#a lot of my past roommates have subleased their rooms so a lot of people have been in this apartment in general and . shes like the worst

[shanghaichicane]

.

would it KILL my roommate to not play loud music/watch tv with the volume up at night when im trying to/getting ready to sleep like. girl you KNOW how thin these walls are

[noreasonreally]

alright, i have shit to get done today and if i don’t write down my frustrations i’m gonna be super distracted. which is a few notches above my normal setting, easily distracted, and that just won’t do. so, here’s a rough draft of the shit i want to say to current roomie:

life is rough. sure. money is tight and apparently “having a job you’re overqualified for is worse than having no job at all” and my cat is ruining your mental health and you compromise way more than i do.

but when i genuinely don’t remember you telling me you’re staying an extra 30 days past the agreed-upon move out date, and even though we’ve talked about new tenants coming in and the fact that you didn’t have to find a subleaser anymore, you could’ve reminded me. and you could’ve mentioned this to the landlords who sat down and made the notes on the lease with us. and yeah, you have a legal right to be here. i don’t know where the comment about august 17th came from but i guess you were right about being able to stay until then, too, because you’re able to stay as long as you want.

but let’s also get something straight. i’m not attacking you by trying to sort this out. i didn’t waltz into the landlord’s office and sign a lease cackling about tricking you. i don’t remember you telling me and just lie about it - because if i knew that was the case, i wouldn’t have made an ass of myself signing a lease that would end up screwing over everyone but yourself.

also, i hope you realize this means you still owe another month’s rent, and another month’s bills, and by august 5th i’m changing the wifi password if i don’t get that money. sound unfair? well i thought it was unfair that you lied to me about paying rent, reamed me a new asshole when i asked for bill money, and texted me angry novels at 4AM after pitifully saying “i prefer to talk about these things in person.”

it’s exhausting to keep going around and around with you. i stopped caring about your mental health a long time ago because it’s nothing i can fix, and i don’t sympathize with those i don’t trust. it’s exhausting to justify my actions when i don’t even know what actions you’re taking to fix your own problems. it’s exhausting to explain my to-do list to you as if it’s something to be ashamed of. 

i jumped into the ring one more time a month ago, angry and venting even after i’d gotten your bill money, because you had to get one more verbal jab in there, as if we’re trying to win some fight against each other instead of co-exist with electric, gas, and internet. instead of trying to help one another, it’s turned into “how dare you not remember, how dare you not agree, how dare you not (take some action that really isn’t a huge deal it just needs to be discussed).” 

and really - honestly - if you told me, and i forgot, that’s my bad. i didn’t anticipate you telling me you were staying another month. i didn’t anticipate you immediately jumping to “i can legally stay here til aug 17th, and that document you signed is just void, and i’m not going anywhere.” i didn’t anticipate any of that. i thought you might ask for a hand moving stuff, or getting furniture out of the way. i started out the headbutting match with “that’s... a major miscommunication, did you tell the landlords” and she said it didn’t matter, she’ll call them tomorrow, etc., etc.

which, if we look at the track record, means she won’t. so i got my phone out and used the last of my phone minutes to talk to the landlord who apologized for the oversight and said if she stays another month she’ll have to find a subleaser and pay that rent and if she doesn’t, they’ll take her to court.

does that feel great? no. was it relieving? yeah. because i’ve been feeling that aching gnaw in my stomach in my house again, of hating coming home, of locking myself in my room, of pushing away paranoia about animal abuse and property damage, that i thought i left behind. talking to dear friends has helped me acknowledge that it’s a trigger. so my behavior hasn’t been the healthiest, either - i should remain calm, not reply in kind to long messages. for the most part, i’ve been able to. we’re only human.

and as angry as i was last night, i’m back to a weird internal peace. so, i didn’t get what i wanted - a new roommate on the date i’ve been looking forward to this whole summer. worse things have happened. i really hope the other girl finds a new place, or somewhere to crash until aug 31st. i really liked her, she was super low-key. a nice change of pace.

the thing stuck in my head now is the last conversation i had with current roomie about it. “you really don’t remember?” “no, when did you tell me??” “like a month ago!” “when?” “you expect me to remember what we were doing?!” “yeah! please! cause i don’t remember.” “you know what? you can’t gaslight me like this. (starts to walk away) this is gonna be a rough 30 days.” “yeah. i bet.”

and like.... sure, it’s shitty of me to not remember. but telling someone an important detail like that, one time, and only the roommate, not the landlords... not only do i not trust that you told me, i don’t feel sorry if you did. part of being responsible is following up. checking. making sure. did the word “gaslight” hurt me? yeah, ‘cause learning that i grew up in it was harsh, and i don’t want to be that person. is my worth shaken? am i afraid i’m being a bad person? am i afraid our mutual friends will now think i’m garbage? yeah, there’s a fair amount of that.

but there’s only one person whose approval i truly need, and that’s mine. i’m the one who has to live with myself. i’m the one who has to walk in these shoes. i remember just begging for my father’s love and approval, and i’m sensitive to people disliking me. but at the end of the day, i’m not apologizing to someone when i don’t think they deserve it. especially not when i know it’ll just get thrown back in my face as a “gotcha” moment the next time i upset them.

(as a side note, i’ve been inching away from those mutual friends for a while. we’re not meshing as well as we used to and i’m abusing alcohol a lot while around them - not their fault, but something i need to take responsibility for and take action over. so....... their approval or lackthereof isn’t super high on my list of priorities.)

you know. people are allowed to be mad at me. they can. god knows they often should be and that i’ve needed a kick in the pants way more than once. this isn’t a situation where i can or should change anything other than clarifying myself. maybe i’ll say some of these things to current roomie, but probably not. because our emotional exchanges are volatile more often than not, and i have better things to pour my energy into. and let’s be real, in the grand scheme of things, this isn’t the worst miscommunication to ever happen, and whether or not anyone believes me, i didn’t mean any harm. maybe that’s all i need to say to roomie. “i didn’t mean any harm.” 

of course, on the off chance she hasn’t been trying to come to a way of communicating and is still royally pissed at me and super defensive, i may just be setting myself up for more emotional work. 

oh and in the interest of putting all this down and getting it outta my noggin, the last thing she properly communicated to me was “don’t talk to me for a while, i’m tired of being the only one who compromises!!!” and... that was never resolved. she just casually asked me about subleasers and commented when i broke a glass while she happened to be in the room. other than that she barely looked me in the eye. so... still wondering if we’re technically allowed to speak again or if she’s just shunning/un-shunning me at will.

c’est la vie. here’s to one more month of shit left in the toilet, food left in the sink, and wondering if my cat feels safe when i’m not home. 

[alphacrone]

Heart Like Mine - or, Bitty finds himself in a McDonald’s on a lonely, Wednesday evening

[Part of the Blue-Eyed Jack ‘verse - Takes place in Nashville, long before Jack and Bitty meet...]

