Once upon a time, back in my party days, I used to have a strange admiration for Drunk Rachel. She always seemed to have great ideas and could do just about anything until she tried it. From hurdling objects in wet grass to cooking pizza, there was never any hesitation that anything would ever go wrong. Until it always did. Luckily for Drunk Rachel, Sober Rachel was always there the next day to clean up her messes. Scraping burnt pizza out of the oven, tending to ass bruises...any aftermath was on Sober Rachel.
One night after a visit with her friends at the bar, Drunk Rachel decided it was time to sober up a little and head home. As she left the bar, she thought to herself "Hmm...I want a chicken sandwich" and took a detour through Hardee's. As she pulled up, she debated waiting in line, even though it was late, there were a shitload of cars ahead of her. She decided that chicken sandwiches are worth the wait, pulled up and waited to order. After ordering she waiting patiently in line. Now just before D.R. left the bar, she felt the urge to go pee but she didn't because sometimes it's nice to pee in your own house and not at the bar. With each customer, the urge grew and grew until Drunk Rachel thought she was going to explode. Frantic, she tried to figure out a plan. Should she jump out of the car and pee in front of God and everyone, should she leave the line and try to make it home....it was too late for those options. So she reached for the Mt. Dew bottle on the floor of the front seat, fully confident that if truckers could do it, so could she. She carefully wiggled out of her jeans and positioned the bottle near her peehole. Then she promptly completely missed what so ever. At this point there was nothing that could close the flood gates so she had no choice but to just let it happen. Pee flooded the seat as she still foolheartedly tried to catch any amount of the warm, yellow liquid in the bottle but the task was beyond her. So she sat there, peeing herself as the cars ahead of her inched closer to the pick up window. Distraught and amazed by the amount of liquid exiting her body, she ripped off her shirt to try to soak up as much of the urine as possible. Luckily for the drive thru guy, she had a tank top on underneath. She shoved the shirt behind her, down to her ass, which was completely exposed because obviously when you pee, your pants are down.So she tried to pull her pants up but she was still peeing at this point so she put her purse in her lap and prayed that the drive thru guy was too distracted by the line of customers to pay any attention to the half dressed, piss soaked lady in front of him. Which is exactly what I hope happened, things were sketchy at that point and I can't really remember. I'm sure I looked super obvious but we are going to pretend I totally got away with it and fooled the world once again with my quick thinking.
Thursday, August 11, 2016
Tuesday, August 9, 2016
Rantin' & Ravin': Divorce Edition
One thing I have come across pertaining to our pending divorce is, "Just be glad you didn't have kids, it's so much harder with kids..." or my personal favorite of "No offense but ours is different. We have a family, we have children..."
I'm sure it's just because people forget or maybe they just downplay it in their own minds but news flash mother fuckers, I did have a child. My stepson is one of the best people I have ever met. He is funny, caring, loving and all around just wonderful. I have been in his life for 12 years and now it's very confusing and unclear to me where exactly our relationship stands. Not just because I am divorcing his father, which I suppose makes me no longer a step mother but also because he is an adult now, he just had his 22nd birthday. He is an adult, making up his own mind about the situation. Also, I am a product of a divorce, so excuse me while I throw out that card and have little sympathy for those who still get to have a strong, close relationship with their children, whether it be every other weekend or whatever. I'll just be over here, crying, wondering what the fuck my role is in regards to a child I watched grow and thrive from a 10 year old boy playing little league to a responsible, good-hearted, 22 year old man But fuck me because I didn't produce him myself so it must not break my fucking heart every time I think about it. Right?
Everyone is always so concerned about being politically correct when it comes to what constitutes a family but when it comes to my situation, it seems like the lack of biological children makes the family I'm losing, less. Which is completely unfair to both Rob and I. I'm wrestling with the thought of losing nieces, nephews, a sister and brother in law, a mother.... If it was up to me, we would stay family, there is nothing I would love more but even if I am lucky enough to still be accepted, it will never, ever be the same. So if it seems for one second that my life isn't just as devastated as those who divorce with children and a "real family" by whatever fucked up, bias standards you hold, I'll gladly let you know exactly how wrong you are. Because it seems to me, we have it a lot worse off. We are losing a lot more.
