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.

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?

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.

All Frogs and No Princes

Last night I noticed a frog in my bathroom. He was quite large, and it was getting late, so I left him alone figuring he’d find his way out eventually. Then I forgot about all about him. Around 2 a.m., I heard a knocking or thumping sound, checked to see if anyone was at my door. Nothing in sight, I went back to bed. This morning I heard another knocking at my back door, got up and saw it was the frog trying to make his way out. Later on, I noticed my bathroom mirror had little marks all over it, which were his tiny little footprints. I suppose that’s what I was hearing at 2 a.m.

Frog symbolism means a few things – particularly transformation, since it goes through different stages of metamorphosis. I suppose this resonates with me, body, mind and soul, because of currently going through all three of those changes.

I realize I need to take better care of my body, because I’m not getting any younger, and I don’t heal as quickly as I used to. Allergies have been worse over the years, so cutting out certain things is something I need to try to build up my immune system again. A few weeks ago I went to my doctor to discuss some changes that didn’t seem normal to me; however, she told me these things are normal as women age. I said, “So basically, women have nothing to look forward to in life?” – because that’s exactly how I felt. She said pretty much – we go through a series of changes throughout our lives and always seem to have issues. What the fuck.

Meditation has helped me in the past, but a problem I have is when the routine is disrupted. I started meditating regularly several years ago and not only did I notice a huge difference in how I felt, I manifested things that I never imagined possible. Then my life picked up and changed dramatically, and I had difficulty getting back into it. It probably didn’t help that my partner didn’t meditate or have any interest in my spirituality (at that point I realized we had nothing in common, which was spiritually draining). I started meditating again recently, but something interrupted my daily routine, and I stopped. I kick myself for doing this!

Spiritually, I feel that I’m changing again, and I’m aware that I need to make a lot of changes. When I was younger, I would set my mind to something and just go for it, no matter what. I’m not exactly sure what happened, but I stopped having goals except for getting through each day and making rent each month, and my focus was completely off. I’m sure my health issues had a lot to do with that, but I think they’re manageable now, and keeping toxic assholes out of my life certainly helps! I pretty much gave up my dreams in life for various reasons, but now I’m ready to make things happen again. Perhaps I should make a vision board so I can better focus and meditate on what I have always dreamed of in life.

A last note on frogs – I am utterly bored out of my mind with online dating, like usual. I still have my POF profile, and since I was traveling recently, decided to change my location to see what options were out there. It seems like all frogs and no princes. I have no desire to converse with anyone that messages me, no profiles stick out for me, and organically, no one in my area interests me whatsoever. I suppose this is also part of my spiritual growth.

Depression and Antibiotics Linked

The other day I recalled reading something about intestinal flora and moods, and the possibility that an imbalance can cause depression. For me, this would make a lot of sense. Two years ago I had pneumonia and was on some really strong antibiotics. In the past year, from surgeries and other illnesses, I have been on antibiotics five times! This would explain my lack of appetite and food craving changes, not to mention the constant influx of depression.

During my research, I learned that the first antidepressant was an antibiotic, back in the days when tuberculosis was a big thing. The next thing I learned was that antibiotics can affect a child’s brain development. There have also been studies that antibiotics may contribute to types of psychosis and is associated with anxiety and depression. Due to antibiotics killing off all of the bacteria in the body (both good and bad), it really messes with the good bacteria responsible for sending signals to the brain.

I truly think this is another link between the horrible and constant depression I’ve experienced over the last couple of years, mostly because I just don’t feel like the same person I did three years ago. It was easy for me to bounce back out of anything, especially a relationship gone awry.

I have noticed that I definitely feel better both physically and mentally when I ingest probiotics regularly. Besides taking probiotic oral supplements, I make kombucha, which is a natural probiotic drink. However, I haven’t made any in the past few weeks and have been relying on the probiotic capsule. Now that I’m finally off antibiotics again, I’m going to continue with probiotics and see how this fairs with my mental health.

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?

Eye in the Sky – A Sign from the Universe?

This morning I awoke from a dream, and the only thing I can remember is it had to do with the band The Alan Parsons Project. Having no idea why I would dream about a band that I vaguely know, the first song that popped into my head was their 80s hit “Eye in the Sky.” Being a believer in dreams and signs, I knew that this was the universe telling me something I needed to know… except attempting to decipher exactly what it could be is tricky.

The only lyrics besides the chorus that I instantly remembered were “Don’t say words you’re gonna regret,” and after that I wasn’t sure what the words were, but they are, “Don’t let the fire rush to your head.” Immediately, I could only think of the situation with my male friend, because I was angry with him for blocking me on Facebook and denying it, along with other issues, and I let him know it. It still bothers me not knowing the truth about this, because if my friend lied to me about something this stupid, what else has he lied to me about?

The rest of the lyrics suggest gambling and the ending of a relationship. Perhaps it had something to do with relationships being a gamble, since most do not last. I am still upset over the ending of the friendship we once had, because he is the only person I’ve become close to in over two years and spent a lot of time with over the past several months. Last night I ordered takeout, and when I remembered the last time I’d eaten food from this place, it was with my friend, and I became upset all over again.

