All posts by justcallmetaco

About justcallmetaco

I don't fuck around --- not in my writing --- and not in my life. I'm a powerful woman who has finally found herself. I hope you find me too. I'm a Bitch who simultaneously wants to make everyone's life better, every day. I hate everyone until I breathe. It's good that I breathe, like, all the time so far in my life.

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.

🎢β™₯️✌️

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. 🀣🀣🀣

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…πŸ˜ŽπŸ€£πŸ€—πŸ˜ŠπŸ˜˜πŸ˜πŸ₯°…

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.πŸŒœπŸŒ›πŸ€·

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.

🎢Take, 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 because…
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)🎢

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.

🎢β™₯️✌️

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.

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

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 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.

😑🀬😑🀬😑🀬

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!!! 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. ✌️❀️

I Was Burning Up A Fever. I Didn’t Care Much How Long I Lived. PART I.

This is my plea for forgiveness.

I have to come to grips with my reality, AND I want to set the record straight before I let go.

I have been what I consider MY WORST self lately.

I’m not proud of me.

I’m not proud of what I’ve written. Dragging people’s names through the mud, so to speak.

I have deleted the post that I’ve gotten more hits on in the past 48+ hours than I have since the first time I wrote about my sister.

Of course she wasn’t the only person I attacked and blamed for what I described as terrible behavior in that post. It wasn’t a good look for me.

I feel sick about the traffic on my page due to that “Takedown Piece,” (see “The Newsroom,” for the reference).

After some not-to-be-taken-lightly thinking, I justified my actions by telling myself that MY out of character behavior was a direct result of the behavior of others.

But, regardless of my opinions of those people, regardless of their behavior, their actions, or otherwise, I forgot something.

I?

I AM IN NO POSITION TO JUDGE ANYONE.

I wasn’t raised that way.

I wasn’t brought up to tear anyone else down.

I was brought up to be kind.

NO. MATTER. WHAT.

And my behavior as of late, has taken parts of myself I can’t, and won’t, ever get back.

I don’t feel sorry for myself.

I have never thrown myself a “pity party,” (though a number of relatives who I was finally honest with about their “Christian based” bigotry), might disagree.

And, perhaps, most importantly, I am not making excuses for myself.

To those I have hurt with my words, I deeply apologize. This is not a plea for your specific forgiveness. Even if you were willing to give it, I don’t want it. I will come to terms with my sins when I meet my death.

Gary truly made me a better person when he was around because he spoke the truth, for better or for worse. He world tell me, “eff that person,” or, “you’re too hard on that person.”

One thing. I had to saw apart this GORGEOUS shelf we made together, in order to move to be with my baby kittwins. From this:

To this:

Ouch. That really hurt. So that’s a thing that happened. Anyway.

I judge people. We all do. It’s part of our socialization.

I’m not saying whether it’s right or wrong.

I don’t think anyone can help it. (But I do think the torture of law school makes that judgment “gene”(?!?!?!) harder to fight, urging us to become self-righteous vigilantes).

But I’m going to leave that “job” to anyone else right now.

All that being said:

I am truly, most sincerely, sorry for any words I’ve said or actions I’ve taken that have hurt other people, especially anyone alluded to, specifically, in my blog.

This blog was supposed to be my story. I thought I was being true to that.

But now? I believe I was truly behaving aggressively toward others I love and care about (rapists I mentioned along the way excluded).

Many months ago, I was told by several people to “put my oxygen mask first,” you know, that allusion to ✈️ turbulance…imminent death…the cast of “LOST.”

I think that I took that advice way too far.

I warped it to mean, “say exactly what you think, consequences be damned, choose you first, forget what you’ve done before, take the reigns and go.”

I allowed myself to be SO selfish, that I lost myself.

Like, REALLY lost myself.

And I have to cope with that. I hope I can.

Yes, I am deeply suffering.

But, I’ve gotten off track, and it’s time to correct my course.

So I’ll go back to telling MY story. NOT those of others.

Obviously, I don’t live in a vacuum. People will come up in my narrative.

But I’m done calling people out. (I hope.) And I really want to change back to being a person I’m proud of after all.

Do I have excuses? Absolutely? Will I share those excuses? Absolutely. But do any of them justify what I’ve done?

I don’t think so.

