How I Lost My Virginity

Seeing the patterns of sexual abuse…

Free the Burden

This is probably going to be somewhat disturbing to some readers, so this is fair warning.

When I was 16, I worked with a guy that went to my school. For about a year he begged me to date him, but I wasn’t interested. Eventually, I gave in to him and he was my “first love” so to speak. He had a car, so we’d sneak off and park in wooded areas or parks to make out and have sex.

One night when I was babysitting he came to the house. We were on the living room floor (the person I was babysitting for was in her room asleep by then) making out. He was acting like an asshole, which was typical of him anyway, but here’s where this gets disturbing… All of the times I thought we were having sex, he wasn’t actually inside of me. I think maybe the…

View original post 173 more words

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.

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….

Friendships Based on Trust

To me, time spent with someone is something you can never get back, so I don’t like to waste it on people that ultimately don’t care about me. I do not take friendships or any type of relationship lightly. If I’m going to call someone a friend, then it means they’re special enough for me to spend time with. Of course, there are different levels and types of friendships, but if I’m going to call someone a “friend,” it means that I have trust in that person. Broken trust isn’t mendable to me, as I don’t have time for it.

Recently, I met a guy that worked at a farm where I buy eggs and honey. I hadn’t seen him there in the past, but the first time I met him, as I was leaving he said to me that I was “gorgeous, by the way.” I was completely taken aback, because I hadn’t expected it, especially having no makeup and my hair looking like a rat’s nest that day, not to mention my frumpy clothing. The next time I went to the farm, we chatted longer, and he said something about getting coffee, so I gave him my business card. Then I didn’t hear from him.

The following week I went back to the farm, and he said he’d lost my card and could he have another one? I said sure, now that you have my number, use it. When I left, he’d texted me right away so that he didn’t lose my number again. I said I figured I didn’t hear from you because you had a girlfriend or something. He said, no nothing like that. He complimented me a lot in a way that a man will compliment a woman he’s interested in dating, not someone to just be friends. But then my gut told me something wasn’t right. I thought maybe he was a convict or something shady, but I figured out his last name, looked him up, and it turns out he has a wife of only 6 months! When I confronted him, he tried to backtrack and say he just needed someone to talk to (what am I, a therapist??), and that he just “wanted a friend”. I told him that he’d flat out lied to me, so there is no friendship for me with anyone that lies. He made excuses; I told him to have a nice life. I’m just glad I didn’t waste another moment of my time putting effort into a friendship based on dishonesty.

That brings me to another story about someone else that claimed to be a friend but in actuality is a frenemy. I learned years ago that she had talked shit about me while I was going through my divorce. The last thing that I needed was someone pretending to be my friend at a time when I needed true friendship the most. Fast forward to a couple of years ago when she needed some information on a guy she was dating, and when I told her what I knew, she insinuated that I was interested in dating him, which wasn’t the case at all. More recently, this frenemy created a passive-aggressive hashtag that I knew was directly aimed at me, and that’s when I decided to just block her. I never considered her an actual friend anyway, because my actual friends do not act the way she does.

The definition of friendship is a state of mutual trust and support. It’s a pretty simple concept, but I guess some people will never get it. I’d rather be alone than with someone I cannot trust.

I Wish I Wasn’t Me

**(NOTE: This was written many years ago, maybe 15-20.)

I remember when I used to be much more ignorant about the world, yet I was a much happier person because of it. I used to think life was simple and easy going. I used to think that life was all about having a job, getting married, and having kids. I used to have such an innocent outlook on things. Since, I’ve learned differently and my soul has been tainted with the negative side of life… a side that has made me wish I were someone else.

If what I don’t know doesn’t hurt me, then I’d live a life of bliss. Unfortunately, I think that knowing too much has done more harm than good. If I weren’t so good at English, then I wouldn’t care to notice everyone else’s horrible grammar and spelling. If hadn’t chosen an artistic field, then I wouldn’t be scrutinizing every little detail about others, as artists tend to do. If I hadn’t been born with the innate tendency to pick up on people, then I’d have no reason to worry about being a private investigator. If I’d chosen to be a housewife instead of having a career, then I wouldn’t be sitting here worrying about everything else. If I’d chosen to stay in a bad relationship rather than be single, then why do I feel I’d be better off with someone who doesn’t love me than no one at all? Would I be one of those wives that turn the blind eye on a cheating husband, or would I be too stupid to know any better?

