OK. Are you ready? Hopefully, this story will make you laugh and cry and not run away, screaming, to vomit in the trash can.
I woke up this morning and did my usual routine. I went downstairs, cuddled with Andy, checked my social media accounts, and slowly woke up. I also move around because I need to make sure ALL parts of me have woken up. Thirty minutes later, everything was okey-dokey and I set off. It was my usual three miles up through The Arbors, out onto Towne Lake, through the Publix parking lot, and down Rose Creek. As I got to the 2.5 mile mark, right back at the entrance of The Arbors, the bottom fell out.
Literally.
Like, my colon staged an absolute mutiny. My intestines started to do back flips and front flips and handstands and all of that. I
immediately stopped running and walked briskly to that wooded path just off The Arbors entrance and started doing the poopy-dance out of the view of everyone walking and driving by, blissfully unaware of my quandary. I squeezed my butt cheeks and adopted that stiff-walk posture of, "HEY! WHAT'S UP! HOW ARE YOU? NO, I DON'T HAVE TO POOP, I ALWAYS WALK THIS WAY!" Goosebumps popped up all over my body and I was about to just lay down in a full-blown Elvis-couldn't-poop seizure.
I continued along Rose Creek, concentrating really hard not do the poopy-dance in front of the passing cars, just clenching EVERYTHING and muttering, "Don't do it. Don't do it. Don't do it."
As I maneuvered to walk up the Wellesley Crest hill from Hell, I felt OK. I felt like I could make it. That I was going to be fine.
Then? I got half way up the hill. And my concentration faltered. And I unclenched just slightly.
And a little poop came out.
And I wanted to cry.
I made it home without soiling myself profusely. The worst part? The replacement windows guy was here in my driveway and had to introduce himself and talk to me. After I ditched him, I hurried inside and went straight to the 1/2 bath. I didn't see Tyler, so I did my business and stripped down the lower half. It wasn't bad, but there was enough that it needed to go straight into the wash. I didn't see Tyler on the couch, and the windows guy was headed to the front door with his ladder. So, I uttered a loud, "FUCK!" and booked it, half-naked through the kitchen and up the back stairs, where I bolted into the laundry room and put on a spare pair of undies and shorts. As I came back downstairs, trying to be cool, I see Tyler sitting in the family room in the purple chair. And he saw me running up the stairs, butt-ass naked.
I swear to all that is holy, I would like to have ONE boring day this week. Can that happen? Please?
Da Bears, Ya'll!
PS I emailed Lindsay. The copy of the email is below.
Dear Lindsay,
Tuesday morning, two strangers came to my door.
Allow me to preface this. I spend most of my time home
alone. Tyler is at work. Kids are at school. It's just me, the dog, and the
cat. When my doorbell rings, I don't answer it because unless I know the
person, then I don't need to know what it is that stranger wants. My father was
a policeman and very paranoid. I have inherited that paranoia and when I'm
alone, safety is paramount.
On Tuesday morning, my garage door was wide open, my mother
was here, and I was watering my neighbor's lawn. I was in and out of the house,
moving hoses and sprinklers, and in between, trying to shower and do laundry so
that Mom and I could run errands. The kids are in Suches and I have a full list
of things to do. As I crossed my upstairs and looked out our front window, I
saw a man and woman, getting out of a car, parked in front of my house, and
walking to my driveway. Clearly, I was home. Clearly, I couldn't ignore the
doorbell.
Imagine my surprise when they asked, "You're Heather? Our
friends are friends with your cousin Lindsay." As soon as they said that, I
knew exactly what was going on.
I have never felt more uncomfortable, more betrayed, and
more disrespected than I did in that moment. I have made myself very clear, I
thought, but I guess I haven't. So, let me state again, in unequivocal terms,
my state of being:
- I am an atheist. That will never change. I will
die an atheist.
- I know that God doesn't exist. God is a human
construct. I refuse to waste my time on a human construct designed to make me
feel guilty for being human being.
- This decision was one that took me decades to
reach.
- I've been an atheist for a long time, but didn’t
want to admit it because of ingrained Christian teachings. I went through many
years of saying, "Oh, I'm a Deist." and then, "Oh, I'm an agnostic." and all of
that was a cop-out. I'm an atheist. Period.
- I have read the Bible. I have read many
Christian apologetics. I have read atheist books. I have listened to both
sides. For decades. I'm not an atheist because I'm lazy and want to sin, sin,
sin, and sleep in on Sundays. I'm an atheist because I know, fervently, without
a doubt, that God. Does. Not. Exist.
- When I finally admitted to myself that I'm an
atheist, I felt free and happy for the first time in my life. I had no more
guilt, no more shackles, and no more sadness. I didn't feel guilty for having "sinful" human emotions, urges, or thoughts.
- I. Am. Happy. I need you to understand that. I'm
happy. I'm not worried about my soul. I'm not worried about your soul. I only
worry about my children and making sure they grow up happy and knowing they are
good people.
- Tyler fully supports me and my atheism.
- I don't push my atheism on Tyler or the kids.
The kids have asked me about it, I've been honest, and I've told them that
their spirituality is personal and they should believe whatever makes them
happy/content. The kids go to Betty's and Charley's VBS every summer. Amelia
has gone to church with her friends. And we've had lengthy discussions, all
neutral, about Christianity and religion.
- We do not go to church. We never have. Not in
our 21 years of marriage. We go to Betty's and Charley's church, when we visit
them, out of respect for them. And that's it.
- I don't go around the neighborhood flaunting my
atheism and angrily decrying the faith of others. I live my life. Atheism isn't
a calling, it's a state of being. I'm not angry at God. Why would I be angry at
something that doesn't exist? I'm angry with people like you who continually
show no respect or courtesy for me and my life.
- I am done being your pet project.
I get that you're worried for my soul and that, per your
faith, you need to bring me back into the fold. But, that's your problem. Not
mine. I'm telling you now, not so nicely, because I've tried nice, that I'm
done. From where I stand, this is it. This life is absolutely it. When I die,
there's nothing. No heaven, no hell, no nirvana, no nothing. So, for me, this
life is important. It's important for me to nurture friendships and have
quality time with family because when I die, that's it. And as far as I'm
concerned, you're ruining our relationship. So, since we're coming from two
completely different backgrounds, and you don't seem to comprehend where I'm
coming from, let me put it this way.
If
you continue to try to preach to me, convert me, minister to me, then I will
cut off all contact, even knowing that I will never see you, and that will be
the end.
That's how upset I am. And I only speak for myself in this.
Tyler talks with you, visits you, etc.? Then that's fine. You see the kids at a
family gathering? Great. But any more and I will be done. Having those
people come to my door crossed a line. It was very disrespectful. I would never do something like that to you or
Derek or your children. Never.
The couple's names are Jean and Stephen H*****g. They never
gave me their last names. I had to dig around on the Internet to find that out
for myself. Jean's email address is
jean.h*******@fbcw.net.
I suggest you contact her and let her know that further visits will not be
welcome.
I love you guys. A bunch. I want us to grow old together as
friends. But, I'm very disappointed in your actions.
Love, Heather