But I won’t judge you if you do.

PART II is next.

✌️

What. A. Loner.

Oh, change the “n” in “loner” to an “s.” That’s better.

I made a promise to myself that I would be candid and honest in this space. If I cannot be honest in my writing, where can I be? Besides — I truly do believe that pretending everything is one way — when it’s actually another — causes a lot of problems.

That doesn’t mean everything sucks, or is scandalous. It’s just — true.

Full disclosure, I AM a loner. Big time. My entire life I’ve simultaneously wanted to be left completely alone, while ALSO wanting to be SURROUNDED by friends and family and people who love me so I can talk and talk and talk forever.

I have almost no luck with the second part.

I do this thing.

I’ve nick-named it “The All or Nothing Paradox.”

(I’m too afraid to “Google” that to see if it’s actually already “a thing.”)

What it means to me, though, is pretty much self-explanatory. I want everyone, and I want no one. There is NO “in between.”

In fact, I’ve been known to go through these kind of “purging” experiences with friend circles.

Part of it stems from never feeling like I fit in.

And part of it stems from my being paranoid constantly, not to mention insecure.

But — basically, after something happens within a group I’ve been friends with that I don’t like, (usually something I do), or I something happens in that group that I can’t change, or something happens that I’m embarrassed by, I tend to bizz-ounce.

And. I cannot be alone.

And I have praised living alone. But I’ve decided, not only did I absolutely NEED that at the time I experienced it, but I also really need to NOT be doing that anymore. I CAN’T do it.

I moved so I could live with my baby boys. My kittwins. I can live with these loves of my life now. And my baby boy is sick. But he’s letting me pamper him now, Which I like, but I also hate, because Peyton isn’t a cat I’ve been able to “catch”….until now.

Look at this love:

He’s my little Playboy.

I love my Eli too! I’m grateful he’s so healthy:

Don’t talk to me about lighting. They are sleeping cats. Grow up. πŸ˜‡

Also, this^ is, is my jam.

Do with that pun what you think I’d want you to do.

SO.

A Church member commented, “Wow,” on my post regarding the Church stuff I said. This member is SO INTO the family of the dude I called out. I’m sticking to it.

“Wow,” is right.

I said something that someone told me, perhaps expecting it work never be repeated.

But he didn’t say that.

“Aw, Sum Sum. Nooooooo.” As Rick said in Season 3 Episode 2.

So now — people are on notice: don’t say things of that nature to me.

Don’t gossip about things like, “isn’t it CRAZY that this person is dead and probably killed himself and I have to be the first to tell everyone because I get off on it?!” DON’T DO THAT. Then we’d be cool.

I am not scared of your minion writing, “Wow.”

I do, though, miss Gary. Because I’m watching “Rick and Morty,” and Peyton’s dying. And at 4:30 today when I had MINUTES to get to the Post Office — my car’s battery died. So I had to wait for AAA. (Thank God I made it!!!!!!!!!) But $164.13 later, I have a new battery and MORE bad than I can handle:

It made me sad that the AAA guy was IMPRESSED that I knew how to “pop the hood.” SO sad.

But alas, everything worked out. Except of course for the people who hate me hating me, and Peyton dying, and my very desperately needing a job.

But! My best friend is engaged and getting married!!!!!! πŸ₯°πŸ˜˜πŸ€©β€οΈπŸ’•πŸ’–πŸŽ‰πŸΎ And my other best friend is about to have a baby!!!!!!!! OMG!!!!! 🐣🀱🍼πŸ₯°πŸ‘©β€β€οΈβ€πŸ’‹β€πŸ‘©πŸ’πŸ’žπŸ˜πŸ’— And my other best friend is moving back from Michigan to New Jersey in JJJJUUUUULLLLLLYYYY!!!!!!!!!! πŸŒžπŸŽ‰πŸ˜πŸ€ πŸ™‹β€οΈπŸ₯°πŸ‘©β€β€οΈβ€πŸ’‹β€πŸ‘©πŸ’’πŸ’žπŸ˜

So. Monitoring Peyton and my cup of noodles await. And. So. Much. Sugar.

✌️

That Means Everyone’s Sick.

You have to be really careful with a razor
You have to be able to cut just right

Too deep, and your secret pleasure could become an accidental emergency
Too surface level, and what’s the point?