If I were a stupid person, I’d be happy as hell because I wouldn’t know any better. There are enough stupid people around so I’d at least fit in with their group. At least stupid people feel loved – even when they’re not.

I get told often that I’m “beautiful”, “gorgeous”, “sexy”, etc… but I don’t feel it. How can people who say these things turn right around and say things that are equally as insulting and degrading, and then expect me to believe it? Or these same people’s actions prove they’re just liars. How can someone who doesn’t feel loved feel any of those good things at all?

If I wasn’t me, then would I be happier?

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.

Shopping at Walmart May Require Mental Health Therapy

I’m positive I don’t stand alone when it comes to what I think about Walmart. It seems like everyone I know feels the same about the place. It amazes me that a place can be so shitty and still rake in billions a year.

I was trying to save time and get everything in one place, because I had to be somewhere else, so I went to Walmart to return something. Of course there’s a line a half mile long in the middle of the day, because no one is ever really working there.

So I raced around to get some of the things I needed, like cat food. Should have been a simple task, right? Not at Walmart! The cat food I needed was stuffed way in the back of the shelf, but too deep for me to reach it. Of course no one was around, and I ended up having to go to the shelf under it and literally crawl under/into the shelf and reach up to push it so that I could reach it. They were also out of collars and have been for weeks now.

Then I looked for olive oil. The regular type I use for cooking was out – of course – and they only had EVOO left. Shelves are nearly empty! (Again, how does this place function??)

I needed to get flash drives, but they only had them in single packs, which were more expensive. I’ve bought them before in multiple packs before, so I asked the employee. The guy  “Ryan” told me I probably bought them at Staples. Say what??

I told him I don’t shop at Staples. Then he said I might have got them on Amazon.

I couldn’t believe my ears.

I said, “I think I know the difference between buying something at Walmart, driving 20 miles to Staples, or shopping online! I was IN the store!” – and I pointed “right there” to where I saw them last.

Then he said, “Well maybe you don’t remember.”

Oh. My. God.

I was in NO mood to deal with this idiot’s shit. I went OFF on him and said, “Maybe you don’t know how to do your shitty job, Ryan!” – and I threw everything down and walked out.

No wonder Walmart is offering mental health therapy in their store!

Who determines our worth?

How it feels to be a wife

(NOTE: This and several upcoming posts were written several years ago when I was married. I thought it would be fun to share them.)

I suppose enough criticism from everyone in your environment can help you to determine whether or not you’re a worthless wife. Your family, your kids, your significant other, and even your neighbors can all contribute to that cause. After all, wives should be perfect in every way, 24/7, in sickness and in health, and do it with a smile on their faces.

“Alex’s mom is cool. She looks like a movie star and lets us stay up as late as we want,” the kids might say.

Nice. Alex’s mom is also a two-bit whore who screws her husband’s best friend.

“What’s for dinner tonight?” the husband might say. “I’m hungry.”

Dinner? It’s only one in the afternoon. I’m still digesting lunch.

“You should be helping your husband mow the lawn,” the neighbor might say.

Sure thing. I’ll get out my razor and make a landing strip as soon as he picks his dirty clothes up off of the bathroom floor.

“You two should plan sex at least two or three times a week. You need to keep your husband happy,” the mother might say.

Plan sex? Oh how romantic! Is that why you’re such a bitch after 3 “happy” marriages?

I’ll shut up now. After all, isn’t that what women are supposed to do?

Mean Girls Over the Age of 35

No one should have to deal with mean girls at ANY age. However, it’s not uncommon when you’re a teenager or a middle schooler, given the age. Unfortunately, some women are just mean girls their entire lives. Recently, I’ve had to deal with a few personally, and so did a friend of mine through her job.

In my experience, I was invited on a boating excursion with a group of people. Excitedly, since I don’t get to go boating much, I took up the offer. I wanted nothing more than to relax and enjoy the day and have some fun. But it wasn’t exactly how it went.

