Feelin’ Like a Criminal

I’m in something of a wild mood. Do you ever have wild moods? I get them fairly regularly. Thing is, I never actually do anything about it. And I wouldn’t. But fuckin’ hell, I really want to sometimes.

Usually, these moods just translate to bouncy, snarky, playful hyperactivity. And that’s only fun if there’s someone to hang out and interact with.

And now, well. Yeah. I’m in that wild mood, and I’m thinking things I don’t talk about on the blog. So let’s just make it easy to read between the lines: it’s a good thing I’m not one of the hot chicks. Because the first thing that hit on me would have a fun night. Every now and then, I really wish I could be that girl…just for the night…or a weekend…fuck it, let’s go for a month. But I’m not that girl.

I’m ready to be off of work, but there’s another hour to go. I’m contemplating going to the pub. It would be alone, since no one really hangs. Well, there are some people hanging tonight, elsewhere, but I’m not part of that clique so that’s out. And everyone else is married with children. Yawn.

The pub sounds fun, but it doesn’t sound fun alone. So I think I’ll save my few precious coins and just go home. I can’t afford to go anyway.

I’m ready to be off of work, but I don’t want to go home. Sucks. Because I’m feelin’ like a criminal.

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Breaking News: I’m Moving to Antarctica

Breaking News Update: I’m full of shit and am not actually moving to Antarctica.

Maybe.

Dudes. So. The first half of my day was slow as fuck, so I made myself busy by slinging my resume at just about anything that would take it. Okay, that’s not exactly true. I’ve gotten pretty picky. Ish.

Today a few interesting things happened. Well, they were interesting to me.

  1. One of the jobs I applied to – in the Greater Portland Area – got an instant nibble. The pay isn’t fantastic, but it’s good enough for me, for now. It’s comes fairly close to doubling what I’m making now (which is a below-market wage for what I do). So that’s pretty sweet, because I already know I can pay my bills on half that. Within minutes, homedude emailed me thanking me for my application, saying he was “impressed by [my] resume,” etc. He asked me a couple of questions, and I think I significantly erred with this one. You see, one of the questions was, “When are you planning to relocated to this area?” And I said, “August 1” (a date which is highly optimistic and contingent upon a very…very good opportunity). The fleshed out response included needing time to give my formal notice (though my current employer does know it’s coming soon), as well as needing time to actually get up there. I think that was a mistake. I think I should have said something a bit more hedgey. I like to be forthright, but there’s nothing wrong with hedging your bets a bit and letting the person know that “August 1” isn’t ironclad. I could be persuaded to move sooner. If I don’t hear from him in the next couple days, I’m planning to write to him again as a followup.
  2. Next up – I applied for a gig in Antarctica. I shit you not, dudes. It’s some government gig, doing some research that you don’t get to know about unless you receive clearance and are accepted as a member of the team. I specifically applied to a human resources / research assistant position. It’s a year-long contract, and if you’re accepted you have to go through special psychological training in order to live in the extreme and isolated environment. Sounds fucking awesome. What an adventure, right? I could meet The Thing! Aliens! X-Files! The truth is out there! Dudes. I’ll never get it, because I’m a total long-shot. But I figured what the fuck and threw my resume at it, anyway. They wrote and asked me a couple questions, which I answered pretty much the same as the one I wrote about above.
  3. Dudes. This one is fucking ridiculous. Right toward the end of the day, I receive an email from the top HR homie at corporate. Straight out offering me a job. Turns out he saw my resume on our intranet (it’s there, because I’m applying to other jobs with our company at locations in the PNW…which my intranet profile clearly states). Straight up offers me a job. Asks me to RELOCATE to this city for …. wait for it …. oh fuck it. For an ENTRY LEVEL accounting gig. That would have been fanfuckingtastic fifteen years ago. But this dude tells me he has an “excellent offer at our ______ office for this ______ position.” It’s entry-level, and he can see in our org chart that I’m beyond that now. He can also see in our org chart that I’m already here! And )(!*&#*$&)OIFJIOFJOI* I don’t know why, but that one really pissed me off. I think because when I first received the email, I thought it was gonna be in reference to one of the two I have my resume out on in the Portland/Vancouver area. No dice. Hmph.

Tomorrow, I will continue my quest. I’m not giving up on this. I’m not giving up on landing a gig with my company, either. That would be preferable, if the money and position were right. It’s beginning to look like I can get a higher paying gig with a better title at a different company. So long as I’m working in Corporate America, that’s the direction I need to go in to secure my future of selling all my shit and financing an adventure lifestyle. Fuckyeah.

~

I wasn’t gonna talk only about work. I had other stuff in mind, but it eludes me now. I have sleepy brain (YAYYYYY for sleepy!), and for some odd reason, I’m thinking about Japan. Specifically the Jigokudani Monkey Park…and the Shimanami Kaido. Yeah. Goodnight fuckers! I mean, friends! Friendly fuckers!

monkeymonkeymonkey
Look at those fuckers. Little snow monkeys chillin’ in a hot tub. That’s what’s up.

monkeymonkeymonkey2

I don’t wanna work…

I just wanna bang on the drums all day.

