It seems like I'm constantly being threatened with, "I'll tell everyone you're crazy..." To which I respond "........don't I already do that by blogging about it all the time?" I guess it is a lot worse in person than what I type out? I dunno, it's weird but in case you hadn't heard, I'm crazy.
Not just a little crazy, a whole lotta crazy. I have days where I'm super depressed. I bet no one can relate with me on that one. I have days were my emotions are a hot train wreck. Yeah so far it seems pretty crazy. Sometimes I just cry. Look out guys. I'm not saying I'm normal but I am saying that yeah, last time I checked I never denied having issues.
I think the one thing that I have always been worried about is a video my ex boyfriend took of me during one of my episode. It's pretty embarrassing but the more I think about it, the more I don't care if he posts it or shows people. Why? Because in the video, I'm laying on the floor, curled up, begging for him to call someone. The police, my mom, I say over and over I need help and to please call someone. Instead, he chose to continue recording and not help me at all. Long story, short. I guess I really rather be seen as crazy than the world's biggest asshole.
I really wish I had that video, I'd post it myself. In fact, I'd love to have video of any of my episodes. It would greatly help me as far as treatment goes. See I'm really not the kind of person who refuses to admit they have a problem. I rather admit to it and get the help I need. Which I've been doing for over a year now.
In closing, yes I am crazy. Does it suck? Yep. Do I wish things were easier for me? Yep. Believe me, it's hard enough living life every day with all these extra heavy emotions, I really don't feel like I should have to defend myself to anyone. I've accepted who I am, if someone doesn't like it they can kiss my crazy ass :)
Until next time...
Tuesday, January 17, 2017
Tuesday, January 10, 2017
Sorry Mom
Once again I was told to stop putting my whole life out there for the internet to read. To which I responded, "My life, my life..WOOOOOOOOOAHHH." You see it is just that, my life. If I want to write about it on the internet, I will. If that makes things hard on me, so be it but I've had far too many positive responses to my posts to just stop doing it. I talk about things that people don't talk about to their friends or family. I put shit out there that's embarrassing or overly truthful. I expose myself to others in hopes that they will someday be able to talk about their own struggles with the people in their lives. And if they don't at least they know there is someone else out there going through the same stuff they are going through. No one should have to feel so desperately alone. I've been there and it's a really shitty place.
I can understand that it's hard to understand. Why would someone put their lives out there, give out so much personal information? When I started this blog, I did it to make people laugh. Unfortunately life isn't always laughter. Sure it is full of happiness but there is shitty stuff too. It's hard to talk about life and evade all the crap stuff that goes along with and it's the hard parts that people need others to help get through. So eventually my blog evolved to sharing my own battles. Is it too much information? Yeah, probably but if it helps even one person get through a tough time in their life then I feel it's worth it.
Maybe if everyone was as open with their thoughts and feelings as I am at times, the world would be a more understanding place. Maybe less people would cast judgement if they were honest with themselves once in awhile. If it became the norm to openly say, "Hey guys. I'm hurting..." more people would begin to realize how surrounded each of us are by people who just want to help and support us. Even people you wouldn't expect will step up and ask "What can I do for you right now?" Just having a person to talk to and relate to make such a tremendous difference in how things proceed.
So mom and sister, I'm sorry I put my business on the internet. And then called you out on this blog post but this is just who I am. You don't have to like it but eventually you'll have to accept it because I'm not changing anytime soon. In fact, if anything I'll probably become more exposed on the internet. I'm having a pretty rough time financially and I might start webcamming for money. Don't worry it will probably start off pretty innocent. Until the money comes in, then I'll start to wonder how much I could actually make doing this, then my morals will start to waver, then before you know it I'll be a huge web whore and we will all think back to the time I only used to post my business on facebook and my blog and you'll think, WHY OH WHY DIDN'T WE JUST ACCEPT HER.
So yeah, it's this or internet prostitution.
I can understand that it's hard to understand. Why would someone put their lives out there, give out so much personal information? When I started this blog, I did it to make people laugh. Unfortunately life isn't always laughter. Sure it is full of happiness but there is shitty stuff too. It's hard to talk about life and evade all the crap stuff that goes along with and it's the hard parts that people need others to help get through. So eventually my blog evolved to sharing my own battles. Is it too much information? Yeah, probably but if it helps even one person get through a tough time in their life then I feel it's worth it.
