The Crumbling Tower

This week has been exhausting. In my personal life, there has been a great deal of strife, turmoil, and tension which has led to a moment of absolute clarity.

I won’t spend too much time here, but in a tarot deck The Tower is widely seen as one of the worst cards you can get. It’s all metaphorical, of course, but the card means the utter destruction of something, and is often compared to the Tower of Babel. It’s something whose construction was ill advised, but you built it anyway. It can be relationships, a job, your whole life, but something wasn’t right, you knew it, but you kept going. That makes me think of people in bad relationships who say, “Well, we’ve been together so long and I don’t want to have wasted all that time…” Well, how much MORE time are you going to waste by staying in the situation? How much misery would you save yourself by just getting out? Eventually, the Tower is going to crumble anyway, and you won’t have learned the lesson you should have by getting out when you knew you should.

My life is the Tower — work, home life, housing situation, health issues, it all sucks right now. In the story of the tarot, the card after the Tower is the Star, which means hope and happiness and renewal. You wish on a star, right? I wouldn’t or couldn’t leave the Tower to find the Star.

Until this weekend. This weekend, the Tower tottered…and I kicked it down. I thought to myself, “How long am I going to let myself be miserable?”

Work is as okay as it can be right now, and it’s not enough. I’m over it. There’s little growth, the people are okay but are wind-up dolls armed with knives. They have run down for now, but it would take very little to wind them up and restart their stabby ways. I joined FlexJobs, set up my profile, and am taking assessments before I start applying. Like Spongebob says, “I’m ready!”  

My roommate is friends with my ex — it’s how I got to move in there in the first place. Unfortunately, my ex is a drug addict leech, who has been imposing on my roommate’s generosity and finances. My ex has been hanging out and he and my roommate have begun leaving me out of everything. I don’t care about the social business (the age difference between them would make even Harold and Maude cringe), but the household stuff is kind of necessary. The fridge broke and they didn’t tell me anything. I told them that this was something I deserved to know, and told them we need to talk.

It blew up. My roommate, a retired teacher, acted like I had no right to question him or to argue with my ex, who was being a pompous ass. I eventually told him that I am neither his son nor one of his students — I am a tenant and a friend, though I don’t have to be either. Now, my roommate is a kind, generous, wonderful, giving, intelligent man 97.3% of the time. That 2.7%, however, is completely unacceptable. I won’t go into it, but let’s say that his reaction was something one would have expected from a 3 year old. Said furniture-throwing 3 year old would then have been swatted lightly on his butt and put in the corner until he was 20, but that’s not the point. I do NOT deal with that shit.

There’s a point in the third season of Absolutely Fabulous where the fastidious daughter loses her shit on her mother’s leeching, drug addict best friend. I essentially said the same to my ex. “Cesspit from hell! Stinking bag of bones who haunts this house every day like a moldering cadaver, leeching the life blood out of anything it can get its filthy suckers onto. Well, I’m fed up with being suckered. I will not take this anymore; this is not how it is going to be!”

At the end of it, I had reduced them both to varying degrees of tears. Not because I’m a bad ass, I suspect, but because there is a great deal of affection underlying all the tension. We agreed that my ex would leave, and things would go on as they were.

Except they won’t. For any of us.

That temper tantrum and my absolute refusal to be the intimidated victim they clearly wanted me to be changed everything. It’s clear that none of this will ever end…because my roommate is most likely in one-sided love with my ex. It’s sad, because my ex takes advantage of that. I also refuse to live in a place where there’s a threat of a tantrum like that.

So, I am taking control of my own actions. Come hell or high water, I’m leaving here at the end of August, and I’m taking my friend with me. That includes my job, that house I live in, and the whole state. That Star outside my Tower can only be reached by letting the Tower fall. This isn’t anger speaking. I’m not frothing at the mouth with rage. This is that breaking point where I consciously decide I’ve had enough. And I’m not looking back.

The Tower has finally crumbled. And it’s time to find that Star.



~ by Darren Endymion on June 17, 2016.

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