Okay, not really. But I really don’t wanna go to work tomorrow. That’s usually the case, especially on Sunday nights, but damnit. The feeling is especially strong tonight.

Could it be because I spent Friday marathoning Game of Thrones to get caught up, so that day and night flew by? Perhaps. (Speaking of GOT, the season finale was tonight. Hot damn was it a good one.)

Could it be because I spent Saturday (all day and most of the night) wallowing in bed, feeling sorry for my self, crying off and on? Perhaps.

Could it be because I spent most of the day today working on house stuff to get it ready for market? Plus laundry and dishes and assorted other chores? Perhaps.

Could it be because I’m feeling like a lazy bastard and am dreading Archie coming back? (She’s been off for a week for health reasons.) Perhaps.

I’d actually like to curl up in bed with a good book right now (Murakami, I’m looking at you), and read into the wee dawn hours. Yes, I said read. I think my brain is ready to read again. We shall see!

When the weekend passes by in a daze, the last thing I want to do is go to work. I feel like I haven’t had a weekend at all – do you know what I mean? I should have gone to the park (I’m sorry, you know who.). I should have gotten my bike out (uhm, again, sorry). I should have done a lot of shit. But I was in an epic wallowing funk and couldn’t snap out of it. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Semantics. I can identify some of the causes of my sadness, but I know the things I can identify aren’t enough to cause just how deep down I got. I suppose it’s just another depressive episode. S’alright. It’ll pass. They always do.

Anyway! Anyway! Guess what!

A week from tomorrow, I’m calling a realtor to finafuckingly list the house. It’s taken seven damn forevers, because I’m not the sole owner of the house. But now things are finally in place, and the place will be all tidied up and clear of almost every stitch of furniture. (Trust me, the place looks better with no furniture than staged up with what I had. Shit I’ve had since I was 17. So yeah.)

Yay! I’ll be one big step closer to moving on.

I’m also gonna spend any spare time I get at work this week on applying to new opportunities. Something may yet come through with my current employer, but I’ve put all my eggs in that basket for about a month and a half now. I need to start casting my net again, see if I can catch something other than more disappointment and headaches. Something has to give at some point.

Annnnd. That is all. I have a bit more tidying to do in the bedroom before I can actually relax enough to sleep in here. I hope y’all had a kickass weekend!

P.S. If you watch Game of Thrones, I’d love to hear your reactions from the finale, or hell the season at all. Thinking of doing a post, but I’m not sure I have enough to say for an entire post. We shall see! Without being spoilery yet, I will just say….I fucking knew it about Jon! Called it!

Losing Steam

I’ve been off all psychiatric drugs for a while now – at least six weeks. I can’t handle the side-effects or expense anymore – and, frankly, they hadn’t really changed anything. I continued riding (fairly) high and optimistic for a while. It’s easy to begin thinking there won’t be another downswing (I had even more of them on the drugs.). But there has been. There is. These last few days have been hell.

I recognize that a lot of it is circumstantial. (Caution, whining ahead.)

  • I’ve come off an intense anxiety-fest over what could be wrong with my body. (Never thought in the history of ever that I’d be happy to have ulcers.) Coming off shit like that strangely and oftentimes leads to low moods for me.
  • I found a dead sparrow in my bedroom when I got home. It’s a complete fucking mystery. It can’t have flown in as I was leaving this morning…because I enclose the cats in the bedroom and kitchen areas before ever opening the front door. It’s not a mystery as to how it died…but how it ended up in the bedroom? Beats the hell outta me. I cried for a good half hour after finding it this evening. I also thought weird shit that I don’t even believe in – like what kind of fucked up omen is this?
  • My mortgage payment spiked up to $300 over what it’s always been. Because of recent historic floods, FEMA remapped my neighborhood. Fuckers. So my mortgage company kindly bought a policy for me, without consulting me. I’m not in a big fancypants house – it’s quite a bit smaller than average (that’s what she said). So I don’t understand why it’s costing so much. Needless to say, that shit wasn’t in my budget…and I’m kinda fucked if I don’t get out from under this thing soon.
  • The job situation has stalled out. I haven’t heard anything on the ones I applied to with my company, so I’m tossing resumes at new shit again. Got a tentative job offer today…for Colorado Springs. Dude. That’s nowhere near where I’m looking to go. I don’t want to reconsider my PNW. May have to at some point, unless I want to settle for any ole thing and continue living paycheck to paycheck. (Not something I can afford to do anymore – nor should I have to.)
  • These fucking headaches are the pits, and my usual go-to OTC stuff is not an option anymore. Small price to pay for not having cancer, doncha think? Can’t make a doc appointment yet, as their office is closed for vacation.
  • Other personal shit that is taking more of a toll on me than I realized, I think.

What else can I whine about? I don’t know. That’s more than enough for now. Suffice it to say I’ve been a tearful, moody mess for the last couple days. A lot of it is circumstantial – which sucks, really, because resolutions are kinda far off. Either way, an actual human hug would be nice. Then again, so would winning the lottery, but we can’t have everything.