Maybe if everyone was as open with their thoughts and feelings as I am at times, the world would be a more understanding place. Maybe less people would cast judgement if they were honest with themselves once in awhile. If it became the norm to openly say, "Hey guys. I'm hurting..." more people would begin to realize how surrounded each of us are by people who just want to help and support us. Even people you wouldn't expect will step up and ask "What can I do for you right now?" Just having a person to talk to and relate to make such a tremendous difference in how things proceed.
So mom and sister, I'm sorry I put my business on the internet. And then called you out on this blog post but this is just who I am. You don't have to like it but eventually you'll have to accept it because I'm not changing anytime soon. In fact, if anything I'll probably become more exposed on the internet. I'm having a pretty rough time financially and I might start webcamming for money. Don't worry it will probably start off pretty innocent. Until the money comes in, then I'll start to wonder how much I could actually make doing this, then my morals will start to waver, then before you know it I'll be a huge web whore and we will all think back to the time I only used to post my business on facebook and my blog and you'll think, WHY OH WHY DIDN'T WE JUST ACCEPT HER.
So yeah, it's this or internet prostitution.
Tuesday, December 20, 2016
My Friend
Working with the public has it's ups and downs. Of course you get the great patrons who can brighten your day just by walking in the door but you also get the other ones, who are mean or scary or sometimes just a little not there. Every staff member is different, we all have our own favorites and the ones who make us shudder. Personally, one of my favorites doesn't always talk much. He goes months sometimes without saying a word to anyone but when he does speak. I always listen. Or at least try to, he has a very heavy Spanish accent which makes me strain to understand him sometimes. I've heard he has a mental illness, schizophrenia. He is usually homeless but very kind and as God fearing as them come. He has never been mean that I know of, he is just a little different. I've listened to his stories about family, his childhood, analogies on his culture; he shares bits and pieces.
One thing I've noticed, and I don't know if he does it on purpose, if all of his stories have incredible meaning behind them. Even his actions have such a deep level of thought. Maybe I over analyze, who knows, but one thing I am sure of is that after speaking with him I always feel very touched. This morning he didn't say much except as he put on his coveralls to go back outside he called it his armor. Then he left and came back in and told me he can punch and kick without hurting anyone. He kicked up and punched his own foot. "See?" he asked me.
Then this afternoon he told us a story. A story about when he was a young boy with no fear. His mother always told him to go to the restroom inside the house but one night, at 1 in the morning is went outside to the field to pee instead. He remembers in the wind, "whoooosssshhhh" he said but he wasn't afraid because it was December and it was not unusual for the wind to blow. He wasn't afraid. He looked down and saw his cat had followed him out to the field and was standing by his feet. Then he heard another sound like the wind was moaning. He still was not afraid, he was fearless. Then his cat looked up and suddenly, "MEOW!" and ran in to the house. He said he turned and looked. His eyes searched and searched in the dark, then he closed one eye, opened it and closed the other. He told me he does this to see if one eye is lying. He saw nothing but the cat did, so he ran back to the house. He said when people ask if he fears, he says yes but it's a good fear.
After he left I told the girls at the desk he was my favorite. Amy said "Yeah he is really nice but sometimes I can't understand what he is saying with his accent." I told her I was the same but I always try my hardest to listen because it's worth it. Sometimes the hardest things in life to do are the ones that have the most meaning behind them. Whether it's straining to hear the words of a man you hardly know or moving forward with your life when it seems impossible to keep going. Everything has its rewards, you just have to see them.
One thing I've noticed, and I don't know if he does it on purpose, if all of his stories have incredible meaning behind them. Even his actions have such a deep level of thought. Maybe I over analyze, who knows, but one thing I am sure of is that after speaking with him I always feel very touched. This morning he didn't say much except as he put on his coveralls to go back outside he called it his armor. Then he left and came back in and told me he can punch and kick without hurting anyone. He kicked up and punched his own foot. "See?" he asked me.
