Unconditional

You tried to change didn't you?
Closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
prettier
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him traveling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do love
split his head open?
you can't make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love.

- Warsan Shire "For Women Who Are 'Difficult To Love'"

So much stress, sadness, heartache.


I'm done with it all.  I don't think I can take any more of it.  I'm sitting here on my bed at the moment.  Outside is a horrible rain storm and the wind is hitting my house harder than it did during a hurricane we got 3 years ago.  Normally the house shaking as bad as it does would be worrisome to me but all I can feel is a weird peace.  

"Finally, the Universe is showing everyone else what is going on inside of me."

I have spent the past week filled with volatility.  I just want to scream and cry and throw things.  I want to drink until I feel nothing and lay around in my sweatpants eating cheese doodles and watching Wayne's World and There's Something About Mary until my eyes fall out or I finally give in and cry.  I hate everything because I want to be loved and I'm not. I want to stop being made a fool of.  I just want to get my stuff and be done with it.  He doesn't want me.  He doesn't need to speak the words.  

If someone wants you, they call you back when they see that you've called.  They text you.  They go out of their way to see you (the 35 minute trips to your town weren't just for dog food, dumb ass.  My dog weighs 13 pounds, how much could he possibly eat?)  They act like they're actually glad that you exist.  I'm not looking for flowers or jumping up and down or even a fucking parade, maybe a hug?  Maybe an acknowledgment that I exist every now and again?  One can only beg so much before their spirit is bruised.  All I wanted was 5 minutes, and all I get is crickets.  I'm supposed to think that he wants me and thinks I'm special how?  Exactly.  I'm not.  I'm not fighting with him.  I'm being realistic.  I want him.  He's all I've ever wanted.  I don't have him.  Why waste any more time?  Get it over with, stop dancing a jig on my heart and break it allfuckingready.  

I can't help but think that the universe is punishing me for something.  I don't understand.  All I have ever wanted was to be cared for.  To be loved and know it.  I haven't exactly earned it, but I certainly don't deserve to be ignored and treated like I'm worthless. I'm not going to ever be sorry for telling someone that the way that they're treating me isn't okay.

But as much as I want to lay down and quiet my mind, life must go on.  I put on the makeup and do the hair and the cute outfit complete with cute shoes as perfectly as I can.  I smile and laugh and spend time with my family who is in town - so nobody knows what happening under the surface. 

**I will add with the exception of 3 very close friends, whom I am more grateful for now more than ever.  I owe you all baked goods of your choosing for putting up with my moment of temporary insanity.  This is just temporary, or at least I'm pretending to take your words for it.** 

Did I mention that I can't cry?  I'm a crier, but I haven't cried.  I'm angry.  I even cry when I'm angry - nothing.  I felt things - Gods.  Damn.  It!!!!  I opened my entire being to him and he just peeked inside like some snobby window shopper, tried everything on for size, threw everything inside of me on the floor and kept right on a movin'. 

"Sorry folks, I just don't carry anything ego-sized." 

And as I write this, I look at the pictures on my phone at some that I took of my grandparents.  True love, defined.

My grandmother was recently hospitalized for some serious medical conditions and it's not the first time.  Everyone in the family was worried sick and since there were no available beds at a local hospital, she was shipped to one almost 3 hours away.

I went on a road trip with my aunt on my one day off for the next 6 days, who is also my best friend.  On the way down, we laughed so hard that we almost died on the interstate, needless to say we make our own good time.  It was a nice break from my mind.  

My grandfather was already down there.  He said that no matter what he was going down there and he wasn't coming home without her;  and at that point we didn't know exactly what was going on.  We got to her room and being the stoic that he is he doted on her and we all told jokes and had a good time keeping up each other's spirits and holding each other up with the "everything is going to be fine" look.

Watching the two of them together amazes me.  They would do anything to make sure the other was happy.  He was laying across the end of the bed telling stories and jokes to keep her smiling.  This was a very serious time, we didn't know how bad things were then (fortunately things were not as bad as they could have been and she was able to go home after a procedure), but it didn't matter.  He was doing everything and anything he could to keep her happy and comfortable and take her mind off the fact that any second they could get some really bad news.  

They were so worried about each other.  Smiling and laughing and loving each other in a way that you only can when you've loved someone forever.  They've been through everything together.  How many women would date a guy let alone marry him when he wants to marry you so that he can adopt a 3 year old little girl that isn't even either of theirs?  Because that's what happened...Long story short, my mother was left at the daycare that his mother ran out of their apartment and my grandfather met and married my grandmother so that he could adopt her.

And maybe that's my problem.  I was always taught that conditions are unconditional;  that people who mean something to you should always know it.  I don't do things in half measures because I don't know how to.  That's where my bar is set.  Love me like that; when life throws you a huge curve that terrifies you, as my partner - no matter what, or don't love me at all.  

This will all sort itself out, somehow.

And yes, I started crying halfway through writing this blog post.  Finally.  And no, I'm not drinking any alcohol.  I've taken a moment to actually experience my feelings instead of stuff them down.

