Water, Water Wash. Water Wash Over Me; Cool Me Down. Cool Me Down. Water; Water Leave. Water Leave Through The Valleys You Wore Down. Wear me down.

So, I have some explaining to do.

I’ve obviously been dehydrated despite all of my efforts the past four months I’ve been away.

Water.

Am I right?

Ha. Okay. Let’s get to it then.

A little bit of something I’m working on because I think I’m soooooooo funny.

That’s just one of MY myriad of complicated and long-reaching qualities.

Oh! AND, in this time, I found out I can freestyle (meaning lyrically rap). How cool is THAT?!

THE night — after that day in October — when I posted about wanting to elevate my writing and declared “I AM THE MOTHERFUCKING STORM,” something so traumatic happened that it LITERALLY broke me.

When I talk about it, I say, “IT BROKE ME.” ๐Ÿ˜ฑ๐Ÿคฏ๐Ÿคช๐Ÿ‘ฟ

But this post isn’t THAT story.

I have been working on something I super love, but, I have this weird type of “narcoleptic symptomatic behavior” that NO ONE seems capable of figuring out, and unfortunately for me, as a self-proclaimed writer, sitting in front of a screen triggers this “narcoleptic symptomatic behavior.”

So, until I can finish my storm WITHOUT falling asleep on my keyboard, this is all I have to offer at the moment.

But TRUST.

The wait IS worth it.

And as always, be good to each other.

โ™ฅ๏ธ๐ŸŽถโœŒ๐ŸฟโœŒ๐ŸปโœŒ๐ŸพโœŒ๐ŸผโœŒ๐Ÿฝ

You Can Try And Read My Lyrics Off Of This Paper Before I Lay ‘Em. But You Won’t Take The Sting Out These Words Before I Say ‘Em. ‘Cause Ain’t No Way I’mma Let You Stop Me From Causin’ Mayhem. When I Say I’mma Do Somethin’ I Do It. I Don’t Give A Damn What You Think.

I’m SOOOOOO excited that the actor who gave such a PHENOMENAL performance in this socially important movie SAW my post about it and added it to his story! Let’s keep passing this message along!

Education is SO important.

And sometimes we have to take true education like that — into our own hands.

^ That’s my Instagram, for those who want to totally stalk me LoL.

My storm is still yet to come ๐Ÿ˜‰!

As always, be good to each other.

โ™ฅ๏ธ๐ŸŽถโœŒ๐ŸฟโœŒ๐ŸปโœŒ๐ŸพโœŒ๐ŸผโœŒ๐Ÿฝ

If I’m What She Wants, She Gets What She Wants. Turning Me On Like It’s Her Job. Sometimes I Think She Must Get Off On Turning Me ON.

I’ve been off my writing game lately.

That ends now.

I need to be writing.

And I need to be sharing.

It’s that simple.

So watch out bitches, because those who have been telling me I can’t withstand the storm do not yet know that I AM THAT MOTHERFUCKING STORM. Watch out because I’m coming for ya ๐Ÿ˜‰ — a/k/a my writing game is about to get hard on ya.

As always, be good to each other.

โ™ฅ๏ธ๐ŸŽถโœŒ๐ŸฟโœŒ๐ŸปโœŒ๐ŸพโœŒ๐ŸผโœŒ๐Ÿฝ

Who Want To See My Greatness? Best Believe I’m Pay-per-view. Best Believe I’m Made For Few.

As I attempt to write — let me drop some Klimo knowledge.

I’m the only one who’d know this, but it takes me between 3-8++ hours to write a blog post I’m willing to publish on my site — whatever length — and even then I’m NEVER satisfied — constantly rereading for mistakes or edits or content.

No one knows that I haven’t typed on a computer in over a year and a half except to copy and paste work from my phone into publication submissions and contest submissions.

Almost no one knows that because of my progressing illness I physically cannot write, causing me to use voice to text which, in my opinion, any Author who goes through a process like I do will tell you is basically not worth a damn thing on the page.

Aside from me, no one knows I have about 20-100+ blog posts in my “drafts” section that I’m working on, editing, throwing in the backseat, coming back to, loving, hating, re-writing from every angle, ignoring, forgetting about, and working on all at once — every day.

I NEVER post something lightly.

Maybe that comes to a shock to some who see my writing as cruel or my posts as too close to my own life for their comfort. (<— All thoughts which I welcome, absorb, and shoulder, by the way.)

But.
JUST to throw this out there — if you think you’re uncomfortable — imagine what it could be like caged into those thoughts, with them, forever.

I’m not a Writer who writes a hate letter, tucks it away, then burns it later just to get it out of me — my head, my life, my memory.

Everything — and I do mean EVERYTHING — whether it’s out there or not yet — is ALWAYS — STILL with me — and yes — this is despite my Therapists’ best efforts.

In my past I found a destructive way to forget some things temporarilybut that solution killed a lot of things in me I’ll never be able to get back— wasn’t worth it — so it doesn’t get credit with a name right now — enough of you know what it was than I care to remember anyway — but I own that ish nonetheless.

IF I live long enough it’ll come out — without hesitation when it’s time. I’M NOT embarrassed by this thing, to be clear.

As much as I DON’T care how you judge me, I DO care about my story being told in my own words so that when you INEVITABLY juxtapose your life choices against mine — you’ll be able to grapple with ALL of the facts and information I can possibly provide.

Alien skin aside, I’m human. And just like I TRY to fight for anyone else’s voice to be heard who asks me to, (#QuotesAllOverMyWallsOnTopOfThat) I’m going to fight for my own.

Be good to each other.
๐ŸŽถโ™ฅ๏ธโœŒ๐ŸฟโœŒ๐ŸปโœŒ๐ŸพโœŒ๐ŸผโœŒ๐Ÿฝ

I Got Love For My Brother, But We Can Never Go Nowhere Unless We Share With Each Other. We Gotta Start Makin’ Changes. Learn to See Me As A Brother Instead Of Two Distant Strangers.

“TOO MUCH HATE”

Head shoulders knees and toes
Bed space holders changing by flow
I can’t fathom who picked those
Who were counted and now are qualified to kill up close
Too much power given to people we the people never chose
Who take a simple test to aquire those
Insane rights laws and freedoms unopposed
Except we’re an us who risk our lives for those
Who lost their lives needlessly
But we’re still beaten and take it fully exposed
Because this system is broken
So many have spoken
Falling on deaf ears
Making equality frozen
Too many plea bargains keep unfair voting guaranteed
Everyone knowin’ the prison system’s cold broke and frozen
And the citizens who have the most to lose
Have no vote to choose
Who protects them or vets them their voices stolen
Blue lines paid for by cities who support those opposin’
But it’s justifiable because someone’s pocket keeps that crooked money flowin’
You ever seen a cop in uniform pull out his gun?
I have and it’s atrocious and something’s gotta be done
So many of us trying and frying and dying
And choking on the words “I can’t breathe”
IT’S NOT RIGHT and
The men who are supposed to be protectin’ and serving
Those of us left crying while more violence
Comes plowing through every place that seems urban
Men in uniform laughing at our problems
I’m white blonde and tiny enough that these Nazi like cops ain’t disturbin’
Looking past me and my protest signs
I’m not black so I’m never quite “out of line”
But I’m a lawyer and I’m political and cynical which is dangerous to be tryin’ so I officially retired because I know about the laws I’m fightin’

