It’s been two years since I’ve written in this blog. So much has happened. I’ve left one lover and found another. I’ve had four jobs, most of them overlapping, thankfully. My weight has fluctuated, and even though I am back on the chubby side, I know it’s because I have plenty of food and the luxury of a refrigerator to keep it in.

My life in the middle of nowhere was the most simple it’s ever been, and hopefully the most simple it ever will be. Small town America can be frightening. It’s especially frightening for a liberal minded woman who, not only doesn’t own a car, but doesn’t see a problem with not owning a car. It’s disgusting how often I was accused of being a prostitute, purely because I would walk places alone.

There were beautiful parts of that existence I will always treasure. It smelled so lush sometimes. The freshness of the dew. The sounds of the leafy trees and the spry country birds. How green everything was in the country compared to the gray, sometimes drab, city. Eventually, I bought a bike to ride to work. Being a second shift worker, I came out of work around 11:30 pm. There was an access road behind the factory that I took home a few times; it was pitch back and scary as hell. But on the flip, it was so dark that the stars, well, they were just so unbelievably radiant. I had never seen the starts that bright. The road ran through a corn field, so there wasn’t anything to impede that view. Coming into town, there were the sounds the little night bugs under the dark comforting cover of the leafy trees. It was humid and sweet and wonderfully rich smelling. It’s really just too bad that the town-folk pegged me as a wayward sex worker for my independent ways.

I moved from that house after my ex left. I asked him to leave. At first, I was exhilarated. I no longer had to worry about him, I let him go and I was free. I lost power very shortly after that. It was summer, so I took cold showers and read books by candlelight. Really, it was quite a peaceful existence. I lived without any kind of electricity, no company… just a single bed and some books to keep me company. When the landlord finally came around for the rent, he threw me out because my boyfriend was no longer there. His son was the sheriff of the town. It sounds stupid now, but at the time I really felt like the only thing I could do was go. I didn’t have the money to take him to court, and even though what he was doing was illegal, it wasn’t like the police were going to take my side. It makes my blood boil now thinking about it.

I left there and went to live in a strange country motel that was walking distance from the factory I worked in. It was fine- until I discovered that it was infested with bed bugs, of course. I always had thought of bed bugs as something you find in big cities- I do not understand how they ended up all the way there. Maybe they had been there since the beginning, long before their reemergence. The Indian owners had a solution: spray the room with a poison so strong that it damn near killed me. The bed bugs were gone, but the place smelled horrible. I went to the liquor store across the road from the hotel most nights to get myself some peace. It was terribly lonely. I drank too much. Eventually I moved back in with my mom and my sister.

I didn’t take long for us to start getting on each other’s nerves. When I started to date a man I knew from work, they started acting like they were quitting their jobs. They wanted me to stay with them; they knew that my having a boyfriend would eventually lead to me going away again, if things went well with him. They were already getting too dependent on me- so soon I moved in with my new boyfriend.

Why do we always want to be rescued? My family has a nasty case of it. I catch myself wanting to save them, not wanting them to suffer. Some people, when they get the idea that someone has the thought of wanting to help them, will latch onto that helpful person, and take them for every little thing they possibly can.

Alternately, there are people who want to rescue others. It’s said that for everything that people do, even charitable, there is a selfish side involved. For people who look to rescue, I think that it puts them in a position of power. If they rescue someone, it not only proves they are needed, it causes that sense of “now you owe me.”

I learned so much about what who should owe who during this past couple of years.