But is that what the dream message was really about? Being that the band’s album cover depicts the Eye of Horus, perhaps the lyrics to the song has to do with the “eye in the sky,” a symbol of protection and good health and possibly the third eye. Getting upset and angry certainly doesn’t help with health matters, and I am doing my best not to obsess to find answers and the truth, hoping that it will work itself out eventually. One of the problems I have is that I “have” to find out the truth, so it really does bother me when I don’t know. It may take years, but the truth eventually does come out. It just sucks having to wait, because I feel that it would speed up the healing process.

Touch Starvation & Depression

Something I was reading about that makes total sense to me is that “touch starvation” can lead to depression, and I fit the category 110%. Affectionate human touch is essential to connecting with others, as it stimulates oxytocin, the love hormone that reduces stress and pain, helps with emotional well-being, and naturally increases overall physical health. An article from Psychology Today reports that “Lack of physical affection can actually kill babies.”

So if touch starvation can kill infants, what does it do to adults? Studies have shown adults that lack affectionate touch are inclined to be more depressed, have anxiety issues, are lonelier, and have an increased chance of developing Alzheimer’s. Somehow deep inside, I know all of these things, because I can feel it. Sometimes I feel that I’m fucked, and I will probably die at an early age. And to drive the anxiety level up, my fear is to die alone, like one of those people found weeks later with her cats gnawing at her dead body.

I come from a family that didn’t hug much or showed very little physical affection towards each other, so I’ve never been a touchy-feely type of person unless I’m in love. I recall being forced to hug strangers in church when I was a kid, and I absolutely despised it to the point it sometimes made me sick to my stomach. For all I knew, I was hugging some pedophile hiding under the guise of being a godly person. Since I also feel people’s energy, hugging those with bad or “off” energy doesn’t work for me, as I tend to “catch and carry” whatever it is they have. I have experienced my fair share of “bad” touch, which is an entirely different topic, but I wonder if it makes a person unresponsive to any sort of touch?

Experience has taught me that invited touch (i.e. cuddles, massage) from the opposite sex often leads to unwanted and uninvited touch or forces me to do something I’m not ready for, another double-edged sword that can screw up a person’s mind and make them fearful of intimate physical touch. It takes me a while to fully trust in someone, but at the same time, I have also gone full force too soon trusting those that ultimately hurt me. When I meet someone that can respect my boundaries, that’s when the trust begins. As soon as someone breaks trust in any way (physical or emotional), their touch repulses me, and it never comes back, which brings me to this:

A few male friends have almost crossed boundaries, which makes me not want to hang out with them anymore. Usually, drinking is involved, and when I am just friends with someone that has a few drinks and suddenly finds his hand touching my knee uninvitedly or arm around the back of my chair in public as if we’re a couple, it turns me off. My body language is very clear about what I invite into my space, so if I want a man, he will know it. When I don’t, my body language will say it, but I have to realize a lot of people don’t know how to read body language.

The other evening when I had sushi with a new male friend/acquaintance, I was not turned towards him or gave him any indication I was interested in anything more than friendship and conversation; however, towards the end he ended up sitting closer to me as if we were on a date, and his body language said the opposite of what I wanted. Just because a man pays for my meal and a couple of drinks doesn’t give him the right to disrespect my physical space and boundaries. If my female friends paid the tab, they wouldn’t try to make out with me, so why do men think it’s okay? It’s NOT.

On the opposite spectrum, my ex was super needy and touchy-feely to the point that I felt suffocated. Too much touch is just that – too much. I’m not the type of person that can give another person that much attention; otherwise, I’d have had more children. A healthy balance is nice, and it’s what I had with OC, and I haven’t experienced that since.

Being an introvert probably doesn’t help with my situation, because I expose myself to far less people than an extrovert would. Massages help tremendously when I can afford to have one, and I notice a huge difference in how I feel afterwards, not just physically but mentally. Sometimes it’s the only human touch I get for months. How pathetic that I have to pay for it. At least I have a cat, because touching pets does help, plus he has great unconditional loving energy. However, I truly miss being cuddled by a human, especially on cold or rainy nights. No wonder I’m a fucked up, depressed mess. Maybe I should get more cats.

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.

Lack of Sex & Depression

Yesterday I wrote about eating alone and depression, realizing that I need some social interaction during meals. While still attempting to get to the root of my own depression, I realize that when I am having regular sex, I am a much happier person. I sleep better, eat healthier, feel more energized, and for whatever reason, I think more clearly and get more things accomplished, and I generally feel alive all over. I cannot remember the last time I felt that way. (Oh wait, yes I can – two and a half years ago. *cringe*)

I did some research on depression and lack of sex. Not surprisingly, it turns out there is a correlation between the two. The hormones released during sex help with fighting off stress, pain, and illness – all of which I’ve been dealing with. There are other physical bodily results from lack of sex that made me say WTF! For women: “Without regular intercourse, your vagina can tighten and its tissues can get thinner and be more likely to get injured, tear, or even bleed during sex.” Whoa. This would explain some things.