I just want to finish with this, to Rob's family and friends, I love you all. I'm so sorry everything went to shit and I'm sorry I didn't try harder. I will always, ALWAYS be here for you, no matter what. You are my family and once family, always family. If it's all too weird and too soon, I understand. Just please know that if you ever need anything, I'm here for you. No expectations of reciprocation, whatever you need, if it is within my means, I will give it to you. I get that things are different now and they will never be the same. It sucks and it breaks my heart. I also want you to know that Rob is always welcome in my family as well. All my friends, are his friends and they will always be his friends. We may be a questionable bunch but we know a good one when we see it and Rob is one of the best.
*rage sob mic drop*
I'm sure it's just because people forget or maybe they just downplay it in their own minds but news flash mother fuckers, I did have a child. My stepson is one of the best people I have ever met. He is funny, caring, loving and all around just wonderful. I have been in his life for 12 years and now it's very confusing and unclear to me where exactly our relationship stands. Not just because I am divorcing his father, which I suppose makes me no longer a step mother but also because he is an adult now, he just had his 22nd birthday. He is an adult, making up his own mind about the situation. Also, I am a product of a divorce, so excuse me while I throw out that card and have little sympathy for those who still get to have a strong, close relationship with their children, whether it be every other weekend or whatever. I'll just be over here, crying, wondering what the fuck my role is in regards to a child I watched grow and thrive from a 10 year old boy playing little league to a responsible, good-hearted, 22 year old man But fuck me because I didn't produce him myself so it must not break my fucking heart every time I think about it. Right?
Everyone is always so concerned about being politically correct when it comes to what constitutes a family but when it comes to my situation, it seems like the lack of biological children makes the family I'm losing, less. Which is completely unfair to both Rob and I. I'm wrestling with the thought of losing nieces, nephews, a sister and brother in law, a mother.... If it was up to me, we would stay family, there is nothing I would love more but even if I am lucky enough to still be accepted, it will never, ever be the same. So if it seems for one second that my life isn't just as devastated as those who divorce with children and a "real family" by whatever fucked up, bias standards you hold, I'll gladly let you know exactly how wrong you are. Because it seems to me, we have it a lot worse off. We are losing a lot more.
I just want to finish with this, to Rob's family and friends, I love you all. I'm so sorry everything went to shit and I'm sorry I didn't try harder. I will always, ALWAYS be here for you, no matter what. You are my family and once family, always family. If it's all too weird and too soon, I understand. Just please know that if you ever need anything, I'm here for you. No expectations of reciprocation, whatever you need, if it is within my means, I will give it to you. I get that things are different now and they will never be the same. It sucks and it breaks my heart. I also want you to know that Rob is always welcome in my family as well. All my friends, are his friends and they will always be his friends. We may be a questionable bunch but we know a good one when we see it and Rob is one of the best.
*rage sob mic drop*
Monday, August 1, 2016
Truth is.......
Preface: I wrote this post a long time ago, just found it, read it and decided it needed publication asap.
If you have anyone on your Facebook friends list between the ages of 13-19 or so, chances are you've see this little back and forth commenting game referred to as "Truth Is..." From what I've gathered it's basically a passive aggressive way of getting and passing out compliments and/or insults. And we all know how much I enjoy Facebook passive aggression.
If you have anyone on your Facebook friends list between the ages of 13-19 or so, chances are you've see this little back and forth commenting game referred to as "Truth Is..." From what I've gathered it's basically a passive aggressive way of getting and passing out compliments and/or insults. And we all know how much I enjoy Facebook passive aggression.
I'm not going to sit here and pretend I didn't write a big ol' post about how I wondered what people thought of me, I did that, but I am going to bitch and moan about how stupid this Facebook game is. Ready? GO!
You can safely assume about 97% of juveniles between the ages of 12-17 are little assholes. They spend half of their time talking shit about everyone they see and the other half crying about how so and so is mean to them when they receive retribution. Apparently puberty causes the blood flow to shift, moving away from the brain. The first part of the brain to be affected is the part that regulates empathy, turning the once sweet child into a soulless hate monger which feasts on tears. Knowing this fact, who in their right mind would really want to know the opinions of these hormonal monsters? Follow up question, where the hell are your parents?! Unless you are some kind of miracle child birthed to a 65 year old thirteen years ago, I know these damn kids' parents know how to use facebook. Some of the crap I see teenagers posting is absolutely redonkulous, but then again I've witnessed adults post some pretty stupid shit, so maybe that high degree of class just runs in the family? I LEARNED IT FROM WATCHING YOU!!!