Until the 2nd Amendment gets changed or altered I know it’s not desired
By the rich white bullies who won’t stop defending guns that fire
Like their freedom depends on it? Y’all embarrassing our country AND THAT EXCUSE IS SO TIRED
It’s weak and meek and it’s time it gets rewired
I’m a proud Snowflake so don’t stop calling me names now
You can’t get past insults
And white hate’s desired
But a Storm’s coming bitches
And you best believe it’s required
Not a single person has the right to control anyone else
Yet there’s a group of people who don’t believe this applies to them
They’re the ones in uniform firing bullets again
Why you keep killin’ people with so much rage
It’s like I’m watching Hitler’s agenda play out page by page
We’re better than this
A place that used to be coveted
Now we’re a disgrace to immigrants pathetically instead
I wear my “Black Lives Matter” shirt and even with a mask on
No one looks me in the face
Except my friends who work tirelessly
They’re all black men working minimum wage and they’re always helping me
I don’t know all their names but they’re always happy to see me I try to tell them how much they mean to me
All it takes is a random hello
Pop a joke
Showing them I see them
That’s a definite, so
Why wouldn’t I look them in the eye to show respect?
I’m observant, and angry, and tired of people ignoring them stocking shelves
An employee ain’t a person?
What a fucking mess
I look forward to seeing these men on a weekly basis
At first a few were confused thinking they were in my way
I can’t stand that reaction
I bet they go through it every day
So if I can spread a smile from my face to the next
I can sleep a little better because it makes a difference
You think I’m lying? Try it.
Look at me, it obviously didn’t require finesse
And when I greet these friends everyone around me looks stressed
“Are they friends?” “What’s going on?” “He’s an ‘OTHER,’ you see him working, can’t you mind your own business?”
No.
I can’t.
And you better believe that won’t ever change.
It’s disgusting y’all shocked that I’m talking to another human being
You should be ashamed of yourselves and yeah I’m judgmental
A minor thing does make a difference, I’m not special
I’m not a Saint
I’m not a Martyr
That’s obvious
I cry hardcore real tears for every black man added to too long a list
Until cops stop murdering black men on what feels like a daily basis
And 2nd Amendment loving white hate stops immediately saying “it’s his fault” because they can’t resist
Under all their inflammatory insults
I call BULLSHIT: you’re RACIST
So I’m calling y’all out because you done made the Storm spiral
It’s stronger
Lasting longer
This time it won’t expire
And yeah, that’s a challenge and I’m callin’ you out
Come prove to me I’m wrong ’bout what I’m writin’ about
โ™ฅ๏ธ๐ŸŽถโœŒ๐ŸฟโœŒ๐ŸปโœŒ๐ŸพโœŒ๐ŸพโœŒ๐Ÿฝ

Watch “2Pac – Changes (Official Music Video) ft. Talent” on YouTube

https://youtu.be/eXvBjCO19QY

Editor’s Note: This came to me out of nowhere tonight. I didn’t expect it. Maybe it’s not what I want it to be. I might make some changes. Pun intended. As always, be good to each other. โ™ฅ๏ธ๐ŸŽถโœŒ๐ŸฟโœŒ๐ŸปโœŒ๐ŸพโœŒ๐ŸฝโœŒ๐Ÿผ

I Miss Me More.

“The problem — she’s starting to understand — is that a man will never let you fall completely into Hell.

He will scoop you up right before you drop the final inch so that you cannot blame him for sending you there.

He keeps you in a diner-like purgatory instead, waiting and hoping — taking orders.”

Lisa Tadddeo, “Three Women”

I have so much anger and love and hatred and compassion and unfortunate energy and hostile buildup and brokenness and wanting to be the best for others and regret and confusion and wanting to freak the fuck out on fucking everything and everyone everyday.

Time to go to my happy place…maybe some sleep first.

Stay good to each other.

And be better than me.

โ™ฅ๏ธ๐ŸŽถโœŒ๐ŸฟโœŒ๐ŸปโœŒ๐ŸพโœŒ๐ŸผโœŒ๐Ÿฝ

Anesthesia.

From the movie, Anaesthesia:

“What made you start?”

“An accident.”

“With the iron?”

“Cigarette.”

“Was it an accident?”

“I guess not.”

“Go on.”

“I—it…it concentrated me…to the exclusion of everything else.”

“And that was good?”

“It was like a drug.”

“What’s ‘everything else?'”

“The world has just become…so inhuman. Everyone’s plugged in. Blindingly inarticulate. Obsessed with money. Their careers. Stupidly, arrogantly content. I can’t talk to them. I fight them. I wanna destroy them even. I crave interaction. I crave it. But you just can’t anymore. They pull their devices out for everything, to reinforce their petty convenient notions. To decide where they are going to shop, what they’re gonna eat, what movies they are going to watch, everything they ingest.”

“Why does that upset you?”

“Because what is left? MY GOD!

“But that doesn’t have to be you.”

“Okay. It’s like this is all a game and I haven’t been told what the rules are. Or even worse, if I had, I am ill-equipped to follow them. All I can do is provoke. I become spiteful. I’m just as bad as they are. They? I’m—I’m, worse. I fucking hate myself for it. I’m—I am so fucking lonely. Why is the world so base? Why is it so insensitive? Why is it so selfish? Why am I? I am not for this world.”

So the big monologues up there are delivered by one of my heroes, Kristen Stewart And, she’s not just my hero because she has the best hair ever and is beyond gorgeous.

Yes, she’s my hairspiration:

But incredibly more importantly, she speaks her fucking mind.

I get that the above is scripted. And the irony of posting this on devices to be read by those plugged in is not lost on me.

But she totally shuts down reporters, etc. who question her sexuality as if it’s any of their business.

And it’s always badass.

I admire her because she makes it EXACTLY as much of everyone’s business as she feels she should.

She’s both an advocate and an enigma.

When I’m practicing my career I try to leave that exact impression on my coworkers.

They get exactly what I want them to and nothing more. Yet, I advocate when I see wrongdoing.

(I suppose we all sort of do the first thing — but I REALLY refused to answer any questions about my private life in the places I worked, and it drove my bosses crazy.)

I’ve worked for offices upwards of 4 years and if you asked any of my old coworkers to name 5 facts about me — just 5 — I bet they couldn’t.

And that’s — BAD. ASS.

Badass for this boss bitch.

๐Ÿค™๐Ÿป

I also relate to the content in the above quotes.

I literally hate my smartphone.

In fact I’ve stopped checking it more than 3 times a day (unless something urgent is happening, obviously).

Because I’m tired of being connected. I write here because I love it and because I want to help anyone I can.

But if you catch me on my phone when we’re hanging out together — nah. It has doesn’t happen.

I’m not that chick.

And I’m not a basic bitch.

And I’m really working on not hating myself.

And thanks to my new treatment, I hate me less every day.

As always, be good to each other.

โ™ฅ๏ธ๐ŸŽถโœŒ๐ŸฟโœŒ๐ŸผโœŒ๐ŸพโœŒ๐ŸปโœŒ๐Ÿฝ

I Miss My Dad And It Never Gets Easier/I Guess I’m Training To Argue

All Black Lives Matter!
INCLUDING LGBTQIA++ Black Lives
I’m compelled to add the second statement above due to some truly ugly oppressive posts I’ve seen so far this month.
It’s pride month.
AND Black Lives should ALWAYS Matter.
Just like LGBTQIA++ Lives should ALWAYS matter.

But, INCLUSIVITY, among other things, is the GOAL.
EXCLUSIVITY is at least part of the PROBLEM.
I’m SO against drawing lines, going so far as to say the LGBTQIA++ community is attempting to hijack the Black Lives Matter movement.
I see the opposite. The way I’ve seen some Black Lives I know make statements like that, particularly this past week, is sickening.

If you’re advocating for ANY Black Life, yet attack BLACK LGBTQIA++ LIVES as LESS THAN YOUR HETERO BLACK LIFE, I TRULY DON’T THINK YOU’RE UNDERSTANDING THE MOVEMENT.

I’m just a pissed off white girl sick of white cops killing Black Lives….Among a lot of other atrocious things that are happening.

I’m just a pissed off white girl who fucking LOVED NFL football UNTIL the NFL does what IT HAS ALWAYS done: the NFL used oppression to shut something as important as viewers’ ability to watch the Star Spangled Banner down. Because the people who give money were unhappy.