During the last three years of my marriage, we had sex once a year, and I didn’t consider myself depressed at the time, but looking back, I probably was. Prior to those three years, sex was dull; even though he was happy and thought it was great, it was boring for me, because he was boring and insisted he knew what he was doing when he did not. Except for a couple of short term relationships (2-3 months) in the past six years, I haven’t had regular sex at all. I miss being held, being close to someone, and having someone to care about. I haven’t had good sex or even a good kiss in over a year. No wonder I’m depressed and pissed off about everything.

Solo isn’t cutting it anymore. I’m not desperate enough to have a fling, but dammit, my body is telling me it needs some attention. Prior to the past year, I would have been open to a friend with benefits situation, but that’s not going to work for me now. I tend to get my feelings involved for the wrong reasons, and having sex only increases those feelings – and I certainly don’t need to put myself in another situation that makes me feel shitty. And despite some of the terrible things I’ve written that have happened to me, I am very aware of my sexuality, and I have no hang-ups enjoying intercourse with the right person. The issue is finding that person.

Eating Alone & Depression

I have a lot of work to do with myself. Writing down my thoughts has been extremely therapeutic for me, and the more I write, the more realizations I have – the patterns, the negative thoughts that were ingrained into my system that I didn’t even know existed. I’m doing my best to pinpoint the things that have been causing depression and doing whatever I can to lift my spirits.

Whether you’re an adult or a child, eating alone all the time can be depressing. When I was trained to be a home health care aide, we were told that it’s important to eat meals (or at least sit) with our elderly clients, because they tend not to eat as much when they’re alone, and they’re happier eating with other people. What is it about eating alone vs eating with others that somehow determines our happiness? Studies have found that people enjoy the general social aspect of eating with others. The only times I didn’t eat alone throughout my adult life was when I was in the army, married or had a boyfriend, or when my daughter was young and I had a regular schedule. Studies show that people who share meals with others tend to eat healthier and live healthier lives. I suppose that would explain one of the reasons I have been depressed for much of the past six years.

Except for eating at my grandparent’s houses or with my father when I was a child, I often ate alone growing up. If I didn’t eat alone, I was usually separated from the adults, or dinnertime was so miserable I’d opt to eat alone. It was either literally get yelled at for breathing or something else that is considered normal to anyone. Here is an excerpt from Chapter 7 of my book, Unheard:

“Since dinnertime is dreadful, I hate evenings. Even when I am starving, I prefer eating by myself. I hate looking at him and watching him sit with his head tilted down towards the plate and scraping the food from his fork into his mouth without ever looking up. I try to speak and make normal conversation; he makes a point to say something to upset my stomach or tells me to shut up and eat. He finishes his food, gets up without excusing or cleaning up after himself, trots into the living room, lights a smelly cigarette, watches TV, and drinks beer. I guess he thinks it was a woman’s job to keep quiet and clean up after him.”

When something is “normal” for a child, they don’t always realize it’s not normal or healthy as an adult. I knew that what was happening to me didn’t feel right, especially when my friends did “normal” things, like eat with their families. I have never purposely separated myself from eating with others as an adult; it’s just that I don’t exactly have a choice when I’m single.

My daughter visited me a couple of weekends ago, and for the first time in a while, I cooked up a delicious shrimp and pasta dish. It was the first time I’d cooked a meal for anyone other than myself in months, and it was nice to share. When I was regularly dating, I cooked more than I was taken out, and I was perfectly happy with that, because I was happy. I realize that some of my happiest times are when I’m cooking and sharing meals with others (not being expected to, but wanting to), and that hasn’t happened regularly in two and a half years. (If you follow my blog, you’ll probably guess with whom.) I’ve also been more depressed in that two and a half years than ever, and I eat alone almost 100% of the time.

I try to take myself out to eat for lunch or dinner just to be in a social outing, even if I’m out alone. However, eating out gets expensive, and I feel that I can cook better than what is served in most restaurants. Plus, I love sharing my culinary skills with others. Like the studies have shown, it’s the socialization that I’ve been missing at mealtime and probably another reason my friends keep telling me I need a boyfriend. *eyeroll*

Recovery After Laparoscopic Hysterectomy by a Robot

Nearly two weeks ago, I was lying on a surgical table, belly bloated with CO2 gas, head tilted towards the floor, legs in stirrups, with a robotic laparoscope inserted in 4 different places in my abdomen. The thought of it sounds like a sci-fi movie, and I only wish I’d had a photo of the position I was in just for laughs.

When I was awakened after the surgery, I didn’t feel too much pain at the time. I was still high on anesthesia and whatever other pain meds they pumped into my system intravenously, but all I wanted to do was sleep it off. The nurse put me in a corner station, saying it should be quiet for me there. Shortly after, I felt like I was going to vomit, mainly because the assistants outside of the curtain were talking loudly and banging around and talking on their phones. Seriously! I wanted to yell, “Library voices!!” But I didn’t even have the strength.

The nausea worsened with the noise, and the doctors said if I vomited, they would have to keep me overnight. I wasn’t about to stay overnight, because I was an hour from my house, and no one wanted to make the drive again the following day. Once I got my stomach to settle down a bit, I got my bag of meds and left for home. All I wanted to do was lay down and sleep off the anesthesia and meds. But that didn’t happen.

