Just a teaser so you know I'm serious about finishing it.
I haven't updated this thread in a while, I know. I don't owe you fucknuts anything but I will apologize anyway. I started to write this particular update a couple of months ago. Since then I sold the "Manson" House, I couldn't stand being there. I've been going to therapy and am starting to feel a little more normal in general. I've started working some million dollar deals with gas stations in Las Vegas that have defaulted on their notes and
need to be run in recivership and auctioned off, So the cash is starting to flow in again. I also got my computer set up at my new place witgh all my monitors so I feel like I have the "workspace" to finish the story. I could just
write some cliff notes but you and I both know it is more exciting with pictures! Even though finishing this thread or thinking about Olive Olson in general is unhealthy for my "recovery" I don't want to be forever known
as the "ultimate troll" I think some people here really enjoy the story and have been following it, im finishing it for you guys, if that is you, sign in! I also want to give some insight on what it can be like to be involved with a "Dangerous" woman, or someone with a serious mental illness. On the flip side, also letting your boundaries erode and turning into a "AFC aka Beta" like I did. combine the two, and you have fireworks. Anyway last update we had just walked in on Olive smoking dope. The "present" time in this update is when I was cleaning out my house to get it sold, back in December or so. And Here we go!
It's a fairly frightening thing, you know the day that you wake up and finally realize that you know about as much as you knew the day you were born. For me, that day was now, today, the day I caught Olive relapsing.
You see, I had been here before, a few more times than I cared to remember. The watering eyes, the shaking hands, the foil and yellow straw on the lap, the look of pure patheticness, knowing she had been caught.
It had been 9 months since Olive and heroin had seen each other, to me, it all felt like a few minutes. Heroin could do for her the things I couldn't, no matter how hard I tried. There I was, standing in the doorway of our
now tainted house, like Olive had taken a knife, edgy and dull, and cut a six inch valley through the middle of my soul. A different kind of poverty had taken hold of me, night after sleepless night I had walked around wondering,
Why am I so alone? Where is my Olive? can I get her back? Was she ever there?
I had stood at these crossroads before, I knew all my options, call Eric, call the aunt, protect Olive, Let her get away with it and let my boundaries erode even further. I felt I always knew in times past, the right choice,
without question. It was always just been Olive and I, our own little world, and like my child, I wanted to protect her, I wanted to be there for her, I wanted the woman I saw inside her, I was the victim of a paradox.
All my life experiences had told me that the right choice, Is usually the one that is harder to execute. I made that choice when I kidnapped Olive and brought her to steamboat, I felt one day these choices would make Olive proud of me,
I wanted to her to remember who had always been there for her, I was tired, tired of making choices and tired of fighting for Olive. I couldn't go back to bed, It was time to make another one. Choice ofcourse.
For today, Now, it's December of 2013. I'm piecing together what I am going to be move into storage over the next couple of weeks. I finally got an offer on what was going to be Olive and I's future, our house, but it turned into an
Opium den of terrible memories. Chalk up two houses permanently ruined for me due to bad memories, Van Patten, and now Nordic Valley. Maybe I'm taking the weak path, but I would just rather purge myself from this place and start over.
Well my friends, the time has come, closing on the 7th of Janurary. The house is starting to get cleared out, this is the stuff I do in-between entertaining you guys with my life. This is Olives actual bed from VP, she had it for years
before I met her, Unfortunately I've been sleeping on it. It should have been the first thing to go. It won't be making the move with me, it's going to the dump, I cant stand to sleep with the "ghost" of Olive next to me anymore.
Middle of the house is kind of a disaster, It all has to be moved. We have to go for what we know, and I know getting out of here will be better for me.
That being said, somehow, after every update I do I manage to find a couple more things that belong to Olive, This time it was some crappy Hawaiian garbage that used to hang on the walls of Van Patten, you know, the type of shit you
would find in an awful tiki room bar. I decided to use my firepit one last time and I made a very crappy cell phone video for your viewing pleasure;
I did stumble across a few more items I was actually considering keeping, still on the fence about these. For olives 28th birthday I bought her a record player and a few Smith's and Morrisey records, our favorite bands.
Morrisey was actually the show I sent her to California with my car to see before I knew about the dope, for those of you that have been following this story from the beginning;
"Our Song" was Hand in Glove, by The Smiths, the lyrics depict the beginning of our relationship flawlessly; Olive always used to look in my eyes and tell me "this one is different because it's us"
Hand in glove
the sun shines out of our behinds
No it's NOT like any other love
this one's different
because it's us!