Then this afternoon he told us a story. A story about when he was a young boy with no fear. His mother always told him to go to the restroom inside the house but one night, at 1 in the morning is went outside to the field to pee instead. He remembers in the wind, "whoooosssshhhh" he said but he wasn't afraid because it was December and it was not unusual for the wind to blow. He wasn't afraid. He looked down and saw his cat had followed him out to the field and was standing by his feet. Then he heard another sound like the wind was moaning. He still was not afraid, he was fearless. Then his cat looked up and suddenly, "MEOW!" and ran in to the house. He said he turned and looked. His eyes searched and searched in the dark, then he closed one eye, opened it and closed the other. He told me he does this to see if one eye is lying. He saw nothing but the cat did, so he ran back to the house. He said when people ask if he fears, he says yes but it's a good fear.
After he left I told the girls at the desk he was my favorite. Amy said "Yeah he is really nice but sometimes I can't understand what he is saying with his accent." I told her I was the same but I always try my hardest to listen because it's worth it. Sometimes the hardest things in life to do are the ones that have the most meaning behind them. Whether it's straining to hear the words of a man you hardly know or moving forward with your life when it seems impossible to keep going. Everything has its rewards, you just have to see them.
Tuesday, December 13, 2016
A Day With BPD
It felt as if my heart were in a vice; with every breath my chest grew tighter and tighter. I was exhausted, both from lack of sleep and emotional strain. Too tired to attempt to hide the infinite sadness that I was feeling. Smiling felt so forced, so fake and I couldn't manage the effort to make it seem genuine. "Get over it," I thought to myself, "Just stop it. You're being dramatic. Just stop it." I tried convincing myself that it was all for attention, that if I really wanted it, I could stop this feeling and just get on with my day. My head ached with pressure as if I had been crying all night. It reminded me of when I was a child and I wouldn't get my way. I would cry and cry until it hurt too badly to cry anymore and I'd fall asleep, waking up to a feeling of regret and embarrassment.
My rational mind searched for reason, it raced with the events of yesterday that still lingered, making me relive each one over and over. The subtle infliction in someone's voice causing a dismal inferiority to set in, the feeling of judgement, the paranoia that my character was being sullied by a deceptive opportunist and then the terrible sadness when I tell myself these are the symptoms rearing their ugly heads. My inner self pleads with me, "No! You're right! You're feelings are valid!" I thought back, back to the times when I trusted myself, before the gaslighting and self doubt overcame me. I thought of the times I was right, when premonitions were forewarnings and my conviction never faltered because it had validity. I envisioned myself reaching into the darkness and grasping to what little bit of my truth was left, trying to keep it from dissolving any further.
Competing commentaries filled my inner dialogues, depleting what was left of me until my mind gave in and shut down. The infighting was too much, frailty overwhelmed me. In my defeat, I felt ashamed. Ashamed that I wasn't a stronger person, that over the years I had lost the willingness to fight for my well-being. In that moment, I no longer saw in myself someone worth championing for. The avocation no longer came so easily, or at all.
Hours later I finally start to feel back to normal. All those bad feeling begin to fade and by the next day it's like I'm reading words written by someone else. As I read them over and over a sense of remembrance, yes those were my words. Those were my feelings. The tightness, the sadness, all of it too familiar. I don't want to have those days but I do; they are a part of me that I can never release. No amount of medication or therapy will stop them from coming. I can only take solace in the fact that there is a tomorrow and maybe tomorrow will be better.
My rational mind searched for reason, it raced with the events of yesterday that still lingered, making me relive each one over and over. The subtle infliction in someone's voice causing a dismal inferiority to set in, the feeling of judgement, the paranoia that my character was being sullied by a deceptive opportunist and then the terrible sadness when I tell myself these are the symptoms rearing their ugly heads. My inner self pleads with me, "No! You're right! You're feelings are valid!" I thought back, back to the times when I trusted myself, before the gaslighting and self doubt overcame me. I thought of the times I was right, when premonitions were forewarnings and my conviction never faltered because it had validity. I envisioned myself reaching into the darkness and grasping to what little bit of my truth was left, trying to keep it from dissolving any further.
Competing commentaries filled my inner dialogues, depleting what was left of me until my mind gave in and shut down. The infighting was too much, frailty overwhelmed me. In my defeat, I felt ashamed. Ashamed that I wasn't a stronger person, that over the years I had lost the willingness to fight for my well-being. In that moment, I no longer saw in myself someone worth championing for. The avocation no longer came so easily, or at all.
