I Got Cinderella’d and It’s Not All Great

My husband and I come from two different worlds. He comes from a different stratosphere than I do. I don’t get along with his family, even before I ran away twice. They mistreated me while we were just dating, and I never really understood why until I looked at class differences and ableism.

I can understand not liking me after what happened in January, but the hate I received before my wedding day didn’t make much sense to me. I was threatened with a letter from a church to stay away from my husband because I was “depressed.” Not to mention all the snide remarks about me being a bed warmer and my husband needing a vasectomy.

Unfortunately most of this was communicated to me through my husband, so it was all secondhand information. But it took me to the point where they have to ask permission to come into my house (which I usually do allow because I was raised to be a hospitable southerner) and I will never, ever voluntarily go into their homes.

In rich families, children are investments. Not in a way that children are investments for the future, but in that they can make money for the family. Who they choose to marry has a direct impact on how much cash the child makes for the family and how much of a financial burden they will be.

I was developing fibromyalgia and lupus symptoms while dating my husband. Most likely I was seen as a money pit. My husband told me his family was afraid I would drag him down.

Let me stop right here with this gosh darn ableism. An able bodied person can drag any slooshin person down. Anybody can drag anybody down. I have some friends I cut out of my life who were nightmares. And dragging someone down is cyclical. I most likely will reintroduce those negative friends again once I feel I can. We’ll start out positive and go back down the negative gravy train eventually, then it’ll get too much. But a marriage is commitment. Part of commitment is saying, “I will love you even when I think you suck.”

People fall down and then they come back up again like a dolphin out of water, complete with sex for pleasure and all.

Rich people tend to hide these basic life lessons from their kids by controlling them with gifts that come with invisible strings only made visible when the kid steps out of line. Basically, rich people scare me.

A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes

My view from my Sansa 12 passenger plane in Costa Rica.

My mother was a pilot.

She flew Cessnas back in the 1980s.

Whenever I would ask her about it, she would talk about it as if it were some frivolous, silly thing. That is, until I told her I wanted to be a pilot. That I wanted to fly Cessnas.

Yes, I want to be a bush pilot. I want to fly people out into the middle of nowhere, go on adventures up in the sky, and I want to write about my adventures. My big dream is to see the world from up above and chronicle it all.

My hands aren’t working right now, but I’ll close out with some wisdom from Disney’s Cinderella:

“Have faith in your dreams and someday
Your rainbow will come smiling through
No matter how your heart is grieving
If you keep on believing
The dream that you wish will come true”

For now, I have Google Earth Pro’s flight simulator. With my hand’s being messed up I keep crashing my little propeller plane. Maybe once Bear and I get through these crazy medical bills, I can get a joystick.

Keep dreaming, and I’ll see you on the skyways.