Karma Train

A wise woman once said to me: "The Karma train makes all stops."  I had just gotten laid off from a job I loved and did very well, and she was reminding me that those who get rid of a good employee might feel comfortable about it now, but soon (very soon, maybe) they would feel the discomfort of their mistake.

I suppose they did, eventually.  But of course it didn't matter much to me by then.  I kept that phrase, though, and I used it whenever it felt appropriate.  Nothing stops the Karma train.

Nothing.

And now the karma train has pulled in to my station.

A few years ago, my grandmother spent some time in the hospital.  While she was there, my dad and I went to her house and did some cleaning.  I took on the bathrooms.  In my righteous enthusiasm, I emptied all the cabinets and I filled multiple garbage bags with things I thought were just taking up space.  Septic system cleaner.  Rug that smelled like cat pee.  Ear cuff shaped like leaves.  (Still scratching my head about that one.)  Multiple tubes of ancient Avon lipstick in various shades of "Unflattering."  By the time I was done, every cabinet was scrubbed clean, inside and out, and things were organized and easy to see.  Oh yes, and the trash pile was full to bursting.

She got home from the hospital shortly before Thanksgiving.  On Thanksgiving Day, I was on the phone with my family and she made a specific request to talk to me.  I hadn't talked to her since she got home.  I kind of puffed up a little, ready to receive her gratitude with appropriate humility.  Instead, she lit into me.  She was upset by what I had done and she wanted me to feel it.  In my gut.  Like a fist.  I can still hear her saying, "You don't do that.  you don't go through people's things like that."  I apologized.  I hung up the phone.  I felt indignant and weepy and chalked it up to her (in)famous lack of gentleness in expression.

The Karma train had me scheduled.

Over Thanksgiving, I invited a friend to stay at my place while I was away.  He was about to move out of town, in that transition where he could either stay at a hotel or couch surf.  Since I was going to be away for a while, I thought it would be nice to let him stay there and take care of my cat in the process.

About a week into my time away, I got a call from the management company about the smell coming from my apartment.  It was so bad, it caused my neighbors to get sick.  I called my friend and found out he had been burning incense and smoking marijuana in my apartment.  To his credit, he didn't try to hide it and he promised to stop.

The next day I got a call from the management company again because the smell was back.  He had been burning a scented candle.  He and I decided that he would leave a few days early.

Two days later, I got home early in the afternoon.  I looked forward to sitting quietly on my sofa, reading , re-bonding with the cat and generally enjoying a quiet couple of days before I went back to work.  I opened the door to find that my entire apartment had been rearranged.  All the furniture had been moved around.  Most of the pictures were moved.  New pictures that weren't mine had been hung up.  My dance practice space had been completely dismantled.  I freaked out.

The apartment was still relatively new, and I had just gotten it to start feeling like my home.  Now it felt like I had to move in all over again.  I certainly couldn't enjoy my last days off.  I would calm down a little then notice something else that would set me off.  He moved my bookshelves (and all my books) and decided to balance the bookshelves by tearing a paperback book in half and shoving the pieces under the shelf.  He dug through my cabinets and pulled out things I didn't want to see and put them out around the apartment.  (My high school diploma?  Seriously???)

I had dear friends to come and help me calm down enough to see how I could put my place back together, and to let me know that yes, in fact, this was a weird thing for someone to do.    He left me a note which I was too livid to read.  I got through just enough of it to see that he thought he was helping me.  Who does this?, I thought.  Who helps by going through people's stuff without their permission?

Then I realized -- Oh yeah.  I do.  Or I did.  The Karma train had pulled into my station.

I get it now, Grandma.  And I am so sorry.

Episode 4 -- Mercury in Retrograde

Let me be clear -- I do not believe my fortunes are governed by the relative position of a planet in space.  But, all the social media chatter about Mercury in retrograde brought me strange comfort when I found out I had to move.  After only 2 months.

It started with a health setback, and ended with a bloodless coup.  His parent had a massive heart attack*, and his other parent (the one with a progressive, debilitating illness) started to decline rapidly.  The family all came together, as families do.  Finances were examined, old hurts reopened, drama ensued.  I sent some concerned messages,  and went on with my plans to build a trellis for tomatoes on the balcony.

Somewhere in the family drama and financial reviews it was discovered that my friend didn't actually own the condo on paper.  It was owned by his parents.  And it was underwater.  Financial powers of attorney were signed and the place was put on the market.

I had to move.  Soon.