Hours later I finally start to feel back to normal. All those bad feeling begin to fade and by the next day it's like I'm reading words written by someone else. As I read them over and over a sense of remembrance, yes those were my words. Those were my feelings. The tightness, the sadness, all of it too familiar. I don't want to have those days but I do; they are a part of me that I can never release. No amount of medication or therapy will stop them from coming. I can only take solace in the fact that there is a tomorrow and maybe tomorrow will be better.
Wednesday, November 30, 2016
Cattin Patrol
My two cattins, which are what I call my teenage kittens because they aren't really kittens anymore but they also haven't taken their final cat form yet, have successfully out assholed the resident asshole, aka da bun named Magnus.
Without the need to even put up a Christmas tree these two fuzzy effers have managed to cause just enough annoying little disturbances to throw our household into utter chaos at any given time. Don't believe me? Here are just a few examples of the end of days currently taking place at mi casa:
Water. All water is their water. Any running water is grounds for them to come Seinfield Kramar sliding into the room where said water is running so they may closely supervise the running water. This including jumping all over the sink while brushing your teeth, washing dishes, washing hands, filling the bath, taking a bath, taking a piss, flushing the toilet, anything water related is their business. Get a glass of water? The second you put it down their heads are in it. Why? Who knows! They have their own water, they get water everyday but that water isn't good enough apparently. Even though it's the same damn water everyone else is drinking.
C.C. has also taken a liking to sitting on the window still while attempting to high five your face while you go to the bathroom. Yes, I've tried to lock them out of the bathroom but they are fast and they will work as a team so at least on of them gets to creepily watch you from an eye level shelf while you use the facilities. They are ruthless.
They are cleptos to the extreme. Once upon a time I owned like 25 hair elastics. I lost about 15 on my own, still giving me 10 to use throughout my week. I used to think it was so cute when they would play with hair ties and throw them up in the air and scoot them around the floor. But soon, my hair tie numbers began to dwindle. Suddenly they became rationed, I found myself hiding them in various drawers and in my purse, I was taking more care in hiding them than I do hiding other things I should probably keep out of sight, like my porn or my drugs. Hell, leave the pile of cocaine out in the open but let me make sure I put this hair tie in the bottom of a vase, on the top shelf in the office with the door closed. Because that's my life now. So the other day I'm in the bathtub, don't worry the water nazi cattins were monitoring me closely while I soaked, and I look over to see Jax has left his post on the side of the tub to investigate the sink. Stupidly I took my hair tie, my last hair tie, out of my hair and left it on the sink. That how to train your dragon toothless look alike mother fucker straight grabs it, turns to me while it's hanging from his mouth, wiggles his eyebrows and runs out the door with it. So I'm yelling, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! You golden eyed bastard!!" Not two minutes later this fuck saunters back into the bathroom like, "What, bitch?" and proceeds to claw the shit out of the shower curtain like he bought it. Hair tie was completely gone, nowhere to be found and I was shit out of luck once again.
Here are a couple pictures of the little devils themselves, being all adorable.
Without the need to even put up a Christmas tree these two fuzzy effers have managed to cause just enough annoying little disturbances to throw our household into utter chaos at any given time. Don't believe me? Here are just a few examples of the end of days currently taking place at mi casa:
Water. All water is their water. Any running water is grounds for them to come Seinfield Kramar sliding into the room where said water is running so they may closely supervise the running water. This including jumping all over the sink while brushing your teeth, washing dishes, washing hands, filling the bath, taking a bath, taking a piss, flushing the toilet, anything water related is their business. Get a glass of water? The second you put it down their heads are in it. Why? Who knows! They have their own water, they get water everyday but that water isn't good enough apparently. Even though it's the same damn water everyone else is drinking.
C.C. has also taken a liking to sitting on the window still while attempting to high five your face while you go to the bathroom. Yes, I've tried to lock them out of the bathroom but they are fast and they will work as a team so at least on of them gets to creepily watch you from an eye level shelf while you use the facilities. They are ruthless.