I made a red portrait
It wasn’t created through my smeared blood

My boyfriend begged me and begged me to tell him what I wrote in the portrait
But I was hungry, and tired of explaining my truth

But you know you’re on the right track when you can peel a tissue off the blood without reopening the cut into messiness
How many will you endure tonight?

As many as it takes, bitch
Because you own that shit

🎢 Don’t you ever try to judge me, dude
You don’t know what the fuck I’ve been through 🎢
On repeat
Repeat
Repeat
Resist

Your feet are your best weapon
No one will look there

Just as no man will check what you hide under tampons in your bag as you go through security
This information is for your safety, not to abuse

You love someone
Many someones

Forever
Until forever collapses like a mine

Everyone involved is trapped
And recovery is brutal

Tragedy?
Comedy?
Both?
Neither?

Then an unexpected twist in your privileged world
Someone you know is dying

Don’t talk about “it”
“It” upsets your Mom when they say “it” out loud

But you get it
We’re all dying

Relatives screaming, “how dare you not appreciate what you have — why must you host a pity party?”
Your reaction will cut ties, I have just learned

I miss G-unit rubbing my neck
He’d touch every muscle and it would be excruciating

Fibro
Undiagnosed

But neither of you knew that
Your body screaming in protest while hoping for more

Who’s “The Joker” now?
Why. So. Serious?

If only he’d known
If only you’d known

Maybe the pain could have subsided and accounted for
But being misguided for years?
Being misdiagnosed for years?
Who can endure that?

Not him. Not your Protector. Not the one you BELIEVED this time
For better or worse, until death did you part

You must continue the pain now
It’s not for attention

“Man up,” now
You can take “it”

Society wants you to be sick
Society wants your guilt to fester

Think of all of the jobs you’re keeping alive!
Think of all the people you’re helping by being sick!

Most people don’t believe your illness is real
And most people ask you why you can’t work when you look, sound, and appear, “fine”

I fall asleep now an hour at a time
Always waking up, reaching for something

Know your role
And accept that I know mine.

He Was A Boy. She Was A Girl. Can I Make It Any More Obvious?

The love of my life is gay.

The second love of my life is dying…

…but only because we all are.

The third love of my life is also dying.

I know he’s a cat, but he’s MY cat. He’s just under twelve years old. He’s been through so much with me. Let’s go through the bad things I can recall at this moment, in no particular order, since that’s what we’re here for, right?

  • The guy I dated the longest, (prior to my gay ex-boyfriend/soul mate/love of my life up to that point, and the man I thought I might marry), told me I shouldn’t adopt him and his twin brother. Don’t care why. Later that year when he broke up with me and broke my heart, I never needed my kittwins more. I cried on my Dad’s shoulder for so long that night. You know. My Dad who is no longer alive. I thought the guy wanted to marry me. He didn’t.
  • Law school. Enough said.
  • Preparing for, and passing, two Bar Exams, one of which is considered the second hardest in the nation (second to California, for those who care).
  • Crushes.
  • Heartbreak.
  • Insecurity.
  • Hate.
  • Addiction. To everything which I’ll admit.
  • Cutting. Lots and lots of careful, and painful, and extreme cutting.
  • Abandonment when I moved in with the second love of my life, leaving him behind with his twin brother for nearly five years.
  • Hating myself.
  • My Dad dying.
  • The second love of my life killing me, still, right this second, over, and over, and over, every second of every day.
  • Getting sexually assaulted at work.
  • Getting raped.
  • My hate for myself.
  • Him getting his own death sentence.
  • Today.
  • Hopefully tomorrow.

I used to LOVE this time of year; the week after Daylight Savings Time used to bring me instant joy in the form of more light than dark in the evening.

I, probably like many people, enjoy the lengthier daylight.

The night can be scary. So scary. For so many reasons.

Last night I slept selfishly.

Protecting my baby boy has become priority number one for me.

If that means keeping two to three other cats away throughout the night, then that’s what it means. (That’s what it means.)

I mean, look at him:

Wouldn’t you?

So I don’t sleep much these days.

Waiting.

For his death.

Oh. And. My ex’s Mom texted me this weekend (on her birthday). It really messed me up. How much can a person take?

I have a feeling I’m about to find out.