We took a short boat ride to a nearby popular island that was filled with people. The driver of the boat was my friend that invited me, there were a few couples that I didn’t know, and a couple of other single women that I did know. However, two of these single women were complete and total mean girls to me for no apparent reason. I wasn’t the only one that noticed it. But being on a boat meant I was STUCK having to deal with the shit the entire day. So I mostly ignored it, but it still took me by surprise. Since it was a morning ride, I wasn’t quite awake to deal with it the same way I would have if I had had a decent night of sleep. I would have told them both to fuck themselves, and now I wish I had so they’d know exactly where they stood with me.

Mean Girl #1 is someone I’ve talked to on a few occasions and never had an issue before; however, I did notice that a few other times I tried to say hi to her she blew me off. Whatever. Mean Girl #2 was someone that I had met but I didn’t quite remember it. When I introduced myself and went to shake her hand, she replied in a snotty voice with her nose in the air, “Yeah, we’ve met before.” Okay, bitch. Both girls reminded me of snooty bitches from junior high that would gang up on and beat up other girls. Neither are very pretty, although they try. But the point is – I don’t care what you look like, as long as you’re not an asshole, I will be your friend.

Mean Girl #1 yelled and screamed at everyone on the boat during the ride, so it wasn’t just me that noticed the bitchiness (actually 3 women were screaming at us all to shut up, stand up, sit down, do this, do that, like musical fucking chairs – totally uncalled for). I have never been yelled at and screamed at on a day and event that was supposed to be fun since I was a kid. Any time I asked Mean Girl #1 a question or said anything to her, she was a snotty bitch with an attitude, snapping at me as if I’d done something to her or was in her way or she didn’t want me there. By the end of the day, I was out of beer, hungry, and I’d had enough of her shit and barked back at her.

Mean Girl #2 let up a little bit, but wasn’t exactly friendly. She was there with a guy that I think she’d just met, because she talked about how great the sex was. No one in any self respecting relationship is going to speak that way around people they barely know. Like Mean Girl #1, Mean Girl #2 was snotty when I tried to speak to her. At some point, some dude came around taking group pictures, and when my friend invited me to be in it with them, I declined. First, I hate my picture taken, and second, I definitely DON’T want myself in photos with fake ass negative bitches. I’m pretty sure the two of them whispered something about them glad I wasn’t in the photos. But I can guarantee I was happier I wasn’t associated with them, because all of that ended up on social media.

Looking back, I’m thinking both of these bitches felt I was a threat to them. Why, I don’t know, because I’m not out to fuck around with the jackass in our area. Mean Girl #1 was busy shaking her tits and ass for the other guys on the island and most likely trying to hook up. I wasn’t interested in hooking up or meeting another stupid drunk ass man, so I stuck with the older couples that were much more pleasant and educated to talk to. I didn’t feel like getting involved in any drama, and we all seemed to be on the same page.

I saw Mean Girl #2 out by herself recently (guess the new guy didn’t last) and she said hi to me when we were both talking to our mutual friend. I said, “Oh, hi,” as if I didn’t care what she said to me. Because I truly didn’t give a fuck. Don’t pretend to be friendly to me one time and not the next, then try it again. I don’t have time for that bullshit.

The other day, I noticed Mean Girl #1 follows me on Instagram (never liked anything, just viewed my “stories” which now mainly consist of food and cat pics). I guess a while back I’d requested to follow her but she never accepted it. So I unrequested. I don’t want to view or see her shit. Still wondering why she’s following mine.

Either way, I have zero time for any person in my life that acts that way. Never have, never will. Basic bitches have no place in my life!

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.

What Are You Settling For?

Settling. I see people around me doing it all the time. Settling in relationships, settling in jobs, settling in circumstances within their control. But I can’t do that. I refuse to waste even small moments of my life settling for something that’s not making me happy. I‘ve done it before, and it’s a big time waster. Time is money, and time can’t ever be replaced. But some people can.

I have witnessed so many of my friends and exes and others around me settling with the first person that comes along. Been there, done that, and it never works. At least not for me anyway. Well, maybe not the first person, but for someone because I’m tired of being alone. (Then in the end, realizing I’m better off alone.)