Anyway, sorry. I don’t even actually want to talk about any of this shit. At all. Just needed to vent, I suppose. Not giving up. Just having a shit time of it right now.

Butt Stuff

Well, it’s B-Day. As in Butt Day or Day of the Butt. Take your pick. I think I like Day of the Butt best.

I said butt

The countdown has begun. I start taking butt drugs in about twenty minutes. Seems weird to me to start prep in mid-afternoon, but I confirmed with doctor’s office yesterday and the surgical facility today. So I’ll go by the sheet of instructions I received.

Step 1: Take FOUR of these bad boys at 3:00 PM:

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FYI the dose is ONE tablet. I’ll be taking four. I asked the pharmacist if I could return the rest. (I’m serious. It was a joke, but I really did ask.) She refused. Hmph.

Step 2: Beginning at 4:00 PM, I have to drink 8 oz. of buttjuice every half hour until 1/4 of the jug remains.

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It’s full of salts, if you can read the label. Mmmmmmmm, 4 liters of saltwater.

They said I could add Crystal Light lemonade to it, so now it looks like a jug of urine.

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I’ve decided that instead of 8 oz. increments, I’m going to do 10 oz. That way my last dose will be at 8:30 PM instead of 10:00 PM. I figure very few people measure this to the exact ounce, so I should be okay with my plan. Then I have to drink the remaining THIRTY OUNCES ALL AT ONCE at 3 fucking AM.

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Step 3:

shitting my brains out

I hope I’m able to get some sleep tonight. I have to get up at 3:00 AM to drink the last of four liters of that vile liquid fire. Then I have to be at the hospital at 5:00 AM. I hope they don’t make me wait too long. I know he has four people scheduled, but I don’t know where I am in that list.

I’m not actually stressed or worried. Honestly, I’m eager to get some answers. But that doesn’t mean I’m looking forward to my immediate future. I’m just thankful that my perspective is positive – it’s keeping me from being crippled with fear and embarrassment. Somehow, I don’t feel those things at all. It’s an absolutely shocking state of mind to me, but I’m loving the absence of worry.

I have a whole lot of life left that I intend to live as fully as possible. Things like the PNW and other assorted adventures that await require me to look after my health (which I haven’t been doing at all). So this test will give me some answers as to how best to do so going forth.

Speaking of going forth…good day, Peopleaneous!

Shit Happens: Real Talk about Serious Health Issues

I told myself I wasn’t going to talk about this here. “It’s too private,” I thought, “and it’s entirely too embarrassing and uncomfortable. …no. Fucking. Way.”

But you know what? That’s selfish of me. What if someone out there is afraid like I’ve been? Too embarrassed to see a doctor and talk about what’s going on, too afraid of receiving terrible news. What if someone reads my words and, as a result, looks after his or her own health? It hasn’t been too terribly long since I would have been (genuinely) willing to die before seeing a doctor. Embarrassment and shame do voodoo on the psyche. But I’ve recently got some awesome people in my life (you know who you are, and you know how I feel) – and this community is priceless. Fucking priceless. And you have lifted me up, encouraged me and offered me a world of new perspectives. Shouldn’t I try to do the same?

Shit happens, and the sooner I learn how to roll with it better, the more chill my life will be. And I’m a chill dude, man. It’s one of the few things I like about myself: I’m chill as fuck. So yeah, why not spill my embarrassing health issue – that shouldn’t be embarrassing at all, because it’s the human body and sometimes it fucks up, or we fuck it up – and maybe, just maybe, being candid about it will help someone. The more willing we are to speak openly about the things that scare or embarrass us, the better prepared we will be to move forward and heal. Knowledge is power, but it takes communication to gain that knowledge. Let us communicate.

If you’re squeamish, back away now. Back away. And if you’re not, then you’re about to see another layer to the title I used.

~

I have a lot of health problems. I’d say each of them is not a big deal, but stacking them all together gives me really bad days sometimes. But I’ve learned to deal, push it out of my mind, compartmentalize the fuck out of things, and keep on keeping on. Granted, I’m not always very good at it, but for the most part I try not to dwell on things.

Lately I’ve been seriously kicking ass. For me. I’ve been on a really good track to improve my life, and I’m getting good feedback and results. Personally, professionally, whatever. I’ve been hesitantly optimistic.

Did I say I’ve been kicking ass? I have been. Fuck it, I’ll own it. I’m nowhere near where I need to be. I’m only just beginning. But we all have to start somewhere.

Only now, my ass is kicking me. Yeah. You read that right. Are you ready? I’ve given more than enough intro, and now I’m just stalling. Let’s go…

~

My latest health issue started about three weeks ago. Or at least, I think it did. (I’ll explain that part shortly.) I went to the bathroom. I had to, you know………………fuck, I’m so embarrassed. Fuck it. Fuck it. Let’s do this. I had to shit, right? Everyone has to shit. No big deal.

Except, there was blood.

It was only a tiny amount, though. And it was bright red. It’s not the first time that’s happened, so I’ve read about it. It’s a hemorrhoid. Simple, whatever. I pissed the fucker off, and it bled a little. Little bastard. Case dismissed.