The more I think about it, we did have a version of "Truth is.." back in my day. Yearbooks. That was your chance to leave a little note for someone and be completely truthful. Plus it was the last day of school so you wouldn't have to see them again until the fall. The yearbook entries I'd get were always about the same "You're funny! I liked having you in class! Have an awesome summer! CALL ME!"
Then one year, I asked a girl who was new that year to sign my yearbook. Here is the thing, eventually the general compliments you give to someone will get blurred into all the other compliments they receive over their lifetime and they will just remember you as a nice person. BUT when you make a snide remark, that person will forever see you as a stupid hoe. I mean, probably. So her awesome yearbook note to me was something like "I don't really know you. We had a class together."........really bitch?! I don't really know you either but fuck me for trying to befriend your stupid ass. That kind of shit is why A. I hated high school and B. Had no friends. I couldn't do the fake smile, pretend to be your friend bullshit. I mean, I may not have been the nicest person but you bet your ass I wouldn't write some bitch ass comment like that in someone's yearbook.
I'm still bitter about that shit. Like she might walk out one morning and find her house t.p.'ed and have no fucking idea what's going on because I'm sure she doesn't remember it at all. I guess that goes to show you, be careful what you write in people's yearbook. They might grow up to blog about it and you'll wake up at 3:00 a.m. to a 30 year woman and her best friend in matching spandex leotards drunkenly throwing rolls of toilet paper at your house.
The more I think about it, we did have a version of "Truth is.." back in my day. Yearbooks. That was your chance to leave a little note for someone and be completely truthful. Plus it was the last day of school so you wouldn't have to see them again until the fall. The yearbook entries I'd get were always about the same "You're funny! I liked having you in class! Have an awesome summer! CALL ME!"
Then one year, I asked a girl who was new that year to sign my yearbook. Here is the thing, eventually the general compliments you give to someone will get blurred into all the other compliments they receive over their lifetime and they will just remember you as a nice person. BUT when you make a snide remark, that person will forever see you as a stupid hoe. I mean, probably. So her awesome yearbook note to me was something like "I don't really know you. We had a class together."........really bitch?! I don't really know you either but fuck me for trying to befriend your stupid ass. That kind of shit is why A. I hated high school and B. Had no friends. I couldn't do the fake smile, pretend to be your friend bullshit. I mean, I may not have been the nicest person but you bet your ass I wouldn't write some bitch ass comment like that in someone's yearbook.
I'm still bitter about that shit. Like she might walk out one morning and find her house t.p.'ed and have no fucking idea what's going on because I'm sure she doesn't remember it at all. I guess that goes to show you, be careful what you write in people's yearbook. They might grow up to blog about it and you'll wake up at 3:00 a.m. to a 30 year woman and her best friend in matching spandex leotards drunkenly throwing rolls of toilet paper at your house.
Moving On
I have decided that it is basically impossible to "move on" in the way I thought moving on meant. Ok wait, not impossible, just fucking dumb. Why would you choose to completely dismiss everything and every moment you shared with a person or in a specific place or during a time in your life? Whether it be good, bad or in between, what happened happened and in one way or another it has shaped the person you are today. Everything we experience in life affects us in some way. Sometimes we don't even realize it changes us, sometimes it kicks us in the face like Chuck Norris and we need new faces.
Besides the internal struggle of your own emotions, which can go from "I'm totally ok" to "I'm a fucking mess, how do I even survive the day" in a matter of minutes, you also have the anxiety of what everyone else is thinking about your situation. All the "Does she really think she will make it at a huge university?" or "Hmm...already talking to another girl. That was fast." or "Why in the hell would she ever even think of going back with him?" It's hard enough to deal with self-doubt when facing a major change or leap of faith, to deal with everyone's opinion on top of that is just unnecessary punishment.
