Final Goodbyes

Since I last posted, each day has been a litany of emotions. Today has also been one of those days, because I witnessed a family member on her deathbed, and I am angry of the amount of undeserved suffering she’s had in this life while shithead people have not. With this event comes the knowing that I will probably see my father in the very near future, which is something I’m unsure I’m ready to deal with. But hey, it’s 2020, the most fucked up year in modern life, right?

(In the middle of all of this, I started training for new job that I found out I won’t have in two more months, a job that I’d been waiting on for several months, so this was unneeded stress, as well.)

The last time I posted, I briefly mentioned about people starting drama. Same people are also the type that constantly say they “don’t do drama” and even post it on their social media as if to prove it. Actions and words never seem to match with some, however, do they? This is probably the last time I will mention Biker Guy, and now I have a name for his female friend that he used to date – Bangs – (because a friend of mine said she needed bangs to cover her big forehead).

Bangs and I were chatting every so often about Biker Guy’s downward spiral that he’s supposedly “working on”, about men and dating in general, and miscellaneous things. I was busy last week and didn’t do much chatting, was minding my own business and clearing my head for the new job training. Suddenly, I got a text from Bangs with an unflattering selfie saying, “hey girl,” which I thought was really unusual, because she’s never sent me photos or spoken to me like we were best buddies.

In her photo, I could tell Bangs was on a boat and appeared drunk, so I asked if she was on a date. Her reply was to send me a photo of her and some kids and Biker Guy. I was like what the fuck??!! I asked her what this was all about and why did she send that to me?  She replied with a short video of herself and Biker Guy sitting close and eating in a restaurant. She looked wasted as hell, burped at the camera (someone else was taking the video). Of course, in my mind (also in the minds of everyone else that I showed it to), by the way everything was sent, it seemed like Bangs was rubbing in my face that she was with him and not me. Then she said they are together only as friends. Then she said “he’s a dick.” In the meantime, I was driving home in a storm during all of this and about wrecked my car. I was SO upset, I was shaking. Why in the fuck did she send me all of that???

Here I am minding my own business and trying to heal and move on with my life, so why was that necessary? I kept asking Bangs why, what was the point, what was she getting out of that, but I wasn’t exactly getting answers. I told her what a shitty thing she did, and when she sobers up she will realize what a shitty thing she did to a person that is already hurting and didn’t deserve that. Then I told her that I think they really do like each other, because if he’s such a dick, why do they spend so much time together? I took a screenshot of her messages, posted and tagged her on Facebook, and it stayed on her page for everyone to see for probably about 20 minutes. I ended it by telling Bangs they both deserve each other. And then I blocked that trainwreck.

I was DONE. I do NOT play games like that. Talk about drama! Then I texted Biker Guy, asked why in the hell they would start this drama, called him some names (specifically, a cocksucking motherfucker), said they deserved each other, said they could both rot in hell (except that I was voice texting and it came out “rotten hell” lmao), and then I blocked his stupid, shitty lying ass, so I have no idea if he bothered responding. (He’s a pussy, so doubtful.)

The entire incident made me wonder if they were both playing games the entire time and lying to me, if they were really more than friends the entire time, if he likes it when she’s drunk because maybe she’s easy and not “just friends” and well – he bangs Bangs – and if she was telling him everything I said to her (not that it mattered). I felt like I’d been played by two people, and it opened up something I hadn’t seen before: White trash, low class can kiss my ass!

Seriously, they can have each other! The entire incident was such a turn-off spiritually. I want no part of people that are spiritually dead and find entertainment in hurting others. It completely astounded me that a 50-year-old woman with grandchildren would play high school games like that, especially without probable cause. I really don’t think I have ever had that happen in my entire adult life. It really screwed up my night, because I barely slept at all and had to go to job training the following day. Not to mention, I am healing from all of this mess, so to have someone come in and throw a wrench probably took a toll on my immune system once again. I have been exhausted and not sleeping well as it is and realize I’m going through the grief process all over again. Breakups suck, and this added stress was total bullshit!

The only thing good that came out of this was realizing that I have been dating well below what I should be, and I need to stop being nice to everyone just because I was taught to be. Fuck that. It’s time to be nice to myself for once! Social distancing at its finest!

Beating Myself Up & Unsolicited Advice

I started writing this the other day, but was interrupted 35 times and never had the chance to finish. This entire week has been shit so far, and today I start a new job that I hope goes well after not sleeping all night due to trashy people starting drama (that will be a separate post). My anxiety is through the roof, and without sleeping well all week, it’s starting to depress me.

The other day was an exceptionally emotional day, and I’m not sure why. I was literally on the verge of tears, and as I was sitting in a public place, I was afraid I might show that weakness. And I fucking hate crying in front of people. Maybe it’s because it was nasty rainy weather, or maybe it’s because the cat had woken me up at 4 a.m., and I hadn’t slept enough. Or maybe because I realized that Biker Guy received his letter, gave no reply (didn’t expect one anyway), and the reality of being used sunk in.

I ask myself a lot of questions, like how do other people just go on with their lives like nothing has happened? And how do people move on from one person to the next without feeling? And how are people so cold-hearted and uncaring? I tend to do a pretty good job of beating myself up over things, especially when I’m the one that should be ghosting men and breaking hearts instead of vice versa. Here are just a few of the things that run through my mind when this happens:

What did I do wrong? Did I say something wrong? Am I too weird? Did I do something that offended them? Am I too fat? Are my boobs too saggy? Is my (insert body part here) (insert adjective here)? Do I not make enough money? Do I smell weird? Do they not like my house? Did I not do enough for them? Am I fucked up and don’t recognize it? Am I crazy?

And then I go about comparing myself to others, which is total shit. Sure, I get compliments from people all the time about various things, whether it be about talent or looks. But looks do fade, and so far, my talents have barely kept my head above water, so I can’t be that special, right?

I have to constantly remind myself to stop doing this, because it’s not helpful, and the reality is this: The only thing I’m doing wrong is believing and dating dishonest, immature, low-class fucking asshole men that should consider themselves lucky to even spend one minute alone with me… men I should have never given the time of day. Men that I should have friend-zoned, and sometimes not even that, just “zoned” altogether and left them out of my life completely.

I know I have friends and acquaintances that read this blog, but a lot of these people think they know me just by reading it. What they don’t understand is that this is only one thin layer of this onion, and by only reading things someone writes doesn’t mean you know anything about them at all, especially when you don’t hang out in person. It annoys the shit out of me when people try to give me unsolicited advice based on what I write, because I’m not here for advice; I’m here for my mental well being to spew my anger and unhealthy thoughts, because I have nowhere else to direct my feelings. These thoughts are not who I am, but they are a part of my experiences. I never asked you to read this. Same people are surrounded with other people all the time and have a good support system when times get tough, so they have no clue whatsoever what it’s like to be alone buried in your own thoughts and feeling alienated from the world. So for those of you that like to give me unsolicited advice and tell me how to live my life: I never asked you. As a matter of fact, you only piss me off even more, because we don’t hang out in person – ever – so you can shove your advice. If you’ve never experienced what I have, then shut the fuck up and solve your own problems, because you’re certainly not helping me at all.

Another Bad Memory Triggered

Spending holidays alone sucks, but like a lot of people, there have been times not dealing with family issues makes it better. Unlike most children, I dreaded the holidays most of the time, because they were so unpleasant. Here is an excerpt from chapter six of my book, Unheard:

The longer the holiday vacation, the more I dread it. For at least two weeks each December, a half of a week in November, plus a week during the spring, while everyone else looks forward to going on vacations, hanging out with friends, and having fun, I feel as if I am the only kid in the world wishing that I am still in school.

Before Marcus came along, I enjoyed the holidays. But with him around, there is sure to be an argument or other miserable time, listening to him complain and snark about everything, especially anything I do. It also means he drinks more. There are no parties, no friends, and no true laughter except to ridicule others. The only family gatherings I look forward to are at Gramma and Papa’s because it is the only time that I feel safe from Marcus’s barking at my every little move.

Another excerpt:

Sometimes holidays seem like they are going fine until Marcus says something to destroy the joy.

“Are you going to see your dad today?” Rose asks.

“Yes, I’m going to see Daddy and my other grandma later,” I tell her.

“Daddeeee,” Marcus mocks me in a snobbish, nasally tone, while he and his stupid stinky father and brothers laugh, as if I can’t hear them.

“Daddy buys her whatever she wants,” Marcus tells everyone.

That isn’t true at all. The truth is that Daddy buys me things for Christmas or my birthday that I need, like new shoes for church or a bicycle to ride to school. Just because he gives me nice things from the store instead of from the garbage doesn’t mean I’m spoiled. Marcus mocks me and says mean things about my Daddy because he knows it makes me furious. He does it at home when no one else is listening. He enjoys taunting me because I am his only witness, and he gets away with it because no one does anything about it. If I get mad or react, he calls me a brat and finds a way to punish me. I know he does it on purpose, but there is nothing I can do about it. He is sneaky.

Growing up, smaller holidays such as Labor Day and Independence Day, were just as bad, because it usually meant more drinking and more fighting and chaos, and for whatever stupid reason, I’d up getting punished somehow. So as an adult, I want to enjoy whatever I can to make up for it, and my family does not get together on these holidays at all.

Two years ago on the Fourth of July, I enjoyed myself by spending the day kayaking and watching fireworks – alone. While I really wished I had someone to share my day with, I tried to make the best of it. Last year on the same day, I was invited on a boat with a group of people, most of which I didn’t know. As a water lover, I jumped at the chance, because I rarely get to go boating. (It was also the last time I’ve been on a boat.) I attempted to enjoy myself as much as possible but ended up dealing with some miserable Mean Girls, then I met up with Biker Guy (we had met around that time) at a waterfront bar for drinks and fireworks.

This year due to Covid restrictions, most people I know made no plans, and city firework displays were canceled. However, people had private sky shows, which were really nice, and I sat at a beachside park by myself to view them, again wishing I had someone special with me while I watched families and couples around me enjoying their time together. (It’s a very odd feeling to be in public on a day like that when you’re alone, but it reminds you of who and what matters in your life.)