Except, it got worse.

Over the course of a week, the tiny bit of blood grew into a small amount of blood, which then grew into a semi-scary amount of blood. Only semi-scary, though. At this point, I knew I should see a doctor. I was semi-scared, for fucks sake. But who the fuck wants to go to their doctor and say, “Yo doc, there’s blood coming out of my asshole! What’s good, homeslice?”

Yeah, not me. So I ignored it and told myself that it would go away. The thing is, you remember that bit I said earlier? That “I think it” started three weeks ago? Yeah. That bit right there. For much longer than that, I’ve been having…problems…going…to the bathroom. It’s either one or the other: I can’t go, and it hurts like a bitch…or it’s like a motherfucking faucet. Either way, I’ve been having severe abdominal cramps. Mhm. So it has occurred to me that whatever this is…could very well have started much longer than three weeks ago. Fuck, I hope not.

Anyway. I fucking ignored it. Because that’s what I do. I stick my head in the sand and pretend the bad shit isn’t happening. And I carry on smiling and laughing and cracking smartass remarks in very poor taste. Because that’s what I do. Deny, deny, deny. And carry on not taking care of myself, dumping shitty (haha that’s punny) food in my body, wallowing in bed and wasting my life away.

And now I’m paying for it. Even if it’s nothing, I’m suffering at the moment, and most likely because of my abuse of my body.

So the next week, you’ll never guess what happened! You’ll never guess! You guessed it, didn’t you? Yeah. Shit got worse. (Heh. I did it again. SHIT got worse. Get it?) It got to the point where I’d have an urge to shit. My body’s telling me I gotta go, and it makes my abdomen rumble and cramp, and it’s urgent. It feels urgent. I go to the bathroom, and what comes pouring out? Shit?

Blood.

Just. Blood. Copious amounts of blood. And it’s not as brightly colored anymore. It’s still relatively bright, but I tell myself…”just give it a bit more time. This is nothing. It will go away. You’ve just really really pissed Hank off.” (That’s the name of my friend’s asshole, but I’m stealing it.) I pissed Hank off, nothing more. No fucking way will I go to the doctor about this. I’ll fucking bleed to death first.

So the first week, I ignored it as best I could. The second week, I became terrified. The amount of blood filling up the bowl scared me. And it wasn’t bright anymore. I was barely shitting at all. For the most part, when I went to the toilet, it was Only Blood. The third week (this one), I had to start lining my underwear. Yeah. That fucking bad.

Yesterday, I went to the bathroom three times with that problem. Oh. And coupled with the blood loss, I’ve been experiencing significant dizziness, drastically increased fatigue, some disorientation, etc. Very woozy, all the time, and I have little to no appetite.

I called the doctor.

I had made a promise to call the doctor yesterday, and not only did I have to keep it, but I had finally gotten scared enough to seek treatment. The doctor got me in right away. The nurse said she’d call me back..she called me back within five minutes and asked if I could be there in fifteen. I texted my boss and left.

I told the doctor everything. He asked some questions pertaining to pain (location and severity), color of the blood, shitting schedule, etc. After I’d answered all of his questions, he said,

“You need a colonoscopy.”

I cried a little. Just a couple tears, and I practically whispered, “What about other tests first, like a stool sample?” (I’ve been researching…) And he calmly, quietly repeated,

“You need a colonoscopy.”

He sent me across the street to the hospital, to test for anemia. I bypassed admissions, no check in, no paperwork, and went straight to the lab where I was seen ahead of everyone and immediately. I don’t mind saying I cried all the way out of the hospital and all the way home. The urgency did more to scare me than anything else.

I got the results of the blood work today. In a bit of good news, I was told I haven’t gone anemic. Whew.

I have a colonoscopy Tuesday morning. I have to be there at 5 AM. And because of the prep that has to be done beforehand (drinking a tanker truck of vile liquid and subsequently shitting your brains out for hours on end), I’ll have to take both Monday and Tuesday off work.

I’m scared. Yesterday, I was really fucking scared. I shed a lot of tears. And then I got immense encouragement, which I am endlessly grateful for.

~

Here’s where I’m at now:

It could be lots of things. I could have a tear. I could have irritable bowel disease. I could have Crohn’s (don’t think so on that one). I could have angry polyps or some shit (ha). I could have colon cancer. (I watched one of the most important people in the world to me slowly die of colon cancer. He was diagnosed at 44 and passed away at 46. It wrecked me, and I’ve lived in terror of it ever since.)

Simple or complex, odds are very good that it’s something treatable. In which case, I get it treated, I heed the wake-up call and take better care of myself, and I go on about my life – more mindful than before.

And if it’s terminal, which my mind can’t help but wonder, then that will be alright, too. I’ll sell my house, quit my job, try to raise some funds, and I’ll travel and adventure until I drop dead with a smile on my face.

I can wallow in bed, feeling sorry for myself, or I can live. I choose life, regardless of the test results.

As for today, I’m going to my storage unit after work to pick up my camera. I said I’d do that today. It will be good for me. It will give me more reasons to get out of the house. Go find something beautiful and interesting, photograph it. Get back to what I used to do: finding something beautiful each and every day.