I continue to boycott watching the NFL and the NFL itself because of what happened TO Colin Kaepernick. I never cared too much for him as a player, but he blew me the fuck away protesting respectfully as he did.

He’s sure not the only one kneeling with his fist up now though is he? (Technically he was never alone in that, it just started with/became associated with him.)

And my friends told me they couldn’t give up watching football “just” because of “that,” because I couldn’t and wouldn’t make a difference.

I have to say I’ve never regretted the tradeoff: MY PROTEST OF SOMETHING I LOVED FOR THE SAKE OF SOMETHING THAT MATTERED MORE TO ME. I’m proud I cared then. I’m proud I care now. And I want to fight for change.

If the people who started the movement want to tell me I’m wrong about INCLUSIVITY, I’m all ears.

Until then.

I hope we can all reflect on how attacking another equal rights movement hurts everyone in everyday life as well as though each movement.
#peaceandloveforlivesandlovesomemore

#pride (because I love months dedicated to celebrating civil liberties (or lack thereof), but I also think such division hurts INCLUSIVITY as well — like saying — you’re not one of everyone else so here’s your one month to shine)

AND

(that’s the same exact reason I refused to join the women only clubs in law school and beyond — it promotes EXCLUSIVITY).

And I definitely don’t look down on ANYONE who supports these movements it groups, and I know all of the arguments as to why they exist. I’m just saying they’re not for me.

Just like AA isn’t for me. The first step says you have to accept and believe you are powerless over your addiction. Then I guess I’ll never get better if I’m an alcoholic, because I can’t admit I’m powerless while also saying I can control and get over my addiction. It just falls short for me.

This post REALLY got away from me.

Happy Father’s Day to those who are Father’s.
And may those of you who, like me, lost a Father know that I’m with you in empathy.

Your garden is doing great, Pidgey. You’d like it ๐Ÿฅฐ๐Ÿฅฐ๐Ÿฅฐ๐Ÿฅฐ๐Ÿฅฐโค๏ธ๐Ÿงก๐Ÿ’›๐Ÿ’™๐Ÿ’™๐Ÿ’œ๐ŸคŽ๐Ÿ–ค๐Ÿค๐Ÿ’˜๐Ÿ’Œ๐Ÿ’•๐Ÿ’ž๐Ÿ’—๐Ÿ‘ฃ๐ŸŒน๐ŸŒท๐ŸŒบ๐ŸŒป๐ŸŒผ๐ŸŒฑ๐ŸŒฟโ˜˜๏ธ๐ŸŒฒ๐ŸŒณโ˜€๏ธ๐Ÿ”ญ๐Ÿช๐ŸŒŒ and I’ll see you in Orion.

Be good to each other ๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿค—๐Ÿฅฐ.

โ™ฅ๏ธ๐ŸŽถโœŒ๐ŸฟโœŒ๐ŸปโœŒ๐ŸฝโœŒ๐ŸผโœŒ๐Ÿพ

Stronger Than Yesterday — Quite Literally

“I AM strong,” I say out loud to myself.

Four full times.

After hearing my Mentor’s comment that I AM.

Strong.

He’s right.

I know he’s right.

His opinion doesn’t make it much easier to deal with, however.

Strength.

“What even is that?”

“How can anyone say that about me?”

“How can I be seen as strong?”

“How can I LOVE that?”

“How can I LIVE that?!”

Too many thoughts too fast.

Breathe, Boss Bitch.

So many unfelt feelings.

So.

Many.

Unfelt.

Feelings.

And then clarity.

Help.

Lifelines.

Dialectical Behavioral Therapy.

Women.

Strong Women.

Strong Women teaching me Radical Acceptance.

Workbooks.

Homework.

I’m accountable now.

They need me because I need them.

It’s a mutual agreement.

I try to correct my values.

I know I cannot NOT do this.

My next Partner won’t be any port in a storm.

I won’t use someone.

I won’t cheat on my partners.

I’ll use emotional and physical protection.

I won’t be ashamed.

I WILL love ME.

Them/They/Their.

Gender identity identified.

Not accepting rape for an answer.

Not allowing someone familiar to touch me just because I’ve had it happen to me before and survived.

Can you “keep going”?

No.

You should have NEVER kept going.

No more exchanging my body for conversation.

As in…

No more needing to connect with someone — anyone — so badly — that I convince myself that my body has been used and abused SO MANY TIMES that I don’t care that it’s my ticket in — the price of admission.

And I’m no longer more than willing to pay for the affection I get in return.

No more.

No.

More.

I will confront my trauma.

I will radically accept my trauma.

My trauma is part of me. It cannot be “cured.”

Education.

I’m educating myself.

I’m trying to explain so others understand.

I will confront my PTSD.

I will radically accept my PTSD.

My PTSD is part of me. It cannot be “cured.”

But I can AND will LIVE with my trauma and my PTSD.

I don’t play a victim.

I have been gaslighted.

I have been told that I’m insane for thinking I’ve been gaslighted.

Ironic: don’t you think?

Don’t you think?!

I AM a victim.

You, and your addiction to anal pornography, and your need to act on your addiction, made me your victim.

You try to lie it and bury it and ignore it away.

But.

I AM the victim.

YOU made me one.

I AM a survivor.

I made me one.

My first rapist didn’t make me a survivor.

I made me one.

The man I worked for who sexually assaulted me didn’t make me a survivor.

I made me one.

Surviving all the rape you put me through didn’t make me a survivor.

I made me one.

You don’t control me anymore.

I don’t have to obey you or suffer the consequences anymore.

I don’t have to listen to you tell me I’m making this shit up anymore.

How does it feel to know I don’t hate you?

How does it feel to know I don’t care about you?

How does it feel to know I don’t want you back?

How does it feel to know I know I’m not “CRAZY.”

How will it feel to know that I know my writing makes you cry?

How does she feel about that?

I bet it feels bad.

Bad.

Yet.

Your bad is not 1% as bad as what you put me through.

But there’s some light that outshines your gas.

I’m stronger than yesterday.

And I am SO much stronger than you.

I get it now.

I understand how my Mentor tells me I am seen as STRONG.

Now, it’s nothing but MY way.

๐ŸŽถ And I’mma still be humble when I scream “FUCK YOU”
‘Cause I’m stronger than I was๐ŸŽถ — Eminem

Because I’m stronger than I was.

I Been Sober, ‘Cause There Ain’t No Hangover Like You. Girl. No No No. “Baby Can You Come Over?” I Always Find Those Words At The Bottom Of 100 Proof. Yeah. Girl. I Been Sober Since You Broke My Heart In Two. Because Drunk Me Can’t Get Over You.

I think I have to make playlists for each of my friends.

Because as I’ve mentioned in prior posts, music is one of very few things that keeps me breathing.

This feat is going to be one of the hardest I’ve faced.

Music is so personal.

It could be the last thing my friends remember about/hear from me.

I can’t think of many more important things than that (or any at this exact moment).

This is coming from a place of COVID-19 preparations, of course. I like to be prepared. So I must.

Whoa.

Okay.

New mission.

New missions aren’t always bad.

But this one is especially important to me, and this: difficult.

As always, be good to each other.

โ™ฅ๏ธ๐ŸŽถโœŒ๏ธ

Diesel.

Continuing with my morbid posts as of late — I pose to all of you a question.

Do you think it’s normal for someone with suicidal ideation to alienate the people closest to them?

I can think of reasons which make sense of this type of distancing.

If you alienate everyone you care about then it’s easier to:

  • Justify not having a reason to live.
  • Feel like everything truly is hopeless.
  • Accept the idea that everyone is truly against you.
  • Make it easier to “leave” everyone behind.
  • Etc.

I keep thinking about one reason, specifically, though.

If one can convince oneself that they’re the one alienating everyone they ever cared about — they can alleviate the pain that comes from the truth: everyone’s just not into whether you live or die.

