Oxygen Stealers

I've inherited the presence of people in my life. We don't share any DNA, but we do share oxygen about 3 times a year. 

We do not, however, share any of the same values. He doesn't get me, I don't get him. 

I am female and do not share blood so according to his rules of social engagement, I'm usually classified somewhere between fly on a cow's ear and discarded potato peelings.

You get what you give. 

I broke his rules. I quit a job. He can't take it. And now he wants to talk. I can't explain anything to someone who can't control their eyebrows. (Which, at this point, are permanently raised and possibly twitching...)

I can't explain happiness to someone that doesn't ever entertain the possibility of it. I don't know how to explain joy when it's never been a priority. And I certainly can't maintain a conversation when hope and potential isn't in someone's vocabulary.

My ego wants to punch him. My heart wants to give him a hug. My brain wants to prove him wrong. Such a dismal existence. (I realize I'm giving him power by writing this post.)

I've curated a brief list (for him, myself, and anyone else who may have inherited an oxygen stealer in their life) of people who followed their instinct. 

-Walt Disney was a newspaper editor. Quit. (Was actually fired.)

-Ellen Degeneres. Paralegal. Quit.

-Harrison Ford. Carpenter. Quit.

-Ken Jeong (Mr. Chow from the Hangover) Doctor. Quit.

-Joy Behar (host of the View) Teacher. Quit.

-Julia Child. Spy. Quit.

-Martha Stewart. Stockbroker. Quit.

-Jesus. Carpenter. Quit.

(There's that or A very appropos pin..)