Epistles

Dear Burning Bed,

Who the FUCK do you think you are?

You did not fire me because I couldn’t do the job. You fired me for personal, vindictive reasons. You are so tight on scheduling that you want people to come into work sick, then you get rid of me within the week?

WTF?

B, A, J, T---who the fuck was it? What did I do that was so heinous, so threatening that you had to get rid of me?

Was it something you read, B, in the personal papers you made me leave behind one day? I thought I took anything “incriminating” with me.

ED. Keep volunteering and I promise you a job.

Fuck you up your NY liberal ass.

I’m done.

I gave you a year and a fucking half of free time. Hours.

I work for 17 paid days (three of which were “closed” days) and you fire me, but expect me to volunteer.

K, you really fucking think that I am going to transport a fucking client for you at 8 fucking 30. Bit me, bitch.

You fucking hurt me. YOU FUCKING HURT ME. I have physical pain.

You lied, T. You lied. I could refute you claim for claim. But good does that do? I could keep a job where I’m not wanted and I am watching my back every day—even more so than I was?

Do you know what you took from me? Half my world. My confidence that I could re-enter the working world. A sense of doing something good. Hope.

You fucking took HOPE from me.

You had me in that office so stunned that I was signing my “pink slip” before I even had time to think.

I would love to go on the record with you and refute every single fucking lie put out there.

A month later and I still want to cry, sob, wail about it.

I was doing good.  At B or B- at worst.

You betrayed me.

I don’t know if you are the only game in town. I don’t even know if I am supposed to be here…AFTER…

Moving again. That really might bring back the suicidal thoughts and actions.

ED—you took a slam at my MFA? Fuck you! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! You believe gender is fluid, Trump is an asshole, and the Catholic Church is full of anti-gays and pedophiles. You are as impotent at T was at the end.

Ladies—no, bitches—play your high school games and destroy each other. The main advice in a job should not be “stay under the radar.”

I could have done such good there. I liked my job. I loved my job.

Kate would go back and volunteer like the dutiful little good girl.

Well, Bridgette don’t play that. Bridgette with the wolf tattoo, she doesn’t get fucked twice.

And, if I am throwing away some great future career based on your flimsy, unproven, ball-less word, ED—then I am.

Where am I gonna be in five years? Until the day I was fired, I woulda said here. Where are you gonna be, Mr. Humanitarian? Here? I would be the house that you won’t be Where I am gonna be in 20 years? What fucking right do you have to even ask that question. I will still be thirty years younger than your ass.

I don’t understand. I gave my everything to you. Just like my ex-husband and T. And teaching. And, you just broke my nose for it.

Bridgette

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Dear God,

Job bitched a lot and there is a whole book in the Bible called Lamentations. I don’t want to bitch and complain, I just have some really serious questions.

What the fuck?

Jeremiah 29:11-13 (NIV Version on this rare occasion)

^“11 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. ¹² Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. ¹³ You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”

If I didn’t believe that you had a plan I would kill myself. I would. I know how too.

I am aware of all the blessings I have. My family. Love. A home. Never wanting for the basics PLUS. Health. UC Remission. A good body. Some talent. Intelligence. But mostly the health and incredible net of love that will catch me when I fall.

This is my prayer to you today. I am not going to pray before my sacred C&CH (Coffee and Cigarette Hour.) Well, yeah, I will.

So, I ask you once again, what the fuck?

“The Will of God will never take you where His Grace cannot keep you.”

What the fuck with Burning Bed?

If I didn’t think so much, I would say that I was fired just in time to take care of Papa.

But, Burning Bed was not just a job. It was like half my life.

Nan would say that you had me fired so I would be forced to turn to The Church for socialization. But I was doing Christ’s work at the shelter. I don’t buy that. That God is why I denounced Christianity years ago.

It’s fucking freezing and snowing out. Way too cold to run. I’ve been robbed of that too. I can’t run. Not in 10 or -5 degrees.

I am on disability. I have panic attacks. I don’t much care for myself. And, I failed yet again.

I swear if I were walking and the ground just fell away I would take the next step based on my Faith in You.

If I don’t get a break from Papa, soon I am going to lose it. I will. I lose my shit. We are locked in this house together and every major decision revolves around him. If I don’t get a break soon, I am going to split in two.

What do I want instead? I don’t fucking know! Peace. Health. Love. Joy.

I can’t see around the corner. At least when I was at BB, I was I really close to seeing around the corner—you know, with one of those military spy mirrors on a stick.

But, I don’t see around any corner now. I cannot see a future.

Actually, that’s not true. I see me alone in this house relying solely on my disability and cut to the necessities only. Alternating between salmon and eggs for dinner.  

That’s the future I see.

I miss wanting to kill myself. That was such a comforting way out. I don’t really think about that as a viable option anymore, but I miss it.

I know THEY say you don’t have a plan—giving kids leukemia, starving kids in Yemin, breast cancer for my sister-in-law. Shit happens. Evil happens. Free will happens. And, then we can choose to go to you to get us through the rough times.

Catholicism can’t be one big fake joke. The conspiracy would never have lasted this long.

But, why did I live and the neighborhood girl I play with as a child died of colon cancer in her 20s?

Paha Sapa wants to fucking scream and howl until every last person locks his door.

Why? Why did you take Burning Bed from me? Why did I lose Burning Bed?

I have been running on Faith for a long time…but it’s getting harder…

I’m sorry. But you had your chance back in 2014.

I can’t break these shackles that weigh so heavily on me.

I am listening. I am. Please. I need a burning bush. Just one little burning bush.

I am 40 fucking years old. What do you fucking want from me?

The fucking car problems! The niggardly things. The hours I get to spend at Walmart tomorrow as my break.

Maybe I was fired for some higher purpose. That’s what all of this fucking comes down to, God. I was just getting to feel like I could do something—that I could be something other than a failure… and then…

Help.

Bridgette

PS: You knew there would be a PS. Is this punishment for not going to Church enough? For my temper? For my selfishness? I’ll gladly give you a blood sacrifice to make it all better. But, didn’t Christ do that for us?

PS: For the first time since my conversion I am really struggling with my Faith. Fucking do something about it!  You promise to take care of every sparrow. Well, I can do more of your work than a fucking sparrow.

I am listening. I’m so scared…

Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless

In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Saint Ailbhe; Saint Peter; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.

Grateful For:

Gaia's treats

Aunt Faerie's treats

Health

Family

Angel

Coffee

Cigarettes

Abso-fucking-lutely comfortable, ripped-knee Calvin Klein jeans