Thoughts?

Urges?

As always, be good to each other.

โ™ฅ๏ธ๐ŸŽถโœŒ๏ธ

I Miss You. But I Miss Me More.

People are dying.

I mean, we basically all are anyway, right? Yes. We all are.

But I’ve accepted that the probability of getting to do the things again that I wanted to do is slim.

And I’ll most likely never go to the places GDW and I talked about. (To be fair — that probably has more to do with me than him anyway.)

I have coloring.

I have books to read.

I have cards and presents to mail.

I have gardening to do.

I have 2am walks to continue.

I have horror movies to watch.

I have writing to finish.

I have the best fucking music to listen to and get me through.

And above all — I have to take care of my Mom.

It’s life, baby.

No one gets out alive.

So, as always, be good to each other.

โ™ฅ๏ธ๐ŸŽถโœŒ๏ธ

He Said That He Would Heal Me But He Only Gave Me Problems. My Drug Dealer Was A Doctor. He Tried To Kill Me For A Dollar. Dollar. More. More. MORE. Re-up. RE-UP.

“Best friends with the thing that’s killing me. Enemies with my best friend. There’s no healing me. Refilling these. Refilling these.

“So God Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference… wisdom to know the difference.”

— Macklemore “Drug Dealer”

๐ŸŽถโ™ฅ๏ธโœŒ๏ธ

Without You I’m Just A Sad Song. With You I’m A Beautiful Mess. So Stop Time Right Here In The Moonlight, ‘Cause I Don’t Ever Wanna Close My Eyes.

This is a really sad post. Like — a heart crushing — I wish I didn’t have this experience to share — sad. This is me RIGHT NOW:

Look at those dead eyes.

Seriously — awful.

Impossible to get out.

Not wanting to stay in.

The thing, you, reader, have to realize — is that this is probably — if not actually the most vulnerable post I’ll ever share.

I don’t even know how to write this without falling apart every couple minutes — so I feel like I’ve been drafting this for a very long time.

If you read my blog “religiously”, you might remember when I mentioned that a friend of mine — who I needed so desperately to be alive — died on September 3rd, 2019.

I’m a writer. I can’t help it. It’s like air to me, or music. I need it to stay alive.

So, one day, last year, on February 14, 2019, (yes, I know, Valentine’s Day ๐Ÿ™„), I wrote.

I forgot until this week that I wrote what I wrote.

But I found it, going through journals, looking for information about a chapter I’m working on for my book.

Literally and quite tragically for me, I realized I was “into” my friend who died September 3, 2019.

I guess I was feeling sorry for myself last February 14th.

And I had no intention of EVER sharing this with the recipient because how could this extremely good dude be into me at all?!

And, because, in HIS style of writing, I wrote the following, for him, about him.

And now he’s dead.

So he’ll never know.

WHAMBULANCE

I can’t ignore
What I’ve done wrong before

I’m mesmerized
When I first read your writing
I couldn’t believe your eyes
Freehand writing is so out of style

Your work challenges me
It is SO organic
It makes be feel lazy
And puts shame to me

I don’t do shit like this because all I get is blame
Although I know what I have to offer
All I feel is insane

I’ve stopped putting this part of myself “out there” because ____________.
But with you maybe I can be comfortable.

I love how much you love food
It’s cute and I want to fuel you

I know that’s a bit creepy so before you call the police
Just know in most ways this is really about me

You’re beautiful
And I’d do anything for you to know that

Everything is spinning
Because I’m losing my liquid courage

I see your mask
I know what’s underneath it quite well
I see mine too
And they’re both beautiful

– for TCW

I can’t describe what that was like for me, reader, to find this poem that I have no recollection of writing, one I’d written on Valentine’s Day, no less, written 6 months before my friend passed, and found 6 months after.

I cried for days.

Valentine’s Day without my soulmate or the love of my life — that’s bad enough.

But this person’s unexpected death, whose death could have been mine just as much as it was his?

No.

I CRIED.

I’m so dehydrated y’all. I am back to the Pedialyte diet.

I’ll never be a writer as brilliant as he was (subjectively if not objectively).

But I had to share my find because this was just fucking crazy.

The timing.

The person.

The writing.

Sadly insane.

So, in that spirit, tell the people you want to know how you feel — how you feel. Don’t be a Netflix binge series.

Because he/she might be gone for good tomorrow.

Be good to each other.

โ™ฅ๏ธ๐ŸŽถโœŒ๏ธ

On My Non-Existent 6th Year Anniversary. I Think That’s Been Done!ย I Think That’s Been Dumb!ย I Don’t Really Know Your Music Like That I Mean, I Don’t Really Know Your Movies Like That. (I Guess I Don’t Really Get What You Do.)

โ€œYou know, I used to think that you were the best thing that ever happened to me, but now I think that you might maybe be the worst thing and Iโ€™m sorry that I ever met you.โ€
โ€“ Silver Linings Playbook

I imagine on what would have been our 6 year Anniversary today, if he actually ever thought about me, which Iโ€™m certain he doesnโ€™t, G-unit would be thinking something similar to the words of that quote.

R.I.P. the only relationship I ever actually believed would make it.

Fffuuuckkkk me.

No matter how many dates I go on โ€” or how much I interact with any of the 300-3,500 guys on EVERY given day doing WHATEVER they CAN to be with me โ€” it unfortunately doesnโ€™t keep G-Unit away.

I feel like fucking Bella in “New Moon” when she aches for Edward and looks thinner than ever and starts doing destructive shit in order to get him out of her mind and/or bring him back.

Iโ€™m also really sick of people telling me that I canโ€™t think in โ€œwhat if’s?โ€ and โ€œmaybes.โ€ YOU DONโ€™T KNOW MY LIFE! AND YOU DONโ€™T KNOW WHAT I NEED. SO STOP.

Iโ€™m giving myself the gift of dreaming about saving my relationship if I only had any idea what was going on with my body, my mind, and every other fucking part of my fucking daily life three or four years ago.

You donโ€™t know what itโ€™s like.

Maybe I would have remembered things better.

Maybe my inability to โ€œget goingโ€ would have been understood if not forgiven.

Maybe my need to rest or sleep wouldnโ€™t have solely been blamed on my depression.

Maybe Iโ€™d have been able to get a healthy job.

Maybe…other things.

What if I hadnโ€™t needed to self medicate?

What if knowing I had Fibromyalgia changed things that were previously misunderstood AND so frustrating that there was no coming back from them after awhile?

What if I had been diagnosed sooner than just about a year ago, after it was too late, and had been treated correctly years earlier than I was?

What if I hadnโ€™t taken his support through everything for granted?

What if he hadn’t broken up with me/left me one day before our 5th Anniversary. (Flowers ARE expensive after all when your girlfriend is your best florist.)

Iโ€™m just going to repeat something real quick: Iโ€™m really sick of people telling me that I canโ€™t think in โ€œwhat ifโ€™s?โ€ and โ€œmaybes.โ€ YOU DONโ€™T KNOW MY LIFE! AND YOU DONโ€™T KNOW WHAT I NEED. SO STOP.

No matter what, I love and miss you Gar Bear, and I hope know youโ€™re killinโ€™ it โ€” handling your barsโ™ฅ๏ธ

On a completely different noteโ€ฆevery member of my family has now expressed that they rather I were gone.

Or unreliable.

Or worthless.

And an unwanted burden.

I mean Hillary, (thatโ€™s my sister by birth), flat out told me I am dead to her.

Hard to come back from that.

So, in that vein, itโ€™s good Summerโ€™s ending.

I guess Iโ€™m embarrassing because I tell the truth. The truth here. The truth in my writing. And the truth in the book Iโ€™m working on, where I play the villain.

Sorry Iโ€™m such a disappointment, Mom.

But Iโ€™m not embarassed by my mental illness and they shouldnโ€™t be embarrassed by me either.