I’ve seen people stay in relationships “for the kids” or for whatever reason they happen to use, and most of the time, these people are really fucking miserable. When I see a couple that seems to be happy, then see either of them out alone happier without the other, that’s a problem. If men flirt with me when they’re not with their significant others, it makes me glad I’m not settled into some bullshit that someone else has. No thank you!! (And the men that do this are despicable!)

And then there are those settling into jobs for whatever reason. Yes, we all have to pay bills, but at this point in my life I want to do something I actually like, not something I have to do to get by. I’ve done all of this miserable shit before; I just can’t do it anymore. Yes, sometimes we work jobs specifically just for our shitty American health care. I’ve done all of that – and I’m over every bit of it, especially when the job itself literally made me ill. Lesson learned.

Life is too short to wake up in the morning dreading what you have to do each day… and this is why I live minimally. I refuse to be a slave to material things. (I wanted to live minimally when I was married, but it’s not what he wanted.) I live in a 500-square-foot garage apartment, and I drive a 15-year-old car. I no longer use credit cards. I barter things, such as salon services. I attempt to eat as healthy as I possibly as I can, which is a challenge if I want to buy organic foods. If I do go out, I try to organize it with ladies-day specials so I’m not paying full price… or sometimes my friends decide to pick up the tab (or on the very rare occasion I actually go out on a date), which is super cool. (However, I’ll probably be dead before student loans will ever be paid off.)

With that being said, people really get on my fucking nerves constantly asking what I’m doing for work, as if it defines who I am or as if it’s any of their business. For now, I’m just making it being self-employed doing product reviews and miscellaneous projects, picking up random things along the way to get by. I’ve explained it over and over again. These same people don’t understand that just because I don’t always physically have to be somewhere at certain times (traditional job), that I don’t work at all (as if money appears out of the sky – I wish!) – and actually tell other people that! It’s fucking annoying. But that’s because these people have settled. Settled into shitty jobs with shitty pay. Been there, done that, and it cost me my health. Not worth it for one minute!

I will work a job until it no longer serves ME, not the other way around. I refuse to be a slave to a corporation. I refuse to continue doing work that doesn’t make me happy in some way. And I refuse to sit in traffic for hours on end to a job I hate and wear clothes that aren’t comfortable to sit at a desk to do work that I despise. It’s no way to live life when you realize it could end at anytime without warning.

Working Thru PTSD and Being Emotionally Unavailable

Sometimes things happen that will forever change a person’s life. Forever change who that person is. Some things have forever changed me, and even though I pretend to be strong, these things have weakened me in many ways. Just when I started working through the PTSD, something else came along and set me right back. In the past month, I have felt pretty good for only one day – both physically and mentally. That’s not enough for me.

I’ve been doing a lot of introspection over the past few months, going thru my old writings, and realizing that I have completely lost myself. I don’t even write the same. I stopped working out. Nothing interests me at all. I lost who I am, I lost my enthusiasm for life, my motivation to do anything I used to enjoy, my spark. Why? Because I spent too much time focused on giving myself to those that didn’t value me. And now I feel I have nothing left to give to anyone else except myself.

What the fuck was I thinking giving my time and energy to those unworthy assholes??! I suppose it’s because it’s the way I was conditioned since childhood, as many women are. It’s really hard to break a pattern that’s been going on for over 40 years, especially without guidance or cheerleaders. I feel as if I’m constantly searching for something that works, for people that believe in me. I guess no one else will if I don’t believe in myself, but how do you even begin to believe in yourself? 

This struggle has to stop. Over the past few months I realize that I have spent too much time and energy on relationships that were doomed from the beginning instead of focusing my energy on things that would build me up and make me happy. I honestly have no desire to date; I can only be friends with a man, and if he can’t be just friends, then he can go fuck himself. I just want to write, create things, be one with nature, and heal. For now, I am the one that’s emotionally unavailable. And I am okay with that.