And hopefully some time next week, I’ll find out exactly what’s going on and what the next step is.

~

If there’s something you’re scared of, something you don’t want to face, especially if it’s something that presents a danger to your mind or body, it’s worth the risk to say something.

The doctor is not going to laugh at you.

Real friends will not laugh at you.

You will be encouraged. You will receive help. You will feel better. And you will know that shame and embarrassment are merely other forms of fear.

You’re worth it. There’s too much left to do. Your story doesn’t end here.

There are mountains to climb, oceans to swim, photographs to take, trains to ride, planes to jump out of, people to embrace, stories to hear, stories to tell, raucous belly laughs at vulgar jokes, souls to touch, music to dance to.

Confide in someone, be encouraged and seek help. Go to the ass doctor. Go to the gynecologist. Go to whatever doctor grabs your nuts and makes you cough. Get a finger stuck up your ass. Have satan’s claws shoved up your ladybits. Seek. Help. Now.

Your story doesn’t end here.

Now let’s dance.

Goodbye Mother

Conversation History

April __, 2015

Stephanie: Happy Birthday
Mother: Who is this?

You vanished from the state. I didn’t know where you were.
But I never thought you’d delete me.

S: I thought this was Jane Doe’s number. I apologize.
M: It is but i dont recognize your number!

You fucking deleted me.

July __, 2015

M: Happy birthday
S: Thanks.

I wonder who identified my number for you.
It only took you two months to figure it out.

August 31, 2015

M: Would loue to see you sometime and hopefully restore our relationship i loue and miss you very much
S: We can get together sometime if you want. I don’t know where you are these days, so just let me know when you’re around. Maybe we can do lunch.

September 2, 1015

M: I Am free wed ? thur next week the 9th ? 10th pick where to meet ? time
S: How about Wednesday?
M: Wednesday is fine how about ____ right by me so i dont have to drive far
S: I’ll meet you there at 11:30.

September 9, 2015

M: R we still on for 11:30 tomorrow?
S: Yes. Still want to go to ___?
M: Unless u want to somewhere else doesnt matter
S: No, that sounds good to me.

I knew you had a motive. I knew it in my gut.
Sweet lady at work convinced me to do this lunch with you. You didn’t know that did you?
I didn’t want to come. I knew it was too good to be true.
I was right.
You thought I could get you a fucking job.
You wanted a favor. That’s why you reappeared.
I told you we were under a hiring freeze.

You cried crocodile tears, and spoke of a desire to reconnect.
I remained stoic, because I didn’t believe anything you were saying.
You said you wanted to renew our relationship.
I said I’d like that. I stuck my neck out and said I need you to call me.
You said you’d call me every week.

I wonder how long it will be this time, before I hear from you again.

October __, 2015

M: FWD: (baby picture) ____ (your brother’s) baby girl!
I never knew they were expecting.
S: Thank you.

June 15, 2016

M: I loue and miss you so very much please call me sometime

I can’t fucking do this again.

June 16, 2016

M: Did something change since we met for lunch a while back?
S: No, that was nearly a year ago. I’ve come to terms with the way things are.
M: What’s that supposed to mean? I have tried everything i can possibly think of to restore a relationship with you not laying blame at all just doesnt seem u are interested i truly dont have a clue what i have said or done that you cant or wont forgive me for
S: I’m not sure why you brought blame into it, when I responded in a calm and non-accusatory manner. That’s interesting. What I meant was that you said you were going to start calling me once a week, because you said you wanted a relationship with me. That was almost a year ago now.

M: The last time i texted u about going to see (your brother’s) baby n i never got a reply back i just dont understand is all
S: I don’t see any texts like that in our entire conversation history.
M: Well i sent one after she was born about her baby shower
S: Okay.

M: I wanted a relationship with you for a long time and i have tried repeatedly to make the effort but i cant do it alone
S: You never sent the texts you’re saying you did. I have the entire conversation history. You said you would stay in touch with me regularly, after I hadn’t even known what state you were living in for a very long time. But then I didn’t hear from you again until last October when you sent me a picture of a baby I knew nothing about. There was no invitation, and there has been zero communication after that. I don’t understand where this is coming from.
S: Why did you ignore me in the grocery store?

Fuck it. Let’s see you lie about this one.

M: Wow ok well i did send you the texts dont know why u didnt get them and i tried calling u all the time but u want to lie about it sorry i bothered you i give up goodbye
S: Okay.

Ah, complete evasion, I see.
I’m glad you couldn’t see me.
I’m glad you couldn’t see me sobbing during this entire exchange.
I’m glad you didn’t see the ass-kissing texts I originally wrote and then deleted before sending.
I spent most of my life letting you guilt me and make shit up and put it all on me.
I always let you do it.

Now I see why.

I stood up for myself this time. I asked you to answer for some things you’ve done.
And now you’ve told me you’re giving up.
Every fucking time I try to heal, you do this.
Every fucking time. Just when I think I can move on without crying about you anymore…
You show back up and guilt me.
But this time I didn’t let you.
I won’t let you do this to me anymore.
I may not have had the nerve to type it out in text.
But I’ll say it here.