Repost: Nonsensical Rant

Blunt honesty.

TRUTH.  We all say that we want it, but do we? 

When the truth doesn’t match up to what we desire from life, we find it next to impossible to accept it. 

We all say we give it.  And we do, for the most part.  That is, until the truth is going to destroy our bubble that we're comfortable in or hurt someone that you care deeply about. 

Well, like it or not, here’s mine:

When I say that I want to be in a relationship, I mean it.   When I say that I think that you’re wonderful, I mean it.   What I don’t mean, is that we should get married after knowing each other less than 2 months.   See!!!   No need to panic.   I’m not nuts like every other drunken whore on the planet.   I’m just me, over here like, “At some point before I die, I want to be loved and know it.“  Too much to ask?  It better not be, or you don’t have a place in my life. 

What I really want, is another adult in the house, who wants to do adult things.   Like shower together, for example.   Or watching porn and making fun of it with me.  Or conversing.   I think that good, honest, old fashioned communication has gone right out the window.   Man do I miss it!   I want to know what makes someone tick at their core.   When you have that kind of bond with someone, love is simply besides the point.   It took me until I was 25 years old to learn how to love myself the way that I deserved to.  I have busted my ass to have the life that I have now.  It might not be a lot to some, but it’s a lot more than I had to start with.  I will not spend a second in the next 25 years of my life from this day forward trying to convince someone else that I am worth getting to know. 

Truth.   Love.   It either is or it isn’t.   If you wanted to get to know me, you would. 

I find it hard to be in love.  That’s only because I didn’t want to fall in love.   I refuse to lower my walls.   I have been through a lot of things that I don't get close enough to people for them to know about me.  Once you open up yourself to someone, there’s a chance things won’t go the way you intended and you will be left broken.  I’m not ready to feel empty. 

I think that Facebook should allow the relationship status "In a threesome with Ben & Jerry and Netflix".  Polyamory, anyone?

There are 26 letters in the English language.   26 letters that can be arranged in an infinite combination of words and sentences.   None of which will be able to change what has already happened.  None of which can make sense out of the nonsense that love is.  Being one to need to make sense out of everything, this fact is the most frustrating.

Uneasy Silence, Curiosities And Visions

Having your shit together isn't all that it's cracked up to be.  

                                           - Me, after a week of actually having my shit together.

When I was little, like in the earliest of memories;  I recall being outside hanging out with my Papa and asking him why he did what he did with his life.  He told me that I should find what makes me happy and let it be who I am until I die.  

I don't know how not to be who I am.  I am kind and smart and funny and I try my hardest to make everyone in my life happy.  I see absolutely no point in being something other than exactly who you are.  I have always refused to water myself down for anyone.   I don't let people get close to me if I don't feel that the value we have in each other's lives is mutual.  Most of the time I get bitten square in the ass for it.

I think that's the ploy all along with some people:

"I'll find you when it's clear that you're not looking.  I'll make you love me when you were busy convincing yourself and the Universe that you were unable to feel anything ever again with a calming touch and beautiful words.  I'll look at you like the most magical creature I've ever seen.  And then I'll flee the scene skipping before you realize what even happened with just barely enough time to wash your blood from my hands after squeezing your cold, dead heart until it was merely an afterthought to me."

The time we spend together leaves me feeling like we're flying around each other like lightning bugs on a perfect summer evening but we're both too stubborn to land first.

 I had somehow become married to my loneliness and that's where you found me.  I tried to fight you out of my mind but I can't help but keep writing my admiration of you.  Writing it out feels like the best and the worst moment all at the same time.  I talk about it with friends who look at me like I've morphed into some punch drunk love teenager.  I highly doubt that this is what I'm acting like, but I definitely felt something other-worldly the second your lips touched mine.  I recognize this feeling, not because I've experienced it in this lifetime;  but because it's visited me in dreams like a vision of something I knew that I had experienced before.  I read once that feelings you experience in dreams are actually memories from a past life;  that meeting someone and having that same feeling means that your atoms met somewhere long before we were in our bodies that we have today.  

Maybe that's just my well-hidden hopeless romantic talking that secretly loves the movie Titanic and couldn't make it 1/3 of the way through The Notebook before I was crying and fighting the urge to throw things across the living room (I still haven't been able to make it more than half way through before I have to shut it off and then I'm a raging bitch for days - insert rant about how tired I am of looking at everyone else on the planet getting what I want more than anything).  I won't even get started on The Great Gatsby.

I can proclaim a masterpiece for you in this blog of mine repeatedly, but my vocal chords turn to concrete at the sight of your face;  keeping me from saying what I need to in order to voice my need for this to be mutual.  Instead, it's easier on my heart to dismiss any nice things that you say to me and accuse you of sleeping with half the planet and push you away with the dismissal that you're just screwing with me because you enjoy killing me slowly like some narcissistic serial killer of hearts instead of accepting what you're telling me to be true. 