Basically my advice to you is, fuck them. Fuck them all. As long as you feel you are doing the right thing by you, fuck....them... By no means does this mean you should go smoke meth or anything like that, this is for like healthy, thought out shit. If you have always wanted to move to LA and pursue acting, do it. If you want to go back to school, do it. If you want to break up with your current boyfriend so you can date a guy who deals crack and you really want to start doing crack, I strongly advise against it. Don't be fucking stupid and get your ass in some kind of meeting, your life choices are terrible. Like if you really think your relationship isn't working out or you're not happy then fine, break up with the boyfriend but put down the crack pipe and quit being fucking disgusting. Crack is wack, yo.
It's safe to say that everyone has their own point of "moving on". Moving on doesn't have to mean you're completely over what happened, it doesn't have to mean you pretend it never was. You can move on and still be sad sometimes, still wonder if you made the right choice, the right school, the right city, the right person. I think Rob explained it best when I asked him about a macroeconomics course. He had taken a similar course and hated it, when I asked him why he said because it makes no sense to figure something in relation to 100% productivity since there isn't really such a thing as 100% productivity. Humans and our emotions are an inconsistent variable, which is just fine. We don't have to strive for 100% certainty because in all actuality there is no 100%. That's just life.
In closing, as I always say, do what feels right to you. Fuck the haters, screw all those who judge you and your situation, it's really none of their business. Just try to be happy and if you can't, just be. Be in the moment, it will all come to you eventually. Also don't do crack.
Besides the internal struggle of your own emotions, which can go from "I'm totally ok" to "I'm a fucking mess, how do I even survive the day" in a matter of minutes, you also have the anxiety of what everyone else is thinking about your situation. All the "Does she really think she will make it at a huge university?" or "Hmm...already talking to another girl. That was fast." or "Why in the hell would she ever even think of going back with him?" It's hard enough to deal with self-doubt when facing a major change or leap of faith, to deal with everyone's opinion on top of that is just unnecessary punishment.
Basically my advice to you is, fuck them. Fuck them all. As long as you feel you are doing the right thing by you, fuck....them... By no means does this mean you should go smoke meth or anything like that, this is for like healthy, thought out shit. If you have always wanted to move to LA and pursue acting, do it. If you want to go back to school, do it. If you want to break up with your current boyfriend so you can date a guy who deals crack and you really want to start doing crack, I strongly advise against it. Don't be fucking stupid and get your ass in some kind of meeting, your life choices are terrible. Like if you really think your relationship isn't working out or you're not happy then fine, break up with the boyfriend but put down the crack pipe and quit being fucking disgusting. Crack is wack, yo.
It's safe to say that everyone has their own point of "moving on". Moving on doesn't have to mean you're completely over what happened, it doesn't have to mean you pretend it never was. You can move on and still be sad sometimes, still wonder if you made the right choice, the right school, the right city, the right person. I think Rob explained it best when I asked him about a macroeconomics course. He had taken a similar course and hated it, when I asked him why he said because it makes no sense to figure something in relation to 100% productivity since there isn't really such a thing as 100% productivity. Humans and our emotions are an inconsistent variable, which is just fine. We don't have to strive for 100% certainty because in all actuality there is no 100%. That's just life.
In closing, as I always say, do what feels right to you. Fuck the haters, screw all those who judge you and your situation, it's really none of their business. Just try to be happy and if you can't, just be. Be in the moment, it will all come to you eventually. Also don't do crack.
Impregnation Nation
Everyone at work today has had enough of me. Mostly because I dropped this on them this morning, "I want to have a baby this year. Do you think I should do a donor or have a baby with someone?" Which led to a lot of remarks, none positive. This whole idea came to me about two weeks ago when I decided I may never get married again, if I do it wouldn't be for a long time and I am already 30. I want a baby eventually, I don't want to have to wait until I maybe get married again. So I tried explaining it to them how I saw it....
1. No baby daddy drama. With a donor, you don't have to worry about getting along with the father, child support fights, differences in parenting techniques, etc. I was with someone for 11 years, I thought we would be together forever but people change. I now know nothing is 100% guaranteed to work which makes me very hesitant to involve another person in any more of my life choices.