Once I’d learned the truth about how Biker Guy spent his evening without me this year, it
added to every shitty holiday I’d ever had. Again, I felt as if I was being “punished” for something I wasn’t even sure I’d done. I couldn’t wrap my head around any of it, and I still can’t, because he has no excuse for what he did. Although he apologized, I’m unsure as to how sincere it was in the beginning, and he can’t even explain his own actions.

To be continued…

Discovering a Betrayal is a Stab to the Heart

Yesterday I’d written about Biker Guy and realizing I’m just an option to him, no matter how much he tries to convince me otherwise. Actions speak far more than any words.

On Monday, I’d taken a nice long walk on the beach to clear my head, and I told myself that I’m going to stop doing so much for him and do my own thing, because I felt like I was being used and not taking care of my own needs, and he wasn’t helping me in any way. I felt confident about my decision, and I told him I’m not happy with his behavior and I refuse to enable him, and that I’m perfectly happy being single if he doesn’t have time for me. Of course, he told me what women want to hear; I just needed physical proof this time. Also, in his accident from Saturday night, he’d received a ticket for leaving the scene, but it happened in front of his house, so I’m unsure what exactly occurred.

Then I stopped at a friend’s house for some “girl time,” so I could get some things off my chest. Biker Guy had texted me a lot while I was there (he does that when I’m “unavailable” for him). I’d also sent him a Facebook friend request, because after all, we’d been friends for an entire year, and if I’m going to be dating someone, I think we should be on each other’s social media pages at least. Once he accepted, I saw photos I had never seen before – many of him and the other woman he dated, and it made me resentful that out of all of the time I’d known him, I was never mentioned anywhere about anything, and it also appeared as if he’d made a lot of time to do things with her… so what was wrong with him doing the same for me? It made me feel like shit.

There were some other things that I questioned due to the timestamps on the posts – because last year when he was blowing me off, there are photos of them together. At that point, I decided it was time for me to contact this woman and find out her side of the story, because I wasn’t sure if he’d been telling me the truth. The good news is, he had been honest about them dating and breaking up during the times he said; however, she’d told me that he’d contacted her a few times wanting to hang out after she broke it off, and she reminded him that they were only friends. Now this really concerned me, because I didn’t know if he had been doing this while he was with me, if he’s playing us both trying to get laid or what the fuck is going on. It also explains why he begged me not to contact her weeks ago – because when he told me he was out “riding with the guys” he was with that group of friends. Why wasn’t I invited? I mean, he knew most of my friends and even my family, so what the fuck is going on here?

In the meantime, Biker Guy knew that I was sitting at my friend’s house talking about him and was texting me to come over. I told him no, that I wasn’t going to his house; if he wants to see me, he has to make the effort. Then I started questioning him about some of the things I’d seen, and at some point he said that he loved me, but I didn’t believe it. And then shit hit the fan.

The woman I’d contacted was very nice, and our conversation did ease some of my suspicions, which is why I wish I’d done it sooner (we are now friends on Facebook). Without me even asking, just in general conversation, she’d mentioned she’d seen Biker Guy on Saturday night with their friends. I asked this Saturday, as in the Fourth of July? I was not expecting her to say yes. I was shocked, because this was during the time he’d been texting me that he was fixing that truck. I asked what time, and he was sitting there at seven o’clock when she arrived. I was floored. Before I knew all of the details, I’d confronted him, and he said he went after fixing the truck, which was another lie, because I had timestamps for all of the texts! Not only that, but he’d told that same group of friends that he’d been fixing a truck all day when he was really with me! What. The. Fuck.

Biker Guy had texted me at 6:30 saying he was heading up to fix the truck. He’d continued messaging me about every hour saying he was still working on it up until 10:15pm saying he had another half hour or so and heading home, even still apologizing that he “had to work.” At 10:30 he’d had the accident, according to the police log – so he’d been sitting at the bar/restaurant the entire time while I was sitting alone watching private fireworks and wishing I’d been with the man I care about, all along thinking he was making a lot of money that he really needed to fix a fucking fictitious truck! He had made up a truly elaborate lie… for what? What reason?? If he didn’t want to be with me, then he should have just said something, and I’d have moved on. I still don’t know. I’m not sure I will ever know, because I haven’t seen him since.

At that point, I saw nothing but red. My friend was trying to talk to me, and I was in a rage inside my head that I couldn’t think straight. I was so angry, definitely more angry than the night I lost my shit on someone in public. I knew there was no turning back from that point on in this relationship, because if I do, then I’m enabling him to treat me poorly again. Besides, what trust I had built was demolished. I refused to go to his house to listen to his bullshit explanation, but I went full on psycho with text messages until late at night, called him every name in the book, and screamed so loud I’m sure my neighbors thought I was being murdered. Then I slept for a few hours, woke up and sent him more psycho texts. (I say “psycho” because there were numerous ones asking questions, telling him off, calling him names, etc. all day while he was at work. I would never threaten anyone, nor did I wish bad things.)

I did NOT deserve this treatment, and it made me physically ill to think I’d just made his breakfast that morning, went out of my way to do dinner we never got to have, not to mention the fact he’d had sex with me that afternoon before “going to work on the truck,” ditching me on a holiday knowing that anyone who truly loved me would have loved to be with me. I am sick over it, brokenhearted, no appetite, and I’ve had to drug myself just to get to sleep. My anxiety and depression that I finally had under control came rushing back. I feel as if I’ve been punched – no, kicked – in the stomach. I am forcing myself to eat, even if it’s a few bites of something, because the last time I got fucked over by someone I was in love with, I didn’t eat for four months.

I had and still have so many questions as to WHY he thought it was okay for him to do that. He was the last person I’d expect to do something like this, because we’d both recently been opening up to each other, and I was trusting him more. I felt closer to him than ever before, and that’s saying a lot, because I don’t get close to anyone. And then it was gone within seconds. Oh, and did I mention he had asked me to go to New York with him where his family lives? Yeah, so this was a huge blow that he’d ask me that but ditch me and lie about it to be with local friends.

He hasn’t found the time to explain anything to me, which is not a surprise at all, although what possible explanation could he give without creating more lies? This was an outright PLANNED lie, stringing me along, and it didn’t even allow me to make my own plans. Even writing about this now is making me feel sick and anxious inside. And just minutes prior to me finding this out, he tells me he loves me? I’m so fucking confused at this point, I don’t know what to think. More lies, more manipulation – and I deserved NONE of it!

When I was done being angry yesterday, I was driving home and suddenly, out of nowhere, the tears flooded. I bawled for a while, because I knew that it was over for good, and it hurt as if someone had died. It almost felt like I’d been cheated on, which is a horrible sinking stabbing in the stomach feeling. No matter how hard I had tried, he treated me like he hated me, like an option, like a friend with benefits – definitely not the way you treat someone you care about or “love” at all. I knew that not only was I having to start over not seeing him anymore, I’m having to heal all over again after him ghosting me and me forgiving that, except this time there won’t be a third chance.

Realizing You’re Just an Option in a Relationship

Life has been a complete rollercoaster the past few weeks, and my head hasn’t been clear enough to sit and write about it. After a follow-up appointment with my surgeon, I had to have another unexpected biopsy, which really scared the shit out of me because of what the doctor had asked me. I was super stressed out not knowing the outcome and waiting on results, but luckily, everything came back fine.

Since my last post about him in May, I had still been seeing Biker Guy. Some friends have convinced me to “just try” things out with someone, and even though it’s against my better judgment, I did it anyway. Things this time around went from bad, then okay and seemingly good again, then bad to worse. My head has been spinning about it all, and I can no longer deal with the complete mindfuck ups and downs that I’ve been tolerating. The last incident has completely broken our relationship to the point that I’m unsure we can even still be friends, because what he did is unforgivable and irreparable, because true friends that care about you do not do what he did, which is super depressing and disheartening. My heart is broken over this, but I’m not going to allow it to affect me the way I was affected by another asshole that treated me poorly.

These are the past posts about Biker Guy in chronological order:

Realizations About Suppressed Feelings 
Getting Rejected By Male Friends
Blocked Again
Eye in the Sky

Biker Guy has been gaslighting me – big time. His actions and words do not match, and when I bring it up to him, he still insists saying what he claims is the truth, but everything came to a big head the other day. Whenever I’ve questioned him about anything, he either avoids it or gives me vague answers. Compared to when I’d met him a year ago, I feel like I don’t even know this person anymore, and to know how much effort I put into this makes me feel stupid for wasting my time on someone that obviously doesn’t give a rat’s ass about my feelings and treats me as an option. I’ve come to the conclusion that he’s selfish and all about himself, and how I didn’t see that earlier, I have no idea.

Instead of fixing my car as promised (there are multiple things – one is a big job that I’ve been waiting on for a year, the others are much smaller) or even helping me hang a mirror at my house or small things that women may need help with that their boyfriends do for them, he was still helping out everyone else, and just as I’d suspected, he even fixed the vehicle for the woman he was dating a few months back – but lied to me and said his friend was a “he.” Lying like that makes me suspicious, makes me wonder what he’s hiding, because if they are only friends like he claimed, why lie?? (Personally, I think he still has a thing for her, because men want what they can’t have, and apparently she doesn’t want him.)

Another lie is when he first came back to me in April, he told me I had been the last person he was with sexually, but I felt that was a lie because he had been dating someone before, so I made him use a condom. He’d claimed it had been a “long time” since he’d had sex. It was actually in the heat of the moment when he’d told me I was the last person he was with sexually. Fast forward to my doctor’s appointment mentioned above, the truth came out that he had been with the woman he was dating when he ghosted me, which I’d suspected anyway, because who dates for three months and doesn’t have sex? This is the type of shit that I can no longer tolerate – constant lies and manipulation and outright selfishness. Then he claimed he did not tell me things when I know for a fact he did, because there are certain things that I do not forget, and that was one of them. Classic gaslighting.