Constantly questioning the Universe:  "Is this an ocean or a puddle?"  My ability to tell has been skewed by muddled signs of self preservation and punch drunk curiosity.  I run a constant race with my emotions and it's usually ego that falls flat on it's face first with inner peace coming in dead last.  It just sits in the middle of the track waiting to be kissed, checking out the dandelions.

I wish you were real with me.  Instead you walk this earth chasing every right you could have had in every wrong creature with your hand of stacked cards and gilded smile;  taking a large chunk of their being for yourself to keep in your menagerie so that no matter how hard they try, nobody will ever make them feel complete again after you've left.  You might look for my kindness and my words and my touch everywhere;  but will never find it again, even from me.  There is no anger this time.  This exile of yours wasn't my decision.  You made me embrace the fall in your canyon and I jumped;  not realizing it was a volcano.  It was beautiful and freeing and defiant and everything I could have hoped it would be.  I'm only sorry that you can't bring yourself to jump with me.  I can see miles down our road from where I am.

Converse with me, but don't look at me.  Your eyes cause a molecular change in my spirit and my mind becomes amputated from my mouth and my heart is at the control panel and that's not a good thing if we want to avoid burning to ash.  My tongue doesn't follow direction well.  The way I feel about you has become so ingrained in me that I would set myself on fire if you asked for light.  But your words are hitting my ears as faint as a coin you've flipped into a well of abandonment and echoing just as hollow.  Words, that's all you give me.  I'm tired of waiting for you, patiently watching you gambling copper in hopes of promises of gold.  It's infuriating.  

I've grown accustomed to goodbyes without ever speaking the words "It's over".  I keep waiting for your grand deployment from my life;  praying with every atom of my being that it never comes.  I could watch you watching the news on the couch and not hear a thing but find a million things about you that I can't get enough of.

There's nothing that can ever keep me from you.

Except you.

Onwards

She didn't want to leave things like this

But it was at the point where her heart and brain

Were constantly at odds with his ego

And she couldn't have that

She decided that half-measures would 

No longer be acceptable

And did the only thing that she could  

She straightened her makeup

Took a deep breath

And moved on in the grandest way she knew how

Remembering her forgotten worth

And loving herself more

-Cynicallovebird

Tumultuous

You are the most beautiful storm I have ever seen
          And I will always be the ship sailing into it.
Under every wave,
          Trying to catch a glimpse of who happened to you.

Trying to unload my cannon-fire into your crests 
          To soften the blows of the past that I'm an innocent in;                 You never crash into me hard enough to damage,
      But always just enough to leave a reminding sting 
                 When we get too close.
I'm constantly on guard.
As much as I am frightened by the realization 
               That you have the power destroy me completely
          I love it even more.
Stop trying to contain my wildfire!
     Forcing me to flicker into a simple flame.

I feel like I'm at the helm holding up my secret box of                        Unopened love letters.
Fodder from this wounded soul;
I wonder if you have any idea how curious I am to know 
          If that smile you gave me was a ploy 
            Or if I was as pleasing to your eyes as you are to mine.
I want to be drunk on your nostalgia.
I wonder what would you do if I randomly grabbed your                      Hand so I could dance with you 
               In the peaceful symphony of silence 
     That falls over the world 
         When you touch me in the kitchen 
                                  As my favorite song plays.
I wonder what kind of thoughts keep you up 
                 On a sleepless night; 
How you take your eggs or if you hate them like I do
          And how you take your coffee.
What your biggest regret was,

        Or rather who.

  Trying my damndest to give them to you and to show you that I'm real; 
               But your waves just dance around me.
Refusing to acknowledge anything except for 
       The pain of my past avoidance.
You must understand this:
      I am terrified of sparklers,
          And I always knew that you were fireworks.
And now that I'm here you won't play fair.
Trying to push me back ashore.
Stop trying to wash away memories 
                That haven't happened yet.

What makes you tick like the broken clocks you collect
             As if you're Captain Hook?
Or perhaps you're just the Unabomber of hearts
                     With your dynamite lit at the wrong end.

Seven Year Itch

I cannot forgive you,
The man who has hurt me. 
But I can forgive the child that was 
      Before you became this monster. 
He was innocent once.
Before we all grew up and started trying to kill each other
     And loved and adventured without fear of a THE END.

You sang hypnotically to my soul
     And I ran because I saw that you were bleeding and needed me.
There was so much red I stopped being able to see straight.
I knew that you were going to be one for the books.
I have fallen and gotten scraped from time to time,
     But you simply gutted me.
In what feels like seconds you had me drowning 
     In your hypnotic confusion.

The words you spoon fed me were holy.
Not like religion as you had hoped, 
     But like Swiss cheese.
I still nailed myself to a cross made out of apologies anyway.
I know I'm nothing to you.
I'm a fucking plagiaristic copy of every other being 
     You spewed invisible promises at.
I'm still finding myself wanting answers to this myth of yours.
You were always more beautiful as a stranger.
Are you sick or just from Hell?

One of these days I will forgive myself for falling in love
          With someone who never existed in the first place.
In minutes I was ripped from my happy place by you.
And somehow thought I'd be fine
          And just grateful that I made it out of your sickness alive.
Bright sides...
     There'd be no art if your rose colored glasses 
          Weren't kaleidoscopes in disguise.