CW: mentions of homophobia, running away, vague mentions of homelessness, a very very lonely boy reconsiders his life choices, hopeful ending i promise

AN: So I was listening to Emily’s FANTASTIC playlist she made for Bitty in this universe and actually started crying at work thinking about Bitty when Heart Like Mine came on, so I had to write this little piece. 

Cause I heard Jesus He drank wine And I bet we'd get along just fine He could calm a storm and heal the blind And I bet He'd understand a heart like mine

-Miranda Lambert, Heart Like Mine

Eric didn’t know why he was here.

And — gosh — it was weird to think of himself as Eric, but that was the only name people knew him by in Nashville. He grew up as Baby and Dicky and Junior, as Sweetheart and Boo Boo and Champ. He went by other names as he got older, crueler names hissed at him in hallway at school, shouted at him from across the street. The kids in first grade called him Little Bittle, but even that seemed preferable to Eric in this moment. Eric was the lonely name of a lonely boy hundreds of miles away from a place he couldn’t call home. But it was the only name he had anymore.

It still didn’t explain why he felt the need to wander into a random church on a rainy, Wednesday evening.

Back in Georgia, Eric had attended church every single Sunday with his mama and Coach. He took communion with half the town, and it was the one moment in the whole week he felt like he was one of them. The reverend didn’t have the nicest things to say about boys like him, but when he spoke of love and peace and turning the other cheek, Eric felt like he could survive Madison and come out the other side a better person than he’d been before.

Well, he’d survived. But he’d become someone he didn’t know, someone who left in the middle of the night with no goodbye, save for the note on the kitchen table that read, I’m sorry. I love you. Don’t look for me.

Eric hadn’t signed it; that was the moment he shed all the names of his past, like he’d scraped off a snakeskin on the doorframe as he walked away.

Now that he sat here, in the back pew of an empty church, shivering under the blast of the A/C, Eric wondered if he’d ever grow his new skin, or if he’d feel this raw and tender forever.

In the lobby, he could hear someone vacuuming the carpet. Somehow it comforted Eric to know he wasn’t the only person in the building. He thought he’d come here to find God, to have one of those religious epiphanies that only happens when you’re the only one for miles, but maybe he’d just been looking for home.

“This is dumb,” he murmured, standing too quickly. He’d worked long and hard today — construction jobs were ruthless but paid better than the shitty tips he’d been getting at TGI Friday’s — and hadn’t eaten since breakfast. The world spun as he stumbled back out of the church, face and hands going cold and numb. The rain was coming down harder now, and Eric was just grateful he’d managed to save up enough to rent a closet-sized room in a sketchy sublease. Maybe he’d stop by a Bojangles and treat himself to chicken and biscuits, if only to fill his stomach better than a ramen pack would.

Eric didn’t find a Bojangles anywhere between the church and his apartment, to his disappointment, but he did find a McDonald’s, which was almost as good. The food was hot and salty and made him forget his aching muscles or the fact that after living in Nashville for several months he’d yet to land any sort of gig — not even at an old folks’ home or at an open-mic. The best he’d done was the day a kind woman dropped a twenty in his open guitar case as he busked on the Strip — one of ten curbside singers in a five-block radius. Maybe he’d have had more luck hitchhiking down to Austin to try his luck among the Willie Nelson- and Stevie Ray Vaughan-wannabes. But Eric couldn’t imagine having more than one state line between him and the family he’d left behind, as far away as he felt now.

“Give me a sign,” he said, staring down at his half-eaten burger and fries. “Give me a sign to give up and move on with my life.”

Eric didn’t know if he was speaking to God or the universe or the spirit of the cow that was now his dinner, but it didn’t matter. He’d take anything as an omen now, take any sort of permission to let his dreams die and move on from the bright lights of Nashville.

“Hey, uh, do you mind if I sit here? I don’t really want to eat alone.”

Eric looked up into warm, brown eyes peering down at him curiously. They belonged a boy — no, a young man — who couldn’t have been much older than Eric himself. He wore one of those Best Buy ‘Geek Squad’ polos and looked as worn as Eric felt, but his smile was bright and kind.

“Sure,” Eric said, voice coming out as more of a surprised squeak. “I’m- I’m Eric.”

“Abel,” the man said. He sat down in the seat across from Eric, setting down his tray. “And thanks. I was gonna take this home, but my roommates are out and I guess I just wasn’t ready to sit in an empty apartment by myself.”

There was a loneliness in Abel’s eyes that felt achingly familiar. Eric nodded in understanding.

“I’m grateful for the company,” he said, picking at the seeds on his bun. “I was feelin’ a bit lonely myself.”

Abel smiled at him and they dug into their meals in a comfortable silence. After a couple minutes, Abel swallowed a large mouthful of burger and asked, “So, Eric, what do you do?”

Ah, the horrors of smalltalk. “Oh, um, right now I’m working in construction. S’the best work I could find. Been thinking ‘bout saving up to take a class or something, maybe get into something vocational.” He nodded at Abel’s shirt. “Never really had booksmarts. ‘C’s get degrees’ and all that.” He laughed nervously.

“You know anything about bartending?” Abel asked. “My cousin’s got a little dive near here, he’s looking for a bartender. Pays decently, not nearly as dangerous as construction.”

“Sadly, no,” Eric said with a shrug. “Only time I’ve ever spent in bars has been going to shows. I’m only 19.”

“That’s old enough for plenty of people,” Abel said, not unkindly. “What shows do you go to?”

Eric shrugged, popping a french fry into his mouth. “Mostly country, lots of up-and-coming singers and bands. Sometimes more indie stuff, but country’s my thing, for better or worse.”  

“You a singer?” Abel asked around a mouthful of food. When Eric nodded, he continued, “You should sign up for the open mic battle at Black-Eyed Susan’s — it’s this terrible bar that only stays open because it hosts really fun competitions and shows and stuff.”

“Oh.” Eric sat a little straighter. This wasn’t the sign he’d asked for at all, but he’d be a fool not to see it as the opportunity it was. “Yeah, that’d be- that’d be great.”

“Here,” Abel pulled a pen from his pocket and scribbled vague directions down on a napkin. “I forget the address, but it’s not that far from here. If you talk to a girl named Jenny, tell her I sent you.” He paused, smiling goofily. “That’s my sister. She’s the best.”

Eric laughed. “I’m sure she is. Thank you, this is- I walked in here ready to give up and you really turned my night around.”

Abel shrugged, looking embarrassed. “It’s nothing. I thought I’d be eating by myself and now I have a new friend. Sometimes magical things can happen in a McDonald’s on a rainy day, Eric.”

But it wasn’t magic, or even divine intervention. The universe didn’t really care what happened to Eric, but maybe Nashville would.

“Call me Bitty,” he said after a moment. Itty Bitty Bittle, he could hear the boys in the locker room jeering, but the memory didn’t hurt like it once had. He’d show them; he’d show them all what Bitty could do. “No one’s ever really called me Eric. I go by Bitty.”

