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Oh man, I just read the most ridiculous sob sister story, ever. Guy’s name is “Richard,” but still a sob sister story, all things being equal these days. Totally gag worthy, I’m telling you. Dripping with teh toxic. Icky- poo.

Photo by Tim Gouw on Pexels.com

Should you wish to indulge in a mud bath of your own, here is the link to, To my family who chose Trump over me: Was it worth it?

Heck yeah! It has been so worth it. Best thing I ever did for myself, mentally, spiritually, even physically. I used to have concerns about all the divisions happening. I used to be hurt when somebody would reject me. I lost friends. It was often sad and heartbreaking. I grieved a lot of relationships.

Family is everything right? Wrong!! What I’ve learned over the past four years is that I really know how to strike up the motherlode of all one sided relationships. That’s not breaking news to me, but the depth of that truth and it’s ugly impact on my life kind of took my breath away.

Four or five years later I’m still trying to sweep up the mess, clear all the debree away, repair the damage. I don’t feel bad about trashing the whole place, I regret not doing it earlier and more often.

It turns out that friends who insist you deny who you are and change what you believe, aren’t “friends” at all. Those aren’t your people. It turns out that when family constantly threatens you with abandonment and rejection if you don’t comply and conform, they are the abusive ones, they are the ones with the issues.

Yep, the orange guy in the White House has taught me that I matter, too. He has taught me that how I perceive reality is not necessarily crazy, it’s valid and reasonable. And he has taught me how to fight, but better than that, that I have the right to fight.

He’s not a messiah or idol or cult leader any of the other cruel accusations I’ve had to endure from ignorant people. He’s simply the guy who hit the switch and turned on the lights. He didn’t create what’s now scurried across the counters and under the fridge, he simply revealed it.

Richard concludes with, “Whatever you ultimately decide, please know this — I love you. After everything else he’s taken from us, he doesn’t get to claim my love for you. That’s forever.”

Photo by James Wheeler on Pexels.com

There is no “love,” Richard. There never was. You’ve just been engaged in a one sided game of solitaire, narcissisitic admiration of your own self in the mirror, projected onto the alleged “objects” of your affection.

I ain’t your “object” Richard. I ain’t “yours,” at all. I’ve tasted freedom and it is sweet indeed. So I’m going to go get me a restraining order and you can go get yourself some anti-depressants, and we’ll just let this little broken love story die a much needed death.

Heck yeah, it was worth it! Dumping all your dead weight, pathetic whining, and endless virtue signaling has been the best part of all!