I keep wondering why I'm not telling myself 
     That I'm going to be alright.
I'm reaching,
     But there are not arms for me to find solace in.
There is something about this new found silence that now has me more scared 
     Of being alive than of dying.
I am an escaped hostage who can't find her way home 
     Standing in her own living room.

I was always the brave one.
         The warrior.
If you know what's good for you,
     You'd drop the act and do the right thing.
You should have killed me.
As always it was half-assed 
     And still managed to rip everything I am out of my soul.
I'm still in here somewhere.
What will you do when you find that your discarded pawn 
          Was really the queen you were searching for?
I still find beauty in your "almost".

I Believe...

That just when you think you have lost all hope and admitting defeat and letting go feels like the only option, sometimes unexpected surprises turn up.

That sometimes spewing honesty at someone other than who it's meant for can be a good way to gain a new perspective without destroying a relationship that means everything to you; cathartic even.

That best friends were invented for times when our souls are screaming.

That tequila and pool tables were invented for times when you need to get something out of you that you can't quite put your finger on;  because it's going to come out whether you want it to or not.

That drunk feelings are sober thoughts minus caution.

That Mad Libs were invented for times when you need to feel like you're going to die from laughter;  the hands-down best way to make a grumpy, hormonal teenager get out of a slump.

That people who were not taught the meaning of NO as a child make the shittiest adults on the planet.

That when you realize that it's not actual defeat that you feel but rather a simple shock to the system, you can find healthier ways out of your own mind.

That teaching a child the things that you loved when you were their age is the most important thing in the world.

That if you have done everything you can to heal your wounds you should take all precaution to avoid what broke you;  but find a way to do it in such a way that you don't forget what makes you happy or how to live.

That if you are taking a time out to regain your sanity, the amount of calories in a pint of Ben & Jerry's doesn't count.  Negative calories if things are so awful that you've holed yourself in your room and are watching a movie in bed.  Double negative if it was because a boy made you cry.  I highly recommend Chunky Monkey for those times.

That sometimes when you are feeling like going shopping it's better to just pull everything out of a closet to appreciate what you already have - and maybe get rid of some of it because you realize what a hoarder you really are.

That most of the time, oceans are mere puddles and we should just find the joy in jumping in them instead of drowning ourselves in misperception.
  

Mid-Morning Observation

I'm messy when I'm human.
I mistake puddles for oceans and before I know it, 
I'm having a drunken one night stand or changing my hair or rearranging furniture and deep cleaning my closets or starting a new project that I know I'll never finish in an attempt to disinfect my feelings that are crawling under my skin like the sand worm in Beetlejuice in order to get you off of my mind.
It never works.
I need a new escape plan.

My dog will watch intently while he decides whether or not you are worthy of putting your hands on him.  
This could take minutes or it could take months;  
but he will never rush to his decision.  
Once he has chosen you, 
he'll spend every moment in your presence reminding you of his love and demanding yours.
He is the smartest 9 year old I have ever met. 
I wish that I could be more like him.
I on the other hand,
feel like a big dumb dog who is stupid excited for a belly rub every time that way you look at me crosses my mind.
Brain shut off, 
not caring how vulnerable I've just made myself.
Foreign, alienated, yet at home.  
Invigorated, yet settled.

None of the physics and all other things logical-defying devices that I've crafted over and over in my mind have been able to outrun those who have left my life. 
I don't miss most of them.
Chronically allergic to human relationships.
That's what I've always described this "thing" that goes on inside of me as.
I've never lost a limb; 
but I bet that's exactly what losing you would feel like.

Museum

I used to believe in signs.                 Perhaps I still do, but I don't go looking anymore.  Words I thought were painted vividly are showing themselves to me but they're as muddled as braille.                  Honestly!                                          Constantly wishing and hoping...

If the Gods wish for me to read riddles, I wish that they would please take my permission and not hold back when they hit me with "Hello" square in the face.

There's a strange reassurance in your existence that helps remind me of mine - as if being here and loving you has begun to make me real.

I'll let you into my brain.               Walk amongst my favorite memories, 
safeguarded behind ropes and glass.         
I won't let you touch them.               
The broken little girl I have let you see isn't the one you're touching when you lay your hands on me.                           The heart you're watching beat behind the gilded sign is too damaged to ever be whole again.                               Remember, you're here on a free day pass.  A view like this isn't going to last long. I'll show you a glimpse of who I am and shutter the doors because I saw that you weren't paying attention.                    I will recount all of my favorite memories; not that you have any interest in getting to know who I am.                  You are a visitor, only welcome to listen.

It's not like I can't live without you.       I've done that already.          
It's just that suddenly being without you feels unnatural.                         
I've never been willing to pull the sun out of the sky for anyone.

Memories are meant for visitation not for residency.                                   I never wanted to be loved.                 It's just that being in the same room as your presence hits me in a place within that tells me I could have fallen in love with you with my eyes closed.                            The memory of the sparkle in your eye that you had watching me when you thought I didn't see you has made a home in my mind.         It was as if something inside of you had caught fire.                                   It was as beautiful as it was unsettling.

