I can please only one person per day. Today is not your day. Tomorrow isn’t looking good, either.
Mel and I celebrated 14 years together June 15, 2010. That is a considerable amount of time especially in the gay community.
It is often said that gay women stay together longer than gay men, but we all have the same obstacles. Family, work, straight friends, the lady at the grocery store, the woman who takes our money at the parking garage, the guy at the toll booths. It’s endless.
It was history. Lately, Mel would speak of this history as if it were the only reason we were together, and in retrospect, by that time, it probably was. I just refused to see it. Candee was in Mel’s life every day. She went to her house almost daily, if not they met for lunch. Mel would load me up with narcotics and soma on the weekends so I wouldn’t complain. She thought I was fine at home not even thinking about the potential of all of this.
She was wrong. I would lie in bed, watching TV, looped and crying. There were not enough drugs to cloud over the obvious.
When Mel was home, she was on the phone.
FOR CHRIST SAKES!!!! Almost every moment she wasn’t perched in front of the computer spending money on EBay, she was on the phone.
I still made certain the house was clean, though it did no good, because as of late she was coming in and messing things up as fast as I could clean it. I cooked all her meals, paying close attention to her sugar since she was bordering on insulin dependent diabetes. I also cooked meals for her work, but Chris, her friend would call me and tell me she was cheating and either eating out or raiding the candy machine.
I no longer looked forward to her coming home. When her car would pull up our long logging road I would sink into the covers and hope for the best.
I made certain her dinner was on the table, in the family room in front of the television. She was always depressed and angry at something or someone, at work, someone she ran into at the store, someone she had to interface with, it was always the same thing. But when I would weigh in, trying to help, she would get angry
"You never take my side" when all I was trying to do was figure out how she could handle things differently.
Idle talk...nope that was no longer allowed, less I talk too much.
The only thing that made her happy was spending money.
She had a new SUV, something she asked me if she could buy earlier. I didn’t know where she was going to get the money, in spite of the fact that she was trading in her car and mine. She said I no longer needed a vehicle, she had one and preferred to taxi me about. I later found out that Social Security had sent a huge check.
When you apply for SSDI (Social Security Disability Insurance) they immediately turn you down. Count on it. You then hire a lawyer, go through some yabbadabadabbas and “poof” you have your monthly stipend. But the months from the time you request the SSDI and the month where you finally get it, also comes in one huge payout. I didn’t know this.
So she had, my truck, her truck and whatever SSI sent. She purchased a vehicle, a boxy looking SUV from KIA that had a moon roof. One day, I got in the car and the moon roof was gone. When she purchased the first one, I insisted on being on the cars ownership papers. Apparently, without my permission, she traded that less than 6 month old vehicle in for an identical model, one year older, same color, but no moon roof and expected me never to notice it. I asked why and she used a fact I had told her years earlier and it was something my dad did.
Each year he traded in his vehicle. He figured he would always have a car payment – why not drive a new vehicle?
I asked her how she did it without me, she said she did it while I was in the hospital.
Now, is that really an answer? What did she do, go to the dealership and tell them I was dying and couldn’t sign, show them the papers that she was my legal representative and all was well with the world?
That’s exactly what she did. We never made this big of a decision without speaking to each other. This was actually a shock. If I had done such a thing...well..we don't even want to go there.
I know you will think different, but she never did this sort of thing when her sister wasn’t in the picture. It seems Candee was her go to person on everything.
I do not understand one thing about this;
Candee, the person who denied Mel and had a huge wedding inviting everyone. A big family deal, but Mel not only wasn’t invited, but to make certain she didn’t come, Mel was called and told not to come because Candee was embarrassed. Candee knew she would come alone, if invited, nope, Candee was embarrassed because her sister looked butch.
Candee, the person who not only slept with Mel’s lover, Sherrie, but also made Sherrie leave Mel. (Sadly, Mel walked in on it.)
Candee the person who walked out on her disabled mother. No, I am wrong. She just never came home again. It was all too much she told Mel. Who leaves a mother who needs daily medication and can’t take care of themselves?
Candee who blatantly ruined each of her children’s lives?
But Mel felt like an orphan. I don’t know why, she had daily phone calls to my family, my mom and sister. Phone calls that would last hours. Phone calls where I was never included.
My birthday was June 21st.
But I cannot tell you what, if anything Mel did for me that year. Then her birthday, July 22nd, where we celebrated her “birthday week”, with gifts and prizes.
On July 27th Mel came home, and face to face with me in our family room:
“Dianne…it’s over, I am leaving.”
“It’s over” Mel said with no emotion “I am going to move in with my sister.
She had that look like she should be holding up today’s newspaper. She probably thought, and rightfully so, that I would haul off and give her what she deserved. But I was numb. And scared. Petrified. Oh such a moment of total panic. My heart couldn’t keep pace. I was so absolutely out of my mind scared.
I told her to unlock the medicine safe and give me my meds. She refused and asked me if I wanted to see my Psyche Doctor in BurlingtonI hadn’t seen Cheryl in almost a year. The reason I needed to see her to begin with is, I was a narcotic drug user, by doctor’s prescription. In order for me to continue, I had to see a psyche doctor every month. Cheryl’s credentials are suspect now. I just recently found out she is really a Doctor’s assistant, or a glorified nurse. But back then, she was fine whatever she was.