Hand in glove
we can go wherever we please
and everything depends upon
how near you stand to me
And if the people stare
then, the people stare
oh I really don't know
and I really don't care
So hand in glove I stake my claim
I'll fight to the last breath
If they dare touch a hair on your head
I'll fight to the last breath
The good life is out there somewhere
so stay on my arm, you little charmer
But I know my luck too well
yes, I know my luck too well
and I'll probably never see you again
I'll probably never see you again
I'll probably never see you again
I suppose the last few lines depict the end of our relationship fairly accurately as well, since I will hopefully never see Olive again. One last item was a little too cool to me to throw away, and I might try to find a vintage shop
in Vegas and see if I can offload it for a few pennies, one of her favorite items of all time, her mermaid table. Incidentally it was one of the first items that caught my attention the first time I was in Van Patten;
And just a proof is in the pudding picture, you can see it in the far left of this picture, a Halloween party picture from Van Patten in 2010 that predates me by about 2 months. Yes just a short two months later I would be standing
there in awe, saying hello to Olives Mother and waiting to go on our first date;
The last Olson Items in general I have to deal with our a few vintage leopard skins, 100% real. I'm not entirely sure of the legality of these. I know Eric's Mother, and Olives Grandmother, Monica Shot these on a safari in the 1950's.
I have to figure out a way to get these to Eric but I'm not sure USPS is the best way. In the mean time, I actually will take care of these;
I'm not exactly sure what it is about me, I've never met anyone quite like myself. This house just feels to me to be a place where I can't move on. I don't know what it is about this place that just makes me feel sick all the time,
its just a house, right? Actually, Come to think about it, I recall exactly what it is about this place that makes me sick to my stomach. It was nearly 480 days ago I suffered yet another instance in a reoccurring theme,
Olive doing something for her own benefit at the complete disregard for other peoples feelings. I would come soon enough to realize, it wasn't just the drugs.
For that night, though, Myself, and my thoughts, were relinquished to this particular hallway;
Looking into this excuse for a bedroom;
Looking at my pathetic problem child, Olive. She was sitting on the edge of her bed. She looked like a disaster, her day old makeup was running from the tears, she was flustered red. Half of me wanted to kick a hole in the wall.
How could she? After all the trips to steamboat? after me ruining a Cadillac leases? After everything.. The other half of me felt sorry for her, she looked like she was in prison. In many ways, she was, she had lost most of her
friends, lost her favorite house, most of her stuff was in storage, or unpacked, this wasn't a life for anyone to live, her, or I. But still, it was my neck on the line. I was the one holding the "ship" together, and I was getting tired.
It was around this time, I was starting to get sick, sick in the head and in the heart. My 7-Eleven, my family, my future, you know the most important stuff to me? They were all just becoming fleeting thoughts to me. All I could
think about was Olive, I didn't realize it at the time, but my Love for Olive was perverted, it was transforming into a love I would have for my own child. I lied for her, I lied to my parents about her drug use, I made excuses for
her all the time. It was unhealthy in every direction. Kevin, as I knew him for 30 years, was dying.
"I'm sorry" she kept muttering over and over in between sniffling and wiping her tears away. I could have delved into the specifics, you know "How long?" "Where did you get it?" But did it matter? Everything I needed to know was
sitting right in-front of me. I should say, everything I didn't want to know was right infront of me, my dreams for the future, and my current nightmare, high on opiads. At this point, I was a paradox, Olive was the very thing that was
destroying me, ruining my life, yet I wanted to protect her at all cost.
I hated seeing Olive high, it crushed my soul. It made me sick. I always told myself best friends make their friends problems their own, unfortunately, I was an expert at doing that. It felt noble at the time, but we all know how
stupid it really was. What I had for now was my own little disaster sitting on the edge of the bed. She was relieved herself, I mean, she was high. She said she was sorry, but they never-are., addicts I mean. It was just another piece
of the web of lies that had been lifted off of her shoulder. My problem was I wasn't looking at Olive as my problem, I was viewing heroin as my problem. Everyone told me, you have to separate the person from the addict, addiction is a
disease, blah blah, and all this other feel good crap, and I believed it. Still, I wanted to die.
My Eyes so cloudy, I cant see now. I came outside, I saw the night fall into rain, sheet lightning flashes in my brain. What ever happened to the world we used to know? I've got you coming over here, now. Look now, look all around, there is no sign of life.
Yea, I had just caught Olive smoking dope. This is what I looked like
This is what it felt like.