✌️

This Is Freaking Lame [And Other Allusions To “10 Things I Hate About You”]…And More!

I hate that I can’t read at night

Because I’m not reading you to sleep

 

I hate that I’m wearing your old shirt

It looked much better on you

 

I hate that I want to tell you every single thing I know you’d find interesting, funny, or “so us”

Since you couldn’t reach me anymore if you tried

 

I hate seeing your name on mail

Which is not my fault you’ll never see

 

I hate how much I hate you

Because of course that means I’m not out of love

 

I hate that you were everything

Except for when you weren’t

 

I hate that I know better

Than to bark back up that tree

 

I hate that you can’t hear your voice through my writing

Because I think you’d forgive me a little more than you’d want to

 

I hate when I write through your eyes

Knowing the tears you’d cry when I did

 

I hate that I can’t remember

What it felt like to feel you

 

I hate how many times a day I call myself stupid

Something you really made me believe

 

I hate that you lied in every card, during every hug, and throughout every night

You almost killed my voice

 

I hate that I feel helpless

Though I know it’s not the truth

 

I hate that I let you train me

Like the broken animal I was

 

I hate that I can’t cry, and I really hate that I can’t stop

But mostly I hate the thoughts of you

 

Because I don’t hate that I’m not wrong

In every way you used to see

Let Me Rest In Pieces, You Arrogant Prick

Because of >__________<(reasons), I cannot stop thinking about my ex. It’s been at least six months since our five year union (longer than some marriages!) ended. But I still miss him every day.

Aside from, “check your mailbox [for the apartment keys],” the last words I received from him were, “leave me alone.”

I am taking him at his word.

I thanked him for FINALLY returning the keys AND bid him adieu in my reply message telling him all I was trying to do was leave him alone after I got my keys back.

I am keeping my word.

No contact since then.

Nothing.

I would ask all of my male friends, “he really means he wants me to leave him alone for good, right?” But, I know the answer.

It’s, “duh.”

So I guess I _____ here, alone, thinking about him way too much, and missing the way it used to be.

Thanks a lot, Matt Nathanson.

“Used to be,” is my every moment.

I have a lot of things going for me right now. But making myself happy by making my mate happy isn’t one of them. We REALLY can’t have it all.

✌️

Cry Me A River, Gillette

Gillette Thinks Men Go Through Agony Shaving Their Faces.

Fuck.

You.

Gillette.

I just saw a Gillette commercial that said something like, if not exactly, “guys go through a lot to deal with shave irritation…so buy OUR product…because we believe all men deserve a razor made just for them.”

Naturally, I ran to my bathroom closet like the proud Nasty Woman I am and whimpered upon seeing this:

And even though the people at the company, I think, believe these lady razors take care of ALL of OUR feminine comfort, they don’t. I promise.

And I will be looking up any other affiliates of Gillette and boycotting them for life.

I have never met a single straight man who either actually dated me or tried to date me that didn’t talk about “liking [his] woman shaved,” “HINTING” that he expected me to have no hair on or around my pubic region, (and, maybe legs, but I’m REALLY certain they didn’t care as much about the legs).

I originally wanted to write, “pussy,” because that’s usually the term the men use instead of “pubic region,” but then I thought how much I hate that term. And then I thought about how it probably helped our current POTUS win, and wrote this paragraph.

Hey men! Think shaving your face and everything that comes with it is painful? Shave your pubic area, armpits, and legs, with that Gillette razor made just for you, do nothing for three days, and then tell me if you feel like that Gillette razor, made just for you, took care of EVERYTHING for you AND you were nothing but comfortable.

Heck! Use my lady razor if you think it’ll be less painful.

Grow a beard. And/or feel free to hate me if you want. I don’t care.

Sorry not sorry.
Mic drop.
✌️

I’m A Free Bitch, Baby

Valentine’s Day.

The day that stores and shopping malls everywhere try to get rid of their Christmas inventory by repackaging shit as “a gift from the heart.”

The day that tortures the men who care — only to be met with lack of appreciation.

The day my most recent ex went to get a card last year and ended up chatting with some girl who he basically described as “hot for someone in her pajamas” and “stupid for caring since it was almost 5:00 P.M. and men don’t care about or want, cards,” so he was one of three of the most last minute douches on Valentine’s Day.