A lot of this has to do with so many of the fucktards I’ve dated and keep running into in this small town. How did I not notice what pieces of shit these men are? I only chose to find the good things in people instead of seeing head on the narcissistic, selfish assholes that cared absolutely nothing about me. Even men that I didn’t date – those I trusted as friends – men that did things to me that will forever change who I am and the way I feel about men in general. I believe it’s probably even changed my DNA. No wonder I feel like shit all the time. Looking back, I wish I hadn’t met or dated ANY of the men I’ve written about. Not one of them has added anything positive to my life (probably why it’s easy to write about them). Even OC – the one that I loved and hurt me the most.

I’ve run into OC a couple of times in the past few months. He literally hid behind his hat in one instance (I pretended I didn’t see him), and in another, he literally ran out of the place when he saw me. Seriously… what a fucking coward! It’s been two whole years, and he’s still acting this way? WTF?

About a month ago, a mutual acquaintance (more on that later) mentioned to me that OC “has commitment issues”. Instantly, those words helped me to gain clarity – I realized at that exact moment I’m not the only one OC has done this to, and all of this time I had been blaming myself, thinking I’m the one that did something wrong. And to think that there are women in this town that have also probably been burned by him really angers me. How dare he think it’s okay to use women, feign a friendship, and throw them away! What a fucking piece of shit! Instead of feeling hurt from him now, I feel anger and disgust. (Also pissed off at myself for being a fool.) I don’t normally feel hatred towards people, but now I have this hatred towards him for wasting my time and lying to me and using me and hurting me without a single apology. I was blinded by his charm and his pretending to like me, because I wasn’t used to men being nice to me. How fucking pathetic am I?

On the note of men being nice to me – that’s how I ended up married. I had a horrible dating streak in my 20s and early 30s. I was a single mom, and at the time, being a single mom wasn’t a huge thing like it is now. No one wanted to date me, no one wanted to date anyone with kids – or they wanted their own kids, and I was done having them. I was rarely taken out on “real dates” and treated like a woman. All I met were losers or men that were too old for me to date. I honestly didn’t even know what dating was supposed to be about, because my life at that time were mainly friends with benefits and hookups. I didn’t know what it was like to have a real boyfriend. I also didn’t meet anyone that I wanted in my life longterm, because when you’re a single mom, the guy has to be the entire package.

So when I met my now ex-husband, he was super sweet to me and took me out on real dates, called me when he said he would, and all of those good things that women should get out of a man she’s dating. Plus, he accepted my child. I wasn’t used to be treated well at all, which is why I stuck with him and married him. We had some things in common, but not enough to keep the marriage alive. We grew apart. I realize now I was settling for someone just because he was nice to me, and I didn’t think anyone else could or would love me. How fucked up is that? I don’t want to fall into that trap again.

Recently, an acquaintance introduced me to a man that I’m now very good friends with. It’s a new friendship, so the trust is still building. To set the record straight, I’ve already told him that I’m emotionally, financially, and sexually unavailable – and he’s okay with that. It’s nice to find someone that can be a friend without expecting anything in return, like the men in my experience have.

I always feel like I owe him something when he helps me move furniture or takes me out to eat – because there has always been a price to pay when men “help”. But he says he doesn’t expect anything in return, and I sit and wonder how long this attitude will last.

My friend treats me very well, but he does remind me a lot of my ex-husband (the good parts), and I realize we don’t have that much in common. And this is what gets me – friends saying that if he treats me well, I should date him. But I don’t see it that way, since I have been there/done that, got bored and moved on. I know exactly what I want, but I have to keep reminding myself that just because this person treats me well doesn’t mean I should be in a relationship with him. Besides, I am emotionally unavailable. I just need to find other people that know how to treat other people well.

Serial Killers & Dick Pics

Just some random thoughts I wrote down recently….

Sometimes I wonder how I’m still alive. After watching hundreds of hours of criminal documentaries and Dateline, I’m the perfect candidate for a serial killer. Or some other deranged piece of shit. I mean, look at my dating history of total fucktards. 

Why am I the perfect candidate? I am alone a lot. A LOT. I travel alone, I go out alone. Not that I always want to be alone, but sometimes I do. Although I do my best to totally be aware of my surroundings and depend on my gut instinct, there are always slip-ups. Not that nothing bad has ever happened to me from being alone; so far I’ve been lucky that the only things permanent are emotional scars. 