Goodbye, Mother.

Accountability

I never held you accountable for anything. The closest I could ever come to addressing these things with you was to cry and beg or else just harden myself a bit more, distance myself a bit more.

Would you like to know what I’d hold you accountable for, if I thought I could have a conversation with you – without it turning into evasion, denial and volleying blame back and forth?

No. Your answer is no. So I’ll tell you here.

Do you remember when I told you my marriage was ending? It took me months to tell you. Do you remember what you said? “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me and your mamaw.” Thanks for the support, mom.

Do you remember when I asked for your help? I hate asking for help. I never ask for help. I’m starting to realize why I became that way. I was having surgery. I stuck my neck out, asked for your help. Could you please take me in for surgery? Could you please help me get home after? Would you stay? Do you remember your response? “I can’t afford the gas.” I cried. I didn’t let you hear it in my voice, but I cried. I told you I’d pay for your gas, even though I was out of work at the time. You said, “Why don’t you drive over here after your anesthesia wears off, and I’ll make a pallet for you on the floor.” You lived three hours away at the time. You got offended when I turned the most generous offer down.

Do you remember telling me that I need to get over being molested by my father and his friends? I needed to get over what happened with my brother? He was a kid, too. I know damn well where he learned that from. Do you remember telling me, as I cried and shook, that I was too old to let “something like that keep you from a relationship with your father”? The same man who beat the shit out of you, burst your eardrum and brazenly bragged about his many conquests? The same man who had stood trial for attempted murder when he raped and beat the shit out of his “girlfriend”? The same man who was with his best friend the night his best friend murdered his parents and his little boy? I know they were together, because I was there. They got wasted together before disappearing. The next day, there was a manhunt for the best friend.

Do you remember?

I do. I remember that and a lot more.

For many years, I longed to have the kind of mother I thought I had in childhood. I longed for her to come back. I realize now I will never have her, if I ever did.

I’m sorry I can’t grovel and take the blame and subject myself to your untreated issues anymore. I’m sorry I can’t shoulder responsibility for everything you want me to. I’m sorry I can’t hang with your rollercoaster mood swings anymore.

I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough for you to stick around.

I’m sorry I was worthy of your goodbye.

So it’s my turn now. It’s my turn to say,
Sorry I bothered you.
I give up.
Goodbye.

 

Ain’t Nobody got Time for WordPress

Hello Peopleaneous.
Goodnight Peopleaneous.

I just got home from sushi and sake with a colleague.
Our company outsources shit to her company.
She charged the ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-FIVE DOLLAR DINNER to her company credit card.

I want a company credit card.

What else can I tell you?
The first half of the day was shite on a cracker.
The second half of the day was more than mildly entertaining and also a little sad.

At some point in the middle of the afternoon, I received a text message from my mother.
I have no desire to reply to it.
She removed herself from my life a long time ago.
But I have guilt issues, so time will tell.
I’ll let it stew for a few days.

And then colleague messaged that she was in town and wanted to have a secret dinner.
You see, I’m basically a peon. And because of company politics, she can’t exactly explain taking me out to dinner without taking everyone else out.
She generally only takes out VIPs or entire departments.

Then I basically watched her get drunk off  wine. (She got started on her own before we even met up.)
I had an entire bottle of sake to myself. She kept pouring and pouring and pouring..
But I sipped here and there and drank copious amounts of water.
Seeing as we were there for four hours, I wasn’t even buzzed when we left.

Anything else?
That is all.

Have a deformed rat.

Nicodemus
Yeahhhhhhh. I dunno why he’s turned that way. Be a dear and tilt your head. I can’t be arsed to take another.

What are you so afraid of?

Have you ever considered what bears and grocery stores have in common? I have. It’s fear. Bears and grocery stores have fear in common.

Some people are afraid of bears. I’m not. I have a healthy respect for them, and I know proper procedures to prevent bear encounters and protocol should I ever encounter one anyway (though I’m sure all of that knowledge would elude me at such a time). But I do not fear them. Not exactly. I mean, I was wary enough to avoid cooking when I stayed in Shoshone National Forest, or in GNP or Yellowstone, places like that. I was afraid to cook, but that was mostly because I was afraid of myself – of not being cautious enough or missing spots during cleaning. I was afraid I’d fuck it up. I didn’t actually go to sleep in fear. I happily climbed into my tent and into my sleeping bag, falling asleep nearly instantly after long days of hiking.

I’m not afraid of bears.

Some people are afraid of grocery stores. I’m gonna go ahead and assume you’ve figured out how I know. I am afraid of grocery stores. But I believe it’s less about being in public (which is a whole separate issue for me) and more about whom I may encounter there. I don’t live in a huge metropolitan area, which makes the chances rather high for running into people whom I’d rather not run into. Even so, it’s happened a disproportionate amount of times. Sometimes I’ve been so shaken up that I’ve left the store without making my purchases. I believe there was only once that I had a buggy full of groceries, and I left in a panic. But I’ve seen people I’d rather not with high frequency. My anxiety and fear ratcheted up to the point where I’d drive to the grocery (after allowing myself to run out of pretty much everything), then sit in the car in the parking lot for several minutes to an hour before finally driving away without ever getting out of the car.