I, last year, colored hearts for people, like this one:

This one went to my ex’s married friend. She likes the beach — so I did a sunset kind of thing for her. She’s dead to me now, though. Her choice.

Can we just pause for a second? Every day I get sicker. Every. Day. And maybe it’s not as bad as what some people go through, but it’s still fucking bad. And my friends don’t understand. I can tell they’re growing tired of my handicap.

I can’t do the things I used to be able to do. I fell down three stairs on Sunday night, carrying exactly three bags of cat litter to the laundry area for the cats’ litter boxes at my Mom’s house. I slipped on plastic I couldn’t see due to said bags of litter, fell on my knees, bags fell on me, and immediately started crying. It fucking hurt!

Gross, right? Hard to bend too. It hurts all the time — so I rub burn gel on it so it goes numb and I can pretend I have a normal life.

Just like I numb everything else.

And I’m thrilled this happened the way it did, because I didn’t get an infection, like when I was cleaning up after my Christmas tree and DID, from a pine needle. No joke.

Lately — I must be especially stressed or miserable because my esophageal spasms, another forever condition that doctors know almost nothing about, are flaring up like frat boys on during spring break. (That simile makes more sense in my head.)

For those who want to know what esophageal spasms are, here:

“People who experience esophageal spasms may have the following symptoms:
  • severe chest pain, as if the chest is being squeezed or the person has a heart attack.
  • difficulty swallowing.
  • heartburn.
  • feeling as though an object is stuck in the throat or chest.”

Link info here: https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/320926.php

In other words, HAVING IT — SUCKS.


I love so many people. I sent out as many Valentine’s as I could afford.

What do you do when you’re me, and you’ve gone through HELL and you’ve endured more than the people in your life even care to ask you about anymore, because “it’s always something,” and they’re busy, bored, or just don’t care that much about you just so you could be in a PERFECT PLACE in your life right now, instead of stuck?

I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. RAGE more.

I’m going to get my huge Polish nose pierced. I’m going to get tattooed. I’m going to write a book that tells my truth, with the support of my number one fan.

I’m going to stop giving a fuck about being conventional, and do it my way.

I’m going to forget the haters — y’all keep doing you — and I’ll keep thinking you suck, or worse, are proper shit friends, who feign interest in the only things keeping me going.

I’m bitter. And? What?

I’m sorry if the only chance I have to be happy doesn’t fit into your perfect fucking life where you have everything I’ve ever wanted.

We don’t need to keep seeing each other if it’s too much for you.

Just don’t bother being my friend anymore.

I REALLY get NOTHING from you.

I’m used to going it alone.

Between my Dad dying five years ago and my ex leasing me to die inside for the five years subsequent to that, I’m good.

I’ve got this.

I get it.

I don’t get a win.

I never get a win.

I do whatever I can for everyone I can, and I’m tired of THATfeeling pointless.

Time is funny. It’s our most valuable commodity. We can never get it back once it’s gone.

And all these thoughts just because I’m single again on Valentine’s Day.

I can’t let that affect me though. Everything in the past is in the past, right? It’s been six months! It’s like, so annoying that like, I can’t just like, snap out of it already.


Today is also my Dad’s Birthday.

Happy 81st in Heaven, Podgey.

I miss you — my best friend, the man who taught me to treat everyone like family, and the guy who would give the shirt off his back to help anyone — every day.

Every day is a little bit darker because you’re not here.

But, I know that the man who you conversed with at Rocky’s for years and years and years — you know who — the one who looked up our last name online when you just stopped showing up one day — and then went to where Mom works to find out what happened to you — but no one could help him because Mom was also in the hospital — the one who died before Mom got better so she never could give him the information to see you — THAT man — is shooting the shit with you while you sip your morning coffee with Equal, NOT Sweet-n-Low, (which is for posers) — and reading the funnies and political sections of “The Ledger” this morning up there.

I can’t wait to see you again.

I love you,

Goose

Ten Things I Know About Me (And I Guess Now You Do Too)

1. I always have to have a beverage in my bag/purse/car/hand, etc. at all times OR I cannot stop thinking about it and get thirsty and scared.

2. I am always dehydrated. I literally cannot hydrate myself and it occasionally causes a lot of cognitive and/or movement problems.