Iโ€™m a person.

Iโ€™m hurting, physically, every second of every day. And Iโ€™m hurting mentally, more than I can flat out say.

I hope everyone reading this has a significant other, family, family member, or anyone else, who loves them, and wants to be around them.

This endless list of John Does Iโ€™m dating is empty and meaningless.

But maybe that wonโ€™t be forever.

โ™ฅ๏ธ๐ŸŽถโœŒ๏ธ

I Feel…Cold. No, Hot. Dude, Where’s My Sweatshirt?!

“It’s not your home so you should get all your shit out!!!!!!!”

That’s what I want to say to my Fibromyalgia.

I was just reading one of the many forums I belong to for support, and everyone was commenting on and connecting about how our sex lives have changed due to Fibro.

The consensus?

“What sex life?”

There is also a lot of guilt for those of us it affects because of how it affects or had affected our relationships, sometimes tearing them apart.

TMI trigger warning: after a year and a half of telling me it didn’t matter to him, my ex told me he needed sex or the relationship wouldn’t be worth it anymore. Since I couldn’t promise that to him, and I hadn’t even been properly diagnosed yet, that was effectively the literal breaking point.

So, about nine months later, I went shopping. And took this picture of myself. I like the picture, and I like my Converse. I’m pretty sure I noticed for the first time that I lost weight.

I reentered the dating scene with a vengeance. I have talked about some of that, I think, in prior posts. But the one thing I really can’t get over is this double standard of bullshit that exists.

The men I’ve met:

  • want to commit right away
  • don’t want to commit at all, or,
  • maybe want to eventually commit, but don’t want to put a lable on it, and definitely don’t want you seeing or sleeping with other people while they decide if you’re worth it or not.

It’s that last one that is killing me.

I classically enter abusive relationships. They’re not always physically abusive. But they ARE almost ALWAYS psychologically abusive.

Apparently I haven’t learned much after being out of commission for eleven months. I had wanted to take my self-care extremely seriously and to give myself time to heal as a person before jumping back into that dating pool.

And I can get dates, I’ve learned. I can get a ton of dates. Literally over 2,000 dates, and growing.

But, what do I do when the guy I am the most interested in (so I give in to his requirements) not only has me eating out of his dog’s bowl begging for more (while he’s insisting we don’t know each other very well so we should “keep it light”) loses his fucking mind? When he starts changing the words I say to start some kind of fight? When he tells me I’m doing something I’m not actually doing? When he literally tells me to “get out” of his place mid-conversation because he’s decided he’s done with me in that moment and that his needs are more important than mine? And finally, when he tells me that he won’t get tested for STIs even though he wants to have sex because the last thing that he has to hold on to shit about his ex is that she maybe didn’t cheat on him.

Newsflash: you can both be cheated on AND still not get STIs.

None of that sounded extremely healthy to me.

But Jesus Christ.

That’s where I was.

Falling. Too fast. Too hard.

There’s obviously something about him that I really didn’t want to let go of, but maybe I should have much sooner.

I universally idealize the men I date to the point where I’m then idolizing them. I know I do this. I want to be wanted so badly, that I give up vast parts of myself in order to keep partners around. I play the guessing game.

I’m supposed to be in my friend’s wedding in just over a week. I tried on all of these dresses, and now the one I picked doesn’t fit because I lost some weight. Ok. A lot of weight, for two months.

My friend called me fat. So I stopped eating. I don’t enjoy eating anyway. I also stopped caring about myself for awhile. So. Yeah.

Plus, also, I can’t deal with my Fibro right now.

Let’s call this guy I was most interested in, “Binny.” Binny was supposed to come to the wedding with me. He said he would. He claimed he’d help me get through it regarding my Fibro problems. The idea of him being there even gave me hope that I could actually do it without too much stress.

But he fucked it up.

I have another post coming very soon. It’s my commentary on how internet dating has changed since I’d been online dating ten years ago.

It got different. Almost overnight. Like Binny became a totally different person.

He went from asking me to send him texts all night long while he was sleeping (he goes to bed early for the only respectable job he’s ever had, and I am always up late) and all day while he was at work so he would have something to look forward to reading, to, asking me if I ACTUALLY felt that sending him 25+ texts without a response was “appropriate.”

What the actual fuck?! He literally flipped the switch on EVERYTHING. And I have dealt with gaslighting before, but Binny was the King of the strategy of making one (me) feel absolutely insane.

I really don’t know why I can’t get him out of my head. I REALLY fell for him. Well, I guess I really fell for the idea of him.

In the beginning, he told me things I’ve heard so many times before.

He cited to me the reasons that I’m amazing.

The ones who I can never seem to “keep” are the ones that fall the hardest for me the fastest. And I knew once I realized he had, it would never last.

It’s really like these guys can’t believe I care about them so they start to treat me like garbage to level the playing field, except I never see it coming until it’s too late. Way, way too late.

Binny vaped. Guess what I do now. I vape. Do you think that’s healthy behavior? I don’t.

But, I also don’t give a fuck anymore.

That’s where I am.

I don’t give a fuck.

For the record, I don’t think this is a good place for me to be.

So, that’s happening.

๐ŸŽถโ™ฅ๏ธโœŒ๏ธ

Dissecting Why I Want To Dance A little Slower — And Other Orgasmic Thoughts

I went to another O.A.R. concert alone on June 6th, and it was beyond orgasmic. As I told a guy I know through this dating app that had been a whirlwind, who is also a fan, it was better than sex.

He said he felt sad that I had originally had such horrible sex, but he’s an idiot. An OAR concert gets to me in a way no sex ever could.

I’m not saying sex sucks.

I’m not even saying I’ve ever had bad sex.

I’m saying I probably shouldn’t have compared the two. ๐Ÿคฃ๐Ÿคฃ๐Ÿคฃ

It’s, essentially, a testament to the band, that if I had to choose between enjoyable sex and any time they play, I’d take the concert every single time.

In a previous post I mentioned I really didn’t take many pictures except with my friends prior to OAR coming onstage:

Aaaaaaand the video above the above picture is the only video I took that day (which is not visual perfection) because there, alone — I was just rocking the eff out — didn’t care who thought I was a dork, nothing, just happy to be with my favorite band and their amazing fans!

I was out, enjoying ME, (as much as my Fibro allowed).

Also in the news of my life…๐Ÿ˜Ž๐Ÿคฃ๐Ÿค—๐Ÿ˜Š๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿฅฐ…

Sunday, June 23rd, I met a man who wouldn’t be the worst guy to marry. Or maybe not. I’m wrong all the time.

I opened up my heart to new opportunities.

I went on some very bad dates. I enjoyed them for the most part (because even the bad ones were hilarious), but at the end of the day/night/whatever you call it, last Sunday’s was hands down the best I’ve had in six years.

But I also met another guy who I have so much in common with and am happy to be spending time with. And maybe he’s why I’m wrong in the long run about the above mentioned date. Maybe I met the guy I’m going to marry on June 29th.๐ŸŒœ๐ŸŒ›๐Ÿคท

I know I’m doing things the way that is honest and good. But I did get the best hug tonight. And human contact, and good hugs, are so freaking great, right?!

Segues are weird.

These are the lyrics to O.A.R.’s song “All Because of You” (which they did not play during the June 6th show but the song IS on their new album, The Mighty): the lyrics will be in italics and my thoughts will not be in italics.