I’m afraid of grocery stores.

This fear has caused me to spend more money than I can really afford (considering other shit I desperately need to take care of) and damage my health with fast food. There’s no risk I’ll run into anyone when I just go through a drive-thru and go home. But it’s not a healthy way to live, not for mind or body.

I went to the grocery store today. It sounds so simple, it’s nothing more than an inconvenience. Rightfully so. It’s pretty irrational to be petrified of grocery shopping. But I am. I have been. I went today, and I didn’t make a quick run, either. I started in produce and made my way around the store, selecting my purchases. I’ll need to go again tomorrow, as I didn’t take a list today (it was more about pushing through my fear and getting started with the basics). I got nearly everything I need. But I need a few more things. Perhaps I’ll make crawfish étouffée tomorrow.

I had a big day for me, really. I got up early (on a Saturday – what the fuck is the world coming to (I like to sleep until 3 PM or Sunday)), got dressed (that’s important to do before going out in public, or so I’ve been told), grabbed a bottle of water and hit the park. My foot still hasn’t healed (what the fuck, man), but I walked a trail anyway. Along a lake. It was so fucking humid, but it was lovely. It was lovely. The birds and the flowers and the water and the occasional breeze. Left there and went to a café (sort of), got a fruity iced tea thingy and a croissant. Then I went straight to the grocery store. I only sat in the car for about fifteen minutes (trust me, that’s good for me). When I got home, I didn’t stop. There has been zero bed or moping or bed moping today. Mowed the yard, fixed the new gravel that’s on the driveway, babied some suffering plants, and now I’m doing laundry. I need a shower so badly, but I wanna make sure most of the sweating is behind me before I do!

I kept a promise today. Promises are sacred to me. You don’t fuck with a promise unless you didn’t have a choice (and you pretty much always have a choice, so you better have a fucking good reason). I promised to work on myself today, push past the fear and do it. And I did. And I felt (feel) fantastic and optimistic afterward. I know optimism is a feeling like any other – it comes and goes with the days and moods. But for now, I’m enjoying it. And when it begins to fade again, I’ll have to push past the fear again. Today was one day. This is one weekend. I need to make it two. And keep going.

Because if I don’t – I’ll get to Oregon or Washington and nothing will have changed. I will go to work as I do here. I will drive straight home as I do here. And I will cry and mope and wish for adventure. And I will hold myself back. If I can’t push through it here, what makes me think I will there? I don’t want to move to the PNW just to continue the lifestyle I have now. What’s the fucking point of that? If I’m to live, I need to start living.

shawshank-redemption-movie-quote-dying-living-death-busy-quote

What else am I afraid of?

I’m not afraid of spiders – not majorly so. I have a massive fear of venomous ones. But little jumping spiders? They’re fucking adorable. The wolf spider I found in my garden made me scream like a little girl and literally run away. That was pretty funny. But I didn’t kill it. I let it be…and used gloves when I got back to it.

I was afraid of pubs. I pushed through it, and I’m okay there now. Not exactly comfortable, but okay.

I’m afraid of my nosebleeds. What do they mean? Dunno. But that’s the kind of thing I’m afraid of.

I’m afraid of my neighbors. Not in any dangerous sense, but in the sense that they’re there. Watching me. Judging me. Talking about me. Hell, I should just say I’m afraid of people and have done.

I’m afraid of attachment. I crave it, and yet I fear it. Because allowing yourself to be completely vulnerable exposes your soft underbelly. And some people like to stab those, repeatedly.

I’m afraid of the government, and all of its agents, because of the power we’ve given over to it.

I’m afraid of the threat of tornadoes. Always was, irrationally so. But now that one has hit my house, the fear is greater.

I’m afraid of heights, but not to a crippling extent. Not enough to hinder me from walking cliff trails in the mountains.

I’m afraid I’ll die alone. Nothing I can really do about it aside from keeping myself open to possibilities and otherwise keep on keepin’ on.

I’m afraid of missing out. Of never discovering meaning or purpose. Perhaps there isn’t one. And if there isn’t, then I’m afraid I’ll never be content with that answer. Again. Just gotta keep on keepin’ on, and keep myself open to new ideas and possibilities.

I’m afraid of suffering. I’m afraid of cancer and heart disease. Too much of it in my family, and it scares me. I need to live more healthfully and mindfully.

I’m afraid of my bad memory and what it may mean for my old age, should I make it there. Yet another thing I need to work on improving.

I’m afraid of touching crickets. When I’d go fishing, I could never bait my own hook. I could never get a fish off of a hook, either. I couldn’t touch the cricket. I’d try and try and try, then squeal and back away. Yes. I’m such a girl in some ways. In more ways than I let on here sometimes, I think. And you know what I mean. Soft. Emotional. Sensitive. Gentle. Nervous. Bashful. Afraid to touch bugs, but don’t want to see them dead. Those aren’t purely feminine traits, but fucks sake why am I trying to explain this. Anyway. Yeah. I’m more of a “girl” than I let on.