Abel shrugged and smiled and said, “Well, then, it’s real nice to meet you, Bitty. I really can’t wait to hear you sing.”

[Blue-Eyed Jack Masterpost]

[Writing tag]

[My online novel, The Discourt Knife]

[dancingbeyondcancer]

Chapter 07 - Dancing Beyond Cancer - A Healing Home

Chapter 7 -------- A Healing Home

Danielle and I decided to stay at my house for several reasons. First, she didn’t want people just showing up and checking on her. It is a small town, and if people saw she was home, they would have been knocking on her door. The second reason we decided to stay at my house was that we had a little more space to move around in, and that was also sort of the third reason. My roommate was a massage therapist and yoga instructor, so she had tons of pillows to keep Danielle comfortable. Plus, it was the right energy for us to be around while healing. I was subleasing a room from her, but she had made the house feel very peaceful and serene.

I had enjoyed living at the house since practically the moment I moved to Sedona. It was just off the Thunder Mountain trailhead, in fact, I would walk out my back yard and across the street to reach the entrance. Thunder Mountain is the mountain Walt Disney modeled his ride Big Thunder Mountain Railroad after. I loved that I could freely explore Sedona out my back yard. I hadn’t spent much time at my house after I met Danielle, we spent most of the time in her dance studio. She still had two Roommates living at her house. Danielle didn’t feel they were ready for the burden. My roommate was the exact opposite, so staying at my house put Danielle the most at ease.

Keeping Danielle comfortable to the best of my ability was my top priority. My roommate thankfully had a nice collection of hard pillows and body props from her time as a bodyworker and yoga teacher. Danielle felt most comfortable being propped up in bed, similar to the way the hospital bed would have her sit. It was the best position to provide the least discomfort. Managing her comfort levels was the most challenging task at this point. I was giving her MMJ foot rubs at least 4 or 5 times a day. Not only did the medicine usually help relax her, but the feet have connections to all parts of the body, and I would notice an improvement every time I would give her a foot rub. I still felt rather helpless, so I did everything I could to help Danielle feel better.

After a week in the hospital, we were both very eager for additional answers. The hospital hadn’t provided us with the answers we both needed. Danielle had a Doctor friend who we were going to be meeting with as soon as we returned to Sedona. It would take a couple of days before we would see him, but the questions needed answers. Most of the questions that we had were about alternative treatments and other radical options. Doc was a man who had spent years providing solutions that the medical industry declined to offer. Doc was a little radical, and I would also say one of the most knowledgeable individuals about Cancer. He knew his stuff and at the same time was a very complicated individual. Doc was also someone who was tormented by loss. Our situation wasn’t making things easy for him.

Looking back now, I truly sympathize more than anything; he too had lost his spouse and best friend several years prior. He lost his license to practice as a doctor because he was willing to do anything for his wife. Danielle and I both believe that what he did helped keep her alive longer so that they could share the special time they had together. The Doc was an eccentric genius type, and it took all the smarts I had to keep up with him.

Much of what he discussed was very familiar to me. Most of my online reading usually involved educating myself on topics about healing, diet, and disease. If I was researching a topic, I was truly confident in the validity of what I had researched.  I often look at all perspectives, and then I use discernment to conclude. I will admit that I have been proven wrong from time to time, but for me, it just is ever-expanding my truths.

Doc’s knowledge was overwhelming and humbling. After a week of disappointing answers and general lack of general health treatment or knowledge, I was relieved. The Doc, in my opinion, was our first set of real answers from an experienced doctor. I had spent the past nearly two weeks, begging my wife to start using some of the treatments I would recommend. Monoatomic Elements or Ormus had been shown repeatedly to cure cancer; they use the platinum elements in chemotherapy; they use platinum and palladium mixed with toxic chemicals. I had read papers that said the metals themselves if used properly in the right doses could help cure cancer. Danielle wouldn’t take any until the Doc said it was okay. If she wasn’t already familiar with it, she didn’t want to hear about it.

I failed my first Test. I think it is important that I tell people that I messed up at this point in the recovery process. I did what we found to be the biggest mistake that so many people make. I was pushing the treatment that I thought would help cure her cancer. Feeling helpless made me believe that I could gain control if we did my cure to cancer. It didn’t matter to Danielle what my choices would be.

I didn’t make that mistake for long. I started to understand that Danielle was going to do things her way. It didn’t matter to her that my way was to use Electro-Magnetic Therapy Devices, something she couldn’t do because frequency treatments could trigger her Addison’s disease, and we couldn’t have her going through Adrenal failure while trying to recover from cancer.

I had to learn to keep my mouth SHUT. I had to respect what my wife wanted to do for her treatment. It wasn’t up to me to decide what was best for her. She was the only one who could make that decision. The only thing I could do was talk her through the decisions that she was making. I could help make sure that she felt they were the completely right thing to do, even if it wasn’t the way I would do it. I feel every person has a treatment that will be most effective for them.

Belief in the treatment or vice versa, the lack of belief in the treatment, can decide the outcome. The Placebo and Nocebo effect have repeatedly shown that sugar pills can cure people and a belief that a sugar pill is poison can injure or even kill. A belief in sugar has the power to heal or kill, depending on what the person believes is fact. It doesn’t work all the time, but it works more times than Science could pass it off to chance. I think this was my biggest lesson and something I would continue to learn and refine through the course of our ordeal.

After our first meeting with Doc, I was convinced that we were going to beat this. He had confirmed that we needed to do lots of antioxidants, which was something I strongly supported. Including making sure she had proper clean water, we were banned from drinking tap, although I had stopped drinking tap water years ago. I would go thirsty versus drinking tap water while I was staying at Danielle’s, not really by choice but instinct. I know the difference between water that makes you feel good and the dead water that is passed off as water these days. I was drinking structured water, from my roommates work so that it would provide a healthier charge.  Danielle immediately switched to this water.

The next thing we were going to be doing was alpha lipoic acid mixed with palladium. Another dietary supplement that has been shown to beat cancer as well. I was excited it had one of the platinum elements in it because it helped me bring up using the Ormus and colloidal minerals.  Doc said no harm would come of using those supplements. I was finally allowed to start using some of my techniques to help beat this cancer. I wish I had checked my ego to start. This behavior created much tension between Danielle and me.

I knew that what I wanted to give her had no negative reactions, but it didn’t matter to her. It was purely a beneficial supplement that has so many benefits that it was crazy to me that she wouldn’t take it. She wanted to know for sure that it would help her and nothing I said could convince her otherwise. I was more than persistent, and the constant pressure I applied to get her to take it was met with more and more resistance. It created such resistance that it almost created a fear of the supplement.

A fear that I knew she also had towards using Electromagnetic Therapy Devices. My roommate had a very subtle EMF device at the house, and my wife, before getting sick wouldn’t even get near. I knew she had some apprehension, and because of her medical history, it was set in stone. I knew better than to try and change her mind on this subject. If only I realized that applied to all subjects, then I might have avoided some problems.