As soon as I lay my head down on my couch, my neighbor started the lawnmower right next to my door and windows by the room I was in. Noise and movement is what made me want to vomit in the first place, and I was beginning to get a migraine from it all. Not only was I annoyed, I was feeling really awful. The nausea, the headache, and now the pain meds were really wearing off.

Later that evening a friend came over to help me. At some point I did start puking, and the excruciating pain from the CO2 gas started. If you’ve never experienced that pain (I have before but not to this extent), it can be compared to the feeling of having a heart attack, because the gas is pressing on the diaphragm, and you feel like you’re being suffocated. The best way I can describe it is it’s as if someone is nailing railroad spikes directly down into your shoulders. Or it’s like having labor in your shoulders. Add puking to that and you just feel like you’re dying worse than any flu x10. Since I couldn’t keep anything down, I couldn’t take anymore pain meds. This went on all night. So there I was in excruciating pain on Night One without any rest whatsoever.2

The following day I slept very little, still in pain. Same story for Night Two – no sleep, and no amount of pain medicine helped (I was given Tramadol, because I requested NO opioids, which make me sick). I had stopped puking, however, but I had no appetite and couldn’t eat more than a bite or two of toast or crackers and some fluids. In fact, I didn’t eat more than three to four bites of anything for a couple of days.

Then came Nights Three and Four. I started to finally rest a little bit, but because I had been in so much pain, it didn’t occur to me to take my temperature. I’d been running a fever, and that lasted for the next two or three days/nights. I was to call the hospital if it went over 101, which it was, but I’m stubborn and decided to try some Tylenol instead. It worked, and the only thing about having a fever is that it actually made me sleep quite a bit. Once the fever broke and I started feeling better, I tried eating soup. (At that point I’d only had crackers, toast and water.) Again, three or four bites and I was full.

Day Six is when the other pain started – back pain, which I suspect was a result of being tossed around during surgery. It felt like a pinch that a chiropractor could fix, but I couldn’t go to a chiro. I had only been given 3 days of pain meds, and I spent the next two nights in more pain and literally awake the entire night until 4 or 5 a.m. Nothing I did helped the pain. By then I was about to lose it. Pain, lack of sleep, lack of nutrition = meltdown. I spent a lot of time crying, which was a bit of a release.

By Day Seven, I threw in the towel. I had a friend bring me some beer, drank more than I should have, but slept the night away. Paid for it by sitting on the toilet the entire next day, but at least I slept. Now I am on week 2 and still trying to get my body back on a regular schedule. Sleep pattern is all over the place. I eat maybe one full meal a day, but other than that small meals throughout the day. As for pain, it’s pretty much gone, but I do feel tender and sensitive at the incision areas and some of my insides. My stomach muscles feel weak, as expected, and I can’t wait to be able to go back to yoga class. Tomorrow I go for my first post-op visit.

In the meantime, I’m not supposed to lift more than 10 pounds, do any type of housecleaning (yeah right), and for now I haven’t been driving yet. This is definitely taking a lot longer than I had expected. I’m just anxious for the rewards of never having a period or a PAP again!

Depression and B-12 Deficiency

The other day when I posted this blog about how horrible I was feeling, I felt slightly better after writing it. However, slightly isn’t enough to get out of a deep, dark funk. That same day, I had also taken my monthly B-12 shot, which usually helps with energy if nothing more, but it takes a good day or so to really be felt in my system.

It’s abnormal for me to walk around crying and unable to function or cope with everyday life, and it happens suddenly and spirals out of control. I am extremely self-aware of how my body feels and how my mind is affected. I feel dazed, unable to concentrate, extremely depressed and anxious, and extremely hopeless in a tunnel without any light. It’s a terrible way to feel. This is what depression feels like to me.

On August 26, I had my pre-op bloodwork done, and some things came back as “low”. I had to google the jargon to figure out what it meant, and it seems that both lack of iron (I have anemia) and B-12 are the culprits here. I am convinced that the lack of B-12 is why my depression gets really bad like it did the other day, because I can easily control the iron deficiency with a pill. These were my results:

After doing some research and also being extremely aware of my body and the things it does, I am convinced that much of my depression is due to a B-12 deficiency. Two days after taking my shot, I felt like a different person – like a cloud has lifted. Today, I feel even better. But this is only temporary, because my body tends to use the B-12 quickly.

Unfortunately, I am only prescribed one shot of B-12 a month, and even though I take oral B-12 as well, it’s not enough. I eat enough foods with B-12 also, so for whatever reason, my body just doesn’t keep this supplement. I contacted my doctor about the bloodwork and my concerns, but I have yet to hear back from her. It’s been 3 days, which I feel is too long to wait when I’m feeling helpless. The last time I told my doctor I think I need the shots more often, she said my bloodwork was fine. Well, duh, it’s fine right after I take the shot up until about 2-3 weeks later. By the third week, I’m low again, which is when they should be testing me. I mean, to me, it’s just common fucking sense!

The doctor also told me this – which I don’t believe, and think she confused B-12 with iron supplements – that too much B-12 isn’t good for me. Total b.s.! I have researched very reputable references that say the complete opposite. Yes, too much iron can harm you, but not B-12.

