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Monday, March 23, 2009

Tales from the Yard Sale

We had a three family yard sale Saturday. It was us, my in laws, and hubby's oldest brother's family. We worked really hard to get everything set up. The guys helped clean up and move tables and carry stuff to the cars. It was a beautiful day for a yard sale and we made a nice little chunk of change. Everything we had left got donated to various charity thrift stores. It's nice to not have that stuff just piled up in my shed.

The conversations that take place at a yard sale are so funny. People look at your stuff and try to decide if it's good enough junk for them to spend a dollar or two. I'm the same way at a yard sale. Is it worth my quarter? Or my nickel? But there is really no better place to get clothes. If you don't mind hand me downs, it's a steal. Most of the time you can get clothes for 50 cents or less. We sold shoes for 25 cents a pair. Kids clothes are specially great to find, since they are only worn for about twenty minutes before theyre out grown.

There were three girls that kept coming back. They stopped the first time and spent whatever they had in their pockets. They live up the street from the yard sale and were riding their bikes through the neighborhood. They went home and did chores for spending money. They got clothes, and toys, and shoes, and junk. They were so funny. It made me realize that the big girl is soon to be the giggly teenager. I have some time, but it goes so quickly.

The conversation at one of our lulls came around to my sister in law's boss. Apparently, she has issues and is a bitch to work for. She is constantly yelling at my sil, and people walk on egg shells around her. When I asked why in the world she works for someone like that, she excused her boss's behavior by saying that as a child she was slapped around a lot. What? So I started a tirade.

People that use that as an excuse to treat others badly are not only still being abused, but they are continuing the cycle by abusing others. I think it is a huge cop out to use that as an excuse. Without going in to detail, because it's unnecessary, I will say that I had a rough time as a child. It formed who I am, how I treated my children, and how I treat them now. It formed how I treat others and my need for acceptance.

Here's the biggest and best piece of advice I can offer. Get over it. Cowboy up, move on, and start acting like a productive member of society. Talk about it or forget about it. I know that sounds harsh. But the cycle of abuse has got to be broken by someone. Do some things still eat at me? Yes. It's not about blame or who's fault it was. It's over, it's done, and no amount of blame or pointing fingers will ever make it go away.

Start slowly. Put one foot in front of the other. Then try it again. And again. And one day you will be walking all on your own without the baggage that you had to carry with you for so many years. One day you will realize that the cycle has been broken and you are stronger than you thought you were. Don't let it be a chain that always holds you down or keeps you back. And don't use it on other people. The healing has got to start somewhere.

I got strange looks from my mil and sil. They weren't really sure how to take it. My last statement of "Cowboy up and move on or shut the fuck up!" kinda threw them for a loop. Rough, I know, but my sil is enabling the abuse because she relates. I think it hit a little close to home for her. But I think that was part of my point to her.

The rest of the afternoon was event free. Business slacked off about one. We expected that. We started tearing everything down and boxing it up to get rid of it. It was very freeing. It also hurt a little that we didn't sell more and more people didn't want our junk. Oh, well. Maybe the next one.

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