3. I’m going to be getting more tattoos. I never thought I would, after the last one, but the idea of having them in personal, weird, and secret places — entices me. I love great and creative tattoos. They’re hot. On men and women. It’s a personal preference; I understand that but God damn if I don’t enjoy objectifying a tattooed man.

4. I love the car air freshener scent, “Black Ice,” so I get packs as a gift very often from friends and family. I have about fifteen of them unopened in my glove compartment right now.

5. I am hyper sensitive to smells and scents, (and who am I kidding…everything else) both good and bad. (My high school boyfriend had the best smell. He always insisted it was just his deodorant, which lead to a very interesting conversation starter for my friends about me. “She loves smelling men’s armpits!” It was not awesome for me, in and of itself, but, it did lead to some pretty great smells.) Whatever smells I smell – go a very long way in choosing a partner to hold on to. I hope someday soon I’ll find a man on the same page as me, who will want to get married (and be pampered every chance I get since that’s just what I do — for — reasons), AND wants children as much as I do, and now that so many of my friends have babies, or are pregnant, now, already, every time a smell bothers me, I think, “I wonder what this is going to be like when I’m pregnant.” Maybe I’ll get lucky and everything will smell amazing!

6. This is me in 2007, with now Patriot’s player (boooooooo) Devin McCourty, (yaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyy), 2018-2019 season’s Super Bowl Champion. I was reminiscing about this with my college roommate. She convinced me to go to the Spring training “game,” and I remembered there being a looooong line for Ray because everyone wanted Ray Rice’s signature!!! And I had already heard some pretty bad things about his character, so I was like, “fuck that!” and I now I have a picture with a Super Bowl champ (who is also my Facebook friend, as is his brother, Jason, soooooo, go Rutgers! All because my roommate and I took a chance on the love of the game). (I’ve also only slept three hours in two days so I think I’m funnier than I am.)

7. My cats, the kittwins, below, are named after Peyton and Eli Manning. It took me three months to name them. I rescued them in August, so being an Eli Manning fan and all, the timeline checks out. Fur color makes obvious who is who.

8. I SERIOUSLY, like SERIOUSLY, reject everything sprung on me. “Do you want to go to the movies in an hour?” No! “Do you want to go to Target in an hour?” No! “Will you help me with reaching that item, Dear?” Yes! I get used a lot in ShopRite, hahahahaha. If it’s helping someone thing, I guess I always say, “yes.” But don’t just be like, “let’s spend Christmas in North Korea this year,” AND expect happiness. At least I’m aware of it? The thing is, though, if you give me a bit to consider a proposal of sorts, I’ll usually agree the second time you ask. I’ve been in therapy for 15+ years and I have no idea where that shit comes from, so if you have ideas — let’s hear ’em!

9. I don’t eat, or rather, don’t eat like anyone I’ve ever known. I told my Mom that since it’s definitely not anorexia (I obvi have a hot bod and happen to like my own softness over bones —– OMG I already hate myself for writing that statement out loud in my blog — and maybe even paper if you print my blogs to enjoy during your morning commute on the train or something — hey, a woman can dream), because food is good if you want to be healthy, and I do. But I essentially need prescription drugs just to get me to eat. This really sucks, because food is exceptionally delicious. I really love food. I also really hate the process of eating. (I would say it is because I’d rather talk than eat when with others), but I’m hella single now, AND a middle child, so I feel like that anyway.

10. If you’re a man and you’re grossed out by a woman, women, or anyone at all — talking about periods or menstruation, you are probably not mature enough to be having sex. I could never be with a man who was that immature.

Peace and love y’all! ✌️❀️

Sex Sells To The Distracted (E.G. I’m Sleeping My Way Out Of This One).

Editor’s Note: My original post made little sense. Don’t fall a bunch, get a chronic illness whose main objective is to give you pain and exhaust you and confuse you, or fall asleep and hit “publish” before final editing. But I’m done apologizing for myself. Even if it’s uncomfortable.

This whole post was supposed to be kind of ironic. I wanted to complain about how men judge women based on their ability to sext correctly WHILE using Charlie Hunnam as a visual sex object.

Hey y’all!

So I wrote last night and I guess the blogging bug hit me….OR, maybe I am looking for your advice, dear readers.