๐ŸŽถTake, take, take the little moment
Don’t, dont, don’t forget to hold ’em
Stay, stay, stay a little longer – take a moment to appreciate what you have with your significant other, holding your SO means a lot and it’s worth spending time on, don’t be so eager to leave

Can, can, can you hear the night talk?
Two hearts beating on a sidewalk
Put your head on my shoulder – the universe is telling us what’s good between us, we don’t have to say anything as we walk together tonight, I want to be closer to you
I want to matter when we go outside, and – this is REAL
Hold your hand when we say goodnight, and
Tell you how I’m gonna to make our dreams come true – I want to stay close to you, I’m so committed to this that I am going to work on dreams that we share
All because of you
I made a promise in the morning breezes – in a moment, I promised myself, for you
You can have all the space you need, and
You know me better than you’ll ever need to prove – I’ll be good to you, because you have been so good to me
All because of you
All because of you
Wake, wake, wake up to you smiling
Don’t, dont, don’t know where the time went
Can we dance a little slower? – I want to wake up to you smiling, forever, why does time go faster around those we love, can we spend every second of our lives together without it flying by so fast that our bubble of incredible happiness pops?; let’s breathe together for as long as we can
I, I, I’ll be here forever – I’m never letting you down, I’ll be here, I promise myself to you
We’re so good when we’re together – we make each other better
Let me hold you ’til we’re older – let’s do this
I want to matter when we go outside, and
Hold your hand when we say goodnight, and
Tell you how I’m gonna to make our dreams come true
All because of you
I made a promise in the morning breezes
You can have all the space you need, and
You know me better than you’ll ever need to prove
All because of you
(Da da da da da, da da da,
da da da da da, da da da, da da da da da, da)
All because of you
(Da da da da da, da da da,
da da da da da, da da da, da da da da da, da)
It’s all becauseโ€ฆ
I want to matter when we go outside, and
Hold your hand when we say goodnight, and
Tell you how I’m gonna to make our dreams come true
It’s all because of you
I made a promise in the morning breezes
You can have all the space you need, and
You know me better than you’ll ever need to prove
All because of you
I know that I can be a better man, – I want to be my best self for us and
Learn to run when it’s hard to stand, – you’re worth every second of difficulty we go through and
Find the songs in everything you do – I will appreciate you with the purest and must dedicated love I haven’t yet given you
It’s all because of you
I never thought I’d find you in this life – I had given up on being truly happy until I found you
Broken shadows disappear tonight – you make everything feel safe and new
You’re the reason that all my dreams come true – everything good on my life?; it’s all because of you
All because of you
(Da da da, da da da da da, da da da,
da da da da da, da da da, da da da da da, da)๐ŸŽถ

OR maybe the song’s just about how music is amazing, brings everyone together, and helps the world heal.

I just think it’s super romantic, and, after dissecting it so succinctly, I realize I’d have to write an essay about it to really do it justice.

I’m in trouble. I feel a storm brewing inside me, and it’s going to be something.

When I listened to this song the first twenty times I basically decided it was amazing and then beyond amazing and then wanted to dissect them because I want to probably make this my wedding song. Until they come out with their next and this my next favorite song.

๐ŸŽถโ™ฅ๏ธโœŒ๏ธ

Farrago (A Confused Mixture) Post EX, Lover.

Happy Birthday to me!!!!!!! I’m officially 34 years young today!


I’ve been having a really amazing upswing since last week. I hope it keeps going!!! I’m feeling so optimistic!


Last night I went on my first date in six years. Let THAT sink in for a second.

He wasn’t Adam Driver, but, hey, nobody’s perfect.


(If you know anyone who looks exactly like that and is single please let me know ASAP because I would truly yield to everything for all of him.)

Anyway!

It was fantastic. Another guy who was basically worshipping me after everything I’ve been through in the past few years? Yes, please, and thank you. He even was great with my Fibro pain.


Except — who goes out on Mondays? ๐Ÿ˜‰ (It’s a reference to a Chainsmokers song if you didn’t get that.)

He was good looking. He had a stupidly-over-the-top car which always makes me think someone is overcompensating for a PERSONALITY trait.

I’m talking to several guys right now — as it goes with dating apps.

I needed to move way beyond Voldemort. Oh…shoot. I mean He Who Shall Never Be Named Again.

Right now it’s raining outside and it sounds and smells amazing. That means my plants and flowers are being watered.


Random. I know.

I’m owning it today. I don’t think I’ve had a “meaningful” feeling-good-about-it birthday since my sweet sixteen.

I’m not complaining. I’m just telling the truth. None of my friends have EVER thrown me a party or even asked what I might like to do to celebrate, or have taken me out to acknowledge the occasion. Again, not complaining, but I can’t say I’m not disappointed.

But! My best friend sent me this gorgeous floral arrangement with the sweetest note and it made me cry. It was such a thoughtful gesture, and to be thought of, on any occasion — but especially remembered of my birthday — is SO special and amazing. I love you ๐ŸŒ— โค๏ธ๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ’› — you’re truly the sister I’ve never had.


So I went on this date, and I’ve never felt more confident or in control going into a date in my life.

Because now I know.

Now I know what I will and will not accept.

Now I know what I will and will not tolerate.

Now I know what I’m looking for: family = a happy life ABOVE one’s career.

Now I know I’m my best self.


Now I respect myself.

Now I’m not eff-ed up about my Dad like I was when he died six years ago.

Now I am old enough to decide whether I’m going to go back to my date’s condo the first time I meet him or not — (I didn’t.)

Now I am sure enough with myself to allow myself to kiss on a first date BUT ONLY IF I WANT TO — (I did).

Now, I’m understanding that my looks and personality attract a DIFFERENT potential mate who called me WHILE I was driving to THIS first date to tell me he wasn’t nervous because he knew he’d “win” [me]. (Hot, but only because I’m attracted to this other guy.)


Guys are literally begging for my time.

AND, I’m being 100% honest about everything that I wasn’t ready to be honest about with HWSNBNA. (And that’s not his fault.)

But not only did the guy I think I’m the most interested in text me during the date…but the guy I went on the date with was texting then calling me as soon as he got home.

This shorty got game, y’all!


Happy Birthday to me!!!!!

I feel AMAZING!

Thank you to everyone who has given me support during this time and encouraged me to get back out there.

I love you all โ™ฅ๏ธโ™ฅ๏ธโ™ฅ๏ธโ™ฅ๏ธโ™ฅ๏ธ๐Ÿฅฐ๐Ÿฅฐ๐Ÿฅฐ๐Ÿฅฐ๐Ÿฅฐ๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜˜๐ŸŽถ๐ŸŽถ๐ŸŽถ๐ŸŽถ๐ŸŽถ it’s “All Because of You.”

โœŒ๏ธโœŒ๏ธโœŒ๏ธโœŒ๏ธโœŒ๏ธโœŒ๏ธโœŒ๏ธ&โ™ฅ๏ธ always

You Ain’t Nobody ‘Til You Got Somebody. Oh, I Mean The Exact Opposite Of That.

As my 34th birthday approaches I’ve been thinking about how stagnant I’ve been feeling. That is…until last week.

I’ve been going out alone a lot. I’ve been meeting new people. I’ve been cementing old relationships. I’ve been trying really hard to figure “it” out.

Itcan’t be figured out. (Just ask Stephen King…am I right?) So I stopped thinking so dratting much and started doing. Just doing and doing and doing.

It looks good on me y’all.

I’m going to stop thinking so much about good-griefing EVERYTHING for awhile and see how that crapola goes.

โœŒ๏ธ&โ™ฅ๏ธ

Something Rick-ed This Way Comes / Now Bring Me That Horizon / I Am An Admittedly Obsessed/Obsessive Person — And How The Commentary Tracks On The “Rick And Morty” Blu-rays Helped Me Be OK With That.

Happy — whatever day you’re reading this — day!

This a post about how people need to get woke when it comes to me ๐ŸคฃโœŒ๏ธ I am one of millions of people who live with — and get treatment for — mental illness. I have Major Depressive Disorder, but more prominently, I have nearly EVERY type of Anxiety that EXISTS.

For all of my diagnosed Anxiety Disorders, I have medication, therapy, and coping mechanisms — all common, among other treatments for those of us with Anxiety Disorders.

One way I cope is with distraction.

Distraction currently helps me more than any other thing when I’m “thinking myself into insanity,” which IS a phrase I just made up, but it’s an accurate description.