They are cleptos to the extreme. Once upon a time I owned like 25 hair elastics. I lost about 15 on my own, still giving me 10 to use throughout my week. I used to think it was so cute when they would play with hair ties and throw them up in the air and scoot them around the floor. But soon, my hair tie numbers began to dwindle. Suddenly they became rationed, I found myself hiding them in various drawers and in my purse, I was taking more care in hiding them than I do hiding other things I should probably keep out of sight, like my porn or my drugs. Hell, leave the pile of cocaine out in the open but let me make sure I put this hair tie in the bottom of a vase, on the top shelf in the office with the door closed. Because that's my life now. So the other day I'm in the bathtub, don't worry the water nazi cattins were monitoring me closely while I soaked, and I look over to see Jax has left his post on the side of the tub to investigate the sink. Stupidly I took my hair tie, my last hair tie, out of my hair and left it on the sink. That how to train your dragon toothless look alike mother fucker straight grabs it, turns to me while it's hanging from his mouth, wiggles his eyebrows and runs out the door with it. So I'm yelling, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! You golden eyed bastard!!" Not two minutes later this fuck saunters back into the bathroom like, "What, bitch?" and proceeds to claw the shit out of the shower curtain like he bought it. Hair tie was completely gone, nowhere to be found and I was shit out of luck once again.
Here are a couple pictures of the little devils themselves, being all adorable.
Tuesday, November 29, 2016
Great Expectations
Doesn't it suck when you go to a movie and have all these great expectations for it then it ends up sucking a big one? Yeah, it does. Much like life, we all have ideas of how we'd like something to turn out but some times shit goes a whole different direction leaving us wondered what in the hell we've done. A lot of times it's like super sneaky too. Things will be going well and then one little thing happens where we are like ".......hm....that was weird..." then maybe a while later something else occurs where we think "......ok...a little out of left field but alright.." Then next thing you know you find yourself in the middle of a giant septic tank of human waste wondering how in the fuck you even got there.
I'm here to tell you, it's alright my fecal covered friend, it's alright. You didn't know. It's like those hoarder shows, you didn't mean for it to get out of hand, it just did. Who could have possible know cats reproduced so quickly? And even when the kittens arrived they seems so harmless and cute and fluffy. But then they got bigger and suddenly you find yourself under a fallen stack of old Newsweek magazines, getting your face eaten off by 37 cats. I mean, of course your fatal yet adorable demise was inside the realm of possibility but still very unexpected.
Thankfully you can fix things for yourself. You don't spend your final days as a cat buffet. Just pick yourself up, dust yourself off and say, "Hey. I may have fucked up a little but will a little adjusting I can make the changes I need to figure this out." You don't have to be sad or upset, things just didn't work out like you thought they would. No need to be super cold hearted and hateful, be grateful for the lessons learned and how the experience helped you evolve into the person you are today. Even if you come out a little more worn, you have the opportunity to work on repairing what you need to and strength will come from that.
In closing, everything happens for a reason, whether you believe in a god or the universe is in control or even just your own mind, everything happens and we grow from it. The shitty days have as much purpose as the good ones.
I'm here to tell you, it's alright my fecal covered friend, it's alright. You didn't know. It's like those hoarder shows, you didn't mean for it to get out of hand, it just did. Who could have possible know cats reproduced so quickly? And even when the kittens arrived they seems so harmless and cute and fluffy. But then they got bigger and suddenly you find yourself under a fallen stack of old Newsweek magazines, getting your face eaten off by 37 cats. I mean, of course your fatal yet adorable demise was inside the realm of possibility but still very unexpected.
Thankfully you can fix things for yourself. You don't spend your final days as a cat buffet. Just pick yourself up, dust yourself off and say, "Hey. I may have fucked up a little but will a little adjusting I can make the changes I need to figure this out." You don't have to be sad or upset, things just didn't work out like you thought they would. No need to be super cold hearted and hateful, be grateful for the lessons learned and how the experience helped you evolve into the person you are today. Even if you come out a little more worn, you have the opportunity to work on repairing what you need to and strength will come from that.
In closing, everything happens for a reason, whether you believe in a god or the universe is in control or even just your own mind, everything happens and we grow from it. The shitty days have as much purpose as the good ones.
Friday, November 25, 2016
Control Issues
I'm not a psychologist, even though I play on on tv, but I do feel like I have some insight when it comes to people's behavior because let's face it, I'm a little nuts myself and I feel A LOT. One thing I have noticed in myself and others is when it comes to control, you either have it or you don't. What my biggest issue with control is that when you feel completely lost and out of control, people tend to project a lot. They feel so out of control of their own lives that they make up for it by trying to control everyone around them. This might work for a short while but in the end you'll find people get sick of that shit real fast and you'll eventually lose any respect they once had for you.