I spent Memorial Day weekend alone while he went out on a planned boat ride with his friends, and that included the woman he was dating prior – and he failed to mention this to me. Without me knowing the actual truth about anything, of course I jumped to conclusions, because what else was I supposed to think?? Were they really friends? Were they friends with benefits when I wasn’t around? Was the boat actually to full capacity, and that’s the reason I wasn’t invited, or was he lying to me again? I was pissed that I wasn’t even invited, yet here I was having a relationship with him, cooking meals, helping him deal with things, sharing my body… and I felt like total shit being left alone on a holiday. I should have contacted the other woman during that time, because it would have relieved my suspicions at least; however, it still didn’t make me feel good that he was leaving me alone on a holiday while he’s having a good time, yet we’re supposed to be in a “relationship.”

Progress in the relationship was slow. It dawned on me that everything we did was about him, his wants, his needs, his friends, his whatever – but my time… he had never asked me what I would like to do. He would never plan a thing with me more than a day in advance – and this really got to me, and I let him know it. While he did manage to find some actual time for us to spend together at the beach when he got off work a few times, I still felt like I had to fight for quality time with him. He was always tired after work, which is understandable, but often would fall asleep shortly after dinner. I actually met a few of his friends from his biker club for the first time, which at the time I felt was progress in the relationship, since I’d never met any of his friends, yet he’d met many of mine and my family – he’d been the only man in over 7 years of  being single that I’d taken to my mother’s house. He claimed he’s working on changing a lot of things about his lifestyle, and while I did see a bit of effort, it was short-lived. Unless I cooked his meals or he ordered takeout, he simply did not eat, but he was still drinking. He was also smoking, which is something he wasn’t doing when we met, and I’m not one to date smokers whatsoever; however, he claimed he was quitting. But every time I saw “progress,” something else would happen to set us back in the relationship.

Due to a “miscommunication,” one weekday afternoon, he went out without me even though we’d had plans together. I went off on him about doing that to me, because all I’ve done is wait around for him, wait for him to hear from his friends or whomever he had to “help” every other day instead of making actual plans with me. This was such a shitty habit, and it certainly didn’t make me feel like anything more than his friend with benefits, except that he’s the one reaping the benefits. He ended up getting hurt on his bike while he was on his way to pick me up, and I went to his house to help him, because he was worse off than he thought. He could barely walk for a couple of days, so I waited on him hand and foot. I didn’t mind it, because that’s what you do for the people you care about, and he had cared for me during my surgery last year.

Over the past few weeks, his behavior became a lot more aggressive on the sexual side, and it seemed like all he wanted to talk about was how horny he was and how hard his dick was and things he wanted to do to me. That was such a turnoff to me, because obviously, there is more to a relationship than sex and cooking meals; plus, I prefer a lot of mental stimulation that I wasn’t getting. I started feeling used, because I was still “serving” him so to speak and getting nothing in return. Then one night he was super aggressive in the bedroom when my back was hurting and he was massaging me, but some men can’t just allow women to be comfortable without insisting on having sex, even when I repeatedly said no and had to yell to stop. It really made me upset and feel differently about him, but once he realized what he’d done, he apologized for his behavior. Still, it brought me back mentally to other times I’d said no and had no control over the situation.

Fourth of July weekend rolled around, and for the first time since I’ve known him, he actually had the entire weekend off with no mentioned plans. Due to the fireworks being shutdown from Covid and unpredictable rain we’ve been having, we didn’t make any actual plans except to go to the beach on Saturday (4th of July) and play everything else by ear. I had stayed the night at his house on Friday, cooked dinner and breakfast for he and his temporary roommate (did this on multiple occasions), ran home on Saturday to prepare some food for us to eat that evening, then back to his house before heading to the beach. (Note that I’m doing all of this running around, which started getting tiresome.)

While I’m sitting there waiting on us to leave for the beach, he announces he might have to go fix a truck. Really? On a holiday? I said no, we are going to the beach, that is our plan, you never spend weekends off with me, and how could you put this on me when we’re literally about to walk out the door? I also reiterated how I have spent most holidays alone for the past 7 years, so it’s a big deal to me. We went to the beach for a short time before it rained, and the entire time he was worried about this truck he had to fix (but at the same time being sexually aggressive). Again, I was super annoyed that once again, I did not have his full attention when we’re together. I began to think that he doesn’t like spending time with me, because if he does, why is this always an issue? I have been in relationships in which I didn’t feel that way, so I know something wasn’t right with this. However, he was motivated to have sex with me before going to fix this truck, which made me feel super used. He claimed he really needed the money and was going to get paid very well and would have his foot in the door with this company that might lead to better things. Although I was still pissed about it, I understood the need for quick money, and he apologized.

I’d left his house around dinnertime that afternoon, and Biker Guy texted me throughout the evening about the truck getting fixed and how he made great money, again saying he was sorry for having to go. I was happy for him about that. Around 10:30 that evening he texted saying he was about done with the truck, he’d call me in the morning after he had gotten some things done (again, helping “a friend” with something, always friends with no names).

On Sunday morning, Biker Guy sent me a text that he’d been in an accident on his way home from fixing the truck. First, I couldn’t believe he hadn’t contacted me when it happened, but I was suspicious about his story, because things didn’t add up and he wasn’t exactly talkative. I was certain he was drunk when he hit the parked car, but of course he claims he’d only had a few beers because he’d been working on that truck. I had my doubts, because he looked hungover, and I was pissed at him for it. Of course, that incident ruined the rest of the weekend, because he went to help someone move some things and then went home for the rest of the day. So there I found myself once again available for someone that was too busy to spend quality time with me – because once again – he had yet another thing to deal with that he’d brought upon himself. I was super pissed by then.

I had a good night of sleep that evening, so on Monday I woke up feeling pretty good for once. I had decided I need to focus more on myself, drink less, take better care of myself, lose the weight I gained over the past year, and do the things that I liked – and if Biker Guy wanted to join me, then he could. But at that point I was done going out of my way for him if he wasn’t going to help himself or find quality time to spend with me. I could lead a horse to water… but some horses are mules.

But then something else happened that completely changed the course of everything. I will post that tomorrow.

The U.S. is a Shit Show & Social Distancing is Great

I have so much to write about, so much going on in my head, but putting things into words lately has been difficult. I have dealt with some batshit crazy people in my life, but today’s world has put the icing on the cake. This is not the same country I served, and these modern times aren’t exactly what I had in mind when I joined the military. None of the goings-on in the world today are anything anyone from my generation ever expected. The complete lack of respect for anything or anyone has gone out the window. Teachers are wrong, cops are wrong, everyone and everything is wrong, but everyone else is to blame. There is zero accountability, and that’s what’s really scary.

Today’s media is the Enquirer of the grocery store check-out aisle – sensational news, false information, and clickbait – and it’s amazing how many people actually believe all of it without thinking rationally, only reading misleading headlines. Our country is a complete shit-show to the rest of the world, and god forbid any of us to have an actual opinion about it and express it without offending someone to the point they find out your address, hunt you down, and threaten your life.

The people of the United States are fucking insane. The entire country was first divided by political candidates, now add in mask-wearers vs non-mask-wearers and erasing white history vs keeping white history alive. People show their true colors behind keyboards, lifelong friendships ending over some of the dumbest things I’ve ever seen. And then there are the people that think it’s their right to tell you how to think and what to do, that if you don’t vote, you’re part of the problem, that if you do vote you must vote in their favor or else you’re a libtard, a repuke, or whatever other names insecure control freaks come up with. That if you don’t wear a mask to fend off Covid-19, you’re a horrible person trying to kill your grandmother. That if you do wear a mask, you’re falling into a trap of compliance for a hoax virus. If you agree with the tearing down of statues, you’re a horrible person that doesn’t understand history; if you don’t agree, you’re also a horrible person that doesn’t understand history.

No one is winning, so I sit back and think for myself, do whatever the hell I want, when I want, and how I want. And if someone doesn’t like it? They can kiss off. I don’t need the media or the government telling me what to do. I take most of it with a grain of salt and think for myself and do what I feel is best for me. I don’t feel the need to tell anyone my opinion unless I know we agree on things, because why start an argument? It’s not worth it. Plus, does my opinion really matter except to anyone trying to start something?

I have limited my time on social media and catching up with news just because I don’t care to see all of the negativity. It’s SO unhealthy! (Instead, I’ve been doing other unhealthy things, like not working out and eating cookies!) The best way to deal with this shit show is to work on myself and stay the hell away from people, because the only thing good coming out of this is social distancing!

Owning Your Power & Healing

Owning your power can be a scary process, because oftentimes we don’t understand just how powerful we are.

“Enough is enough,” I told myself one day. I had to teach myself that no matter what, I must refuse relationships that are no longer beneficial to my spiritual well being – even if it means excluding family members and outdated friends.

Being raised in a controlling and manipulative environment, I had learned that I had no power. My power belonged to someone else. If I knew in my heart that something was the color blue, I was told that it was red, and I was forced to acknowledge that it was red even against my own honor. The environment would then be manipulated enough so that things would appear red, and then I would question my own sanity and doubt myself. This type of behavior followed me into adulthood, and it caused many issues in relationships and other situations. I doubted myself many times when I should not have. I didn’t trust myself, and I didn’t trust my own instincts, and I found myself in many, many abusive situations that caused much heartache.

It was a learned behavior, but I was determined to unlearn it all in order to become the person that I was meant to be and to heal once and for all. What has been ingrained in your life over several years can sometimes take several more years to unlearn. Years of therapy and self-help books and seminars are a good start, but most importantly, the support received from those around us is the foundation of our healing system. Finding the right “family”, so to speak, is where self-healing truly begins. Acknowledging our power and practicing using it goes right along with that first step. Knowing that we can change our own lives by using that power is a freedom that we all deserve.

However, there are other obstacles to overcome in the process. Once I reclaimed my power, those that I had released from my life didn’t take kindly to it. They provoked, prodded, accused, blamed, and hurled insults at me. I became their dartboard for all of their own problems because I chose to step away and refuse to tolerate their abusive behavior. I was tested time and time again with the same types of people and situations until I learned not to react, which is a very difficult lesson to learn. It was then that I was finally no longer a part of that wicked cycle of drama.

During my own personal process of reclaiming my power, a new friend with an old soul confided in me about her own similar situation. “When one person changes her behavior, the others that are a part of the group get upset because now they must also change. And no one likes change!” she told me. Her truth resonated in me and helped me to see my own situation in a bigger perspective.