Unfortunately for future generations, (handwriting matters, kids), but fortunately for me, it’s very easy to find an immediate distraction basically everywhere these days. That, also, however, has enhanced my distraction level to Threat Level Midnight.

My obsessiveness is strongly attracted to comedy.

And — because of my anxious perspective on everything, I’m often judged for my obsessions.

At least until I can finally convince everyone possible that I’m actually a genius ๐ŸŽ‰๐Ÿคฃ.

I’ve been writing out the word, “okay” for many years now, and then I watched Silver Linings Playbook for the 729th time (I promise this is relevant to the theme of this post and not just another plug for that being one of the best movies ever — and I am reading the book it’s based off of for those of you wondering) — and asked my Mom if the story about where the phrase “OK” comes from is true (because fuck googling shit myself; that’s what a librarian is for!/THANK YOU MOMMY) and she confirmed it is a correct origin story and so now, I always write “OK” because I feel it is the most grammatically correct in origin.

I am an incredibly OBSESSIVE person about pretty much every single thing I do in my life.

This makes me feel alone, all of the time.

I’m SO observant that I can’t ever shut it off, which causes me to do “things” to alleviate hearing the little voice in my head on repeat saying “do it BETTER, you’re a waste of life!”

Though I know I’m actually not.

ENTER the FIRST crutch/lifesaver/distraction that worked in helping me NOT turn to self harm:

“Will Turner: This is either madness…or brilliance.
Jack Sparrow: Itโ€™s remarkable how often those two traits coincide.”

Pirates of the Caribbean Curse of the Black Pearl

Flash forward to my early thirties and Rick and Morty and I are introduced.

It’s interesting that my two favorite distractions are high functioning alcoholics who have more knowledge than they’re comfortable with and more feelings than they can handle.

Story time y’all!!!๐Ÿค—๐Ÿค”๐Ÿง๐Ÿ˜ฌ๐Ÿคญ๐Ÿคฏ๐Ÿ˜ฑ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ‘ฟ๐Ÿ˜‡ Shout out to my fellow humans with mental illness(es) who ARE able to (eff you, insanely expensive health insurance and co-pays) and therefore ARE getting help.


Once upon a time, when I was about to graduate from high school, I had a bunch of life situations PLUS chemical imbalances that cause(d) me to be properly medicated by professionals.

I said to my Mom at the ripe age of eighteen, “Mom, if you don’t take me to get help, I think I’m going to kill myself.”

And the next day, she made the appointments, because she was, and has been, and always will be, the best Mom EVER, to me.

Also, when I was eighteen, I saw the movie Pirates of the Caribbean Curse of the Black Pearl, for the first time. And then eight times in theaters after that, and then hundreds and hundreds and HUNDREDS of times on DVD after that. It was THE ONLY thing that grounded me and allowed me to get through my life during that time…Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow lived the life I wanted to live — I needed to live — I’m STILL trying to live.

And if you think this is unimportant, understand that it’s Canon to my existence. To this day I am surprised at how much I wanted a permanent tattoo that I could look at whenever I wanted/needed to which is highly visible, and directly inspires me, and reminds me to be a better, truer, version of myself — it’s EVERYTHING.

I have a slight bruise on it right now because I’ve been doing way more than is appropriate or acceptable for my pain levels — BUT I have a secret for you: life’s not fair. Boom. Roasted.

Peep my tatt!

So whenever I look down at my normally unbruised forearm, I remember what I’m trying to do with my life — obstacles be damned.

It stands for everything I need because it is the EXACT replica of the tattoo Johnny Depp got himself AFTER starring in “Pirates,” AND because of that it feels…correct.

It stands for the character, Captain Jack Sparrow.

It stands for being myself unapologetically.

To be as good as you can, but break some rules.

Do what is best.

Let people think you’re a legend in some way, for some reason.

Treat everyone well if you can.

Stay optimistic.

ALWAYS be looking for the Horizon.

ALWAYS expect that my friends will have my back.

ALWAYS navigate whatever the fuck life hands you, and keep the MOST positive attitude you possibly can about all of it.

BE one step ahead of everything you possibly can.

Appreciate the possibilities of everything that’s NEVER been done, or explored, or conquered (those waves and our Sun connecting to the Horizon).

Be as free as a Sparrow.

And if people don’t like me? — then that’s on them.

Period.

The end.

“This is the day you will always remember as the day you almost caught Captain Jack Sparrow.

Pirates of the Caribbean Curse of the Black Pearl

Iโ€™m dishonest, and a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly. Itโ€™s the honest ones you want to watch out for, because you can never predict when theyโ€™re going to do something incrediblyโ€ฆstupid.

Pirates of the Caribbean Curse of the Black Pearl

To “take what you can — give nothing back!” – Pirates of the Caribbean Curse of the Black Pearl

(Gary and I used to take shots of apple cider vinegar and say the above beforehand because talk about gross ๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿคข๐Ÿฅต! But it made him laugh and it made me happy. THAT’S how I roll with ish.)

The point is, I HAVE to have the confidence to unapologetically “do me” while being and believing that I’m a good person.


Fast forward to now, through a whole bunch of crazy changes that I credit to both of my parents for navigating through — and driving me — wherever, whenever — and protecting me in every way possible and +++++++++++ etc. — and — I’m still in therapy and on medication to control what needs to be controlled.

I want to say to everyone who suggested that I “get help” or “get more help” or “get better help” or to quote that member of “my [ex Church],” DIRECTLY, “get the help you so desperately need,” — ***YOU’RE*** not paying attention.

I DO get helpregularly.

EVERY.

WEEK.

This is me with help. So in my traditional fashion: eff you for judging me, a-hole.

You should NOT assume you know my life and what I do in a day — BECAUSE YOU DON’T — and what’s worse — you haven’t even asked.

๐Ÿ˜ก๐Ÿคฌ๐Ÿ˜ก๐Ÿคฌ๐Ÿ˜ก๐Ÿคฌ

So here we are, folks.

So, Rick and Morty.

Rick and Morty is another Pirates of the Caribbean Curse of the Black Pearl for me.

I didn’t know what Rick and Morty was until Gary tried to convert me. He showed me some clips from various episodes, and I was so unimpressed initially! But then it became my new Pirates.

As in, I watch it so constantly and obsessively that I feel embarrassed to admit the extent of my obsession.

And it’s a pretty rough show in terms of believing in ANYTHING other than nihilism (which I understand is a sentence that is inherently contradictory). There’s lots of violence, cursing, and dark humor. But I relate to the ideas expressed in the show on a very deep level.

I’m a dark person inside with a very dark mind and an even darker sense of humor.

I often listen to the commentary all day long as I take care of business. Business is writing, for the most part, with a little coloring to boot.

I will watch the same episode over and over and over and over again.

The reason I titled this post as I did — is because during one of the above mentioned commentary episodes — Dan Harmon (also of the show Community if you don’t know) specifically says that it is quite important to him that fans of Rick and Morty know that he doesn’t think it’s bad or weird or anything like that if they want to obsess over the show — that those of us who do — shouldn’t feel shame or judged (which is really effing nice to hear for a change).

Dan Harmon says in the season two, episode two commentary track, “I have always felt it’s very important to send the message, whenever you can, to viewers, that they shouldn’t be ashamed of themselves to the extent they want to obsess about your show. It’s like, well, we work on it all day and all night too. If you want to, as a viewer, wanna obsess about it, like, you can. Like, we’re never gonna say to you, ‘you’re stupid, it’s just a show.'”

So — I now feel justified in my obsession.

So I won’t be ashamed of this:

Or this.

Or this.

So there you go! Sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much proof.

Basically, now I feel just a little bit more OK.

In conclusion, my point is that my anxiety breeds obsession, which can be a healthy way to distract someone (me) whose anxiety is crippling them (me). I am no longer ashamed of my obsessions because they help me in ways that are so much less dangerous than the ways I used to choose.