And here’s another issue – I email the doctor, because it’s usually easier to communicate, but it’s the nurse that generally answers. There have been times the nurse has confused communication to the point that I’ve given up going back and forth. Today I emailed again about my concern, since I hadn’t heard from my doctor. The nurse answers me and asks where I’m getting the B-12 injections, because my records are showing it’s a provider outside the VA healthcare system. WHAT!!!???!!!

OMFG, are you kidding me!! I do not have a provider outside the VA, because if I did, I wouldn’t be emailing about a fucking vitamin that I need to function; I’d be contacting a doctor that wouldn’t think twice about giving me a prescription for it. Jesus Christ! I’m not asking for pain medicine; I’m asking for a harmless supplement so I don’t kill myself! Is this why so many veterans don’t use their medical benefits, and is this why so many veterans are committing suicide? It’s simple shit like this that can drive a person absolutely batshit crazy.

This time I cannot give up. This is my mental health we’re talking about here, and if I need an extra shot a month, then I should get it. I see that I can get it online cheaper for a pet than for a human, even though it’s the same damn thing, and I can get it without a prescription. More total b.s., but I may have to do just that. It shouldn’t be this difficult to solve a simple solution!

About to Lose My Mind – Depression, Anxiety, and I hate everything

I’m about to lose my fucking mind. Not joking. The amount of stress I’m feeling today and prior to today is really wearing on me.

This morning I spent 3 1/2 hours trying to fix things that shouldn’t be broken, things that I didn’t break, instead of doing something that makes me feel better. And this is the type of shit I seem to be dealing with on a weekly basis, because no one seems to know how to do their jobs.

I had a counseling appointment scheduled for this afternoon at the VA, but I realized that I hadn’t received the ten reminders I normally get when I have an appointment. Good thing I checked this morning, because I would have driven the 30 miles one way to get there only to find out someone canceled ALL of my upcoming counseling appointments. This is AFTER waiting for 3 months to see my counselor, because she is so booked. Second motherfucking time this has happened, and for someone with anxiety, depression, and PTSD, this is NOT a good thing.

Not only did I have to wait nearly three months for this counseling appointment, I had to reschedule another very important appointment (they put at the exact same time) that I’ve been waiting 19 years for. Yes, you read that right. 19 years! I have been dicked around for more than 20 years with the VA, and they still can’t get it right.

I have surgery in 10 days. I’m not nervous about it; I just want it overwith so I can have my physical life back. And because of the surgery, it’s getting more difficult to reschedule all of the shit that someone else fucked up. I will be out of commission for two months, so not only am I currently broke, I am super stressed about how I’m going to make it after surgery. Maybe I will end up living in my car after all.

Yesterday was a bad day. I’ve been getting migraines (sinus? Who knows?) a lot lately. I’m getting one now. Yesterday I had a migraine. I decided maybe a walk on the beach would do me good. So I went and didn’t stay long. I didn’t realize the heat index was 106, so on top of being overly hot, it was crowded, and I didn’t feel like being around people. Then I went home and cried for the rest of the afternoon.

I don’t trust people, and I’m really beginning to hate people, and I’m becoming more and more introverted. I don’t normally feel hatred towards anyone, but for whatever reason, ever since dating Toe Ring and recently seeing OC around town, I’m feeling hatred towards people (including those two). I feel like the only way to get by in this world is to be a fucking asshole, and I hate fucking assholes. It seems like the only way to be successful is to be one. I hate this world.

I don’t fit in anywhere, and I realize I never have, so it’s hard to like anyone when I don’t trust them. I don’t even feel like I have real friends anymore. I have friends that are my friends when they are bored and no one else is there to entertain them, or they’re my friends when they need something. Other than that, I’m on my own.

I haven’t been leaving the house much unless I have to. For the most part, I haven’t felt like being around people, because they annoy the shit out of me and give me anxiety. I don’t want to be out in public. I haven’t been doing any of the normal things I usually do, because I haven’t felt like it. Maybe it’s the excruciating Florida heat. Maybe it’s the depression. And it seems when I do feel like doing anything, something comes along and fucks it all up, so why bother?

Being broke doesn’t help, because I need to save gas. I need my car fixed. I really need a chiropractor (probably why I have migraines). I am trying to decide to either get rid of internet or my phone so I have some grocery money, but I need to have both to get things done. It’s a no-win situation. Some of the jobs I’ve been doing are hit or miss, unpredictable, and often unreliable. I guess this is the way it is with jobs nowadays. It’s bullshit, if you ask me.

A few weeks ago, I had to put food back at the grocery store, because I needed maxi pads, because I wouldn’t stop bleeding. How unfair is it that women have to choose between food and pads, but men don’t? I hate being a woman. Men are clueless about the shit we have to deal with. It must be nice to be clueless. Maybe that’s the key to happiness.

Sometimes I feel like the Universe hates me. That I don’t belong here. That it’s trying to tell me to get the fuck out of it. That everything that sucks is a reminder that I’m just a middle-aged loser with nothing to look forward to… whose dreams are dead and bloated.

I fucking hate life right now.

After 40, a vagina is worthless?

Good Lord above.

I watched an episode of Dr. Oz about vaginas. They explained how a woman’s vagina in their 20’s and 30’s is still in good shape. But in your 40s, it becomes dry and fragile and useless.