2. No heartbreak. I've seen the aftermath of a father leaving a child in my niece. She struggles with the fact her dad lives states away everyday. Seeing her heart ache for her daddy kills me every time, then I get instantly pissed because its a dick move to move away. And trying to explain to her is impossible because to a child, that love should be enough to make someone stay around.
3. A baby will help me continue my life. Yeah I can't lie, I've been through a lot lately but if anyone knows when to back off, it's me. The fact that I still think this is a good idea, even with all the recent changes, tells you I am being responsible. Yes, I'm in therapy. Yes, I'm in the middle of a divorce...which is stupid because what does that even mean? There is no fighting, no ill will, I'm basically just in the middle of moving and we are finishing up financial shit. It's not like I'm in the middle of a semester where I have divorce homework every night or a big divorce final coming up. I don't understand what people are trying to say when they say "focus on your divorce". What is there to focus on? I moved, we are waiting on the bank to finish up financial crap and eventually we will file and sign some papers. It doesn't seem like it needs that much focus.
Ok...I'll be honest. I only made it to three before I got distracted and stop writing. Now it's been a week and even though I still feel like I need a child, maybe the fact I was able to get so distracted in the first place is a large indicator that it may not be the best idea. I also have a sneaking suspicion I have yet to move on with my life enough to bring another person into it. Woe is me, I guess I'll be babyless for a while longer.
1. No baby daddy drama. With a donor, you don't have to worry about getting along with the father, child support fights, differences in parenting techniques, etc. I was with someone for 11 years, I thought we would be together forever but people change. I now know nothing is 100% guaranteed to work which makes me very hesitant to involve another person in any more of my life choices.
2. No heartbreak. I've seen the aftermath of a father leaving a child in my niece. She struggles with the fact her dad lives states away everyday. Seeing her heart ache for her daddy kills me every time, then I get instantly pissed because its a dick move to move away. And trying to explain to her is impossible because to a child, that love should be enough to make someone stay around.
3. A baby will help me continue my life. Yeah I can't lie, I've been through a lot lately but if anyone knows when to back off, it's me. The fact that I still think this is a good idea, even with all the recent changes, tells you I am being responsible. Yes, I'm in therapy. Yes, I'm in the middle of a divorce...which is stupid because what does that even mean? There is no fighting, no ill will, I'm basically just in the middle of moving and we are finishing up financial shit. It's not like I'm in the middle of a semester where I have divorce homework every night or a big divorce final coming up. I don't understand what people are trying to say when they say "focus on your divorce". What is there to focus on? I moved, we are waiting on the bank to finish up financial crap and eventually we will file and sign some papers. It doesn't seem like it needs that much focus.
Ok...I'll be honest. I only made it to three before I got distracted and stop writing. Now it's been a week and even though I still feel like I need a child, maybe the fact I was able to get so distracted in the first place is a large indicator that it may not be the best idea. I also have a sneaking suspicion I have yet to move on with my life enough to bring another person into it. Woe is me, I guess I'll be babyless for a while longer.
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
Yet Another Kitten Tale
I've been doing a suuuuper awesome job bingeing lately. Eating. Drinking. Watching TV. Shopping. I've been rocking it all. Some may call it manic but I call it taking advantage of the one life we have. YOLO! Here is a story that leads into another story that makes this all relevant.
