It’s been a stupid, shitty week again.

High pain levels, and night terrors practically every night.

My pain and night terrors have been taking turns waking me up every stupid fucking night.

I’m exhausted.

Last week was a doozy too.

I haven’t mentioned this story yet.

Last week I had a run in with someone else who frequents the same art room I do at the therapy office.

It was bad.

Brutal, bad.

Like so bad I don’t think I’m going to hang out there much anymore.

I don’t know, I haven’t decided what to do yet.

I’ll continue to go to my groups, and class, but I’m not really wanting to be in the same place as people like them, people who are that unhealthy, on a regular basis.

I’ll start at the beginning.

It’s a long one.

Grab something to snack on.

There is this person who goes to the same therapist’s office as I do.

They hang out in the art room all the time and sometimes go to group, like I do.

I guess they’ve been going there for a while.

I don’t really know, or honestly care.

It’s not like going there for years gives you any more of a right or privilege than someone who just started coming.

Everyone who goes there needs help.

Period.

Full stop.

Anyway, we realized the other week that they live on my way to the office.

And they don’t have a car, so I told them that I’d be more than happy to give them rides to and from the office the other week, because they’re literally on my way.

They’re probably like not even a mile out of the way total, so not a big deal at all.

So, the week before my procedure, I was giving them rides to and from, no issue.

I even asked them a couple of times if they needed to stop anywhere on the way home.

Once they needed to stop at the bank.

Once they needed to stop at the grocery store real quick.

I thought, no problem.

The grocery store is on the way, and the bank is practically on the way, just a little out of the way.

Not a big deal at all, right?

So flash forward to my procedure week, two weeks ago now.

I go to the therapy office on Monday, and take them, as usual.

But my procedure was the next day, that Tuesday, so they knew I was going to be down for a while after.

So flash forward to Friday that same week.

I hadn’t been into my therapist’s office but to go to one on one therapy on Thursday, and they knew this.

I had texted them telling them I wasn’t doing that great after this procedure.

I had a rough recovery this go-around.

I think it’s because it was my right leg, my driving leg.

I had to go to south San Antonio on Friday morning, a one hour drive one way, and granted I didn’t drive much before then, but I had been walking a ton like the doctor had told me I had to.

So it’s Friday morning.

I had a telehealth appointment for my recovery medication at 8:30am.

And my follow up ultrasound appointment was at 10:30 and like I said, it takes me about an hour to get there.

I didn’t see that I had a missed call until I got to San Antonio.

Not having much time, I texted them, telling them I didn’t have a lot of time but I was trying to stay in contact and asked them what they needed.

They didn’t text back for about a half an hour, and told me that it’s okay and not to worry about it.

I texted them about an hour after I got home, around 1:30pm, asking if they were okay.

I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t an emergency since they had called so early.

They waited four hours to text me back, said it’s not important and they just needed to pick something up at the office we both go to.

I said I felt bad, said I could’ve taken them, and they said it’s okay.

I shouldn’t have said that.

Because they then texted me about another ride that they needed the following day, Saturday.

Keep in mind this was four days after my procedure.

And it was really two rides, one there, and one back, several hours later.

They were setting up a booth somewhere to sell some stuff.

Oh, and another thing was that Bruce was super sick that weekend from the steroids he was on, and I honestly wasn’t sure if was going to make it through the weekend.

So I had two huge things on my plate at that time.

And the venue they wanted to go to was at least 20 minutes away, one way.

That’s almost an hour, round trip, twice.

Yeah, no.

Not happening.

Nope.

So at first I said give me some time to think about it, right?

Because I’m a people pleaser and I want to be everywhere for everyone all the time, and I hate saying no to people, and it’s really not that big of a deal, it’s just that I’m super uncomfortable, and really don’t want to take Bruce, because he’ll be uncomfortable, and don’t feel comfortable leaving him at home by himself either that weekend.

Oh, and I should say, this whole time I’m panicking, because the air vents in my car are randomly going on and off, (and still are) and I paid $150 last week for the mechanic to tell me that it didn’t do the thing, so they couldn’t do any work on it.

So there was that too.

$150 flushed down the toilet.

And I was also super panicking about my SSDI, because I always panic about my SSDI, and I always think they’re going to take it away from me before my reconsideration is up next year.

But I was paranoid about it that weekend.

I mean, sending myself into panic attacks about it, paranoid about it, hardcore paranoid.

So, all of this other stuff is going on in my life as they’re asking me for a ride, and I just can’t do it.

It’s too much.

I need to be there for myself right now, and I just don’t feel well enough to commit to that long of a drive, period.

And they responded that it’s okay.

And then I said; “I’m really sorry. I’m sitting here crying because I can’t be everywhere for everyone and I really am sorry. But this procedure this week and Bruce.. I just can’t” 

And I should’ve just kept my fucking mouth shut.

Because then they laid on the guilt trip.

Talking about how they’re “used to this.. this happens all the time.. but they’ll find another ride”.

Right there I knew I made the right decision.