After a few years, some of these people finally started to understand my position, because they were forced to change as well. That’s when relationships began to heal, and my power became stronger, because then I realized it was respected. Owning my power is still a process, because unlearning something isn’t overnight or even a few weeks. It can sometimes be years of learning, but once you start, it feels great.

Last Week, Bitches Be Crazy

Last week was one that can totally kiss my ass. Besides dealing with lack of sleep, horrible allergies and migraines due to the weather, other potential health issues, dealing with crazy bitches made me want to hibernate in a dark corner and not speak to anyone – ever! It literally ended with me in tears that I’d been holding back and almost feeling that downward spiral of depression again. I don’t know if it was the full moon that also made people crazy last week, but holy hell, I started having flashbacks to junior high school bullies. I seriously felt attacked for no reason or incredibly stupid reasons that shed some light on how dumb people really are.

I do believe that social isolation brings out the worst in some people. Even people that I used to consider friends showed their batshit-crazy, narcissistic, attention-whore sides that do not deserve a place in my life. That is how my week began – and it happened to be over something completely stupid – a miscommunication in the beginning that turned into something else entirely. Without going into too much detail (because it was SO stupid it truly is a waste of time explaining), a so-called 13-year friendship ended just like that. I wouldn’t consider this person a close friend, but one in which we shared things in common, communicated and vented to each other about our personal problems and issues – the way women friends typically do. Other than that, I can now see that she was more of a “what can someone do for me” type of person. (As a matter of fact, I see this a lot in some of the people that I’ve distanced myself from.) So I asked myself the question, “Am I going to miss this friendship?” It only took me about two whole seconds to conclude that no, I will not, because true friends don’t treat people like they’re disposable over something so incredibly stupid. Besides, she is extremely vengeful with so much negativity and resentment within her, the toxicity looks like a smoking chimney. I don’t need, nor do I care about, being around dark energy, because it’s just gross, and this is also one reason I’ve avoided visiting her in person.

Everyone gets offended by the dumbest shit anymore, and no matter what good intentions are in place, someone will come around and make it into something it’s not without asking for an explanation – just jumping to the worst conclusions their sorry little brains can come up with. Social media is awful like that. There is a Facebook group in which people post crazy/weird things that people are selling, often making fun of things. Some things are truly comical, but other times I think people are just plain mean. A young woman was selling a crocheted item to wear, and there were a lot of body shaming comments. I happened to make the comment that it was cute if you’re a size zero. I wasn’t saying the woman in the photo should be a size zero (she was thin), I had meant it as if I were a size zero, because I have never been that size and not even close to it now. I meant nothing else by it except referring to myself, but oh-my-god! I had numerous notifications from my comment – got slammed for body shaming, called a bitch, told that my attitude was “I am a perfect size zero and everyone else should be too” – all coming from young women that didn’t understand my comment, and when I tried to explain my intention, it only became worse. These ignorant keyboard commandos jumped on the bandwagon just like kids do in middle school, and when I told them all to get a life and blocked them, I got banned from the group. Just like that. I was banned before I could remove myself, which really pissed me off, because I wanted to choose how I left. I had a few conversations with others in which we discussed how some of these Facebook group admins/moderators let everything go to their heads as if their group is really meaningful in the whole scheme of life. No, it’s not, especially when the posts are negative things and makes fun of people. Imagine if these moderators were given actual power in real life – they would fall before they could even rise to the second step of the ladder.

Then on Thursday evening, I noticed something on my leg that hadn’t been there before. It was small and round (about the size of the tip of a felt marker), raised, and appeared blackish. At first, I thought maybe it was a tiny tick or an ingrown hair, and when I squeezed it, blood came out. I was Facetiming with my daughter and showed it to her, and she freaked out saying that it was melanoma. I had to view it under a magnifying glass, and when compared to photos online of melanoma, it did appear very similar to skin cancer, so I was very worried.

The following morning, I emailed my doctor (a new one the VA assigned that I haven’t yet met). Instead of calling me, I received an email that I was being given yet another round of antibiotics – the second time in a couple of months this same doctor has prescribed them without seeing me in person and not actually needing them. I thought maybe they mixed me up with someone else, because antibiotics obviously don’t treat melanoma, and I needed to be seen. I emailed again asking what they were for, and I was told for a tick bite. Since it wasn’t the first or second time miscommunication via email with the VA clinic has happened, I questioned as to whether or not they were thoroughly reading what I sent and said I’m not taking another round of antibiotics, because I was just on them (also still causing stomach issues and depression). I attempted to call as to have better communication, was sent to the wrong line, stood on hold forever, called back and no one answered at all, which is typical of the VA system.

Well, I guess my email struck a nerve, because I finally got a call from the doctor completely bitching me out for questioning her reading my emails thoroughly. When I attempted telling her I think they mixed me up with someone else, called and couldn’t get through, she raised her voice and spoke over me that I didn’t explain myself, that nothing is wrong with the system (total bullshit!). While she was yelling at me on the phone, I raised my own voice and said, “I’m not going to argue with you, I know what I said in my email,” and she kept going. I came very close to hanging up on her and stopped listening. Shut down and felt helpless.

I was already upset from having a shitty week, not sleeping or feeling well, and worried I might have skin cancer, and for her to speak to me like garbage brought me to tears. She basically called me a liar, claimed I said nothing in my email about melanoma nor did I request to be seen, and I when I tried to say something must be wrong with the email system, she told me it was my fault, that it must be me and not the VA! Yes, that’s what she said, and I couldn’t believe it! Oh-my-fucking-god, you bet your ass I almost completely lost it on this woman! (I don’t know how long she’s been working for the VA clinic, but she’s not going to last long with that shitty attitude!)

I mean, it’s even in my “sent” folder for fuck sakes, and it literally reads in the subject line “Appointment: melanoma” with the attached photo – and shows as being “read.” She claimed she didn’t see melanoma anywhere, did not see where I requested to be seen, and did not receive a photo, and I told her the VA needs to update their system and fix it, because I know what I sent. She finally calmed down and said the clerks would need to call me to schedule the appointment to be seen. I get to meet her next week, and I’m not looking forward to it. I swear, if she says or does one thing during that appointment that I don’t like, I will get up and leave and request a different doctor and report her, because nobody deserves to be treated that way. I hate the fact that the doctor I’ve been seeing for two years is gone and I’m stuck with whomever they have available.

Later that evening, I ended up not sleeping again. It was the night of the full moon, and I was feeling extremely emotional. I had a really good, long cry, and it was what I needed, because I tend to hold things in until I explode. And then I slept. Hard. But at least I felt better.

Lockdown Update & Thirsty Men

With most people at home for now, it’s mainly been quiet. It’s almost like a flashback to 1990-something before my area was too crowded and overdeveloped with traffic. And I love it! However, all of that is about to change, because Florida is about to open back up. If money wasn’t an issue, I’d like it just fine the way it is.

Because of the Covid-19 shutdowns, I figured I’d have written way more than I have. Hell, I should have written my next book by now! However, I have done some much needed healing both physically and emotionally, catching up on sleep and removing toxic people out of my life, and catching up on some personal and work projects. I have been extremely content with being isolated during this pandemic. In fact, I’m loving it! I haven’t experienced any depression and very little anxiety (mainly just needing exercise). I’ve even managed to meditate a few times, and now I realize that I have been surrounding myself with untrustworthy assholes and going to places that are spiritually damaging and dark, which I feel has contributed to so much of the depression I’ve been writing about. Visiting family or friends and/or getting out once a week is just enough for me.

During all of this, there are certainly some thirsty men out there that I’ve been either avoiding, rejecting, or just disinterested in a text conversation. I am worth more than being there for someone for their entertainment when they have nothing else to do. If they can’t hang out with me or be a friend in real life or we don’t have a business interest, I’m not interested in wasting my time. There are too many good books to read for that!

In the meantime, I’ve run into a few people unexpectedly. I’m pretty sure I saw Toe Ring Guy’s truck pass my house one day, and I know I passed him on the street just prior to the lockdown. He does live nearby, however, I don’t want to see him on my street.

I ran into King Nothing a few times, and we’re cordial. (I think he secretly loves being called King Nothing, because he loves attention.) Another guy I went out for sushi with once (not a date, since there was no interest on my part) sent a text after months of silence. Someone else was trying to hook up, and I just wanted to be alone. A few random local guys on Instagram are also attempting to make conversation. God forbid I post a selfie, because that just makes them send DMs.

This piece of shit sent me a message on POF without realizing who I am; I ignored him.
I saw the back of Mr. Volatile on a beach walk one day – and he sent me a message on POF again without recognizing me. I told him he needed to stop lying about his age, so he blocked me. That was definitely a good laugh.

And then I heard from my (close) friend that hadn’t talked to me in three months. The one that was supposed to fix my car. The one that helped me during my surgery last year. The one that suddenly started seeing someone right after the holidays. But that is another post altogether.

As I’m writing this, my phone dings a text from a number I don’t recognize. I ask who it is. It’s someone I’ve known since high school that has a tendency to show up every couple of years. It’s 11 p.m. That will also be another blog post or two…

Right now my biggest concern is keeping healthy both physically and mentally, and I feel that keeping myself away from most people is key to succeeding at that. I enjoy company and good conversation without anything difficult, so I’ve been sticking with family and female friends as to not complicate things. Although I feel like a stereotype for doing so, I enjoy time with my cat more than most people… has life really come to this?

Another Religious Reject

This is a continuation of Why I Reject Religion. The other day I saw an article about televangelist Kenneth Copeland who claimed the coronavirus is not that serious and that he can blow it away. Most people probably don’t know who this man is, but unfortunately for me, he was one of the many religious con artists I was forced to watch and listen to when I was a kid. This was during my middle school years, which were detrimental to social development and socializing with my peers, and as far as I knew, none of my friends (even the church ones) were made to watch these shyster programs. It was one of many things that make me reject religion today.

I had only lived in the cult-religious home with my father and stepmother Bianca during my seventh grade year – a year that I would never want to repeat if I time traveled. The restrictions were ludicrous; I wasn’t allowed to listen to the music I liked, dress like a normal kid, and I wasn’t allowed to go to other friend’s homes except the preacher’s daughter. Basically, if it was considered normal or something I enjoyed, I wasn’t allowed to do it. This is an excerpt from my memoir, Unheard:

I have a little radio that I listen to in my room, usually tuned to top 40 music. I like reading teen magazines with all of the latest, greatest posters of pop stars and teen idols, and at the same time I listen to music. I’m not allowed to hang posters in my room because it will ruin the walls, so I keep them in a drawer.