Carefully pay attention to the signs that read "Do not touch" and "For safety reasons, stay inside of this line".I wish you had brought a sledgehammer.

Whirlwind

Wavering between reality and dreams.
Beautiful words and common sense.
What I believe and what I'm told.
       Deflector shields are up.             My heart is going to explode under the confusion.                              They're staying that way until things are different.                                 And you know exactly what I mean by that.

Words need to start becoming actions.      You tell me how you feel like I'm everything but you act like I'm nothing.                I saw this coming from a mile away and jumped willingly into your tornado anyways.

          Be patient.  NO.                  It is you who needs to be more careful with me.                                     There's a big difference between patience 

        and tolerating the destruction                of my entire being.               

On Dating....

Dating sucks.

There are all of these unspoken rules about how you're not supposed to spill everything you're thinking and feeling.  Being the kind of person who has a tendency to blurt out the first thing on their mind, this is not a good rule for me.

Honesty goes right out the window and nobody seems to be a fan of using it anymore.  Common sense is so rare it's practically a super power.

Not to mention that I melt at the mere thought of someone being thrilled in regards to my existence on this planet.  That has yet to happen as far as I'm aware of.  

I am so tired of doubting whether people are coming or going in my life.  Finding a way to power through repeated rejection.  I'm good at not acknowledging the fact that I'm a human being, but I am finding it harder and harder lately.  And I think it all boils down to what one person has done to me.  In a good way, but in a bad way too; more so because when I am with them I feel like a dog looks when they're stupid excited about a belly rub.

You know what turns me on?  What keeps me coming back?
Effort.  Assurance.  Conversation.  Conversing - my favorite verb on the planet.  Show me that you care.  That you really want me.

Actions, things like letting me know that you're still watching me get into my car and drive away after you've walked me out and telling me to let you know when I made it home.  Responding to messages.  Acting like you're glad to hear from me.  Don't just say shit to make me fall in love with you if you're not ready for me to do that.  Don't tell me that I make you happy after you've ignored me for a month.  Especially after canceling plans by text message and thinking that it was a perfectly acceptable option.  When you pull shit like that, you're basically the human equivalent of a participation award.  Good fucking job, douche.

Picture it:  I went out for some drinks with my friend last night and I told her what had been happening with Mr. InvaderOfWhatTheFuck-Landia.  I told her about the cuddling that I'm actually comfortable with, and the staring into my eyes, and political debates and discussions that I'm actually enjoying and was mostly sober for and the spending the night and all the fucked up things happening in my head, like taking him to my camp.  What the fuck is that?  It took me a year of knowing Mr. Seven Year Itch before he got to go there, and it was another 5 years before I let him go again.  (**Note:  for me, camp is the happiest place on Earth and I wouldn't ever just take anyone who hasn't earned a place in my life because I'll be damned if anyone is going to desecrate it with their bullshit)  After clarifying not once, but twice, that I was fine with the cuddling, she asked if I needed to go to the Emergency Room to be checked for roofies or other drugs because she was genuinely concerned for my safety.  In her words, "I can see you enjoying a political debate before I can see you not screaming in terror when someone is trying to cuddle you, and even then I would need photographic evidence to believe it."  In other words;  this really has never happened before in the history of ever.  Holy Fuck balls. 

When I deactivated my POF account in the fall shortly after I met Mr. I, it wasn't because I was delusional enough to believe right away that he was the one;  it was because I FUCKING HATE DATING.  I didn't even really want to reactivate it 2 weeks ago like I did.  I've had some pretty interesting conversations.  And in response to something Mr. I. said, no, to the best of my knowledge, I do not have a fan club.  Not anywhere on this planet.

I'm starting to think my account should read:  

Super socially awkward, fun loving single mom of 2.  I'm an open book, but not a doormat.  Has a tendency to blurt out the first thing that comes to mind and is the only person in the entire world who actually wants what she says that she does.  I love being outside with my dog, laughing with friends.  I'm looking for friends, possibly more.  Definitely not just a one time hook up.  I honestly think that I'm the last person on the planet who thinks that loyalty is a thing to be proud of and doesn't see dating as a sport.  Lover of shows from 70's, 80's and 90's television.  Geeky t-shirt wearer.  Twisted sense of humor.  No fucks given, most of the time.  Compulsively organizes a closet or a drawer while the rest of the house looks like it exploded.  Kitchen alchemist - fudge catches fire when it boils over onto a glass top stove and then turns to rock, who knew :).  Lover of projects, just doesn't have the attention span to be able to finish the last 10%, no matter what it is.  Just for kicks pinup and fetish model - no being open about it isn't an invitation to ask for nude pictures or to disrespect me.  I don't judge other people's dynamics but if you're on here and you're lying to someone about it, look elsewhere.  I will love your pet and will probably be more affectionate with them than with you.  I have a very hard time not treating people like I've known them for the past millennium so don't take offense to my kindness.  I love to play games, just none that involve a person's vital organs if you catch my drift.  I'm not needy, I'm a very busy person and I care about the people in my life so if I make time for you please respect that.  Please have something intelligent to say, I love conversation.  I'm not looking to have a fantastic conversation one minute and be ignored and treated like I'm nothing the next.  I have the attention span of a squirrel, if you can hold my attention for more than five minutes I will love you until the Earth falls apart.  If you message me and all you can say is "What's up?" I'm going to ignore you. If all you can say to me is how amazing my boobs look in the black dress (**note, a picture I put on there on purpose to weed out the dicks), I will block you.   Oh, and don't be a lying douche.  It's just bad form.