What. The. Frig.

I think my vagina works just fine. I mean, not that I put it to use much, but when I do, it seems to work pretty damn good. At least that’s what I’ve been told.

Now the uterus – that’s another story altogether. No need for that anymore, since I’m not using it, and all it does is cause pain and problems and screw up my life several days a month.

But my vagina, my vagina is still good.

Life After a Hysteroscopy

I haven’t been writing much. I’ve been thinking about writing a lot lately, but just haven’t gotten around to doing it. I really need to force myself to do it, since it’s basically a form of therapy and a release of toxins in my brain. But I did another brain dump in May and never bothered to type it up to post it. And here it is…

I’ve had a lot to think about lately. A LOT. Had the surgery. Hysteroscopy. Biopsy. NO CANCER! Yes! That was a relief. And for whatever reason, I’ve gotten my sex drive back. I suppose not being in constant pain helps that. But still, for four or five weeks I wasn’t allowed to go swimming, take baths, or put anything into my vagina. So you can imagine how happy I am that those times are over and I can at least use my vibrator again… which seems to be partly broken and eating batteries like crazy. Bummer.

All of that gave me a lot of downtime. And downtime means I’m thinking A LOT. Too much. I already tend to worry too much over shit that shouldn’t matter or hasn’t happened. Anxiety has taken over a bit, so I decided to really get back into some art and creative writing rather than journaling. Been keeping to myself a lot. That helps, but too much time alone indoors makes me batshit. Trying to spend “mental time” at the beach as often as I can, even if it’s only for an hour. Reading a lot of books, too. Maybe I’ll review a few.

I wished I liked those bubbly flavored spiked seltzers more, but I still prefer the flavor of beer. Maybe because it’s make with real shit, not some fake flavoring. Anyway, I’m gaining weight from it. I’m sure my hormonal changes aren’t helping. Besides feeling bloated and looking more my age, I almost don’t even care if I get fat. But then again, none of my clothes are fitting, so that is a problem.

And then I’ve been thinking very hard about the people I allow into my life. People often say that I’m hard to get to know. But if I don’t feel the need to get to know them, or for whatever reason don’t trust that person, they won’t have the chance to get to know me. I feel that people that truly want to get to know me will recognize who I am by my writing, art, and spending quality time with me. Time is very important to me. I prefer to use mine alone rather than someone I don’t want to be near.

With that being said, I realize the majority of men I’ve dated did not deserve my time and attention – because they didn’t take the time to get to know me; they were too busy trying to fuck me and/or play my emotions. It’s difficult even being friends with men if they act that way. And then I have the tendency to give second chances, try to work things out that never will, feel sorry for someone (usually why I stay in something longer than I should). Basically, I’ve been dating below me. As in – I have something to offer them, but they have nothing to offer me except issues. So why do I bother? Is it loneliness?

I have to keep occupied, away from fucktards, and find the person I lost long ago – Me.

Spring Cleaning My Mind

I’ve been meaning to sit down and write a lot more lately, but I’ve had some issues to deal with before I have allowed myself to actually sit. I started redecorating my place after my landlord did some improvements to my bathroom, so for two or three weeks I was painting and cleaning and getting rid of what no longer serves me. For instance, some prints of Key West that were given to me while I was married that I have outgrown, two bags of clothing that either didn’t fit me or I wonder why the hell I bought it in the first place, things I’d saved as “art supplies” but never used, and even my living room rug that I had while I was married. I just want things that are mine to begin with, not a reminder of the past that I had with someone else. Plus, I’m preparing for surgery next week and want my home in order so I have nothing to worry about. I enjoy living minimally with only the quality things that I need and things that keep me occupied.

Another thing I’ve done is take a risk to focus more on freelance work and other projects rather than slaving for someone else, especially since the wages in my area are horrible and barely worth getting out of bed. Besides, the amount of appointments and surgery/recovery time I have would not sit well with any employer. I may have less income coming in, but I’m happier, less stressed, and flexibility is important to me. Plus, my health is my number one priority at the moment, of which most employers seem to be so flippant.

With that previous statement in mind, I recently met a woman that had worked for a large corporation for many years and was let go without any warning, and it changed her entire life. She is now self-employed and less stressed, yet also lower in income. It’s a double-edged sword, but happiness is more important. We discussed how so many employers no longer truly care about their employees; employees are replaceable and unappreciated. It reminded me of the last company I worked for that didn’t even give its employees a Christmas/holiday party, not even a “thank you” at the end of the year. That was a tell-tale sign for me to run from the place, and I did two months later. Why on earth would I get up in the morning to make someone else rich that could care less if I was hit by a bus?

With all of this going on, I have noticed an internal change in myself as well. While I painted for days, I listened to a lot of podcasts and got into a zen mode. I didn’t feel like being around other people. I wasn’t thinking about the actual work I was doing; I was just being, which is a huge step for me, because I have a tendency to think and overthink all too often. Although at times my mind did wander, and I did do a lot of thinking about the things going on in my life… and the people that have affected me in all sorts of ways.