Despite Danielle’s beliefs, I also asked the Doc his opinion about Rife Electromagnetic Therapy devices.  He told me that he personally only trusted the original device that Dr. Rife created. Some of the other new devices have such a mix of frequencies that they may or may not be helpful. In my research and experience, I was noticing the same thing. This was another interesting confirmation from a knowledgeable doctor.

I had a simple rife device, but it wouldn’t allow for precise tuning to certain frequencies and that shortcoming I felt made it far less effective. I still wish that it was something that we could have tried, but the lack of support from the Doc and Danielle’s left that treatment on the shelves. According to Danielle, there wasn’t going to be a chance in Hell that she was going to try EMF treatment.

All my research and understanding of the disease had not prepared me for cancers greatest challenges. Nothing could have equipped me for the experience of going through Cancer with a loved one.  It felt like a crash course with a lot more crashing than staying on course. I would make many mistakes along the journey, mistakes I always hoped to grow through.

First thing I learned to respect my wife’s decisions, no matter what. I didn’t have to agree, but I always needed to show her the highest respect. In no way would I disrespect her decisions by telling her to do something opposite to what she decided. I couldn’t push a single Opinion about any treatment without ample supporting proof. The truth is that most of what I had studied and read was still something that I would classify as, “In my Opinion.”

In my opinion, what I discovered is that people have a hard time respecting other people’s decision, especially if those decisions are contradictory to our own. Just because something is true in my life and not true in yours, it doesn’t make either of us right or wrong. For example, in my opinion, Clowns are funny and joyful. A doctor would be wise to prescribe me, clowns, if I’m feeling depressed.  However, if he prescribed that to someone scared of clowns, he could end up sending that person to a mental institution. A silly metaphor, but sadly, our medical system doesn’t consider belief structures despite belief playing a fundamental role in the Placebo effect.

Our talk with the Doc resulted in many insights and revelations about what the plan of attack should be. Cancer is a disease that consumes and eats the food of the body. By stage 3C, there was a chance cancer had started to spread. We had no proof that it progressed to any other part of her body, but the risk with stage 4 is that the tumors start to develop everywhere. My theory is that tumors develop where the body is weakest. My wife’s most traumatized area was her woman parts. The repeated abuse of men and the constant jealousy of women made the area a prime spot for Cancer.

The Doc told us that, “Cancer was an opportunistic disease.” His statement resonated the most with me. Everything I had seen in my studies showed that it would attack weakened parts of the body, broken hearts would lead to breast cancer, control issues or a life that is out of control would lead to pancreatic cancer or people that had communication issues would be at risk for Thyroid cancer. These weren’t sole causes, but if a disease was opportunistic, I could see the life patterns that would weaken certain parts of the body. I was learning, and I knew that the path the Doc sent us on was the right one.

I would say that a sense of relief set over both of us as we finally knew what we were doing to combat Danielle’s Cancer. It was a mix of nine different dietary supplements that were all known to be super antioxidants. We also were going to start using the Hyperbaric oxygen chamber to help increase her healing, and we were going to start doing an IV treatment as well. There were also other treatments we were going to implement as her healing from the surgery progressed.

The priority was getting her diet dialed in, while also making sure she got lots of rest. Rest I could tell was the most important factor in how strong she felt daily. Alternatively, if she spent too much of the day stressed or worried it would wear her out. When Danielle was worn out, the pain would increase, and she would suffer the most at night.

Immediately after returning to my home, we began a late-night shower ritual to help her deal with the pain. I set up a stool for her to sit on in the shower, and I would sit next to the shower for support. I was usually the temperature control for her, so she didn’t have to get up or move. It was impossible for her to stand for any length of time so she would have to sit for the entire shower. Rarely did we not use all the hot water in the house for a therapeutic session, but we would spend ten to twenty minutes in the shower.

The improvement that the water would provide was worth the time involved. The gentle stream would melt the pain away. My wife found the warm water very soothing and helpful in her healing process. During the first couple of weeks, sleep was always a big challenge. She took some naps, and the MMJ was helping to put her to sleep from time to time.

I can’t forget that while all this was happening, I was working two jobs for a time. It might have seemed overwhelming if it weren’t for the fact that I decided I was going to rise to the occasion or at least give it everything I had, failure wasn’t an option for me. I loved Danielle with all my heart, and she deserved one hundred and ten percent of the love I had to give. It was clear to me she also needed the support.

My priority was being there for my wife, nothing else in my life mattered to that degree. So in between shifts, I would run home to let the dog out and usually indulge Danielle with a foot rub to re-apply meds. Often, I would also have to help her to the bathroom as she could not walk on her own without a walker for the first several weeks.

The ordeal physically and emotionally drained Danielle. It was difficult to face the people in her life with the new reality she was facing. Danielle didn’t want to share her problems with the community. If people were having trouble in their lives, Danielle was the person many people would turn to when times were tough. She knew how to listen.

Danielle gave people a beautiful space to share their deepest pains.  Most people who interacted with her would be left a better person because that is what she did. She never gave up on anyone that she cared about and for her, the community was her family. I learned all families by blood or otherwise have their problems. She shared her problems about the community but started hiding her conversations with her Real family.

I had shown some concern that she was getting upset with her family. Primarily how upset her mother could make her. It bothered me that most interactions I observed would end with Danielle being upset. Much of the stress stemmed from the fact that her mom expected Danielle to do or at least try chemotherapy. Her mom did not understand the risks or practically anything about chemotherapy at that point.

Like many people who still have faith in the Medical Establishment, they don’t ever acknowledge the risks or dangers associated with our prescription pill medical industry. My wife would repeatedly explain the risks she was facing because of her previous medical issues. Danielle’s sensitivities made chemotherapy potentially life-threatening. Even her mother showed zero respect for her decision, causing unnecessary stress. Danielle knew what was best for herself, and no one was going to change her mind.

Never once did our families show a sign that they believed Danielle was doing was the right thing. Danielle, most of all, wanted her mother’s support but struggled to gain it. Danielle was constantly looking for ways to win her mother’s approval. Her mother wanted her to go to the oncologist, and Danielle hoped that would earn her cooperation. We were willing to try anything to change her mind.

Danielle’s mom, like many other people, feels that Chemotherapy is the only solution to cancer, and she wouldn’t entertain that there were other options. Everyone her mother knew did chemo, some survived, and for that reason, she thought it worked. I can’t blame her for her experiences, but not everyone responds well to chemo. I can attest to that personally working in the Medical Marijuana Industry.

Additionally, many cancer patients suffer due to complications caused by chemo. The facts show chemo kills people every year because it can cause such serious reactions in a sick or weakened body. Danielle and I even had several people tell us about relatives that had to stop chemo because it made them too sick. Others told us that the chemo did so much damage that it ruined their quality of life, leaving most in medicated comas before passing.