And I don't have any interest or want to hear about all of the shitty relationships you've had constantly.  Or making me feel inadequate by sharing all of your amazing stories about how your ex had the most amazing body in the history of boobs.  Stop storing memories of failure better than a camel stores water.  Talk about the past at appropriate times;  sexy time, is not that time.

Another thing:  You know how some guys buy flowers or drinks in bars for girls?  Why can't people do that in other stores?  Like when I'm looking at a comic book store and someone walks up to me and offers to buy me the #13 Quantum Leap or some Calvin & Hobbes or that Stay Puft marshmallow man piggy bank (that I still regret not buying when I saw it at Bull Moose), there is a bigger chance that things would work out in their favor.

And when it comes to relationships:  fuck the flowers and the gifts.  I just want to know that you think about me because you don't just say it.  You show it by touching me like it's agony on your hands not to.

I give up.  

There May Be Life On Mars After All....

"When you get excited over a new sponge in the sink, you're at an all time low."

- Realized as I was waiting to see if my coffee was going to use it's powers for good or evil this morning.

I'm going to get honest for a minute.

The past 6 weeks have been Hell.  I have been in a space that, with no other way to put it, I was shut down from life.  When you have been involuntarily attacked within your own walls that you put up to protect yourself by someone that you trusted with your entire being, stuck in your own mind is a very bad place to be.  

I had panic attacks, sometimes several a day.  I cried more and harder than I have in my lifetime.  I have consumed more alcohol than I did in the entirety of last year combined.  I was angry.  Most nights if I got any at all, I could count the number of hours of sleep on one hand.  The stress was so bad that I broke out in hives and woke up every morning for two weeks looking like I had been wrestling with a tiger in my sleep.  I consumed more benedryl and advil than any stomach should have to bear.  My house is more of a wreck than usual.  I binge watched Netflix and did everything I could do to avoid seeing anything remotely happy or lovey-dovey.  I was compulsive.  I barely ate.  I was selfish.  I did what I needed to do to feel better come Hell or high water; no matter what that was.  I was honest with people about what I was feeling and thinking and I wasn't always nice about it.

And here's the thing:  I'm not sorry.

I reached out to people more than I was ever able to.  I forced myself to laugh until I wasn't forcing it anymore.  I became more conscientious about how I was feeling and embracing it instead of turning myself into an emotionless, exploding zombie trying to ward off feelings.  I ate good things to make up for the fact that I could barely eat and now that's all I want.  I started moving on with my life and it moved with me instead of crumbling like I was afraid of.  I did what I needed to do to relax regardless of the number of hours of sleep I got.  I sought inner peace until it wasn't running from me anymore.  Over the past week, things have slowly gotten better and I have faith that they will even more so.  I think my biggest hang up was that I didn't feel like myself and I was so focused on getting that back that I didn't realize that she very well may be gone forever.  And that I'm okay with it.

Sometimes, something really horrible has to happen in our lives;  shaking us at our very core.  Being thrown into a Hell that we didn't ask for;  learning to stop analyzing and asking questions I'll never get answers to and simply find a way out.  Then, and only then, are we able to come out able to see the beauty in something as seemingly simple as a new sponge in the sink.

Darkness

It's always been there.
   Tiny,
Yet dark and foreboding.
I knew it wasn't a safe place.
There are no warm and fuzzy feelings to be had in there.
Everything was growing beautifully around it.
There was always this undercurrent of sadness that, if I'm honest about it, I never really minded.
Allowing so much happiness to be cultivated.
So inviting and beautiful.
There was always something lurking in the shadows
               of the hole in the floor.
No matter how happy I was
        or tried to be
No matter how much I danced
        it was always there;
Something to avoid
Sure enough
        One day
It was all too much to bear.
I wanted to know what was in there
Too bold for my own good
One footstep away from it and the air was sucked out of the room
       Warning,  "Don't touch me!"
I didn't care anymore
            Who needs using their better judgement when they can have a comfortable lie?
This darkness isn't all it's chalked up to be
         Comfortable here for way too long
             Trying to claw my way out
Happiness is always a lie
What happens now that I've had both
            and find myself skipping between both worlds?

"Let Me Take A Selfie"

There are loads of people who wag their condescending fingers at those who take selfies and throw them around on the Internet.  But take it from someone who is there more often than not:  there's a heap of blues behind the smile, the cleavage, the duck lips.