Fuck that shit.

Boundaries, Keren.

Boundaries.

I thought it was over, right?

Done deal, right?

But then they texted me a little after 8pm on Saturday night, the next day.

This was after their event was over.

They asked for a ride home.

I was floored.

How dare they?!

I didn’t respond.

At all.

They texted me again, 40 min later saying someone was going to pick them up.

Good.

Fuck it.

Don’t care, right?

I texted them thirty minutes later saying I had just gotten out of the shower, which I had, and that I was glad they found a ride.

I stayed cordial.

They then texted me again towards 9pm saying something about their ride and an awkward conversation.

I did not respond.

I was honestly so livid at that point.

I couldn’t.

I then decided I had to put a boundary down.

I was not able to give them a ride due to several critical reasons, and they didn’t care.

They even asked again after I had said no.

This is why boundaries are so valuable.

They rarely matter to those they’re being implemented on, until they impede on their demands.

But they’re so important to the ones they’re protecting.

And I felt as though not responding to their casual texts that night was the best route of action.

And I’m glad I didn’t feed into the drama, because you’ll never believe what happens next.

Sunday evening rolls around, and through everything I’m still fucking heated at them for asking for a ride, yet again, when I already told them no the day prior.

Especially since I just had a procedure.

Especially since Bruce was doing so bad that weekend.

I was livid.

So I texted them this; “I need to draw a boundary…I can only give you rides to and from the therapy office when I’m going or coming from there myself. That’s it, after what happened this weekend.”

Something like that, pretty succinct.

To the point.

Protecting myself and my sanity.

They lost it on me.

Two long ass paragraphs about how I’m taking my “anger out on them” because of my situation and it’s not fair and “I was the only option” (which obviously isn’t true).

Now I want to note that not one time did I hear a please or a thank you until this time.

They finally said thank you for what I had done.

Finally.

Which, that was never a deciding factor, but I didn’t realize until after they said that at the end of their rant, that that was the first time I had heard a “thank you“ from them, and I had never heard a “please” from them yet.

So that just adds to all of this, right?

Niceities, politeness, goes a long way.

I wish that were the end.

I wish I could say that they respected my boundary and that everything went on fine after that.

Because I texted them the next day.

I had woken up late, but I wanted them to know that I was going to go to group that day, and they were welcome to come with me, if they wanted a ride.

So I gave them my week’s agenda when it came to going to and from the office.

I went above and beyond, honestly.

I didn’t have to do that.

Especially after how they acted the day before.

They said they couldn’t come that day.

I said alright, wished them well, and went on with my week.

I didn’t see them till Wednesday.

Wednesday comes and they went to the same class that I did at the therapy office.

I didn’t give them a ride, I honestly don’t care how they got there.

But in the beginning of class, we were talking about collective grief, they went off on “not having a ride” that last weekend.

They didn’t name me.

So the moderator and my therapist, who was also in the room, didn’t know they were talking about me.

But I kept my head down the whole time and didn’t participate in class.

And Hannah, my therapist, could tell something was wrong with me, but didn’t know what.

But anyway, they go off on me.

Hollering about how people don’t know what affect they have on them, and how they just wanted a ride, and how they was crying all night, and how they didn’t know they crossed a boundary, and how I was taking out all of my frustration on them, and it wasn’t fair, and blah blah fucking blah.

Entitled, maladaptive, manipulative behavior that has no place in that class we were in.

They ended up storming out of the room because someone stopped them from continuing on, on their off topic rant.

And nothing has come of it.

No repercussions for this person going off on me in the class.

They’re able to continue their little power struggle with themselves and continue their shit behavior to no consequences whatsoever.

I didn’t say a damn thing till this, till now.

This is my venting space.

This is my side.

My therapist did pull me aside, and ask me what’s wrong after class, and I told her that the entire blow up was about me.

I told her that the whole dramatic event was about me.

I won’t tell you how she feels because that’s not my place, but she wasn’t excited or happy about it, I will say that much.

And this still hasn’t been resolved, and now there’s compounding things on top of this that are starting to add up, and I’m becoming extremely frustrated with the whole fucking office.

I don’t know what all I have to do to be the bigger person at this point – stop going there all together now?!

I mean c’mon.

Fuckin-a.

This person is the most selfish, most the-universe-revolves-around-me, ridiculous person I’ve met in a long time.

The fucked up thing is that I used to be just like them.

Years back, I used to preach a real good game too.

I thought I knew what it meant to be “healthy” and I would talk a good talk, but I couldn’t actually practice what I preach until I really realized that I was the common denominator in all of my fucking issues.

Until I realized that I was the fucking problem.

They are their own core fucking problem.

Not the rides.

Not the fact that someone is setting a boundary.

They. Are. The. Problem.

Not everyone else.

And until that gets pummeled through their head, they’ll never truly grow.

And that’s not my lesson to teach them.

They need to learn that on their own.

In the wise words of Corey from Boy Meets World, life sucks, get a helmet.

-Keren