I couldn’t handle how upset her mother was making her and that they were calling every day, expecting a full update from Danielle. I told her she needed to cut back on talking with them because it was stressing her out. She started to make sure that she would talk to them while I was at work. For a week, this had been going on, and the daily updates with her sister and mother were becoming problems. Even though she wasn’t telling me, I could tell something was stressing her out. It wasn’t very difficult for me to deduce what was causing her additional stress, but I said nothing. It was her decision, despite my reservations.

Danielle’s sister did not help the situation. Repeatedly Danielle would complain to her sister about their mother’s behavior.  Emotions always ran high during their conversations. Too often, Danielle had to curb her sister's emotional outbreaks. Danielle was using her emotional strength to handle each interaction. Danielle rarely felt like her sister was on her side. I tried to keep my opinions to myself, but it was difficult.

Danielle’s family upset me the most because I always had to deal with the repercussions. Especially when I was home for an argument, and I could see the immediate impact. It was so much more obvious the impact anger and stress were having on Danielle’s recovery. Stress would keep Danielle up all night in unbearable pain. I would wake up every hour or two to apply more medications or shower her. I always did everything she needed.

Danielle finally told me she was hiding that she was talking to her family. Telling her, I already figured that out. She was surprised I didn’t say anything, explaining I was trying to respect her space.   We always talked about everything, and until the previous week, we would even talk about how much her family would upset her. So when I could tell she was upset, without any reason, I started to have some ideas. So if she wasn’t telling me about what was stressing her than the stress must be her family. I told her how obvious it was that they were straining her recovery.

It was so difficult for me to maintain a positive attitude towards their behavior after this. I was barreling into one of my first major mistakes. It finally happened, and I snapped on Danielle’s sister.  There wasn’t anything special about their disagreement, but I finally had enough. I quickly repossessed the phone. Danielle knew I had a couple of things to say, but she asked me to be calm.   I was not in the mood to be nice. My first major error in judgment.

I had a few rather choice words for her sister, and when I’m angry because I feel wronged, I can get rather righteous. Practically yelling into the phone, I told her sister exactly how I felt. I couldn’t believe how much she allowed her mother to treat Danielle poorly. Also repeatedly causing Danielle to be upset was so heinous, in my eyes. It all happened in a blind rage, a rage that I wish I never let loose.   I felt she was a huge problem, and I let her know, as aggressively as possible. A fatal error on my part.

Danielle’s sister didn’t think she had a problem, and nothing I said changed that.  My aggression immediately had her sister on the defensive. The conversation was a complete failure on my part. I only showed an unhealthy expression of my anger to her sister. I regret ever behaving in a way that would cause such massive repercussions down the road.  My first regret is that it was not helpful to act that way in front of my wife. I should have at least walked outside. I wish most of all that I had communicated my issues calmly versus an all-out verbal assault.

I rarely showed my anger to anyone, but Danielle and I had plenty to be angry about. Danielle’s anger was more than enough for the two of us. When it came to anger, we had a lot in common. I did my best to hide my anger, hoping not to let her suffer. I knew that I shouldn’t be around people if I’m angry.  However, this experience was testing my capacity to control my anger to the highest degree. It was important to me that I not make my wife suffer my emotional outbursts. Finding a way to control my emotions was imperative for Danielle’s healing.

There was enough stress in our lives that we couldn’t control. Danielle faced mountains of obstacles in her recovery. Even the thought of having to go to the hospital would cause severe anxiety. People or Doctors questioning her treatment stressed her out. Convincing others to support her decisions would anger her. It was impossible to avoid all the problems. The best we could do was handle them to the best of our abilities.

Danielle didn’t think I would support her in setting up an appointment with the oncologist. I feel bad that she felt that way. She had secretly gone with a friend to schedule the first appointment.  Her friend had to convince her that it was the right thing to do. Danielle said her friend literally held her hand the whole way. She still needed me to take her to the appointment, so she informed me of her decision. I didn’t mind at all because I wanted to see if I could find some more answers too. I obviously wouldn’t have wished that she needed to go through that experience, but I was going to make the best of it.

Danielle and I agreed that we needed more answers. Answers that could provide the reasons why Danielle was choosing to forego traditional cancer treatments. It was a long shot to find the answers we were looking for in a place that promotes chemotherapy. Without a visit, I didn’t see any other way to get her family off our back. The pressure to go was too much stress for my wife, and she gave in, causing more problems than I anticipated.

The other big stressor that was hanging over Danielle was making a formal announcement to the dance community. For the first two weeks, we had just given a general, “Danielle is temporarily in the hospital, and We will let you know as things develop.” Danielle knew this wasn’t a satisfactory answer for her students, and Danielle had to get a real message out to the community.

Thankfully one of the mothers stepped up and helped with contacting all the students. It was too overwhelming and exhausting for Danielle or me to handle. Knowing the silly, rude, or stupid comments that people make, it would have been far too much stress for either of us. It was nice that someone offered their energy and time to handle all the responses or headaches that came up. Which surprisingly more rude comments came back in response than we anticipated.

There was a general show of support, but surprisingly, there were some that Danielle’s friend wouldn’t even share with her. The one that got me was one wealthy parent that had just recently bragged to Danielle about spending $40K on a home renovation, even asked about a couple of hundred-dollar refund. Considering at the time Danielle was out of work, and we didn’t have enough to cover the six months of treatment, it felt thoughtless. It is hard when people are more concerned about themselves than others.

Thankfully not all people behaved poorly, and many people just showed their unconditional support. We received a dozen gift cards to the local healthy grocery stores, which were such a relief for us. I still can’t express the gratitude we felt. Danielle also loved the people who sent her a text every week, saying they were thinking about her. Most were wishing they could see her, even though she wanted her privacy. Although we found through experience, there is a fine line to being respectful of people’s boundaries and pushing individual needs over those boundaries. Making someone feel guilty for wanting their privacy is a behavior that we found appalling. Danielle dealt with this issue from both friends and family.

We choose to live at my house for an extra level of protection from the public.  No one knew where I lived except the friends she told. My roommate was also a saint and helped us out immeasurably respecting Danielle’s privacy. She didn’t tell anyone at her work what was happening because she didn’t want loose lips to tell people anything that wasn’t the complete truth. It was important to her that the message she gave everyone would be perfect. There was no room for error when it came to communicating with the community. Danielle said misheard rumors were common in Sedona. Maybe rich people have nothing better to do.

I think Sedona suffers from Elitism of all types, elite super rich to ultra-spiritual hippies.  The super-rich live above everyone in their mega mansions, acting in life exactly how they live. Sedona throws a different level of elitism into the mix. The self-proclaimed gurus who proclaim their beliefs above all others. These people believe that they are always right and will not listen to someone who challenges them. They will often find it important to force their opinion on you if you think differently from them.

My wife told me she has told off several people who were preaching from a place that put themselves above all others. I too see the behavior throughout our society. The irony in our spiritual community is that many of the spiritual guru’s are behaving the exact opposite of how Jesus or Buddha taught people to behave. Acceptance and Love with humility while forgiving those who know not what they do.

