I have the greatest new friends. This from a London friend.
SheL Wishing you much and long happiness, dear, crazy Alexis. All my love. Christine
My old friends have proven so disappointing but rather than getting angry I merely will shun them. No angry outbursts just coldness. They have no empathy and were always cold to me. I guess they will get notice of this from the blog, if they read it. Otherwise, they will think I have died, I guess. I did all the work in the relationships, things fell apart when i left California and their lives and they resented that. But as my new world people tell me:
They: It is not your problem, not your job, not your responsibility
Me: Thank you. Pleas keep reminding me of that.
My new friends check in with me, we plan outings ahead of time and so always have something to look forward to. Sometimes they come to my Yaletown digs and sometimes I visit them. I feel secure in the relationships even if they are of short duration. I don’t have to prove anything to them – nor they to me. I feel blessed. There is a spirit of equality- neither of us look to one another for advice, guidance or help. Why it took so long for me to find these friends is beyond me as I have basically always been the same person.
I adore Instagram and it amazes me every day as I connect with people from all portions of my life. Yesterday morning there was Wonder Alice who now lives in Australia, A precious friend from London currently visiting Poland. A chance acquaintance who lives in Medford, Oregon. Chris from my California days, Candy from even earlier California days. Chris and Candy were illustrating their recent artistic creations. There was a true sense of sharing not found in FaceBook. But, oh my goodness, Alexis the Spectacle appears on Instagram. Sneaky Sir Richard of Hot filmed a very impromptu moment which occurred in the Equnox gym. We went into a room where others were exercising and there was E.H. dancing away, so I joined him. A little bit of history will enliven this story. I was a wallflower and absolutely HATED dancing, was so self conscious and was told by more than one loser in my life that I had no sense of rhythm. So I simply did not dance. But something changed, I guess it was those days at the Trump and I just found dancing fun. Please remember gentle readers that I was 74 at the time. So I walked into the room, and danced away with E.H. (it actually stands for Even Hotter, a supreme compliment). Sir Richard of Hot secretly whipped out his phone and there I am dancing away. The most charming aspect is to hear his laughter, his delight at my antics. It is truly heart warming. Well, it warms my heart anyway. I just checked, there are 331 views and it was only posted about four days ago. It doth boggle my mind. I did the # thing and I guess that helps – I did it with Sir Richard’s help. I was getting stretched and we (like the whole gym) was laughing it up as we posted the video. The entire gym I think.
But there is another side to me. In the same room as the dancing there was a trainer and his pupil. They were doing the boxing thing – where you put on boxing gloves and beat up your trainer. Sir Richard has not suggested that form of exercise which proves he is highly intelligent, I would beat him up. The noise of the beating began to bother me and then I got extremely agitated.
Me: I have to get out of here. I am having a post traumatic stress attack
Sir Richard: Ok Alexis. We will right away.
I left the room and sat down on a bench. I took some deep breaths, was able to get centered by saying to myself: “That was then and this is now.” I was beaten when I was a child. I am not being beaten now. It passed rather quickly.
Me: That was not so bad. I got over this one much better.
Sir Richard: You did! I am proud of you!
Me: Thanks. Now I suppose I have to exercise more right now.
Sir Richard: Yes you do!
You see, poor Sir Richard has seen previous post traumatic stress episodes. There are certain triggers – big dogs for example, and we encounter them when we train outside. But I am slowly getting better and now can even tolerate being in an elevator with a dog and I can pet it. I can stand on my patio outside and sit on a chair outside. So it is possible to change and to heal even at the ripe old age of 75. So there is hope, my colleagues of abuse. The fascinating thing is this – I am able to overcome my abuse because of four genetic factors – my intelligence, my sense of humour, my perseverance and one other I cannot remember. My parents gave me the means to survive their mistreatment of me. And if I had a choice I would prefer it this way. Not have a happy childhood and be stupid, lazy and have no sense of humour. So there! So there! So there!
This is the truth. At the present time on Instagram I was just informed that I am communicating with the Crown Prince of Dubai. I am going to text back: “Yeah? and I am the Queen of Sheba” Actually I did hear that he comes to Vancouver because he feels safe here. Honestly, I did. He is cute but a bit too young for me. Hahahaha
Hopefully the video of me dancing will be attached to this but if not either go to Instagram alexismctwit or it will appear later.
Onward with the day. I am FINALLY going to rescue my summer clothes from storage, go to the library, to VAG for an opening of the newest exhibit on the cabin and perhaps buy a new sports bra. (tmi I realize).