Regret, anger, sadness, panic, loathing - they all keep piling up on me;  adding to this paralyzing sense of inadequacy.  On the outside I might look like I'm holding it down.  Believe me, every cell in my body has disintegrated into jello.  Every inch of my soul wants nothing more than to erase time and find myself again.  I've made a goal in life to keep my mind in a place of understanding, rather than judgement.  I also think this is a lot of the reason that I've been feeling the way that I do lately.  Instead of focusing on the fact that I'm doing the right thing and the thing that I know that I should be doing, I hold onto the memory of what I thought I knew to be true.

Lots of selfies are the creation of people wishing they could crawl inside a carefully created self-portrait of themselves.  To live forever in a frozen moment where they appeared to be fine.

Solace comes in strange ways.  Sometimes all it takes is seeing your own picture lit up on a screen to feel OK again, if only for a few seconds.  Sometimes it's the arms of a complete stranger;  anything to feel the familiar burn and tingle of forgetting the world for awhile.

It's entirely possible when you're down and out to numb certain very real pains with anything and everything that feels right in the moment;  and if you can't relate then I'd consider you to have won the emotional lottery.

I don't cringe at the drunk on the street or the selfie taker on social media anymore.  I get it.  More hugs.  Less judgement.  Please.

Little Voice

I find my mind quieted and unable to bring myself to leave.
I fell  as easily as fingertips that trace over my body.
       Teasing.
Bruising my ego with every goose bump and loss of breath.
Leaving me with a longing that I'm not used to.
Don't go.
          Beg me.
                 Please.
Don't brush me off.
            Don't put up a wall.
I promise I'll stop being honest if you would start.
I don't want to stop feeling this way.
I set out to destroy you.
     It was I who am destroyed.
Check.  Mate.
Imploded upon myself.
        Point.  Proven.
A brilliant plan without a plan that backfired.
    You belong to no one.
                  I wasn't supposed to.
Finding that I'm wanting so much that I never knew existed.
           I wasn't supposed to feel.
So much that I can barely breathe just thinking about you.
You weren't supposed to prove me right.
   My heart doesn't belong in my body anymore.  
               Please take it.
We waited so long for each other.
                       And now we're still strangers.

Happy VD

What a cluster this weekend turned out to be.

It started with me finding things to do for both kids and taking Sunday off so that I could have a nice evening like I was hoping for that was canceled by text message.  That's right.  Way to keep it classy.  Point made.  I'm not stupid.  If you tell someone twice that you want to see them and then don't even have the decency to call then that person means nothing to you.  Point.  Taken.  Noted.  I don't have the cheat codes to the games that everyone claims they don't want to play.

Which leads me to the following rant:   I swear I am the last person on the planet that doesn't see dating as a sport.  In no way did I care about the fact that this was Valentine's day weekend.  It has never mean anything more to me than the fact that it's my mother's birthday.  That, and I henceforth dub it "Single's Awareness Day".  Nothing reminds you just how alone you are in the world when everyone around you is confessing their undying love for the asshole they can't stand 364 other days of the year.  I don't think that people should need to use it as an excuse to treat each other any differently than they should already be treating the person that they're in a relationship with any other day.  If I go out of my way to show any sort of kindness to you it's because I have an appreciation for who you are as a whole person in general, not because I want something from you other than your time and mutual respect.  I am not in a relationship and in no way am I delusional enough to believe that after 3 months that I am.  However, I should mean something by now.  And yes, I will admit that I had the slightest moment of homicidal rage when I saw the Facebook post of my thrice married best male friend newly engaged yet again less then a month after the ink on the divorce papers was dry to a woman that he has known for an even less amount of time.  I don't ask for a whole hell of a lot:  call when it's appropriate to do so (like when you're canceling plans or when you said that you will!!!), give me snuggles, touch my butt like it's the best thing in the whole wide world and act like I still exist when I'm not naked in front of you.  End rant.  For now anyways.

I can barely eat because I take two bites and I'm stuffed, three bites and I'm ready to explode.  None of my pants that were tight a month ago fit me so I went shopping at Old Navy and to my surprise I bought a pair of jeans in the next size down from the ones that I was wearing and were loose without trying them on and they fit perfectly.  I've heard of the "divorce diet", but this isn't that.  It's more like the "my body has figured out that over eating to emotionally cope doesn't snap her out of it or work so let's do the opposite as a human experiment on how little food a fat girl can survive on before she loses her shit entirely".  Because you know that dealing with my recent stress by binge drinking and verbal outbursts where I spew a bunch of emotional honesty isn't nearly humiliating enough.

Then Saturday night after work I had a half of a beer with dinner and thought it would be OK to start my new medication that said in several places "Do not drink alcohol in any amount with this".  Usually it just means that it would intensify the effects or make you nauseous, I figured it couldn't hurt anything.  Sure enough, within 30 minutes of taking it I was itching from head to toe and broken out in weird hive-like rash in several places and my tongue swelled up.  I called the on call provider for my practice who told me to take enough benedryl to knock out a horse (aka the adult dose which causes me to fall asleep standing up minutes after ingesting).  She also instructed me not to consume any alcohol in the next 48 hours or this kind of reaction could happen again and I could die this time.  Here I am, home alone in a snow storm, terrified and having one of those "Well, this is it.  This is how I'm going to go" moments.  I spent most of the evening curled up in bed wishing for death.