A few of my friends have shared some stories with me about going out alone and either being attacked or nearly attacked by men that have zero boundaries or a care in the world about women in general. I’m a fighter for the most part, but you just never know what the surrounding circumstances will be in any given situation. And I don’t carry a gun. I think my mouth is often a deterrent that helps keep the creeps away. But a physical fight is always a gamble when the person is bigger and stronger. And depending on the location, sometimes fighting back may  end with floating in a body of water or face being pounded or being choked to death. 

Like I do here on this blog (and for obvious reasons I don’t use real names or locations), I call people out on their shit. I do it right there on social media but I don’t hold back on the real names if someone deserves it. A few weeks ago, I was sent an unsolicited dick pic by some fucktard that I didn’t even know on Instagram. Just some random dude with nothing else to do. (Oh to have so much time on your hands! *eyeroll*) He decided to say, “Good morning,” along with a pic of his erect penis.

Like seriously, what the fuck! I took a screenshot of his message and his profile, blocked him, and posted his idiocy for the world to see. People messaged me that they thought it was great for showing everyone what a (no pun intended) dick he was for doing that. The thing is – men send unsolicited dick pics to women all the damn time, but most don’t think to post their names. Well, I do. I’m fucking done with men thinking it’s okay to treat women like sex objects and sex dolls. Men with this type of mindset are dangerous to the point of beyond stupidity – I feel they are a danger to women in general.

And it all seems to be too recurring. It’s time to put an end to this patriarchal bullshit. 

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.

Living as a Single INFP-T Idealist

I had probably taken this test back in college, but long before everything was available on the internet. After recently taking the Myers-Briggs personality test, I realized why I have always felt alone, always felt like I was on the wrong planet or born to the wrong generation, or just plain never fit in anywhere. The more I read about the INFP-T personality type (“the mediator), the more I’m beginning to understand myself. I wish I had done this years ago!

From what I’ve read, the INFP personality is a rarity, fitting only about 4-5% of the population. Every single characteristic of an INFP-T fits me spot on. Here I was all of these years thinking something was wrong with me, because I never fit in, people always told me they could never understand me, and because of that – I never understood myself and always felt as if something was wrong with me. So now here I am in my mid-40s finally figuring it out.

It seems that most INFP personality types are lonely, mainly because we prefer to be alone or have difficulty being around chaotic environments or people, prefer to communicate in metaphors, and take things personally. I’m not the type of person that’s far left or far right, and I like things diplomatically balanced right in the center. We like to spend quality time with a few people that mean a lot to us. This explains why I have never fit into groups, no matter how hard I’ve tried. I mean, I can get along with anyone or find common ground with anyone somewhere along the line; I tend to be a listener, and more than enough people have unleashed all of their problems to me; but I have also been told more than enough times that I am difficult to get to know. After reading all of the strengths and weaknesses of the INFP personality, I identify with all of them 100%. I am ruled by my emotions and feelings for the most part, which is probably why my entire life has seemed so scattered.

After taking the Myers-Briggs test, I found the Keirsey personality test that also fits along the same lines. There are four types of Idealists (15% of the population), and INFP personality type is one of them. I happen to fall into the Idealist-Healer category. Again, this type fit me quite well, especially as a nurturer and dreamer.

Taking all of this into consideration, I can see why I have had such difficulty in relationships and opening up to people. It all makes total sense now. I suppose this is another reason I’m single; I find the good in everyone, even though they may not be good for me, and I often don’t break off relationships (whether it be friendship, romantic, or work related) when I should. I care more than I should, and like many INFP types, I tend romanticize a partner for what I think they are or could be rather than what they really are.

I already knew all of this about myself, but these tests just help explain things better for my understanding. Now that I’ve discovered all of this, I realize I need more personality types that fit my own. Further research suggests that I the best matches for INFP types are ENFJ or ESFJ. If it were only that easy to find that without going around asking people to take the test! Maybe the next time I write a dating profile it will read “INFP seeking ENFJ or ESFJ” and see what happens.