Anxious phone conversations happened.  What if.  Maybe.  Could be.  Possibly. None of it was true.  And I realize now, none of it had to do with the very real burden that was being placed on my life.  I asked for radio silence.  I turtled up and tried to think of what to do.  And inside my shell, I came to a realization:

It's over.

And I wrapped myself inside my shell and I wept like I hadn't done for a long time.  Exhausting, ugly, loud, wracking sobs.  Because in that moment the thing I knew I had lost was a true friend.  A person who, with all his faults, cared deeply for me at one time and helped me emerge into the person I am now.  I couldn't see a way to maintain a friendship when such a big part of it was this strange situation with the condo.

Mercury was in retrograde, and this part of my life was falling apart.  Even though I know that the planets had nothing to do with any of it, somehow there was comfort in knowing that just like this unique astrological positioning, this situation was temporary and would change.

*-- identifying details have been changed

Episode 3 -- Move In Day Premonition

My moving day started with a friend bringing me coffee and talking bellydance while I tried not to panic about the movers being late.  It ended with the guy I just started dating coming over with a bottle of wine and taking me out to dinner.  In between, other than the movers, I was on my own.

Once they got to my old place and started carrying everything out, everything collapsed into a blurry montage.  (Theme song, "Titanium.")  After the movers left and before the new guy came over, I had a few hours to myself.  I used up all my remaining adrenaline unpacking a few boxes, then finally paused to lean against my new kitchen counter and drink a glass of water.

I have made a huge mistake.

I shook my head and took a few deep breaths.  I looked out the window at the trees in the courtyard.  I walked out onto my balcony and thought about drinking coffee there in the morning.  But, when I walked back into the unit --

This is a mistake.  This will not end well.

Episode 2 -- Know Your Motivation

"What do you mean?" he said, "You dither back and forth more than anyone I know."
"Maybe," I responded, "But once I've made a decision I move quickly to make it happen."
He made that hrmph noise in the back of his throat that I think means, "You're right but I don't want to actually say you're right."

I had decided to move.  I was in the process of moving, and all those things you have to do to relocate yourself.  Selling a place, purging old items, sorting out mail forwarding, trying to figure out where stuff is in the new neighborhood.  I think I had been complaining about my real estate agent not being aggressive enough, which led to a conversation about the relative ease with which I make a decision.

I had decided to move -- to his condo.  He didn't live there.  He lived in a beautiful house with his partner and her child, somewhere in the same suburb.  (To this day, I have no idea where exactly.)  The reasons I gave were mostly convenience and financial.  He was charging me a way-below-market rent. The place was smaller, easier to maintain.  I wouldn't have to pay the crazy property taxes of my current town.  I could save money, build my practice and travel.

That's not why I did it, though.  Those were the surface reasons, and they all worked in favor of the undertow reason:  I loved him, and I wanted to be closer to him in whatever way I could.

Another conversation, from when I was still dithering about the move:
"I'm just not sure it's the right decision."
"Why not?" he said. "You'll save money, you'll have a secure place to live, you can do all your dance things . . ."
"That's not what I'm worried about," I said.  "I'm worried that if I move there -- into your space -- that I'll just stay hung up on you."
"Well, that would be alright with me."

And it must have been alright with me, too, because I went ahead and moved.  Surface, undertow, and everything in between.

Episode 1 -- Just a Little Bit of History Repeating

Our mutual friend wrote: "I met him as I was going through my first divorce 20 years ago, and he was my rebound then.  It was a very confusing relationship. Probably a good thing he had to leave the country.  Now it is much easier. I no longer see him that way at all." 20 years ago, he and our mutual friend fucked like crazy while he was in a relationship with another woman.  Call her Colleen.

I tried twice to stop the sex part of our relationship.  Once because of his real partner, and once because of mine.  I found it impossible both times.  I actually said to him, in all earnestness, "I just can't quit you."

I asked him if this is just a repeat of his 20-years-ago mess where his current partner is Colleen and I am our mutual friend.  He insists this can't be so because Colleen was a nasty, cruel woman, and his current partner is kind.  But there are so many parallels.  The sexless central relationship.  The supposedly clueless partner.  The recently divorced and slightly crazy Trilby to his Svengali.  And, I hope, ultimately the lasting friendship. 

Will I now have to leave the city, state, or country to ever end this hold he has on me?  This hypnotism that turns me into a confident woman, able to ask for and express my sexual desires.  In that book, Svengali dies of a heart attack, leaving Trilby distraught and void of her talents.  In this life, the outcome is much much messier.  Here is where I try to sort it out as it is happening.