“What are you listening to?” Bianca asks while I am in my room, reading and listening to music. I can see in her face that she doesn’t like it, and something is wrong. I am afraid of what I have done.

“Men At Work,” I answer timidly.

“I’ve never heard of them,” she says.

I show her a poster of the group from one of my magazines.

“See? Here they are. They have good songs.”

“They look gay,” she says, crinkling her face.

“Huh? How can you tell?”

I’m not quite sure I understand what gay is, but I know the kids at schools say it means a man liking another man.

“They’re gay,” she repeats. “You can see it in their eyes. And look at their earrings. It means that they’re gay. It’s disgusting. Turn this music off, it’s making me sick to my stomach.”

I am confused. A lot of guys at school wear earrings, but they’re not gay; they have girlfriends. And how can a song about Australia make someone ill? I am offended and insulted! After all, something that I enjoy that is perfectly harmless is being used against me.

“But they’re not saying anything bad!” I cry.

“I don’t care what it’s about,” Bianca’s face contorts. “They’re homosexuals and it’s satanic! Just turn it off!”

I sulk the rest of the afternoon alone in my room. It’s not fair that I have to turn off something I like just because she thinks someone is gay. Who cares if they are gay if the music is good?

I try to keep my radio as quiet as possible and my bedroom door shut now so the music doesn’t make Bianca sick.

She opens my door.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

I look at her.

“Who is that on the radio?”

“Michael Jackson.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to listen to that garbage. The Jacksons are sinners.”

She hands me some tapes.

“Here’s Amy Grant and Sandi Patty for you to listen to. You like them, right?”

I don’t really care for the lame Christian music, but it’s better than listening to some of the other awful boring church stuff she has.

Music was just one of many meaningful things taken away from me due to ridiculous religious beliefs. I had to hide some of my friendships, because Bianca wouldn’t allow those, either. This is another excerpt from Unheard:

Sabrina is allowed to have me over once, with her father there, but Bianca says she must come to our house first to meet her.

“She seems loose,” Bianca says after Sabrina leaves. I don’t know what that means, but I know it doesn’t mean anything nice.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Bianca doesn’t like me questioning her, but I think I have a right to know why she says the things she does about my friends.

“The way she dresses… those pants,” her face scrunches up. “I don’t want you going over there.”

“Parachute pants? That’s what all of the kids in school wear.”

“She looks like a French whore.”

“What does that mean!” I yell and cry. How dare she call my friend such an undeserving name! I do an about face and stomp right into my room.

Bianca doesn’t like any of my new friends; she is just as judgmental and picky about the kids from church. She is starting to get that way about me, too.

Things gradually worsened throughout the school year. My body started developing when I was nine, so by the time I was twelve, I was wearing women’s normal bra sizes. When a child’s body develops faster than her mind, she is still a child inside, even though many adults don’t seem to realize that. (A good analogy would be seeing a 9-month-old puppy looking like a grown dog, but it’s still a puppy.) Bianca wouldn’t even allow me to wear certain items in our own home, and I didn’t understand any of this over-the-top bullshit:

You need to wear your robe,” Bianca announces.

“You mean over this?” I question, tugging at my long shirt.

I am wearing an old, red, thick, oversized t-shirt nightgown she’d given me last year. It hangs on me like a potato sack, right past my knees.

“Yes,” she says. “I can see your nipples.”

“How? You can’t see through it. I can’t see through it. It’s thick like a shirt.”

“I can see the outline of your nipples. Go put a robe on. You can’t be walking around your dad like that.”

It is over 75 degrees, and I’m not allowed to wear a t-shirt?

“But it’s hot,” I whine.

“Susanna!” she snaps. “Put your robe on or go to bed now!”

Dad is in the other room on the computer.

Why doesn’t he defend me at all? I’m not doing anything wrong! This is ridiculous!

I am starting to get sick of Bianca’s weirdness with everything that I do. I decide to go to my room instead of look at her.

Those were just a few of the things that Bianca did to ruin my life as a twelve-year-old. My father never stood up for me, and over time, things progressively became worse. I didn’t realize then what I know now that Bianca was trying to shape me into something I wasn’t, and when she figured out she couldn’t, I was banned from the family. I will explore some of that later…

No Coronavirus, but Still in Quarantine

Today is the first day I’ve felt mostly normal in two weeks. I’ve been cooped up in my house with a head cold and back injury all at once. The head cold is pretty much gone, but allergies are really bad right now, so sometimes it’s hard to tell what is what. One thing definitely caused by allergies when I go outside is my throat closing up to the point that I nearly lost my voice. I’m just trying to determine what is actually going to kill me in the long run.

Two weeks ago I hurt my back from picking up a bag of soil and twisting at the same time. It became progressively worse to the point that I could barely walk, could hardly bend, and doing daily tasks have been extremely difficult. Today I managed to do very little of an online yoga class, because spasms took over. Not only am I frustrated, because I cannot physically do what I need to, but the head cold and medication cause mental blockage to the point I can’t concentrate. Now I am two weeks behind in getting anything done, which exacerbates anxiety.

The only time I’ve been in this much pain is right after a major surgery – and yes, it hurt that bad. I guess I’m used to healing quickly and getting back to normal life, except this time it ain’t happening on my terms. It hasn’t even been a year yet since I had the first surgery and not even 6 months since the last one, so my body’s healing ability has been in overdrive, and I’m sure getting older has a lot to do with that. This is another reason I’ve chosen to socially distance myself, because I’m more prone to catching something, and I’ll be damned if some batshit virus is going to take me out.

With all of that going on, insomnia kicks in when I’m in pain. I literally had to roll over to get myself out of bed, because sitting up was not an option. I’ve been taking 600 mg of ibuprofen, but I don’t think it works well. Muscle relaxers help a little to sleep, but otherwise they make my head feel loopy.

The pain was the exact same way I felt right after surgery, when the CO2 gas was working its way upwards out of my body. I cannot imagine living like that for long, because it’s pretty excruciating. I am not rested well, which of course isn’t helping the healing process, and having a head cold on top of it makes it slower to heal. I’ve been going to bed at a reasonable hour and waking up around midnight or other early a.m. hours, unable to get back to sleep for a few hours at a time. Sometimes I don’t get to sleep until the sun is coming up, so my entire morning is screwed up.

I know I’ve been dreaming a lot, and I should be writing them down. Last night I finally slept decently and dreamt. But now for the life of me, I cannot remember what the dreams were about. Right now I wish I had someone to rub my feet, feed me, and tell me I’m pretty. HA! Wishful thinking.

Feeling Worthless & Random Thoughts

My day began with getting woken up by my cat and not actually getting back to sleep, so I’m not exactly feeling good physically. It got worse when I got up and learned I’d been locked out of my Facebook account that I’ve had since 2013. I had jokingly changed my name about a month or so ago, but Facebook wouldn’t allow me to change it back for 90 days. I suppose someone reported me as a fake account, even though I run my biz pages from that account, have things for sale on that account, have my phone number associated with my account, have used credit cards for business on that account, and god knows what else they have that I’m not even aware of. They have more than enough of my personal information to prove I’m not a fake account. I also cannot access messenger, which is the only way I know to keep in touch with some people. Who knows what else I can’t access, because everything is connected to this POS network. Now Facebook wants me to send them my government ID to prove who I am, as if I’m going to send my sensitive information to some random person Facebook hired for $10/hr. I told them to fuck off. I may have to create an actual fake account in order to use it, but that seems like a lot of work for a platform I already despise.

I haven’t heard a word from my male friend, and as of yesterday, he still had me blocked on Facebook. Not that he was keeping in touch with me prior to that anyway. I’m just leaving him alone and not saying a word. I’ll just be as silent as he is. I just wish I could afford to pay someone else to fix my car, because I don’t even want to deal with bothering him again.

My new male friend/acquaintance seems to only text me when he’s drinking. There’s a sign to stay away. Last night he sent me a text inviting me over to “take a spin” in his jacuzzi. Take a spin? Really? I ignored him. Jacuzzis are gross anyway, and I will definitely not be joining him in one. Now he’s texting me about what kind of camera should he buy because he wants me to teach him photography. I jokingly said I charge $25/hr, but I should have said $100, because dealing with him costs me my sanity. I need to come up with a nickname for him, something fitting.

I feel no love. Seriously. None, except from my cat. I attempt to surround myself with things that make me feel better, but everything is only temporary. I want to be loved, to be wanted, to be appreciated… and not just for superficial bullshit… not for buying expensive Christmas gifts, not for acting up to someone else’s standards, not for giving a good blowjob. I guess that’s why cats are great. Fuck, at this point, I’d be happy befriending a ghost. If he wasn’t friendly, I’d cuss him out and sage the shit out of him.

I’m feeling terrible again. Maybe I’m low on B-12, but I’m out of syringes and keep forgetting to go to the store to get them. When I ask the pharmacist and say what it’s for, they still look at me like I’m a crackhead, even though I’m too fat to be one. I really, really need a massage. I know it would make me feel better for at least a day or two, which is more than I’ve felt in a while.

I’m constantly worried. I worry about how I will manage to pay rent each month. It’s not even high rent, and it’s relatively low (knock on wood) for my area, but my income has changed due to health issues. Then I worry if the only income I have will suddenly end and I’ll be homeless. This is another reason I’ve been so very anxious to get my car fixed, because it could be my next home.

No matter how hard I try different things, like changing routines and cutting alcohol, I am still depressed and feel worthless. So then I’ll have a few drinks, which lets my guard down and makes me actually talk to people I would normally not speak to. But they don’t know that, because then when I see them somewhere else, I may not be as friendly, and then they think I’m a snob. Not my intention.

I don’t like fake attention. I don’t like when strange men come up to me in a grocery store and give me compliments about my looks. It makes me feel weird, like a target, especially coming from men that should probably keep to themselves anyway and would probably fuck anything in a skirt if given the chance. It would be different coming from a man that I like and respect, but I prefer to be liked and complimented for how I am as a person.

