming to terms with inescapable conclusions that you flat out lie to me still. When I call you on them...question why you are being the way you are...you get fucking MEAN and paint me as crazy...nutjob...to blame...which we both know isn't true.

Your lies and misinformation have a VERY REAL consequence in my life. In MY life. My life is not...has not...WILL NOT...be ok until you show me and us the respect of keeping that huge promise you made. Of having tried everything.

For three years you have done this to me. Approached me claiming to love me, setting my hope and joy on fire, coming to where I am, only to find that the claims of love had been little more than lip service-and you were unwilling to really try anything new. YOU HAVE NEVER REALLY TRIED. I told you that I would let you go if counseling didn't work, Nicole. I have turned my life upside down multiple times to try to make things ok for us, to make you happy. I would go anywhere and do anything to give us a chance to find each other again. You have basically now said to me, through your actions...that you are unwilling to go anywhere or do ANYTHING...that you intend to leave your commitment NEVER having explained what the fuck happened in your daily world to change everything you were recently telling me...NEVER having given me the truth I was owed...NEVER HAVING tried to help me heal the hurts you caused in your personal growth journey...making "I'm sorry" into a profanity. I would let you go after trying. All I know is we were in love, got lost, feel differently...but have no bigger problems than other couples who try. And that we swore we would do this first.

If nothing else, I WOULD HAVE PEACE. I would be able to part in friendship, celebrating your successes, being there to help in your struggles. If someone else made you happy, I would love them for it. and I could go on...knowing...we tried everything. I could let you go and love again. After treating me like shit for so long Nicole, the end would be you doing the right thing for me too, and keeping your word...caring enough to help me put my heart back together.

You think you owe me nothing? WRONG. I deserve to hear you, understand what the fuck has been going on these last few months, and for you to HEAR ME AND MY FEELINGS, even though it might be uncomfortable for you. Your last communication with me...after your big porch revelation when you got out of jail and were locked out all day..was "what do you keep hanging on to?" Well, we married each other,,,and YOU have been telling me you love me and also want our life back for three years. Off and on. At your convenience. And it is all I have wanted from the day you made that awful mistake.

What I promised to you I am ready to do...and for you to be a decent and honest person to me. To...for ONCE...be the person I met. To have tried to save your marriage instead of giving to someone else the benefits of whatever you might have learned. Whatever it is that you want to be, i am so ready to support that.

What I can't live with...the one thing...isn't a world in which we aren't together. It is a world in which you ultimately thought I was worth so little that it would somehow be acceptable to flick me off like a bug when you decided you were done with me "for reals." As if our marriage was YOURS to make all the decisions about...as if telling me things I then considered to make huge personal choices-only to find them untrue is ok...as if failing to explain to me or to answer how you reach these conclusions is ok...as if your feelings are the only ones that are important is ok...as if cheating after telling me I didn't have to worry, is going to be ok. My life is in shambles because of us, your choices, your cruelty, my destructive reactions to it, our lack of sobriety...and you decide that you will just change your number, close your eyes, and pretend I don't exist anymore.

I hope that you aren't really ok with what you seem to be doing. As if this life I am left with, the daily pain, rage, confusion...the emotional roller coaster you have taken me on knowing I am in love with my wife...is MY problem to contend with.  I tell you I am dying inside. You respond, "then die."

I understand why you might feel we are hopeless, ..but there is nothing different about our struggles. and if you ever loved me, I can't understand how this shit you are doing is even an option for you. Fix your fucking mess, keep your word, and take responsibility for the normal hurt and pain that believing you has caused me. If you are even in there, I love you Nicole. I love you, married you, believed in you. If I am an inconvenience now, and you not even worried about wreckage you left behind you...well...

My rage will finally pass. Our marriage and life wasn't all about you. Being stupid and making mistakes is one thing. THIS is another.

I've been waiting in pain for you every single day...dying a new death and trying to get through...wanting you beside me in life and feeling desperately robbed every day I missed sharing yours, being tortured by your words that gave me hope...We could have broken up, Nicole. If that was in the cards after we shared counseling and an effort to get what we had back...I would have seen it too, then...don't you think? Your deciding you just don't want it...DUH...IT WAS A MARRIAGE IN TROUBLE...Of course you don't want it. That is exactly why counseling exists. Because you DID want it when I was "the best thing that ever happened to you." Your words. You took the vows and made the promises that were all about getting through "not wanting it." You should have kept your word, and exited with respect for me, us, and yourself...

Your wife, as inconvenient as you may find that to be,

Joanna