Part One
When I was up in the behavioral unit aka "let's not call it a psych ward" I met quite a few people. A couple of them I became fairly close with, such as T. Not her real name because I'm not going to do her like that so we will just call her T. T has what I have plus a couple other things. Super nice, quiet, pretty young woman. We spent most of our days just hanging out, waiting to see the doctor and hoping for discharge so we had plenty of time to walk the hall and talk. One of my favorite...no THE favorite conversation I was apart of while up there was the time we were talking about when we get manic, what we do. I usually get anxious, then upset, then I start cleaning. Sometimes I eat, for awhile I was working out a lot, shopping is also fun. Then it was T's turn, which turned out to be the best freaking reply I have ever heard in my life. T would get manic and buy dogs. Specifically chihuahuas. She only had two at the time but she would like acquire chihuahuas then rehome them to make sure they were going to good dog parents. I instantly knew we would be friends forever at that point. Unfortunately, I never got her last name before my discharge and we may never talk to each other again, which really bums me out. You can't exactly call and ask, "Hey. Can you tell me the name of the person I was hospitalized with?" So even though I have searched and searched Facebook, I will probably never find her. Sad :(
Part Two
On Friday I was feeling a little anxious and manic. I was off all day so it would have been a perfect time to clean but instead I decided to make a hair appointment and figure out how to pay bills and then stress out over said bills. I was completely in a panic as I came to the realization I was going to have to start soliciting aka prostituting to pay my bills, then I did more math and really started to freak out when I realized how many clients I'd have to have on average, I had to figure out a way to calm myself down. So I left town a little early to drive out to my hairdresser's, smoking 600 cigarettes on my way there. By the way, smoking totally disgusting and I definitely do not recommend it. It's the worst. Anyways I drove out to her little town, right outside of my town. Just as I pulled in she text me saying she'd be a little late, so I text her that I was a little early. Being it was 1:45pm on a Friday, I told her to text me when she got home, I was driving the next town over to go to the bar. While I was enjoying myself, I saw a post on Facebook from a friend who works at a car dealership. Apparently someone had brought their car in to be tuned or fixed or whatever and there was 3 little kittens in it! Not sure where in the car, I'm guessing the hood but I like my own version where the kittens actually stole the car, they are ninja rebel kittens, but noticed the oil change light was on and being that not all kittens are complete assholes they kindly took the car in to be serviced. I'm probably not accurate but since I have no other story, I'm sticking with that one. Regardless, they found three kittens and called the shelter to come get them. Me being manic, one Coors Light deep into day drinking and reminiscing about my good friend T and her life choices, I decided that I NEEDED one of the kittens. I have been wanting a cat for awhile but could never get one because Rob is deathly allergic.Well now that things are happening as they are, I am free to have as many cats as I please, at least until my landlord finds out and evicts me. Which, honestly, just means I can have even more cats so it's a win-win! Anyways, ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce.......C.C. (short for Cool Cat because I am very original)
TADA!
Part One
When I was up in the behavioral unit aka "let's not call it a psych ward" I met quite a few people. A couple of them I became fairly close with, such as T. Not her real name because I'm not going to do her like that so we will just call her T. T has what I have plus a couple other things. Super nice, quiet, pretty young woman. We spent most of our days just hanging out, waiting to see the doctor and hoping for discharge so we had plenty of time to walk the hall and talk. One of my favorite...no THE favorite conversation I was apart of while up there was the time we were talking about when we get manic, what we do. I usually get anxious, then upset, then I start cleaning. Sometimes I eat, for awhile I was working out a lot, shopping is also fun. Then it was T's turn, which turned out to be the best freaking reply I have ever heard in my life. T would get manic and buy dogs. Specifically chihuahuas. She only had two at the time but she would like acquire chihuahuas then rehome them to make sure they were going to good dog parents. I instantly knew we would be friends forever at that point. Unfortunately, I never got her last name before my discharge and we may never talk to each other again, which really bums me out. You can't exactly call and ask, "Hey. Can you tell me the name of the person I was hospitalized with?" So even though I have searched and searched Facebook, I will probably never find her. Sad :(
Part Two
On Friday I was feeling a little anxious and manic. I was off all day so it would have been a perfect time to clean but instead I decided to make a hair appointment and figure out how to pay bills and then stress out over said bills. I was completely in a panic as I came to the realization I was going to have to start soliciting aka prostituting to pay my bills, then I did more math and really started to freak out when I realized how many clients I'd have to have on average, I had to figure out a way to calm myself down. So I left town a little early to drive out to my hairdresser's, smoking 600 cigarettes on my way there. By the way, smoking totally disgusting and I definitely do not recommend it. It's the worst. Anyways I drove out to her little town, right outside of my town. Just as I pulled in she text me saying she'd be a little late, so I text her that I was a little early. Being it was 1:45pm on a Friday, I told her to text me when she got home, I was driving the next town over to go to the bar. While I was enjoying myself, I saw a post on Facebook from a friend who works at a car dealership. Apparently someone had brought their car in to be tuned or fixed or whatever and there was 3 little kittens in it! Not sure where in the car, I'm guessing the hood but I like my own version where the kittens actually stole the car, they are ninja rebel kittens, but noticed the oil change light was on and being that not all kittens are complete assholes they kindly took the car in to be serviced. I'm probably not accurate but since I have no other story, I'm sticking with that one. Regardless, they found three kittens and called the shelter to come get them. Me being manic, one Coors Light deep into day drinking and reminiscing about my good friend T and her life choices, I decided that I NEEDED one of the kittens. I have been wanting a cat for awhile but could never get one because Rob is deathly allergic.Well now that things are happening as they are, I am free to have as many cats as I please, at least until my landlord finds out and evicts me. Which, honestly, just means I can have even more cats so it's a win-win! Anyways, ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce.......C.C. (short for Cool Cat because I am very original)
TADA!