Everything is just an illusion, but seeing people out together and seemingly happy makes me feel like an even bigger loser for being alone and depressed. Some of them are faking their happiness and showing off for people; they have someone to impress. I see that. But that doesn’t make me feel any better or… un-alone, because there is no antonym for alone. Disconnected might describe it. I’m not out to impress anyone. Fuck that. Like me as I am or fuck off.

I always feel alone, even in most company. It’s the worst feeling in the world. When I am in company and feel this way, I tend to just get up and leave, because I can’t take it, and I’m not going to subject myself to torture. As an introvert, it’s total hell. Someone I had a beer with recently ruined my somewhat content mood, and I became annoyed, because she was being super aggressive and opinionated in a conversation, discussing topics I don’t care to discuss, especially when I’m already feeling bad. I’m sure that wasn’t her intention; it’s just her nature. I was relieved when she left me back to being alone.

I’m not sure there’s a cure for depression in my case. My VA counselor thinks that I’m just one of those people that is naturally/normally depressed. I don’t think it’s normal at all. I have never thought of myself that way, as I’ve always yearned for happiness. We all want happiness. What if I had all of the things listed that I’ve researched and written about (eating alone, sex, touch) that might help with depression? Would I still be depressed?

Blocked Again

Some days can just kiss my ass, and Monday was one of them.

Monday turned out to be one of those days in which I couldn’t wait to go back to sleep, because I did not want to face reality. Going to sleep super early the night before and waking up in the middle of the night pretty much screwed up my Monday morning, and when I got up I texted my close male friend that still hadn’t replied to me about what was going on with him. I went about my morning, intending to attend yoga, but I ended up being too upset to bother leaving the house.

Here’s a recap of the original text I sent to my friend the night before: “Look, I don’t know if you’re seeing somebody or something but you don’t even say hi to me anymore unless I initiate the conversation. I haven’t seen you literally since last year. I know you’re busy and all but I feel like something has changed between us. I almost feel like I’m bothering you by even asking you anything.” Nothing but crickets, which is very unusual… so on Monday morning I said, “Well alrighty then…” And that’s when he finally responded.

I was right – he’d “met someone recently and was going to tell” me. I guess it took me directly asking the question instead of attempting to communicate and getting excuses. It certainly explains all of the avoidance and standoffishness after I told him I wasn’t going to have sex with someone that is emotionally unavailable and too busy to hang out, because I’m not looking for a fuck buddy. I felt hurt knowing that someone I’d developed such a close friendship with blew me off with excuses but found time to date someone. Just be up front, you know? That doesn’t make it okay to avoid me and treat me like I’m an ex. I felt I lost a friend, because I know our friendship will never be the same again. I feel sad about it, and I suspect I’ll go through somewhat of a mourning period. Again. FFS.

Later on that day, even though we weren’t friends on Facebook, my male friend’s profile had come up as “people you might know.” I viewed his profile and summed up who I’m certain he’s dating.  Later that evening, my friend’s Facebook profile had blocked mine, and I had no idea why. I confronted him about it, because why did he feel the need to do such a thing if we’re still friends… and I’d never mentioned it to him… and his posts were public… He swears he never blocked me, but he hasn’t unblocked me, and unless someone else did it, he’s lying to me. Then I spent some time obsessing over it, thinking maybe one of his friends or the chick he’s dating did it. He, on the other hand, didn’t seem concerned whatsoever.

Then… he revealed this: He wanted more but I didn’t. Say what??? This was never a topic of discussion. Maybe a topic was “what is this?” to which I replied, “we are friends,” because like I said, a relationship doesn’t work when either party is emotionally unavailable. Nor does it work when someone is “too busy” to spend quality time together. He said he still wants to remain friends, and he agreed to fix my car as promised. I just wished he’d done it prior to this, because now everything feels awkward. Why the hell can’t men get their shit together before creating more problems and awkwardness?

I became angry again about being blocked on Facebook, and I told him so, because what did I do to deserve that? And why aren’t we friends on Facebook anyway? It’s obvious he’s annoyed with my questioning, which doesn’t surprise me, since men block, ignore, gaslight, and/or get angry when they get questioned or called out on their shit.

So what now? Is my very trusted friend lying to me? It doesn’t give me a good feeling at all, especially after having been blocked and ghosted by OC, and I feel triggered all over again again. Speaking of OC…

I decided to block OC’s Instagram account from viewing or liking any of mine nevermore. I wasn’t expecting to see a new photo of him and his girlfriend posted (that oddly, his wife “liked”). I knew I was doing the right thing by blocking this asshole, because I no longer want to question why he’s liking my posts or why he ghosted me for no reason or to see his stupid face – nevermore!

Cutting Back on Alcohol

A few weeks or so ago, I’d written about changing some things in my life. Today is Day 20 of no drinking/cutting back on alcohol. It was something I intended to do, but the losing my shit incident was a catalyst.

I started out being on antibiotics, which was a great way to begin my not-drinking voyage. I have to admit the first few days were tough, because I’d been working outside in the heat, and beer sounded great, but I knew the medication would have made me sick anyway.

Once I got through the first week, it wasn’t so bad. I started keeping myself busy working out or taking walks in the evenings. I went grocery shopping and ran errands during the times I would normally have gone to happy hour. It probably helped that I didn’t exactly have the money to be going out.

Week two was a success, however, I thought I would feel better. I haven’t felt that much better except that I didn’t have hangovers. I was tired, but in a different way; I felt exhausted. My appetite began to change, and I was cooking again, and I had more motivation mentally and could think clearer. Still, I had no energy for the most part (could very well have been due to the antibiotics). The weather brought on some allergy issues, and it felt as if fibromyalgia was full-blown for a few days. My body was super achy from head to toe, and I remembered that when I drank beer, the aches would disappear. I did notice anxiety went down a little while I wasn’t drinking, maybe because I was just exhausted. My mood was only slightly lifted, but I was still feeling depressed. Perhaps it was lack of human contact or something else, but I was craving not being depressed, which is part of the reason I quit/cut back on drinking.

On Day 15, the weather was pretty bad. I had one beer in the fridge (one that I normally wouldn’t drink, because it would have been gone by now) that I drank and didn’t really care for it. The following day (16), I met up with some friends that are getting married soon to discuss some things about their wedding that I’m shooting. It was nice getting out of the house for once and home by 10:30. I had three beers in two and a half hours, felt high as a kite, and felt like shit the entire next day. Two of the beers were relatively normal in alcohol content, but the first may have been almost like drinking two. I remembered how much I hated waking up feeling completely unrested, having to get up to pee at wee hours, thirsty and unable to get back to sleep, and basically being unable to fully function intellectually with unclear thinking skills the following day. I also noticed my allergies were worse. Three beers was almost nothing for me before; it only took two weeks for that effect.

When the weekend rolled around, I went to an event out of town, and then a new friend/acquaintance offered to meet up for sushi. At first, I was hesitant being unfamiliar with him, but I was hungry, and the timing was perfect. I started out drinking water, had a tiny bit of sake and opted for a beer that I normally really like. However, I wasn’t liking the beer much at all and switched it to something sweet. It was nice to be out having conversation and a meal with someone, and I left feeling generally content, yet tired.

The following day, I noticed my mood was off. I felt sad, even though it was a nice day. (I suppose I could have also been sad about my other male friend.) Again, my energy was low and I had little motivation, but I didn’t feel like I had a hangover or anything. I was burping up the beer the next day, which made me not want to drink it even more, especially after nearly 12 hours passed since I’d drank it… just gross. I felt annoyed all day and canceled plans to go to an art event, because I didn’t want to be around people. I don’t know if this is a result from drinking or just being tired or annoyed.

Doing two experiments of having a few drinks after not drinking showed me that it really doesn’t bring me any happiness, especially the following day. Socially, it can be fun, but I am pretty sure I can find other fun things to do.

People were asking how long I was going to stop drinking. I never had an answer, because I tried to make realistic expectations and just go with the flow with how I felt. I have no cravings to continue doing it, and after feeling as bad as I have been, I don’t looking forward to it again. Eventually, I want to get back into eating a stricter diet, but for now I’m doing one thing at a time; I’m still enjoying chocolate chip cookies for now.

Snail Slime and Self-Protection

A few weeks ago, a snail was crawling up the window of my door, which was an unusual thing to see. A big believer of signs and symbols, I looked up the meaning of the snail. It turns out that I learned something new – snails have two different types of slime; one type is for movement, and the other is for protection… and snails secrete a substance to create their own shell.

I had to reflect on this snail discovery, as I am often told that I’m very guarded. When I’m in a new place or around new people, I typically observe; it’s important to know my surroundings before participating. Maybe that’s why a lot of people initially think that I’m quiet and guarded when they first meet me; this has been said to me since I was a child. I never understood what people meant, because I feel that I’m friendly and cordial with people. I suppose being guarded had to do with my upbringing of always having to protect myself from one thing or another. If you’ve been a follower long enough and/or read my books, you’ll understand that statement (or you can read excerpts here).

I feel that the snail was a sign for me to watch myself, my surroundings and the things that I was doing. I was drinking too much over the holidays and not protecting myself from sickness and toxic, slimy people. In the end, all of it literally made me ill. It was a sign to move on, move away from these people and protect not only my physical body, but my emotional and mental state. I realize snail slime is the only slime I need in my life.

Acceptance After Being Ghosted

The other day I posted about the other four stages of grief after being ghosted by someone in a close dating relationship. There were a few times I felt I had come to the acceptance stage, but I was alternating between all of the stages randomly. I would think to myself, I’m over it; he’s a jerk, and then something would toss me right back to a different stage. I’d be angry at the fact that he’s meeting other women and dating and having fun, but I was left standing alone without answers to my heartbreak and had a miserable dating life. (I was also angry when one of his family members suggested that I must not have ever had anyone break up with me before, since I had these feelings. I corrected them by reminding them I was ghosted without answers.) I have come to some other realizations about this person that have helped me to enter the stage of acceptance.