The rich tend to force their desires because those with money tend to use their money to get what they want, and if you have enough money, there is almost no limit to what you can buy these days. So the rich don’t understand the concept of No, they only believe more money and power are needed to attain a yes. So my wife has had to put a few rich people in their place because they were using their money to control or manipulate people to get what they want, even if it put her at financial risk. Danielle would do the right thing no matter what, at times, she had to show restraint to protect her business, but she still would do the right thing.

The other problem with Sedona is that it is also a small town. People that have lived here for a long time know everyone else through maybe one or two degrees of separation. It’s quiet and slow-paced, but it also has its share of problems. Local business owners face many problems when operating in a small town. Public opinion plays a huge part in if a business will make it or fail. I watched this happen to my roommate’s business that she was managing. The owner would take pride in being an asshole to customers he deemed unworthy.  The behavior I would never want to be listed on Yelp.

In a world where business can succeed or fail based on online consumer reviews, it is a terrible idea to give people a reason to write a bad review. In restaurants, it was a common understanding that people who have a bad experience would tell eight to ten people, but people who have a great experience will only tell one or two people. So bad experiences will ruin a business reputation, and in a small town, this is doubly true. A bad rumor could ruin someone’s reputation or business. Danielle cared about her business deeply, which is why it was so important to communicate properly with the community about her condition.

It took about three and a half weeks for Danielle to finalize a statement. We had to tell everyone that Danielle was going to be in treatment for Cancer and that we were going to have to cancel classes for the semester. We didn’t include the fact that her healing was taking far longer than we had anticipated, and the stress of teaching would not be beneficial for healing either. Danielle felt it was important to let everyone know that she had also gotten married, and I had been caring for her with a small group of other ladies. We asked that people respect her privacy through everything. The next couple of days after the announcement would be highly emotional.

Many people were shocked to hear the news that she had cancer. We were overwhelmed by the show of support. We received many letters and gift cards that were crucial to relieving any stresses we were facing emotionally and financially. After weeks of isolation, it was good to have a change of pace. Danielle was relieved to get the burden off her chest start moving forward.

It took a month before she had the strength to start talking and telling people what happened. It was hard for her to talk about it, and she always feared people would say something upsetting. People don’t always respond well to bad news, and for that reason, they don’t always behave appropriately. It was a chronic issue we faced.

The other fun challenge we had was the “Baby,” as Danielle referred to her. Her real name was Andora but being a miniature blonde Pomeranian, she was cuter than a baby. She wouldn’t even allow people to refer to the Baby as a dog. Her mom had trained her to be the perfect child, she would sit in a chair, she would wear sunglasses, and her mom would have her do other fun tricks. Andora was truly a Diva, and like her mother loved to be the center of attention.

Andora was the most intelligent and complex dog that I had ever met. She ran me through the ringers when I first met Danielle. Andora was jealous of all the attention we were giving each other, but Andora made her needs known. It didn’t take long before I won Andora over. She messed with me until I started giving her a lot of attention too. Andora and I already had a strong bond before we decided to move her into my house.

We picked up Andora the day after we got back to Sedona. For the first two and a half weeks, she was quite the perfect angel. My roommate was concerned with Andora causing us to lose the security deposit. Since she was trained to sit in the chair, we would only have her in the chair or on the bed when she was inside. I took her for a walk four to five times a day so that we didn’t feel bad about keeping her confined. It was working fine, but then my roommate broke down and allowed the dog to run around.

I made a mistake and didn’t take her out before I fell asleep and Andora had an accident in my roommate’s bedroom. After that, my roommate was rather upset with her. On top of all the help she provided, my roommate was dealing with a crazy boss who was causing so much unnecessary stress. Andora being a rather sensitive individual started acting out the more my roommate would ignore her for misbehaving. It was a circumstance that eventually drove us out of that environment.

Andora wanted attention and would do anything to get it. My roommate was played into her manipulation. I don’t find Andora misbehaves if she receives the proper attention, as she taught me. As I mentioned before, Andora messed with me when I first met Danielle. She pooped and peed on my side of the bed in a bid for attention, so this wasn’t completely unfamiliar. Andora started a vicious cycle of misbehaving for attention, causing me to forfeit my security deposit.

Thankfully while that problem was occurring, we received a message that Danielle’s tenant was moving out. She had another tenant that didn’t appear to be using the house. We could move back into Danielle’s house with the privacy she wanted. It would thankfully be an easy move.

Several of Danielle’s friends offered to clean the house before we moved in. It was perfect timing for us to move back into her house. It was obvious the increased stress of our life was causing some serious additional stress in my roommate’s life too. It wasn’t fair to continue to ask her to put up with the extra stress that we had brought into her world, especially if we had a safe place to continue her recovery.

Our return to Danielle’s home was actually the first time I was able to wander the house freely. She had made it a rule with her tenants that she wouldn’t have other people in the house, especially other men. When we met, we didn’t need to use the rest of the house. Now the studio was completely inadequate to support Danielle in her healing. We would need access to the whole house, and somehow it had manifested one month before we expected it to happen.

It felt like divine intervention transpired to make it happen. One bad situation pushes us one way, and life provided a solution. A very common theme throughout our journey. I refer to it as synchronicity, but I think most people refer to it as a miracle. Every day felt like it was a miracle, but we were still praying for the big miracle.

Now we had to take advantage of the miraculously clean house that had manifested. We were heading back to our home, a first for us as a married couple.  It felt like a dream to finally be home after our previous month’s journey.

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[southernreflections]

