It’s been a while since I last posted. Why? Because life got in the way and I wasn’t able to sit down and do anything writing of filmmaking related. Today, this Saturday morning in May, I take the moment to write something that has been on my mind for the past few weeks. Probably even months…and that is that in life while you may encounter people who look different, they are inherently the same in many ways.
I’ve mentioned before that as a child I was mentally and verbally abused by people within my close family. They’d tell me that I wasn’t skinny enough, that I’d never be good enough to do anything with my life and that worse of all, no one would ever love me because of how fat, ugly and dark I was. All lies, but as a child I believed them. It was when I was during my twenties that I discovered that all the abusive words and acts were lies to keep me from becoming what my heart really wanted.
As an adult, I’ve recently met two people who remind me of the ones who used to say horrible things to me as a child.
While trying to make a better life and set up a better living condition for myself and my father I searched for a house to purchase for us. We saw this beautiful large house closer to the beach – about 10 minutes driving. It was on a dead end street and in a quiet neighborhood. I fell in love with it, but soon reconsidered my love for the house when a month after moving in my father fell down the mountain the house was built on during one of his ‘confused’ days after trying to cut a perfectly healthy tree. The idea was to move from the house we were in before because the roof needed repairing, the doors were broken, the cabinets were rotting, the bathroom needed to be remade and the fences were dangerously deteriorating…the owner of that house was constantly toying with my father telling him that he was going to sell him the house but never did. After eight years of that I decided we needed to leave because it wasn’t the best conditions for my Dad to be in.
I searched and found a great place, or so I thought. The move was made under a verbal contract to lease-for-purchase and an official contract for lease, until they obtained the proper paperwork from the governmental agencies required to make a full sale. According to them they were waiting for three years for that paperwork, but it still hadn’t showed up – still they wanted to make a sale without it. This paperwork detailed property tax, license of use and occupancy, as well as determine the history of the property along with the current owner of it and their record of property tax payment. A very important piece of paper that, three months after moving in, the owners of the new place still didn’t have available for us to make the procedures towards a legal purchase of a house.
Further came the nightmare, when the ‘lady of the house’ and her husband came by for an inspection while I was cleaning it and said that the house was a disaster and claimed I lied to her about the quantity of pets I had, claiming that I had said I only had one small dog, and not the actual ones she saw – which is impossible because I would never say that. I’m a proud fur-mommy and I wouldn’t omit such information at the risk of having to get rid of them for any reason. She then proceeded to tell me she wasn’t going to renew the lease and that I had to do something about the dogs. I responded with “I never lied to you about the amount of pets I had” which I didn’t – she didn’t ask me how many pets I had and even told me “if you don’t mind cleaning up their messes, I don’t care about the pets you have” when I asked her if she allowed pets on the property. Furthermore, there was no clause on the lease agreement about allowing, or not allowing pets. So, she told me that I had to start looking for a house because she only wasn’t going to renew the lease, but that she wasn’t going to sell it to me. I nodded and let her and her husband leave and continued to clean the place – something that I did almost every day.
Two weeks later, she and her husband stop by again for another inspection, right after I cleaned the house, and she still complained about my cleaning skills. Telling me that this was dirty, that was dirty, that it was all a disaster and demanding that I do a better job at cleaning. There was nothing wrong with the house. It just wasn’t cleaned as she wanted it to be, which reminded me of when I was a little girl and I was told I would forever be dirty and never good enough for anything. She reminded me of that time my grandmother would tell me that I was a disgusting brat and could never do anything right, because it wasn’t the exact way she wanted me to do it. Those memories rushed through my mind as this woman was complaining about the ‘dirty’ windows and all I could do was laugh, because she was my menopausal grandmother who hated me because of the color of my skin, the weight on my body and hated that I didn’t do things her exact way. The difference between that woman and my grandmother, is that the latter grew out of it and has since apologized from her horrible behavior towards me and makes sure to tell me how much she loves me whenever we speak on the phone or I have the opportunity to go visit her. I don’t think that the ‘lady of the house’ will ever make such an emotional evolutionary step.
The second woman that reminded me of my menopausal grandmother lives right above me now. She has two grown sons and cannot tolerate noise that is not made by her or her ‘boys’ (both of whom make plenty of noise). She hates my dogs and pig and hates the smell of the cleaning products I use to clean up after them (Clorox disinfectant and lavender scented Mistolín) all things that she doesn’t hesitate to complain to my new landlady about. We’ve only been officially living here for two weeks and she has complained about pretty much everything about us. Her claim is that dogs stink and she’s not used to the smell and that I don’t do a good job cleaning after them.
Cleaning….that seems to be the issue. I’ve never been clean enough, nor do I know how to clean…even though I’ve overcome a severe obsessive compulsion disorder about cleaning and self hygiene. I’m not good at cleaning even if I use Clorox, to clean pavement floors until they’re a version of white and not their natural gray color, and smooth away the toxic scent of bleach with floral cleaners. I don’t know how to clean windows even if I clean each and every glass by hand until my fingers are to swollen to move and make a fist. I’m not good enough at cleaning because I didn’t use a water pressure machine (regardless if I could afford it or not) to clean a floor that I personally cleaned with a broom, bleach and dawn – leaving my back, arms and shoulders sore.
I’m not good at keeping pets quiet even though they’re not allowed to bark for more than three seconds. I’m not good enough at anything…because I don’t do it like other people want me to.
Well, fuck you. Fuck that noise and fuck you again. I am good enough, I am clean enough and in fact, I’m depriving my dogs from being happy dogs to keep you happy. I’m depriving my dogs from being free while I’m trying to get save money and get my own place, with a big yard and I can see them play, and bark and have fun all the time. Things I can’t do now because I don’t have any money. Things I can’t do now because I’m working on someone else’s budget. Things I can’t do now because it’s not meant for me to be doing now – for some odd reason that God, the universe and fate has for me….
In the end, these women are both the same, they are a variation of my psychotic menopausal grandmother…they are the same person with different faces – trying to make me feel worthless because I am not doing things the way they want me to.
They don’t realize that no one, can do things the way you can. They further don’t realize that they shouldn’t make others feel like shit in the process of trying their best to appease them.