Wednesday, July 13, 2016
I'm Crazy For You.....But Also Actually Crazy
I think I never put a name to my disorder when I wrote about it because honestly I think my family is worried people will think I'm crazy. Which technically I am but we like to pretend I'm not because it makes us all feel a little better at the end of the day. Well, since I threw all my divorce business out there, have talked about suppositories, bleeding orifices, etc. I might as well come out and say it. If only to discourage anyone from thinking I'm dateable and/or friendable. Tread lightly readers, shit's about to go down.
As I talked about here I have this lovely disorder that makes my life a living hell at times. Before you judge me by it's name, give me the chance to explain it myself, which will probably make it sound a heck of a lot worse but fuck it. I have Borderline Personality Disorder. As I explain it to many people, including my 8 year old niece when she told me one night, "I'm sad. I can tell you are having a rough time..." (Which by the way broke my fucking heart...) Most people have a range of emotion like so:
Basically I feel much more emotion than a normal person. So when I feel "happy", I feel SUPER FUCKING HAPPY. And when I am sad, I feel like dying. It's hard for me to regulate my emotions. Sometimes they refer to BPD as emotional instability which is a good description. I can be feeling fine then something happens and I fall into a black hole of despair. And by something I mean like my significant other didn't hold my hand, or touch me when I walked by, or kiss me long enough. That's all it takes for my brain to decide that I'm not loved anymore or they aren't attracted to me anymore. But it's not just about that, if someone comes into my work and doesn't say hello back or uses an unfriendly tone with me, it triggers me. Then I get upset and angry, I feel like nothing and I just want to give up. Why? Because people with BPD feel worthless, we have no sense of self worth. We determine our worth by what others think of us. We need constant validation, to a point it becomes an addiction. The more I get, the more I need. Can you imagine how incredibly exhausting it is to be with someone with BPD? The fact that I was able to be apart of an 11 year relationship is note-worthy. People with BPD have very unstable relationships with others because of a constant swing from fear of abandonment to breaking up before they can because we know it will eventually happen.
Some of the features of this lovely disorder are: inability to regulate emotions, reckless behavior, distorted self-image, severe mood swings, etc. It doesn't sound that bad, a lot of people may even relate to it like "Hey I experience those things too..." but times what you feel by about 1000. Then enter the other stuff like stress induced paranoia, disassociation, suicidal thoughts and actions, self harm....it sucks butts.
I self harmed in high school. Those who knew about it thought it was an attention thing, they figured I would grow out of it, which I did, for awhile. I "relapsed" at 21, stopped, relapsed in 2015, then started treatment for it because I didn't want to cope that way. In the last few months, I cut more frequently and more severely than ever in my life. I didn't feel like I could stop. Thankfully today I am 54 days clean from cutting and I hope to continue. Then there is the suicide shit. The first time I attempted suicide, I was about 14. It didn't work. For the last 3 years or so, I went through the steps of accepting my fate as a suicide victim. In about February 2016, I set a date and had a plan. In May 2015, I held a loaded gun to my head but I didn't do it because it wasn't time. Instead I was committed to a behavioral unit for 3 days. I lied my way through it so I could be discharged because I didn't want to be there. For the last year, I've put my family through hell, my spouse through hell, my friends through hell and as badly as I have been suffering, they have been as well. I made my plans known in an attempt to soften the blow for my family when it eventually happened. Which would have been July 5th, 2016. That day came, I woke up depressed and wanting to die but I didn't. I went to my therapist, my family kept tabs on me all day and I made it until July 6th.