How to turn a bad roommate situation into a positive

My story begins with a best friend connection made in my freshman year of college (3 years ago). I was moving into an on campus apartment housing unit and didn't know anyone I was destined to room with. When I walked in, I was greeted by two seniors, both of them very friendly, but clearly picked me out to be a freshmen. The third roommate I met in the middle of moving all my luggage and boxes into my room. She was very nice and was also a "first-timer" like me. I was excited to not be the only one that didn't know anything about the college life. From then on, we talked, hung out a lot, cooked together, watched a lot of movies, and grew closer than I ever thought was possible. This all being said, I had one of the best years of my life my freshman year of college. I didn't only meet who I thought was my best friend, but I also joined Greek life, passed all my classes with A's and B's, and grew on my own through the hardest break up I believe I'll ever face in my life. My first semester of my sophomore year went pretty great as well. I decided to move from the on campus apartment to my sorority's new house, which was also on campus. This was where I expanded my friend group and started to learn who I was and mature more rapidly through activities, meetings, late night ice cream runs, and all nighters before tests. Don't act like you've never done it! But back to the main message, my bestie, from freshman year, and I still hung out and had our normal sleep overs where we watched a Harry Potter movie or anything we could find in Netflix almost every night. While we still had a strong friendship that semester, she had a girl from her orientation move into the apartment we had lived in the year before. She was also a very nice girl and we got along almost as well as my bestie and I did. At the end of the semester I decided to drop out of Greek life due to realizing I wasn't the type to be "srat". Along with dropping out of the group that helped me through heart break and helped me by being my support group, they also taught me that no one can truly be who they say they are., but no one is perfect. These women that had my back so many times through my college career also dropped me like a sack of potatoes except for two girls. They were always there for me along with my bestie. We all were very honest with each other and they included me as much as they could and healed my again broken heart. Also, I was stuck living in the sorority house since it was on campus housing and I had already paid for the school year in whole. The second semester of my sophomore year wasn't as "easy" and fun as the previous year and a half. The girl living with my best friend ended up hanging out with her more, resulting in pushing me farther away from our friendship we had created. Half way through the semester, we all agreed that we might would like to live off campus together in an apartment. We all started apartment searching and touring together ending with decided on an apartment right off of campus and fitting inside all of our budgets. After signing our leases, we started sharing our opinions on what was expected when we finally move in that summer. Having the straight forward personality that I acquire, I informed everyone that I would not be mothered by someone that was my age group. I had already lived on my own for two years and was mature enough to take care of my own. Let's just say that my bestie's new friend didn't like this very much and ended up making things more complicated than they needed to be, leading to a lengthened argument that ended in me not giving in and standing my ground as I have done for many years before. The bickering finally came to an end and everyone was forgiven, but nothing was forgotten. Now, my best friend since freshman year, her friend from orientation, one of my sorority sisters, and I are all half way through our junior year and have been living together since the summer. Before we finished our sophomore year, we all agreed on getting a puppy. I saved up money and ended up adopting my gorgeous yet very rambunctious puppy, Gracie. We were all in the same mind to make sure I trained her over the summer to be potty trained, taught to sit, lay down, shake, high five, etc., and be kennel trained. This all went as planned and she has grown so much over this past semester. At this moment, like said before, we all live together, with my puppy, and most things have gone well, but now that I've caught you all up, I'll get to the problems that have made me see the positives in bad roommates. The thing is, I've realized, no one trains their puppy the exact same way as anyone else and there really in no rule of "the right way", other than no one should treat their puppy cruelly or abuse them. With this being said, people, especially roommates, will always judge your ways no matter the circumstances. I learned the hard way by being "attacked" but my "bestie" and her friend (who also lives with us) about my dog being in her kennel "all day long with no food or water". 0. None of our class schedules match. So, they assumed I didn't come home between my classes in the afternoon to feed, play with, and take Gracie out. 0. They both complained to each other and neither of them ever came to me with any complaints till the "attack". They also complained to their parents and both mothers stated the option of calling animal control. When told this in the "attack" I did not shutter or become afraid at all due to the fact my dog is perfectly health, happy, and loved. I told them both to call animal control if needed, but neither did so. 0. I ended the argument with them by telling them "even though I had told them several times before to not worry about letting her out or buying anything (food, toys, medication, etc.), if they were so upset about her "being left in the kennel for up to 8 hours" then they could let her out to roam around while they were home when I couldn't be." This, in full, was the first argument of this past semester. The next argument consisted of several long, drawn out text messages sent to me by my "bestie's" and my "friend", whom lives with us, stating that I was a simple minded individual, bashed my relationship with my boyfriend of a year, and included a lot of things said in confidence to my "bestie" and not to be told to anyone else. After the altercation had ended, I asked my best friend to meet to talk to me about how things had gone so south. We met and I ended up forgiving her for sharing my personal information with our friend, but, wait, it gets better. After forgiving and having a promise from her to not share my words with our roommate anymore, I got home 30-45 mins after her and received an apology text from the roommate who had sent me the disrespectful messages the next morning. The message was sincere And straight forward, but, again, included personal information that was said the night before in confidence to my "bestie". I tried texting out group message that had all the roomies in it. I asked for everyone to meet up so we could talk this all out, but no one showed up the night we had all agreed to have our meeting. This led to my growth of being the bigger person and going to the sources. I started but going to the roomie who had sent the insulting texts in the beginning. We talked for hours about how we both felt and I forgave her, but also implied that none of this would ever be forgotten. Along with this, I shared my opinion that our "bestie" was most likely the source of our problem. Before I left for winter break, I made it clear that I did not want to stay in this lease if I could find a way out and I guaranteed that I would be out when my year lease finally ended. When one of our roomies kept texting the group message asking who would be resigning their lease, I never replied. This was to hint at the previous statement I had told them twice before going home for break. Not knowing who the "bestie" in this is, doesn't help you to know how she is usually. Hint: she usually is very understanding and compassionate. In the past week, I have been looking for a friend or good match to take over my lease before the spring semester starts on Tuesday. I posted on my school's Facebook page to see if anyone would be interested in subleasing, but also knew it was too close to school starting back to think someone would be looking for a place to live. So, I posted it on a whim. After 4 hours of the post being stranded in the middle of everyone else's questions and offers of other subleasing, I received a text from the "bestie" containing a screenshot of the post I had gotten no likes, comments, or messages on and a message cursing me, calling me immature and calling me immature for not telling them I was looking for a new place to live and a person to take over my lease. I replied, and was very mature about it, explaining what was going on and how I had already ran it by all of the girls in the apartment and that she seemed to be the only one that didn't catch the memo. She continued to belittle me and I proceeded to call the other roomie, who had talked everything out with me earlier in the semester, asking if she had anything to do with the messages I had just received. She admitted that they had talked, but she had only suggested asking me what was going on or what this meant. Needless to say, that isn't what happened and after I let her read the messages sent to me, she was shocked as much as I was. Through all the conflict I've dealt with, especially this semester, I am proud to say that I know I have maintained a mature and positive attitude through it all. I have possibly found a girl to sublease me and have found a new apartment to move into. Finally, the roomie and I are fine and still don't understand why the messages I received from the "bestie" were so hurtful and disrespectful, but I will not worry myself into a depression. My other roomie (sorority sister) was not very involved in all the conflict I went through. She and I are also still close. The message I want to pass onto anyone who reads this is: I have had enough hurt in the past and have realized that I do not have to keep everyone around me happy. I will, from now on, make myself happy and keep myself happy before worrying about making others happy. No matter how many things seem to go wrong, always stay positive and never give up. Signing off, AK😉

[southernreflections]

