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? πŸ˜‰ (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 🍌— β€οΈπŸ˜˜πŸ’› — 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 β™₯️β™₯️β™₯️β™₯️β™₯️πŸ₯°πŸ₯°πŸ₯°πŸ₯°πŸ₯°πŸ˜˜πŸ˜˜πŸ˜˜πŸ˜˜πŸ˜˜πŸŽΆπŸŽΆπŸŽΆπŸŽΆπŸŽΆ it’s “All Because of You.”

✌️✌️✌️✌️✌️✌️✌️&β™₯️ 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.

✌️&β™₯️

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 🀣✌️ 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 πŸŽ‰πŸ€£.

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: It’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!!!πŸ€—πŸ€”πŸ§πŸ˜¬πŸ€­πŸ€―πŸ˜±πŸ˜ˆπŸ‘ΏπŸ˜‡ 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.

So, 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 staring 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 concurred (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

I’m dishonest, and a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly. It’s the honest ones you want to watch out for, because you can never predict when they’re going to do something incredibly…stupid.

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 😝🀒πŸ₯΅! 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 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.

😑🀬😑🀬😑🀬

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 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.

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:

Basically, now I feel OK.

About my literal obsession, which I am now showing you.

So there you go! Sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much proof.

Occasionally, I NEED to be grounded by repetition, which I think helps me BE healthy. And since I’ve heard that FINALLY at least one more human (Dan Harmon) unapologetically allows for obsession, I feel vindicated, less insane, and better.

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.

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 I should (when I already do).

Sooooooooooo, shut up — OR — be better!!! πŸ˜˜πŸ˜‡

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.

✌️ and β™₯️ 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.

✌️ and ❀️ 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 πŸ₯„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.

🎢All because of you 🎢

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!

✌️ and ❀️ to ALL.

Like Dorian Gray. I’ve Heard What They Say. But I’m Not Here For Trouble. It’s More Than Just Words: It’s Just Tears And Rain.

I’ve been staying away from my posts because someone said something very hurtful to me and I was all stubborn about it since I have already confessed I have a lot of healing I need to figure out.

But, I won’t be shut down.

My Brother said something cruel. That’s all I’m going to say about what his actual words were.

When I responded to him that I was really hurt, he replied, “YEAH? WHY DON’T YOU GO BLOG ABOUT IT?”

Ouch!

Not cool, Bro.

Perhaps FAIR. Maybe I deserve that — after pointing fingers and making admittedly untoward exclamations about others in my now deleted but recent post.

But DEFINITELY not cool, Bro.

This space isn’t a joke. Those who take it as one, well, I guess you’re the bullies. I don’t know.

Writing is me, and hate comes and goes about it, but that’s just life.

FACT: My Brother really hurt me when he said that. I can’t stop replaying it in my head. Because, as I’ve written before, when someone says something to me, I believe him/her (at least initially), and if it’s something bad — well — it sucks. I’m hurt.

BETTER FACT: Oh my goodnessto all of you who have been mailing or handing me friendship bracelets since the now deleted post about my Sister!!!

^I am so freaking touched and I feel so incredibly loved! I felt so bad about myself for saying things that were true but hurtful to not just me, that I NEVER IMAGINED those of you who have sent me bracelets you MADE read a different story than the one I came to resent.

I’ve only put one (a beautiful blue one!) on so far (pain, hand, wrist, life problems abound), but I WILL try to post a picture of them all ASAP.

Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you so much for your time and consideration and love and notes.

^YOU have ALL helped me realize that haters are gonna hate, but we’re all just DOING OUR BEST, so thank you for understanding MY pain, AND helping me through it. I’ll NEVER forget your strength and support.

FACT: I am going to try my damnedest to STOP calling ANYONE a “bad Christian.”

Anyone who DOES THAT, is not only DEEPLY TROUBLED, but also just incredibly cruel — and — frankly, not someone who should be judging anyone, like EVER (including me here).

Like, get help, now. You’re not okay.

I shouldn’t have done it when I did, because it’s not for me to judge. I’ve repented and apologized, and asked for forgiveness, and I am at peace with that.

The. End. But.

^Shame on those of us who dared assert such a thing. Upon deep reflection I was truly shocked that I had stooped so awfully low that I dared judge others like that. No one should do that, in my opinion. Myself included, of course! I am ashamed I did.

I had this one person from “my Church,” tell me I was a “bad Christian.” πŸ˜†πŸ˜…πŸ˜‚πŸ€£!!!

I care just enough about “his” opinion to say all he does is use and/or hate on others, so I don’t respect him and barely regard him. Maybe he’s hurting, like me, so he hurts others? Not worth harping on, but my “bad Christian” self GAVE TO HIM, at my own expense, so I did nothing to him directly to deserve that in my opinion. Maybe he doesn’t know what I did for him. Maybe he’s just too blinded by attention to care.

But, just as I pray for all people in that Church, I’ll still pray for him. Oh! Just remembered. He’s the “minion” mentioned a few posts back. (Not worth looking for. TRUST.)

I may be done calling people bad Christians, but I’m not going to pretend people don’t hurt me.

I’ve been trying to say — if you don’t want me to write about you — don’t be shitty in front of me or toward me.

You’re literally giving me content to write about! Stop!

“My Church”, as a reminder, (means the Church I went to my entire life, SINCE BIRTH, until June 2018 when Pious Peter emailed me what qualifications I needed to earn as a member, sending me definitions of who qualified as a member as “proof,” cc-ing the wardens, and, even though I fell under each membership category for qualification, in a private conversation dismissed me from the Parish).

In summation, as I truly, honest to God, try to cleanse myself of posts that speak ill if others, I must say, he is, without a doubt, one of the worst people I have ever known.

And how he “preaches” there (I MUST use the term LOOSELY, because I’ve never learned anything from his meandering sermons. — See John Mulaney’s standup special, “Kid Gorgeous,” for an example of “Pious Peter’s time wasters.”) — I literally can’t even.

Not to mention, I’ve been on the Prayer List for months and months and months and he NEVER offers to come and give me Communion or visit me. He NEVER asks my Mom, who now, sits ALONE most Sundays, about me, though he knows I’m ill — and I know he visits other members of the Church. So what do I file that behavior under? He only cares about politics, and I’m disgusted by him. I know at least two other members who he has “cast out” who agree and are concerned about this behavior.

(I no longer feel comfortable, safe, or welcome in that space, thanks to a significant population of the Church, and I’m not healthy enough to get to that service).

ANYWAY.

Focus.

Breathe.

I’m getting it all out.

Peace and Love. ✌️❀️