I was invited out a few times by friends in town and another one going away, so it was a nice change to have some girl time. (Since most of my friends are boyfriended up, it’s rare to have girl time anymore.) While I realize I don’t exactly fit in to any group, I have a variety of friends of all shapes, sizes, ages, and backgrounds. There are some people that, once they get boyfriended up, stop being friends until they have an issue. Or my one friend, that when we do finally get together, ends up constantly on her phone with the boyfriend texting and calling nonstop. It’s the most annoying fucking thing in the world, not to mention rude. I also realize that I’m the one initiating getting together with some friends almost 100% of the time. So I stopped doing it. And I haven’t heard a word from any of them. I often feel like people only contact me when they need something or when they’re bored and no one else is around. No one wants to feel this way.

I have distanced myself from dating again. While I’m open to meet new people, the whole “dating” and trying to find “the one” thing seems to be useless. Men are either too preoccupied pursuing multiple women or “work too much” or have small children or otherwise emotionally unavailable. Either be in it or GTFO, because I value my time, and people who waste it are the epitome of ass. And then there’s the other side of the spectrum – after one date they think they’re going to marry me. It’s not happening. None of it.

And while I’m sitting here typing this, I’m watching a millipede crawl across the floor. I am a big person on signs from the Universe… and the symbolism of the millipede, according to Ted Andrews:

“Damp environments are symbolic of creative, psychic, and emotional areas. For those to whom the millipede is a messenger, it’s important to find an environment supportive to their creative and psychic sensibilities, necessary for their health and well-being. Centipedes and millipedes often remind us to be careful of what we say and how we say it. They alert us to new psychic environments and connections and to new and previously unrecognized psychic relationships. They also appear to alert us to any possible pitfalls within those relationships. Theirs is the energy of quiet protection in psychic exploration.” (Ted Andrews Animal-Wise.)

Seems to be quite fitting.

Stuck in My Head – March Brain Dump

Lately I feel as if I’ve been stuck in my head, wanting to be alone, not really feeling sociable. I have a lot of things going on, a lot on my mind. Just started another new job that I’m unsure about already, been dealing with medical issues that I’m also unsure what the outcome will be. I’ve been finding myself not wanting to listen to noise or music or anything but silence or the wind or the birds or something natural. Nothing manmade, because I’m finding it more and more annoying to the point it’s causing confusion.

I’m not exactly liking where the world is heading. I’m big into nature and natural things, but it’s obvious greed is taking over and ruining some of the real luxuries of life – things that money cannot possibly buy. It’s depressing to watch.

I’ve lost interest in dating again. Besides it being so time-consuming getting to know someone that I can’t even be friends with, it’s so fucking exhausting. I just don’t have the energy to put into someone that I don’t have that much interest in – or put energy into someone that turns out to be an asshole. It takes away from my spirit, from my work, from my sleep habits… I just can’t do it anymore.

I’m also tired again. I was doing fine with getting my shit together right up until I met Toe Ring, then my sleep habits that I was finally getting under control went to shit again. Should I also mention I had great control of my drinking habits as well until he came along? I realize now I often let the wrong people into my life that aren’t the best influences, that don’t bring out the best in me, that don’t contribute to me feeling good about things. I know I’ve done this in the past, and I don’t want to repeat it. Only people that lift my spirit, not drown it.

I guess for now being alone is probably what’s best for me. I’m content with writing and doing my multiple other jobs and spending Friday nights home alone with my cat watching Dirty John or Temptation Island. It’s more entertaining and rewarding than dealing with someone that I shouldn’t be with and that drains my energy to the point of wanting to be alone again.

The Return of Douchebags

It seems like they all come out of the woodwork at once. Besides constantly seeing my ex husband with his fiancé all over town, I keep running into these douchebags.

Since my last post, Frat Boy returned my robe, but not before harassing the shit out of me first. He texted me numerous times trying to talk to me, but I was either working, busy, or just not in the mood for dealing with his shit. He filled up my voicemail with stupid messages asking why I’m not speaking to him – filled it up so much that I missed important messages, because there was no room left. That really annoyed the crap out of me. Finally, I told him that the reason I don’t want to speak to him is because of the last incident when he acted like a total ass, to which he replied that I always blame him for something… as if I made him act that way. So I told him to just mail my robe back, because I wasn’t about to have to see him, and I didn’t want him at my house. About a week or so ago, I was sitting at home doing some writing. Frat Boy had pulled up at my house and stuck the robe on my front doorknob. I made sure I bleached it well.

About a month ago, my friend and I went to watch a musician play at a local tavern. I noticed King Nothing there and ignored him. Suddenly, this woman walks up to us and introduces herself to me. She knew my name, and I swear I’d never seen her before. She shook my hand and said it was nice to meet me. I was like wtf? Who are you, and how do you know my name? She said everyone knows who I am. I said who’s everyone, because I rarely go to this place. My friend and I looked at each other like what is this about? She wasn’t even looking at my friend, just me, saying she just wanted to meet me. It was very bizarre. Sure enough, she leaves and it turns out she was there with King Nothing. Why anyone would want to stir up some drama is beyond me, but apparently they deserve each other. What a tool!