How I Turned A Bad Roommate Situation Into A Positive

My story begins with a best friend connection made in my freshman year of college (3 years ago). I was moving into an on campus apartment housing unit and didn't know anyone I was destined to room with. When I walked in, I was greeted by two seniors, both of them very friendly, but clearly picked me out to be a freshmen. The third roommate I met in the middle of moving all my luggage and boxes into my room. She was very nice and was also a "first-timer" like me. I was excited to not be the only one that didn't know anything about the college life. From then on, we talked, hung out a lot, cooked together, watched a lot of movies, and grew closer than I ever thought was possible. This all being said, I had one of the best years of my life my freshman year of college. I didn't only meet who I thought was my best friend, but I also joined Greek life, passed all my classes with A's and B's, and grew on my own through the hardest break up I believe I'll ever face in my life. My first semester of my sophomore year went pretty great as well. I decided to move from the on campus apartment to my sorority's new house, which was also on campus. This was where I expanded my friend group and started to learn who I was and mature more rapidly through activities, meetings, late night ice cream runs, and all nighters before tests. Don't act like you've never done it! But back to the main message, my bestie, from freshman year, and I still hung out and had our normal sleep overs where we watched a Harry Potter movie or anything we could find in Netflix almost every night. While we still had a strong friendship that semester, she had a girl from her orientation move into the apartment we had lived in the year before. She was also a very nice girl and we got along almost as well as my bestie and I did. At the end of the semester I decided to drop out of Greek life due to realizing I wasn't the type to be "srat". Along with dropping out of the group that helped me through heart break and helped me by being my support group, they also taught me that no one can truly be who they say they are., but no one is perfect. These women that had my back so many times through my college career also dropped me like a sack of potatoes except for two girls. They were always there for me along with my bestie. We all were very honest with each other and they included me as much as they could and healed my again broken heart. Also, I was stuck living in the sorority house since it was on campus housing and I had already paid for the school year in whole. The second semester of my sophomore year wasn't as "easy" and fun as the previous year and a half. The girl living with my best friend ended up hanging out with her more, resulting in pushing me farther away from our friendship we had created. Half way through the semester, we all agreed that we might would like to live off campus together in an apartment. We all started apartment searching and touring together ending with decided on an apartment right off of campus and fitting inside all of our budgets. After signing our leases, we started sharing our opinions on what was expected when we finally move in that summer. Having the straight forward personality that I acquire, I informed everyone that I would not be mothered by someone that was my age group. I had already lived on my own for two years and was mature enough to take care of my own. Let's just say that my bestie's new friend didn't like this very much and ended up making things more complicated than they needed to be, leading to a lengthened argument that ended in me not giving in and standing my ground as I have done for many years before. The bickering finally came to an end and everyone was forgiven, but nothing was forgotten. Now, my best friend since freshman year, her friend from orientation, one of my sorority sisters, and I are all half way through our junior year and have been living together since the summer. Before we finished our sophomore year, we all agreed on getting a puppy. I saved up money and ended up adopting my gorgeous yet very rambunctious puppy, Gracie. We were all in the same mind to make sure I trained her over the summer to be potty trained, taught to sit, lay down, shake, high five, etc., and be kennel trained. This all went as planned and she has grown so much over this past semester. At this moment, like said before, we all live together, with my puppy, and most things have gone well, but now that I've caught you all up, I'll get to the problems that have made me see the positives in bad roommates. The thing is, I've realized, no one trains their puppy the exact same way as anyone else and there really in no rule of "the right way", other than no one should treat their puppy cruelly or abuse them. With this being said, people, especially roommates, will always judge your ways no matter the circumstances. I learned the hard way by being "attacked" but my "bestie" and her friend (who also lives with us) about my dog being in her kennel "all day long with no food or water". 1. None of our class schedules match. So, they assumed I didn't come home between my classes in the afternoon to feed, play with, and take Gracie out. 2. They both complained to each other and neither of them ever came to me with any complaints till the "attack". They also complained to their parents and both mothers stated the option of calling animal control. When told this in the "attack" I did not shutter or become afraid at all due to the fact my dog is perfectly health, happy, and loved. I told them both to call animal control if needed, but neither did so. 3. I ended the argument with them by telling them "even though I had told them several times before to not worry about letting her out or buying anything (food, toys, medication, etc.), if they were so upset about her "being left in the kennel for up to 8 hours" then they could let her out to roam around while they were home when I couldn't be." This, in full, was the first argument of this past semester. The next argument consisted of several long, drawn out text messages sent to me by my "bestie's" and my "friend", whom lives with us, stating that I was a simple minded individual, bashed my relationship with my boyfriend of a year, and included a lot of things said in confidence to my "bestie" and not to be told to anyone else. After the altercation had ended, I asked my best friend to meet to talk to me about how things had gone so south. We met and I ended up forgiving her for sharing my personal information with our friend, but, wait, it gets better. After forgiving and having a promise from her to not share my words with our roommate anymore, I got home 30-45 mins after her and received an apology text from the roommate who had sent me the disrespectful messages the next morning. The message was sincere And straight forward, but, again, included personal information that was said the night before in confidence to my "bestie". I tried texting out group message that had all the roomies in it. I asked for everyone to meet up so we could talk this all out, but no one showed up the night we had all agreed to have our meeting. This led to my growth of being the bigger person and going to the sources. I started but going to the roomie who had sent the insulting texts in the beginning. We talked for hours about how we both felt and I forgave her, but also implied that none of this would ever be forgotten. Along with this, I shared my opinion that our "bestie" was most likely the source of our problem. Before I left for winter break, I made it clear that I did not want to stay in this lease if I could find a way out and I guaranteed that I would be out when my year lease finally ended. When one of our roomies kept texting the group message asking who would be resigning their lease, I never replied. This was to hint at the previous statement I had told them twice before going home for break. Not knowing who the "bestie" in this is, doesn't help you to know how she is usually. Hint: she usually is very understanding and compassionate. In the past week, I have been looking for a friend or good match to take over my lease before the spring semester starts on Tuesday. I posted on my school's Facebook page to see if anyone would be interested in subleasing, but also knew it was too close to school starting back to think someone would be looking for a place to live. So, I posted it on a whim. After 4 hours of the post being stranded in the middle of everyone else's questions and offers of other subleasing, I received a text from the "bestie" containing a screenshot of the post I had gotten no likes, comments, or messages on and a message cursing me, calling me immature and calling me immature for not telling them I was looking for a new place to live and a person to take over my lease. I replied, and was very mature about it, explaining what was going on and how I had already ran it by all of the girls in the apartment and that she seemed to be the only one that didn't catch the memo. She continued to belittle me and I proceeded to call the other roomie, who had talked everything out with me earlier in the semester, asking if she had anything to do with the messages I had just received. She admitted that they had talked, but she had only suggested asking me what was going on or what this meant. Needless to say, that isn't what happened and after I let her read the messages sent to me, she was shocked as much as I was. Through all the conflict I've dealt with, especially this semester, I am proud to say that I know I have maintained a mature and positive attitude through it all. I have possibly found a girl to sublease me and have found a new apartment to move into. Finally, the roomie and I are fine and still don't understand why the messages I received from the "bestie" were so hurtful and disrespectful, but I will not worry myself into a depression. My other roomie (sorority sister) was not very involved in all the conflict I went through. She and I are also still close. The message I want to pass onto anyone who reads this is: I have had enough hurt in the past and have realized that I do not have to keep everyone around me happy. I will, from now on, make myself happy and keep myself happy before worrying about making others happy. No matter how many things seem to go wrong, always stay positive and never give up. Signing off, AK😉