Mel had been so depressed last year that I offered her my space. So she went under my name and whatever else goes with that. Cheryl was also gay. And had recently broken up with her lover which she told me about in depth at three sessions I had with her. She also felt Mel and I were an ideal couple. Almost an unbelievable match she often said. She spoke highly of us and even said we should have meetings with those poor couples who cannot find a way to be happy together. Our last session up to that date was as pleasant as our first.
So Mel really had the best idea. She was going to make the 2 ½ hour drive with me sobbing uncontrollably. She would occasionally say something like “don’t cry”. And even get angry, whereas I WOULD stop crying and look at her. I guess that was enough to make her stop. But every thought was panic.
On the way she said, “You cannot afford a place on your own. But you really need to be in assisted living&rdquo
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Just yesterday I was good enough to take care of both her bed ridden 24/7 dependent parents all by myself but today she didn’t even LIKE me enough to repay the debt. We didn’t have to be lovers. But the least she could do is give me a home. I gave her one when she had none. But no she wanted me to be put somewhere where I wasn’t a problem for her.
I was emotionally deteriorated when I got to Cheryl. All I wanted from her was some balance. And I expected her to be a little surprised by this news.
But, she wasn’t. Not at all. She said to me that she saw this coming and that Mel should not have to be burdened with me. I started sobbing all over and Mel who was in the room told her I wanted all my medication and that Mel was afraid I was going to kill myself.
Cheryl got angry, yelling at me that she was going to lose her license. WHAT? And that she never wanted to see me again. She stormed out of the office, came back in, gave Mel my last prescription and said we were through.
I wasn’t her lover or even her friend I was her patient and I was in trouble. Hadn’t she just been told I was going to kill myself? Is this protocol?
On the way home I first called Nancy:
I was sobbing. Now I ask you, when a friend calls you sobbing what is your reaction before you hear an explanation? Mine is “Oh my God, what happened, are you ok?” or something of that nature.
Nope. Nancy was as cool as a cucumber. She didn’t even fake it.
“Yes Dianne” I got a warmer welcome from a debt collector.
“Mel is leaving me.” I choked
“Well, Dianne, you really should be in assisted living…”
Oh, this cannot be. Just 6 months ago I told this same woman that if she was ever homeless she would have a place with me. I didn’t feel like I was even talking to my Nancy. No, that Nancy was an honorable and loving friend who said she would be there for me no matter what.
I simply hung up without another word and called my sister and mom.
My sister who I had live with me and my husband and little boy in a two bedroom apartment when she was 16 because my family could no longer handle her. My sister who called me when she was 21 and asked to move in with my husband and I as we bought our first home. My sister who invited ALL of her friends to visit whenever they wished, at my expense. My sister who moved her boyfriend down and made us support him until finally I had to create a job in my company to convince me he was earning his keep. My sister.
Again, I am sobbing. And yes, my sister actually is panics under most circumstances when she hears someone calling her hysterically. But she also was calm.
“Marnie, Mel is leaving me, kicking me out and I have nowhere to go”
“Oh, Dianne, you’ll be fine, you’re gonna come out of this smelling like a rose.” Not even moderately surprised. I could hear my mom in the background, but Marnie was hushing her. And she hung up the phone.
I won’t even tell you about my kids.
I called Chris and Murphy whose kids I took care of as well as their house and their dog for weeks at a time. Murphy answered.
Again, I was sobbing. Again, he was not surprised.
I cried the story to him; I asked if, until I got on my feet, I could stay in their finished basement. Murphy was very sick and needed a kidney transplant. He and Chris needed me constantly. But they didn’t seem to need me anymore.
“Dianne, I’m sorry, we just don’t want to get involved. It’s tough as it is, and then Chris has to work with Mel…” I have no idea what he said after that.
I called relatives, I called my aunt and uncle in Biloxi. My Aunt who lived with our family often and when it wasn’t her it was one of her married kids and their family. But she just didn’t have the room.
Nope it seems an APB (all-points bulletin) had been put out and it no doubt had me as the drug addled hysterical lowlife that Mel created in their minds.
As Mel drove smoking cigarettes back to back, looking at her watch and fielding calls in monosyllabic language, she shot an occasional guilty glance my way. I stopped crying when I realized I had been part of a bigger picture, a plan that Mel enlisted every living person I knew. But she didn’t reach everyone.
When we got home I turned to her and demanded my medication.
She said something about what Cheryl said which I wasted no time in telling her I WAS NO LONGER THE BITCH’S PATIENT.
Mel looked at her watch again and then went and got the 90 count bottle of Clonopin and the last 40 morphines as well as some soma and other miscellaneous and sundry narcotics and threw them at me
“My sister is expecting me…” and she left.
Beginning of Book
Yes, this is absolutely positively true. If you lived this wouldn't you write about it? Some of the names of characters in this blog are fictitious. This is an account of actual events. Some of the events have been compiled together for the flow of the story. Even when I read my own work, I wonder how it could be so. But if you study your own life and compartmentalize it into less than 200 pages, you would be surprised how interesting it really is!
TRUTH HAS WITNESSES (Dianne Lindsey) This material is the copyright Dianne Schuch Lindsey and cannot be duplicated in any fashion without the express permission of the Author. All rights reserved ©