I know this because I am terribly, terribly guilty of it. When I lose control of my emotions, I used to take it back through self harm. It gave me that sense of control I so badly needed at that moment. If I can't self harm, I try to control my focus person by any means necessary. It's honestly pretty disgusting. If said focus person is a rock, then I'm completely fucked and I get really defensive because not only can I not control myself but I can't control them either. Eventually I calm down but it's not without it's after effects. I feel shame and embarrassment, I feel like a terrible person because I know that is not the kind of person I want to be. I don't want to be the reason why someone feels shitty about themselves. Why would anyone want to be responsible for bringing someone else down? Why would that perverse power feel good to live with?
The more we tell ourselves we are hot messes and excuse our fucked up out of control behavior, the more we begin to become that person we don't want to be. The crazy thing is, it doesn't take much to regain that control. Like any type of recovery, you have to admit to yourself that you have a problem. This is super hard because it's so much easier to place blame on everyone around you. It doesn't have to be a shameful thing either, it can be a releasing action. Just let all that hurt and pain go. Make a list. What actions make you feel out of control? Then problem solve. What can I do to regain control or prevent myself from feeling out of control?
Self-control doesn't always feel good. I mean the definition of self control is "the ability to subdue our impulses in order to achieve longer-term goals". It's so much easier just to go right to your impulse and do what feels good in the moment but in the long run you just end up in a worse place. For example, I was pissed the other day, got aggressive and broke my hairbrush. My hairbrush doesn't mean very much to me, I can buy a new hairbrush but know what does mean a lot to me? A painting I have had for several years that I had yet to hang in my new house. I have been protective of this painting since the day my mom gifted it to me, I love this painting but in that moment I hated myself. I wanted to hurt myself, so I took the brush handle and threw it at the painting, ripping the canvas. I knew in that moment what I was doing and it absolutely kills me everyday to wake up and see what my lack of self control did. It's a heartbreaking reminder that in a moment of vulnerability I ruined something that means so much to me. Maybe it can be fixed but it will never be the same. Like so many things in life.
Well that was depressing but I needed it. I'm going to work on my own issues and hopefully this might help someone dealing with shit of their own. Love you all my little special snowflakes.
I know this because I am terribly, terribly guilty of it. When I lose control of my emotions, I used to take it back through self harm. It gave me that sense of control I so badly needed at that moment. If I can't self harm, I try to control my focus person by any means necessary. It's honestly pretty disgusting. If said focus person is a rock, then I'm completely fucked and I get really defensive because not only can I not control myself but I can't control them either. Eventually I calm down but it's not without it's after effects. I feel shame and embarrassment, I feel like a terrible person because I know that is not the kind of person I want to be. I don't want to be the reason why someone feels shitty about themselves. Why would anyone want to be responsible for bringing someone else down? Why would that perverse power feel good to live with?
The more we tell ourselves we are hot messes and excuse our fucked up out of control behavior, the more we begin to become that person we don't want to be. The crazy thing is, it doesn't take much to regain that control. Like any type of recovery, you have to admit to yourself that you have a problem. This is super hard because it's so much easier to place blame on everyone around you. It doesn't have to be a shameful thing either, it can be a releasing action. Just let all that hurt and pain go. Make a list. What actions make you feel out of control? Then problem solve. What can I do to regain control or prevent myself from feeling out of control?
Self-control doesn't always feel good. I mean the definition of self control is "the ability to subdue our impulses in order to achieve longer-term goals". It's so much easier just to go right to your impulse and do what feels good in the moment but in the long run you just end up in a worse place. For example, I was pissed the other day, got aggressive and broke my hairbrush. My hairbrush doesn't mean very much to me, I can buy a new hairbrush but know what does mean a lot to me? A painting I have had for several years that I had yet to hang in my new house. I have been protective of this painting since the day my mom gifted it to me, I love this painting but in that moment I hated myself. I wanted to hurt myself, so I took the brush handle and threw it at the painting, ripping the canvas. I knew in that moment what I was doing and it absolutely kills me everyday to wake up and see what my lack of self control did. It's a heartbreaking reminder that in a moment of vulnerability I ruined something that means so much to me. Maybe it can be fixed but it will never be the same. Like so many things in life.
Well that was depressing but I needed it. I'm going to work on my own issues and hopefully this might help someone dealing with shit of their own. Love you all my little special snowflakes.
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