It was awful. In all honesty, what was running through my mind wasn't Olive. It was the 6 month old leased Cadillac with 30,000 miles on it in my driveway. It was my credit card with the countless plane tickets to Denver with connectors to SteamBoat on it. All the dinners, Olive wrapped up in a blanket looking at me and telling me she was better than dope. Holding me and thanking me for saving her, while we sat in the hot springs and laughed the night away. It was the drive through Utah burned into my retinas. My collection of endless speeding tickets. It was my nutsuck with a price tag on it shriveling up. But who am I kidding? Of-course all I could think about was Olive. I was fighting a war with her against dope and I was losing every battle, Olive wasn't my teammate, my ally, She was the problem. but still, however perverted, sick, whatever was wrong with me at the time, all I knew is that I loved Olive, and I believed she was better than this, I believed she needed my help. Honestly, I was the one that needed rescuing at this point.
Even though I was floating on a small raft in the middle of an ocean of lies, deceit, and drug use, waving back at the shoreline where my old life and all my friends were standing, living their lives in happiness, I still had a couple of boundaries in place, I had decided I wasn't letting Olive stay at "our" house when she was actively using. So I did what I had become so accustom to doing, I told Olive everything was going to be OK. I told her I needed a few minutes to myself and stepped outside, she was probably lighting up again, chasing the dragon as they call it. I didn't want to think about it.
I guess at this point you could call me a veteran of a war I wasn't sure I wanted to be fighting anymore. I wasn't intimidated or uneasy about making these phone calls anymore. I might as well have had his number on speed dial. Once again, I was going to have to ruin Eric's night.
But Eric was like my general, A stand up guy, no time for bullshit, he knew Olive allot longer than I did, 27 Years longer, and he once referred to her as a "Life Long train Wreck" to me. He knew.
"Problem Eric, I caught her smoking Dope"
He wasn't even surprised. I mean what are the chances of a chick like Olive spending a few months in a Ski town and coming home to Vegas and being clean? It was a long shot I was always hoping to hit. He was hoping to, but like so many hopefuls before us, we binked. Eric was like my brother in arms, as if we had both painstakingly put our asses on the line and built something to watch a 3 year old tear it down. I hadn't even told my parents about Olive's drug problem, I wanted her to have a clean slate if she ever came around. He asked me what I wanted to do and I told him she couldn't stay here, but I wasn't confronting her about it yet because A) I didn't know how, and B) I had already spent enough nights chasing Olive when she ran away and did not feel like doing it again.
Still Eric and I came to an agreement that he would book the plane ticket to Denver, and I would be tasked with getting her on the plane, Easier said, obviously.
When I retreated back inside the house Olive was passed out on the bed, with her best friend, Opiads. I felt Ill. My thought process was clouded, I found myself preferring the doped up Olive, When she was high, she was calm. I wouldn't have to worry about her raging, breaking pictures, running away, jumping out of a moving car, You know, all the fun stuff I had experienced before. I closed the door and let her "medicine" do the work, I couldn't change anything for tonight. I retreated to watch television and wonder how I let my life turn into this.
You see, I had always seen it before, losers, idiots that get caught up with other losers and druggies, let their lives get turned upside down. I always wondered how they could let themselves get into such situations, it had to be stupidity right? I always said you're only as good as the people you surround yourself with, but here I was, I had let me entire world become a doped up Ex-stripper who did bull busting videos to score cash for dope. But I also had a bunch of her childhood videos on my computer, I was converting them from VHS to digital as a surprise for her birthday that summer. Obviously, I was the guy who saw the beautiful girl inside Olive when all my friends were telling me what a piece of shit she was, I was right, and they were wrong obviously, right?
Olive was addicted to Heroin, I was addicted to Olive, pretty simple. Like I had for the past 2 years or so, I turned it off, I didn't like to think about what part I was playing in this dysfunctional relationship. I wasn't an enabler or a sap, in my eyes, I was just doing what I could so I could finally get a shot at the Sober Olive. It wasn't one-itus, I convinced myself I hadn't even met Olive yet. I recalled back to when Eric was hugging Olive and crying, he looked at me and said "Kevin is waiting to meet the real Olive." I wanted to cry when he said that. Those words stuck with me the entire time.
For now, I decided to drown my sorrows in a documentary, I picked one fairly randomly, bad, bad choice.
It wasn't long before I was a wreck watching this awful story and thinking about my situation with Olive, when she came out of the room seemingly normal, pretending little was wrong, as she had a done a million times before, a fake frown and perhaps a little innocent girl look. A pattern of behavior to manipulate my emotions, generally, it worked. Olive sat next to me and wrapped herself around me, told me she was sorry, cried, held onto me like there was no tommorow and together we watched a story about a Crazy woman, a Guy named Zachery that had no boundaries and got caught up with a insane woman who took him for everything he had. Ironic. Sometime
during the flick I got a text from Eric.
Southwest, LAS -> DEN, departs at 11am.
It was the last night I ever spent with Olive in Las Vegas.