It’s always helpful to get over someone by dating another person, however, the options I had been presented were pretty grim. Prior to meeting OC, a close friend had unexpectedly passed away, and during my mourning period (which lasted about a year), I jumped into a two-month toxic relationship with someone 18 years younger. I met OC about three or four months after that relationship ended. I was looking to date, but only looking for friends and activity partners, so what I felt with him was completely unexpected. Looking back, I feel that I was probably still vulnerable to opening myself up to injured souls, because I was also one of them.

Taking accountability for myself, I probably ignored a lot of red flags – the first of which was that OC’s online dating profile stated he was single. However, he was still technically a married man (verified separated for two years at that point) and still living in the same house with his wife. I broke my own rule by continuing a relationship with him, because my rule is to date someone that has been single (not separated) for at least a year, preferably longer. When I initially met him, he’d told me about another woman he’d been on a few dates with and was texting him… but according to him, he was ignoring her. I’d informed him that I only date one person at a time, and I expect the same in a partner and that he needs to tell this woman that he’s seeing someone else, to not just ignore her. I don’t know what he did, but now I suspect he ghosted her as well. Or perhaps he ghosts women, then shows up randomly when he thinks it’s okay and allow him back into their lives again… the same way he did to me six months later when he unblocked me and liked my social media posts – and still continues to this day!

I specifically remember a couple of times him mentioning things to me that seemed off. For example, even though he still claimed to be getting divorced, he was adamant about staying in their home and was building a separate entrance for himself. I later learned that during the time they supposedly separated, they’d purchased the house together, which didn’t fit the divorce story he was giving me. He would spend the night at my house most nights and head home first thing in the morning; we never spent any mornings together – just afternoons and nights. I had suspected he’d been hiding something or bending the truth, but I never actually found out. He also had a tattoo of a ball and chain along with his wife’s name on the front of his hip. When I asked if he was planning to cover it up, he became flustered as if I’d asked him to chop off his balls. He replied,  “Why? No one will see it.” Seriously? I told him I see it, and if he dates other women, they’re going to see it as well. I suspect he never covered it up, and he probably never will. (I wonder what his new girlfriend thinks of his wife’s name when she’s giving him a blowjob?) He’d say random things that didn’t make sense to me at the time. For example, one time he told me he was selfish and immature, but I hadn’t seen that side of him, so I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. What he’d presented to me in his actions was opposite of what he said in so many ways.

Something wasn’t right, but I blamed it on my own insecurities. I developed a lot of anxiety when I didn’t hear from him, especially that last week prior to him ghosting me. Perhaps he was lying to me, perhaps it was something else, but I ignored my gut feelings. The problem I have with myself is I am determined to get to the bottom of things, to find out the truth, and when I can’t pinpoint what isn’t right, I continue with a relationship until I do find out. He claimed to be “so busy” with his work, but right after he ghosted me, he’d pass me at the beach every single day, so I felt he was using that as an excuse.

Knowing OC’s history of 30+ years being raised in and then leaving a cult religion whose manipulative members suddenly cut off their own children for not being followers, I am aware that this has been ingrained into his system since he was a child, so it is probably easy for him to act this way without any regard for my feelings. Not that it’s right by any means, but what else can I tell myself when I have no other explanation? I also realize, no matter how sweet he was to me while we were together, he is a very wounded and disturbed soul that may not feel anything at all. He lied to me and broke promises, especially when he knew I was recovering after a divorce and promised me he wouldn’t break my heart.  I tell myself he was fake and manipulated my feelings and trust for his own selfish purposes, and everything about the relationship was as fake as Dirty John, because genuine people do not develop close intense relationships only to treat others with such disdain. I wish I could have moved on when it all went down; I wanted nothing more than those awful feelings to go away. I look at him now and think I can do so much better than him.

The stage of acceptance is the beginning of my healing process, because I am ready to meet my next long-term relationship.

Working Through Grief After Being Ghosted

First, I want to say that I am tired (and I know my friends are, too) of talking about this person, and I want it out of my brain once and for all. I wish I could say this is my last time talking about it, but I’m not sure I can say everything in one sitting.

If anyone could flip a switch to turn off anxiety, depression, or symptoms of grief or trauma, you bet your ass they would! So when someone says to “get over it,” they are clueless as to what you’re going through. There have been times when I don’t even understand why I feel the way I do, so I don’t expect others to be helpful, but insensitive comments are not appreciated.

Grief is a peculiar thing, and the five stages don’t always go in order. I am just now discovering this about OC, the guy that ghosted me two and a half years ago. About six months ago, I became angry about the situation. I am not a hateful person, and I cannot remember the last time I felt hate towards anyone, so why would these feelings suddenly emerge?

In case you’re not a regular follower, here’s a recap: We met on a dating app, dated intensely for 3 months (together 4-5 nights a week and weekends), fell head over heels for him, met some of his family, led me to believe we’d be together in the future (he spoke of plans for months ahead), said things to me like “it would take a lot to leave you.” I went to visit my family for a week, I even invited him to come along, he said he missed me, then he became uncommunicative (around this time my gut cringed), then he sent me a confusing text three days later telling me he had to take care of some work and financial stuff and that he didn’t mean to hurt me. He never actually said he didn’t want to see me anymore; I thought at the very least we’d remain friends. Then he never spoke to me or texted me again and blocked me from social media. We ran into each other all of the time, but he refused to look at me or speak to me, and at times he’d either hide or leave the place we were at. However, six months later, he unblocked me from Instagram and started liking my posts. I sent him several messages (usually after drinking, oops!), asking him why he did what he did and that I deserved an explanation, then eventually I told him how much he’d hurt me. He would read all of my messages yet fail to answer. About three months after that (this would be nearly a year since I’d met him), he matched with me again on a dating site… but never said a word. One of his family members was also following me on Instagram and liking my posts but would not allow me to follow his private account but would speak to me in public, another family member told me OC said that I was a “cool chick.” Total mindfuck! So, you can see how this would drive anyone batshit crazy that was still going through the stages of grief from this horrible un-breakup. It would have been easier and more forgivable to deal with an actual death.

Viewing the stages of grief this morning, I think the first stage I experienced was denial. I thought something happened and he was just dealing with it in his own way and I’d hear from him eventually. I mean, no one that spends so much time together and appears to be so close and honest just ups and leaves, right? Wrong! Plus, we’re in our 40s and he was so sweet to me, so there’s no way a man this age would do that, right? Wrong! I remember hearing a truck down my street thinking it was him coming over to talk to me. Wrong! (It was my neighbor’s truck.)

First, I think I was in the bargaining stage. I asked myself what happened? What did I do wrong? I blamed myself for doing something that I wasn’t aware that I did. It took me a long time to realize I did nothing wrong at all. I had just dated a cowardly asshole that couldn’t face the truth.

Depression was the stage that hit me immediately and didn’t go away for nearly two years. (I had been depressed about other things, but specifically this situation was different.) Again, I blamed myself. I didn’t eat for four months. I didn’t lose weight, either, because I did plenty of drinking during that time. Every time I saw him, I felt anxious to the point of a near-panic attack, then depressed, almost obsessive about it. I wanted nothing more than for him to speak to me, because I felt horrible. It didn’t help that he was liking my shit on social media, which I did eventually block him at some point.

Then came the anger. I didn’t think it was possible for me to be as angry as I’ve been for as long as I’ve been. (Perhaps middle age has something to do with it?) When I get mad about something, I stay mad for a bit, and then I’m over it. Maybe after having dates with multiple douchebags triggered something? Or maybe it’s just the stage I need to be in so that I can continue to heal?

One last incident: On New Year’s Eve, I went out with a friend to watch a band play. OC was there. The place wasn’t that crowded, and my friend and I both noticed him walking the long way around so that he passed by our table. Twice. He could have gone a shorter way away from us, but he didn’t. I’m so glad that my friend was there as a witness, because people think I make this shit up. She asked if he was trying to antagonize me. I replied, “I don’t know what he’s doing, but it’s weird!” Was he trying to get me to notice him? Fuck him. He doesn’t deserve it. The entire night I pretended I didn’t see him and kept a far distance, kept my back at him, even went to the opposite end of the bar to order drinks. And that’s when I realized I can do so much better than him.

Tomorrow I will write about the other stage of grief – acceptance.

Things that make me Batshit Crazy

A person can only take so much shit before they lose it. I discovered this about myself the other night when I lost my shit in public. I’m not proud of it, but I’m also not sorry for it at all – and the reason is this: Those people were not my friends; they are merely gossip bottom feeders and shit starters that rely on fake friendships to feel better about themselves. At the very least, I hope I acted crazy enough so that they never fuck with me again.

In order to make myself feel better, I rely on nature and quiet times. When I moved to my house five years ago, it was a fairly quiet neighborhood. There was a tree line behind the house that I wasn’t aware until last year that blocked most of the traffic noise. Then someone built a house. It’s amazing how much trees can absorb noise. Unfortunately, overdevelopment has increased the amount of noise, as well as those stupid ass leaf blowers that never seem to turn the fuck off all over the neighborhood all days of the week, all hours of the day. And don’t get me started about the shitty dog owners that allow their big dogs to bark all day long. Too much “city life” type of living gives me anxiety, which is why I live where I do. But when I can’t even enjoy the place I live (and also work from home most of the time), I feel like it may be time to move on.

Some people think working from home means you don’t have a job, you’re available 24/7, and you will do things for them for free. I used to do things for free, but not anymore. When I see these same cheap asses shell out $300 for a name brand purse or some other sweatshop overpriced designer bullshit, then they can come up with the money for what I offer that I don’t sell out to children in a third world country. When they tell me they can get it cheaper elsewhere, go for it! You get what you pay for… and I have no desire to do anything for people that don’t value my work.

Something that not only feels like a waste of my time and my life, but also that I should never have to do, is someone else’s job. I am constantly finding myself doing the job of whomever at the VA or VA claims that can’t seem to find my paperwork or medical records. I’m at the point of about to hire an attorney, because I have literally spent HOURS of my life to get absolutely nowhere – for twenty years!

If I’m in a conversation with someone that is constantly checking or answering their phone, forget it. I give up. I have also been on (horrible) dates that have done this. Grow the fuck up and show some respect or get the fuck out. I actually have stopped mid-sentence and stopped talking altogether, because obviously what I have to say isn’t that important, so why waste my breath? It’s so inconsiderate to do that to anyone.