I saw Mr. Volatile on Match, and he liked me and messaged me. Apparently, he didn’t even recognize me, even though I still look the same as I did when I dated him six months ago. He had his age listed as 44, even though he’s 51. I replied with “You don’t recognize me? We’ve already met and dated. You might not want to lie about your age on here.” I guess my location threw him off, but he said he liked my photos. Whatever. I said, “I suppose you don’t recognize me, because the entire time we went out to dinner you were checking out other women. Then you ditched me at a bar I didn’t even want to go to. So no wonder you don’t remember.” He had nothing to say after that. Another tool.

I’ve been making a good attempt at going to new places in another city to get away from the madness around here at least once a week. But of course, I just had to run into someone else from the past – a cop that I briefly dated – that turned out to be married but divorced earlier this year. He stood me up on a Friday night around my birthday, so I haven’t kept in touch with him. He offered to buy me a beer, so I agreed. I was showing him something I had been working on and ended up getting another beer. When the bill came, he never paid for the first beer. What a douche!

After not running into him for months now, I saw Orange Crush on Black Friday in the parking lot across from my job, walking into another establishment. He and the guy he was with were looking up where I was standing at my job, while a co-worker and myself were staring down at the parking lot. I’m pretty sure he knows where I work, and at this point, I’m pretty sure he’s still a huge pussy and can’t face me like a man. But I still started shaking again when I saw him. I didn’t think I would still have those feelings that I can’t seem to shake. I’ll be so glad when that finally happens!

On Being Sick and Single

If you’ve been following my blog, you may remember that I became very sick at the beginning of the year. During the brief time I was seeing Mr. Mixed Messages, I came down with whatever sinus/head cold crap he had, which turned into the flu and eventually pneumonia. Being that I’m a natural caregiver, I offered to help Mr. Mixed Messages, asking if he needed anything, maybe some homemade chicken soup… but he declined, apparently had someone else to take care of him. But when the tables were turned, he offered me nothing, not even a text asking how was I feeling.

After being sick for nearly three months, I quickly came to realize who my real friends were. Nearby friends that never once asked how I was doing or if I needed anything, I realized were no friends at all. And the fuckboys that always wanted to “hang out” instead of help out had no place in my life.

Not only is being sick and single lonely and difficult, it’s a financial disaster when I have to miss work. Already struggling, having no income is a double edged sword that causes more stress and a vicious cycle that has taken its toll on both my physical and mental health. (More about this cycle in another post.)

The past few months I’ve barely dated at all. Either I’m working too much or I just have no interest in dating anyone I meet. Not enough in common, age differences, and emotionally unavailable are just a few reasons among other things as to why. But still, I meet people that want to “hang out”. Most of the time, I just decline.

Fast forward to today. I’ve been sick again with an awful upper respiratory illness for almost two weeks. And again, fuckboys are nowhere to be found. It’s a reminder of why I’m not dating anyone and why I won’t settle. Not that I care to be married again, but “in sickness and in health” is very important when it comes to relationships. If someone can’t be a friend at the very least, they could never meet my standards of being a partner. Which leads me to ask…

Does true partnership coexist with friendship anymore?

A Date with a Redneck

Last year I met a guy on Bumble that seemed to be nice. I will refer to him as Redneck. The first time we met he was dressed nicely and on his best behavior. Then he asked me to be his New Year’s Eve date to watch a band and meet his friends.

Like normal people do on New Year’s Eve, I got dressed up. When I arrived to meet Redneck, he was wearing jeans, a T-shirt with a flannel over it and sneakers. His friends and their wives/girlfriends were also dressed up. He ordered unhealthy food and dessert after telling me about some health issues he was having, so at that point I pretty much determined nothing is going to go further than friendship with Redneck. Oh, yeah, and his profile listed him as 4 years younger than he actually was.

Shortly after I met Redneck, I got really sick for a couple of months that eventually turned into pneumonia. He texted me a few times about going to dinner, but I either wasn’t feeling well or I had to work. A few days later, he’d been at some redneck truck show and then proceeded to invite himself to my house when he was done. I repeated I wasn’t feeling well and was going to bed early. Around 8pm the same day, he called me – sounded drunk and telling me he was eating at Wing House about 40 minutes from me. I didn’t care to talk to him, especially knowing he’d been drinking all day. Again, he said he was coming over when he was done eating. I said it’s already after 8, I’m going to bed soon. And then I saw the other side of Redneck.

Apparently, my health and well-being didn’t matter to Redneck. He started yelling, “No, I’m coming!” At first it was funny until I realized he was both serious and drunk. I said, “NO, I’m going to bed early because I want to get up and do yoga in the morning.” He said “fuck yoga! We can do that all night!” I said, “NO, I’ve been sick, I’m tired, and I don’t want anyone here. By the time you’d get here it will be like 10… that’s too late.”

He seriously started to argue with me that I’m always too busy or making excuses, fuck my excuses… I repeated that I’d been sick and I needed to get well (at this point I hadn’t yet found out I had pneumonia). At that point, he was just sounding like a dick, kept saying, “fuck yoga”, so I thought “fuck you”, hung up on him and never heard back.

About 5 months later, I went back on Bumble, and there he was with the same old, same old. I purposely swiped right to see what he would do. We matched. I told him he really fucked up, to which he replied that I did. Hmm… Nope. He did. I don’t miss him a bit.