And since I’ve heard that FINALLY at least one more human (Dan Harmon) unapologetically allows for obsession, I feel vindicated, less insane, and OK.

So, please STOP suggesting I need to get “help.”

You don’t know my life any more than I know yours.

Think about how you’d feel if someone said to you what you’re saying to me.

Yeah.

In the spirit of being a bridge burner, (my speciality), you’re beyond rude, (AND — INCREDIBLY insulting) at best.

A question about whether I’m getting help or not is still intrusive, but I’ll take it to the alternative suggestion that I should (when I already do).

Sooooooooooo, shut up — OR — be better!!! ๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜‡

If we all stopped judging each other and trying to “fix” or change each other I think things would be better in general.

Food for thought.

Finally, my Mom has been wearing a friendship bracelet every single day that I gave to her because she’s the best Good Griefing Mom in the whole Dratting world.

I know people say this a lot to other people when someone close to them dies, but I think the older you get, the more you really do live the whole, “hug your parent(s) tight tonight if you’re lucky enough to still have them,” thing.

Pretty much the exact speech J.K. Simmons gave when he won the Oscar for Whiplash.

Do that.

โœŒ๏ธ and โ™ฅ๏ธ to ALL!

You Know It’s Ancient History. And If You’re Having Trouble Baby, Holding On To Memories, I’ve Got A King Sized Bed And A PhD In The Way It Used To Be.

Something AMAZING happened.

As soon as I wrote my last post about my ex, Gary, I felt better. Well, like I said, I also reached out to him to no avail which also helped, I’m sure, but mainly I think I’m done fighting for “this” alone.

And actually, it feels so silly upon reflection.

Not like in a, “write a letter but don’t send it” kind of way, because I’ve essentially been doing that for months.

But in a, “Dude. What you are saying to yourself is ridiculous. He’s only one guy,” way.

In a, I’ll never stop fighting for my dreams, ESPECIALLY, at such a critical point, way.

In a, there’s a reason the guy at (________ <— store name here) spends as much time with me as possible when I go in and maybe it’s time to stop acting uninterested, way.

In a, there’s a reason why a small group hangs out with me after every class, and then a specific guy hangs back even after that to speak with me alone even longer, way.

In a, I look really good these days according to everyone in my life so BELIEVE IT and feel good about my body and beauty for a change, way.

In a, smack smack SMACK (third one for good measure) across my own face for even thinking of giving up what I NEVER would have before, way.

In a, I’m FINALLY free from something that kept me in a self-loathing prison, and maybe being away from Gary isn’t a coincidence, way.

In a, I realize I’m healthy enough to surrender to love while recognizing that’s something Gary could never do for me, way.

In a, I have put it out into the universe enough now, and I’m just going to stop caring and start throwing his stuff out because I have NO place in my life OR my heart for it ANYMORE, way.

In a, I won’t keep doing this to myself, way.

In a, I deserve what I want just as much as anyone else so I’m putting down that past and racing toward making those goals happen, way.

โœŒ๏ธ and โค๏ธ to ALL!

I Made A Promise In The Morning Breezes. You Can Have All The Space You Need, And; You Know Me Better Than You’ll Ever Need To Prove.

I’m lovesick. It hurts. I’ve tried. There’s no getting over it this time.

Mother’s Day is a difficult day for, like, almost everyone I know.

Segues are weird.

My two best friends lost their Mothers tragically, and not long ago, and I ache for them both on this day.

My Mom lost her Mom at eighteen.

A close friend and one of my heroes lol lost her Mom this year to Parkinson’s.

Someone I volunteered with at the Rape Crisis Center — back in the day — had no less than five miscarriages. Once, she delivered a baby to term, only to have it die from SIDS three days later.

My Godmother abandoned her station (read: me — she abandoned me) this year because I asked her publicly to stop saying things to me like, “stop throwing yourself a pity party.”


I have fucking Fibromyalgia+++++. It’s hard not to complain and be angry, even on a good day. You know, the days I can walk. It’s not a fucking game.

I’m tired of placating her backwards-thinking-ignorant-of-anyone-else’s-situation ENTIRE immediate family’s views on EVERYTHING anyway. It’s a full time job in and of itself. (Again, don’t be an asshole if you don’t want me to call you an asshole.) I’m NOT my Mom. I can’t always be the nicest quietest person in the room. I can be that person. But not even close to always. Sometimes, if I’m going through it, and you push me too far, I just stop giving a fuck.

I know I could be better.

But I’m not.

Nobody’s perfect.

I’m just killing relationships left and right.

Don’t think that’s lost on me, oh haters who read this blog.

It’s not.


My brother has never really been into planning anything.

And when I called my sister last week, because I missed her, she told me she decided she wants me out of her life forever. Cooooooooooooooooool.

For the past five years, the love of my life (quotes gone now — as opposed to months ago — because it’s a fact that he is, I’ve realized) and I, celebrated both of our Mothers according to their schedules.

Gary. The love of my life.

Our first Mother’s Day celebration, (I think it was Mother’s Day), that we spent at his parents’ house, was a truly magical one. We were still in that honeymoon phase.

Thinking of that this year, the first time I can’t have it, breaks my heart twelve ways to Sunday. So Mother’s Day was a bit hard on my heart this year, to say the least.

I loved Gary so much.

Last year.

That first year.

This year.

I still do. I never stopped. I just got stuck.

I think about him every single day. I write letters to him whenever I wish I could talk to him or tell him something. They’re all in a journal.

And maybe he hates me and I’ll never hear from him again.
THAT — would be really inconvenient because I still have so much of his stuff. He was going to come back for it. He said he’d be back for it. But he NEVER came back. So I have everything. (Including things, like, his deceased now(?) Grandfather’s hats.)

But mostly, it would break my heart FOREVER. Not in a hypothetical way.

In a, “maybe I’ll be lucky enough to stumble upon someone who gets me enough to build a life with, but I will always carry a huge emptiness inside,” way.

In a, I would literally do ANYTHING to make it work, way.

In a, willing to move to the city with him to accommodate his work schedule, way.

In a, taking all the blame for everything and signing a relationship “pre-nup,” way. (And that’s saying a lot because I’m a lawyer.)

I love him with everything I’ll ever have.

And I’m terrified it’s too late.

I even texted him today for the first time in months and months.

I didn’t get a response which is actually preferable to a “go away forever” response.

Maybe I’ll get that go away forever response eventually.

But for now: I hope.

So, for Mother’s Day this year, for the first time in my life, it was just my Mom and me.

And we probably had one of the nicest weekends a mother and daughter could have.

No family drama.

We kept it low key, but significant.

I put a lot of effort and thought into everything I did for her (as I try to do for everyone in my life) and she appreciated it all.

I am so sick right now.

My Fibro has kicked into overdrive. You don’t wanna know about it here.

But I gave two good full days to the weekend. I know I’ll be paying for it for days. I know, because I already am.

I have four important things I need to do today and I’m all out of ๐Ÿฅ„s already. (Look it up if you’re curious; it’s a Fibro thing. My attempt to explain — would be terrible.)

I regret nothing.

Because I know I only have one Mom.

And I’m so lucky to have one who is 100% in my corner about EVERYTHING.

It’s no secret that O.A.R. is my favorite band. I have written about them a lot. They “recently” dropped a new album called, “The Mighty,” which is only ten songs long, but I love almost every single one, if not every single one, which is a rarity when it comes to me and albums.

Nothing’s perfect.

But the title to this blog is from a song off that new album.

And.

It’s.

๐ŸŽถAll because of you ๐ŸŽถ

Gary.

I took my Mom for a drive on Saturday and we listened to the album because it was gorgeous here. My Mom loves the band too, she always tells me when I have her listen. Now if only I could get her to a concert!

โœŒ๏ธ and โค๏ธ to ALL.