Got a 2:30am wake up from my sister asking me to rescue my mother from herself again.  To which I promptly refused because there's only so many times one can do that before you're just following them around with a safety net without taking their scissors away.

Woke up feeling like I had consumed an entire keg while jazzercizing.  Thought it was a good idea to go to the slots with my Nana and aunts.  It was fun, but I couldn't drink and in my family it's customary to be drunk before noon on any given family outing.  The food at the buffet was acceptable but not worth the money I spent on it.  I did get some pretty good quotes though:

"Your father couldn't have been the milk man, he was my brother!"  Said by Nana after aunt #3 said that she never fit in and that her father was the milk man.

"You can't ram them no matter how stupid they're driving.  It'll be considered a hate crime because their car is black!"  Again, said by aunt #3 to aunt #1 while following an extremly ignorant driver who clearly didn't know how to drive in Maine in the winter.  Which then opened up the can of worms about how everyone is butthurt about everything nowadays and how unfortunate people are who don't have a family like mine who considers sarcasm to be the language of love.

By the time I got home I needed a nap, which of course I didn't get.  So there I was, itchy, tired from fighting off death, emotional from being blown off and feeling like a human being and it pissed me off me off because I don't like feeling like I'm a human being.

Word to the wise:  when I tell you how I really feel about something, don't ask me if I've been drinking.  It's just not smart.  Especially if you did something epically stupid and I'm calling you on it.

Cupid was clearly not beaten nearly enough as a child.

Logical Nonsense

"But the law of loving others could not be discovered by reason, because it is unreasonable."
-Tolstoy

Oh for the love of logic!!!!  Have you ever met someone whose entire being has you feeling like you're about to burst into flames?  Because you totally should.

I think that I've come to the conclusion that drunk me and sober me are one in the same.  No more excuses.  I've learned over the past month to stop, look and listen - much like we did when we were kids learning to cross the street - to what my instinct is telling me.  I think I'm finally on the right path to figuring my shit out.  Not really, but I can at least see which direction I want my path headed in rather than staring at the deep dark forest of the dating world and being scared shitless.  Taking an action even though it might end up being the death of you, I've decided, is a million times more worth it than playing it safe just because of all the crap another certain person put you through trying to destroy you.

And no friends, this is not a Disney film (Train Wreck version, maybe?).  Mr. Invader of WhatTheFuck-Landia is not Prince Charming, despite what happens in my brain when I think of him.
**Insert image of gif from last post**  I am not a princess or a Disney character of any kind.  Over several conversations with friends who insist that being up front from the moment I knew how I felt was the best policy I bit the bullet and sort of/kind of told him what was happening in my brain.  I really felt a strong need to make sure he understood that I don't feel things, but somehow there's an exception here.  It's freaking me out.  I'm pretty sure I lost all ability to breath and blacked out for a second when he said something super sweet after I was done blurting out my nonsense.

You know what my inner cynic is saying about this last paragraph?  That I was drunk and thought it was a good idea to spill the beans because then I could use it as an excuse later to say that I didn't really mean it and that Mr. IOWTFL said incredibly adorable thing to feed his ego and that he doesn't really care about me at all.  That he's just some douche bag soul crusher who makes women fall in love with him just to prove he can and to get his dick wet.

And then you know what I did to shut the stupid bitch up?  I sent him a text stating that I remembered said dumbass things from last night and that I regret nothing.  Take that.  And you know what?  I don't care if he did say it to feed his ego.  Maybe he is a douche bag soul crusher.  I'm done hiding.  My feelings, my thoughts, my wants, my fantasies.  All of it.  I'm done.  And it's okay that he might not feel the same way.  For a change I have proof that I am able to feel something and to be even more honest, it's wonderful.  Lately things have been pretty dark in my world and if I have a little, even the tiniest glimmer of hope that it's just temporary, and the slightest chance that maybe, just maybe, I am actually not a dark-hearted troll like I feel like I might be most of the time, you're damn right I'm going to grasp it as hard as I can until I can't anymore.  It actually feels kind of nice to accept the fact that I don't have control over this.

So much over the past several months has happened that I had no control over and it has sent me into a tailspin of panic attacks and flare ups and what I recognize now as really bad choices (kept behind the scenes and on a need to know basis - and no, it's not drugs.  Anyone who who knows me well enough can do the math or has already been my shoulder to cry on or ear to bend).  After the most recent dramatic episode that *hopefully* will be over soon, I don't want to know what happens next so I'm planning on paving the way as much as I can and drive out the negative energy.  A little "Exorcising the demons, both inner and Universal", if you will.  Surrounding myself with people that I find to be of value to me rather than focusing on the past and riding the PTSD roller coaster.  Letting people in is something that I'm not the best at but I think I've been doing a good job of at least knowing what I need enough to express it and get it in the healthiest way possible.