Hm. I think that’s enough for now. I’m actually in a calm, gentle, smiley mood. So don’t let all this fear talk fool you. I’m looking inward and taking inventory as I am wont to do. Today I don’t find it depressing. Today it’s like cleaning out the cobwebs and taking stock.

Now to see what tomorrow holds.

The Cube Test

Have y’all ever heard of The Cube Test? It’s going around the Internet again right now – all over Facebook, Buzzfeed, you name it. I’d never heard of it before (no big shock for me to not have heard of something). Some are calling it a Japanese psychology game. Others claim it has origins in ancient Greek or even Sufi psychology. I don’t really know, and I haven’t researched it. But I thought it was nifty. I love this kind of shit.

You’re presented with a series of questions that are meant to make you create a mental picture. You have to keep each of your answers in mind as you go along, because you’ll need those answers in the end. They’re supposed to reveal things about your psyche, about the kind of person you are. I found some of it accurate, and some of it wildly inaccurate. Regardless, I found it interesting.

Since I can’t find the video I watched (and the others are lame as hell), I’m gonna type the questions out. Try not to jump ahead if you’re playing along.

~

The Prompts

Imagine you are in a desert.

 

You come upon a cube.

 

How big is the cube?

 

What color is the cube?

 

How far is it away from you?

 

Somewhere nearby, imagine a ladder.

 

Where is the ladder located in relation to the cube?

 

What material is the ladder made of?

 

Picture a horse near the cube and the ladder.

 

What is the horse doing?

 

Is the horse wearing anything (such as reins or a saddle)?

 

Look around. Do you see any flowers?

 

If so, how many?

 

Where are the flowers in relation to the cube?

 

Now imagine there is a storm.

 

How do you feel about the storm?

 

How close is it to the cube, ladder, horse and flowers?

 

~

 

The Meaning (and my answers/reflections)

The size of the cube is a reflection of your ego. – I pictured the cube measuring in height roughly from my feet to mid-calf. Accurate enough, I suppose. I have some ego, of course, depending on what we’re talking about. But for the most part, I struggle with my sense of worth.

The color of the cube reflects how open you are. The lighter the color, the more open you are. – I pictured a clear, glass cube. Which is interesting. I’m pretty damn open here and somewhat in person, but I can also be extremely guarded. It usually depends on my surroundings.

The distance between the ladder and the cube shows how close you are with your friends. If the ladder is leaning against the cube, it shows that you and your friends trust and support each other. – My ladder was standing straight up in the air, several feet off to the right. Yeah. Probably because I don’t have any friends (in person, I mean). And I keep myself very. Very. Distant. Even being open, I am highly attachment averse.

The strength of the ladder’s material is meant to show the level of trust you have. – I pictured a ladder made of raw, untreated wood. I am a thousand percent trusting in a one-on-one relationship. Strangers? Coworkers? Acquaintances? You’re probably getting ready to throw acid on my face and shout my deepest, darkest secrets from the highest tower and the most popular social media platform.

The horse is meant to show how controlling or inhibited you are. If your horse is tied up, has reins or a saddle, it means you are controlling in your relationships. And the wilder the horse, the more uninhibited you are as a person. – I pictured a slick black horse, huge and powerful. He was standing there, stamping one of his front legs, snuffling impatiently, and completely unencumbered: no reins, no saddle, nothing. I am not very controlling in relationships…not very controlling at all, really. And as for inhibitions? It depends. I’m highly inhibited in some ways, but not at all in others. I will laugh my ass off, loud and unguarded. But if you want to talk to me about sex or bodily functions, I’m going to blush and stammer and look away. Unless of course if we’re in a relationship, then look out. You’re going to die of sex overdose.

The flowers reflect the kids you want in your life. The more flowers, the more kids you want. – Uhm. No. Wildly inaccurate. I fucking love flowers, dudes. I pictured hundreds of flowers. Ha! Yeah. Hundreds of wildflowers of all different colors. So at least the kids I no longer want are multicultural.

The closer the flowers are to the cube, the heavier kids are on your mind. – I pictured the flowers in a huge ring, encircling the scene in the middle of the desert. Oh. And the horse was eating some of the flowers now. Seriously. I’m pretty much past the kids thing. There was a time when I was overwhelmed with desire for kids. I’ve tucked that away in a deep, dark corner. I’m child-free and always will be.

The storm represents your fears and emotions. Far away and mild means you are calm in nature. Close and threatening means you are stressed and fearful, now and in life. – I pictured a storm far off in the distance. I could see the entire storm from start to finish, stretching across a portion of sky. I could see the lightening and the rain shadow, but I was in awe and completely unafraid. On my good days, this is exactly how I am. I’m completely chill and desirous of adventure and new experiences. On my bad days, I feel like I am the storm. But for the most part, at my heart, I’m zen as fuck.

~

Did any of y’all do it? Do you wanna share whether or not you found the answers interesting or accurate?