So imagine someone with depression, anxiety, and PTSD (during the holidays) being approached with all of the above in the same week or two… total recipe for batshit crazy.

Enough said.

Living Without a Purpose

It’s days like today I wish I’d been an abortion and wonder why in the hell I’m even on this planet. It’s also days like today that remind me of why I refuse to own a gun or glad I don’t have a gas oven. Oftentimes, it’s the people that you love the most that remind you that your purpose in life is unclear and nothing you do is important or good enough, no matter how good your intentions are, especially when already deeply depressed.

I realize that it’s been a long time since I felt I had a sense of purpose. How long? I cannot even remember, but maybe ten years or more. That was a time when I was married and had my home business. I would get up every morning and write or do other work, take care of household chores and pets, and deal with a teenager. I suppose having a relationship (that helped with financial stability) and a child at home helped me to feel a sense of purpose as well, made me feel like I mattered to someone, even if it was only for cooking and cleaning and being there when someone needed me. Plus, I was happy with the work I was doing. It was the time when I wrote my first book, wrote screenplays, and had articles and photography published in various places. I often feel like that was the shining moment in my life, and I won’t get it back or see it again. Although I would love for it to happen again, I also feel that I would be chasing unicorn dreams instead of facing reality.

Another time I felt a sense of purpose was about 19 years ago. Since I was a child, I wanted to be just like the teachers that I looked up to, so I became a teacher. I started out truly enjoying what I did, even though it was stressful. I quickly realized I was not going to make the cut of one of those “great teachers,” because I had too many personal responsibilities that wouldn’t allow me to focus solely on my career. Then things changed dramatically in our flawed American public education system, and teaching was no longer rewarding. I went to work every day feeling dread, came home feeling unappreciated and overworked. Health issues started when I was at my last teaching job; the amount of stress put me in the hospital, which of course caused more financial stress. I realized that I had to move on to another field if I wanted to keep my sanity and health.

Shortly after my divorce, I found a job working for a new company that seemed promising, so I thought maybe this is where I’m needed in life, and just maybe I could build from there. The starting pay was terrible, however, the hours were what I wanted, and I was told things would change financially within a few months. The only thing that changed was financially worse and discovering I was working for people running a scam, and their business (not surprisingly) went under.

A couple of years ago, even though the pay was pathetic and nearly minimum wage, I became a home health aide, thinking that maybe it would be rewarding, because I’d be helping someone in need. Anyone that has worked in this field quickly finds out that family members of the people you take care of and spend hours and hours with don’t always appreciate the work you do, even when you do extra things not required. In fact, they start expecting more, and no matter what, you don’t get paid more. The only thing it did was make me more depressed than I already was, because not only did clients pass away, I was sitting around in someone else’s house all day and/or cleaning it and taking care of the family’s large, annoying dogs that were another job in itself.

There are many days I wake up eager for night to fall again just so that I can go back to sleep. I don’t want to look at or speak to anyone or leave the house. When I’m not feeling well physically, like I have been lately, it exacerbates the depression. I do my best to force myself to either write or do artwork or at least clean the house or a closet or something to get myself moving. It’s a daily struggle, and it has been for years, and no one that hasn’t been through it will ever understand what it’s like to wake up every single day without a purpose or feeling that you matter in the world.

PTSD Triggers and Losing My Sh*t

I have never been kicked out of a place before, but  that changed the other night, and I am not the type of person to lose my shit like that. I will leave a place before I lose my cool, so I am surprised at myself, actually. It wasn’t expected, but there were three things going on all at once that triggered PTSD.

Here’s a little backstory on something that happened recently: I had seen OC out a couple of times with the woman he’s dating. I didn’t think it bothered me; perhaps I suppressed my feelings, but my feelings weren’t towards them. My feelings were about how I felt when he ghosted me, and for whatever reason, those feelings came back in full force, as if it had happened all over again. I didn’t eat or sleep well for about a week, and I had that same knot like I’d been kicked in the stomach that I had two and a half years ago. I don’t understand why I had these feelings except maybe the stress and depression around the holidays also triggered something else that I have yet to deal with.

OC’s girlfriend happens to be a bartender at a place I sometimes go. I think she’s a nice person, and I never have problems with anyone. I happened to be there when she was working, and there were cute puppy videos on the tv we were watching. She then showed me a pic of her dog and said something about her boyfriend of six months (surprised he lasted that long with anyone). Then we got onto the subject of the boyfriend (OC). I told her I had dated him, wish I’d never met him, said I think he’s sneaky and a liar and filled her in on my side of the story. I don’t think she knew he and I dated. I told her I hope she breaks his heart. I wish nothing bad on her whatsoever, but perhaps she is also avoiding the red flags and warning signs that I had.

In the meantime, someone else walked into that bar that I hadn’t seen in quite some time, and it set off another trigger. I don’t know what happened, but my mind just shut down at some point. I was still talking to the bartender when someone else that knows nothing about me piped in and started talking shit to me about me. First of all, I’m not going to let anyone talk shit to me, especially when they don’t even know me enough to attend my funeral. This is a person that has zero room to talk, but I suspect she gets her information about me from a frenemy, so that’s when I lost my shit. I told her to fuck off, told her to shut the fuck up, called her a stupid fucking cunt, and at some point I don’t remember what else I said. I must have been blackout angry by that point. Actually, I was yelling, which is something I never do unless I have just had enough. It’s been a long time since I’ve yelled at anyone. Maybe it’s what I needed before I exploded inside.

Between PTSD triggers, anger, and alcohol, that was it for me. I was told to leave the bar, which I was attempting to do at that point anyway, and I was getting up to leave and gathering my things. I think they thought I was going to physically attack her (I’m not a fighter), so I was grabbed and pushed out. Not a loss, actually, because it’s the place that I feel a lot of the douchebags I’ve written about here hang out; I just like the music there.

I have never dealt with certain things that have happened to me, because I find it difficult to talk about and blame myself for a lot of it. Now that I’ve identified a trigger or three, maybe I can begin to work with it in my next counseling session.

New Year Not As Planned

So far, my new year hasn’t gone as planned whatsoever. I was attempting to focus on healing physically and emotionally, and I was determined to get it right this time. I’ve started working out again – yoga, long walks, and my first bike ride in months.

On New Year’s Day, I was recovering from lack of sleep, taking it easy and getting some work done on my laptop. A “friend” stopped by after drinking a bottle of vodka (I wasn’t aware at the time how much) and got on my nerves like most drunks do before she passed out while I babysat her. I had some cards and a book by Shannon Kaiser that I wanted to work with, and when I showed her, she laughed. I was not amused, and I sent her home. I don’t need anyone getting in my way of my healing/recovery. I just want to be happy, because being depressed is no way to feel.

Same friend also talked me into trying Facebook dating, which has also been a waste of time like all of the dating sites. One match has no vehicle. Another one has no time. What the fuck. Why be on there? I don’t need a penpal. Said friend tells me I need to be more open minded about meeting men. Just because she matches with a shit ton of men doesn’t mean I’m closed minded about who I meet. I’m just careful, I have standards about spending quality time with quality people, and I’m not looking to date multiple men. It would be nice to find just one with an actual brain (and a vehicle), but I’m not holding my breath.

I have an upper respiratory/cold that started just around New Year’s Eve and has gotten progressively worse. Last night I was up coughing most of the night, which of course, disturbed my much needed sleep, which caused me to sleep later, and I missed important phone calls from my doctor. The other day I had some pain and bleeding as if I’d started my period, even though I no longer have a uterus. So now I have another doctor’s appointment to see what’s going on, and I’m afraid I’m going to need yet another surgery. I don’t start another job for at least 3 more weeks, but if I have to have another surgery, I won’t be going.

The other night, I was talked into going out, even though I told myself I would stay in. I should have listened to myself instead of other people, but I figured it was the weekend and just one more time out before I start a new week. My ride left, and when I went to take an Uber, my phone completely died on me. No one was around, and it was late, and I ended up walking five miles to my house.

I realize I need to completely change my circle of friends and my habits if I want to heal properly. Since the holidays, I drank way too much alcohol, and I need to find alternative things to do, even if I do it alone, because ultimately I’m alone anyway. A healthier lifestyle is what I want for myself, which means I need to find people that are like-minded.

End of Year Brain Dump 2019

I’ve been struggling a lot emotionally lately. I don’t know if it’s the holidays or a combination of things that have kicked in, things that have triggered PTSD, anxiety, and depression back full force, causing me to lose sleep and lose my appetite again. I seemed to have been doing fine up until about a month ago. I need to get back to counseling, but I don’t have my next appointment until the end of January.

What changed? Some of my habits changed. Since the holidays are here, I’ve been going out more, which means drinking more, which has brought up some suppressed feelings about things I wasn’t ready to deal with before. Suddenly, I’m aware of things that I don’t want to think about, but I’m unsure what to do with these feelings.

Major anxiety and depression has my mind going back and forth, creating stories that don’t exist (this is where I need to put them into a fiction story just to get it out), and I can’t focus on anything. I haven’t been this bad in two years. My appetite has changed. I don’t have much of one, and I don’t know if it’s due to stress (I tend to not eat when I’m stressed) or other things that I’m allowing to bother me. Perhaps it’s hormonal, but I don’t think this is.

Holidays. Parts of my family do not get along or speak to each other anymore, which makes it difficult on everyone trying to get together. It also makes it sad for the rest of us. Being single once again during the holidays is also taxing, kicking in reminders of how our society views women as failures for being single at all.

All of this reminds me of when I was a senior in high school when my first boyfriend cheated on me and dumped me without telling me. I was devastated. I have that same gut anxiety feeling right now. I remember then that I couldn’t eat and couldn’t sleep, but I rode my bike a lot just to let out some physical angst. The only thing different is that I’m in my 40s, haven’t been working out, and I have more life experience. So why is this awful feeling coming back? Triggers.

I suppose I need to learn to recognize what really triggers all of this, but I’m thinking it probably has a lot to do with abandonment issues and feelings of lack of love and trust from people that I’ve loved and I thought loved me, too. At this point, do I even know what love is, because what I thought was love apparently was not. Hmmm….