I have BPD. It sucks but it is what it is. I might never be "cured" but I can be treated. It doesn't make me a bad person, it means my mind is different from others and life is harder for me in some ways. It doesn't mean I'm crazy, or maybe it does. I've had it for years, undiagnosed, so everyone who knows me, this is me. That is me. It doesn't change that person you know, it's just a part of who I am that no one knew about, I didn't even know about it. The reason I wrote this is to explain that mental illness is just a thing. Brown hair, blue eyes, BPD, depression, bipolar, 20/20 vision. It's a part of life. Maybe me sharing will help remove the stigma, maybe I'm making it worse, I dunno. I apologize if I'm not who you thought I am but I promise I'm a good person, at least I try really hard to be. And sometimes I'm funny. And I'll pay for shots of Patron when we go out. AND I give great compliments plus I mean them.
Now that that's out there...I have a WHOOLLEEE bunch to write about! Stay Tuned....
As I talked about here I have this lovely disorder that makes my life a living hell at times. Before you judge me by it's name, give me the chance to explain it myself, which will probably make it sound a heck of a lot worse but fuck it. I have Borderline Personality Disorder. As I explain it to many people, including my 8 year old niece when she told me one night, "I'm sad. I can tell you are having a rough time..." (Which by the way broke my fucking heart...) Most people have a range of emotion like so:
{Very sad----------------------Very Happy}
MY very special emotional range is more like this:
{UNBEARABLY SAD --------------------------------------------------------EUPHORICALLY HAPPY}
Basically I feel much more emotion than a normal person. So when I feel "happy", I feel SUPER FUCKING HAPPY. And when I am sad, I feel like dying. It's hard for me to regulate my emotions. Sometimes they refer to BPD as emotional instability which is a good description. I can be feeling fine then something happens and I fall into a black hole of despair. And by something I mean like my significant other didn't hold my hand, or touch me when I walked by, or kiss me long enough. That's all it takes for my brain to decide that I'm not loved anymore or they aren't attracted to me anymore. But it's not just about that, if someone comes into my work and doesn't say hello back or uses an unfriendly tone with me, it triggers me. Then I get upset and angry, I feel like nothing and I just want to give up. Why? Because people with BPD feel worthless, we have no sense of self worth. We determine our worth by what others think of us. We need constant validation, to a point it becomes an addiction. The more I get, the more I need. Can you imagine how incredibly exhausting it is to be with someone with BPD? The fact that I was able to be apart of an 11 year relationship is note-worthy. People with BPD have very unstable relationships with others because of a constant swing from fear of abandonment to breaking up before they can because we know it will eventually happen.
Some of the features of this lovely disorder are: inability to regulate emotions, reckless behavior, distorted self-image, severe mood swings, etc. It doesn't sound that bad, a lot of people may even relate to it like "Hey I experience those things too..." but times what you feel by about 1000. Then enter the other stuff like stress induced paranoia, disassociation, suicidal thoughts and actions, self harm....it sucks butts.
I self harmed in high school. Those who knew about it thought it was an attention thing, they figured I would grow out of it, which I did, for awhile. I "relapsed" at 21, stopped, relapsed in 2015, then started treatment for it because I didn't want to cope that way. In the last few months, I cut more frequently and more severely than ever in my life. I didn't feel like I could stop. Thankfully today I am 54 days clean from cutting and I hope to continue. Then there is the suicide shit. The first time I attempted suicide, I was about 14. It didn't work. For the last 3 years or so, I went through the steps of accepting my fate as a suicide victim. In about February 2016, I set a date and had a plan. In May 2015, I held a loaded gun to my head but I didn't do it because it wasn't time. Instead I was committed to a behavioral unit for 3 days. I lied my way through it so I could be discharged because I didn't want to be there. For the last year, I've put my family through hell, my spouse through hell, my friends through hell and as badly as I have been suffering, they have been as well. I made my plans known in an attempt to soften the blow for my family when it eventually happened. Which would have been July 5th, 2016. That day came, I woke up depressed and wanting to die but I didn't. I went to my therapist, my family kept tabs on me all day and I made it until July 6th.
Now that that's out there...I have a WHOOLLEEE bunch to write about! Stay Tuned....
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