Stay tuned next post to find out which one is true. April Fools, Bitches! (What a dumb joke at 3:00 A.M.!!!)

First, and to get it out of the way, I’m looking for advice.

The thing I want to share is that I’ve decided to remain celibate until marriage — for now. And, before you freak the fuck out — this decision has nothing to do with any sort of religious beliefs. It’s far more about me being true to myself and wanting to know 100% what I want in the bedroom.

Let’s face it, women, we could send 100,000 “sexy” pics to an honorable, yet horny man, or, just do it for fun (seriously, I swear on my life, I’m not saying that’s in any way wrong, trashy, asking for “bad news,” slutty, etc.), those are just the names I’ve been called since posting last night’s picture (and the worst thing is I didn’t expect anything less), but mostly, that’s not really our thing. Guys, however, seem to really enjoy it. I think coupled with online dating, this is especially but not exclusively true.

I’ve been told that’s because men are “visual creatures.” But I have eyes! In fact I quite enjoy using my eyes too.

Second, Charlie Hunnam is the most gorgeous. Just EVER. 6′ 1″ ladies! Look:

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(King Arthur: The Legend of the Sword. Accent + best body ever — why can this dude not knock on my door? Like — if he were my mailman I would definitely sleep with him.)

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God DAMN —– he IS sex. Add a man bun and a love for me and we’re in business!

Now that that’s over with.

I posted a picture of myself that I’m proud of, in my last post. I did it my way.

My ex always used to try and make me feel as bad as possible which also meant killing whatever else was peaking through to compliment me.

So I’ve been talking with the cute guy I met at the cover I went to alone – Mr. O.A.R. – since December 7th – over two months without exchanging pictures that I am not comfortable seeing nor showing…could it be?

My O.A.R. friend whom I met at the concert works and calls me sexy while I’m dressed!!! Without seeing me naked?! WTF?

I’ve never been even close to promiscuous…probably by God’s standards. But of course I’m not angelic. And that matters in any relationship.

So, Mr. O.A.R., (whose name I know but you won’t for now) – who IS freaking HOT – and by the way – I like my men kind.

Mr. O.A.R man hasn’t said he can’t be with me because I don’t want casual sex, which he has mentioned that’s what he’s looking for, himself. Anyone who knows anything about me knows why that’s not for me.

But this hot πŸ”₯πŸ”₯πŸ”₯ 29 year old still texts me and asks me about my life, and feels me how sexy I am.

So the advice I need reader, is whether you think I’m crazy for standing by my weird new celibacy thing? Is it super abnormal at my age? Do I care about my age when it comes to this? Could this help me heal?

Help me help myself!

But if you find Charlie Hunnam, single again, dibs. I called dibs. So, I get him. Sorry to sexually exploit one of the hottest men on planet Earth, but we’re all human, sometimes.

Peace ✌️

How’s It Gonna Be Cause Oblivion?

I’ve been off the grid for a minute. Not at all writing blocked, just really sad. Thinking about my ex this time of year sucks. It was just his 37th birthday. Who cares, right? But I always tried for him. Appreciated or not. I never thought we wouldn’t be together forever. Not in a million years.

The good thing about my thinking about the ex lately, is how much I respect myself now compared to when he was here. For instance, this picture:

So, aside from the lower left hand corner of the image, which is just my bare leg, I felt confident and carefree. I felt awesome.

Could it be?

My bad habit stopped almost as soon as he did. I have lost more than twenty-five pounds. I’m feeling healthy about my body. I feel clear. Or maybe clean?

I must also note that I have started a personal journal just about sex, and about my relationships, and it’s helping me process a lot of difficult shit.

So yay for words(!!!!!) and letting go of what I can only describe as “a forced me.”

Although I know he’d never read this blog, in fact, because I’m counting on that, all I have to say is: I miss you G-bear. It never mattered who was wise. We were both assholes.

I just don’t want to be an asshole anymore.

(For the most part — I mean a woman’s GOT to get HERS.)

But I don’t want to be anything resembling an asshole — EVER — in a relationship again. Even though it’s looking like it will never be ours.

Peace ✌️

10 Reasons 2019 Is Already Better Than 2018.

1. I can sleep alone with the window open all night long in the winter under 8 blankets, feeling SAFE, for the first time in years, and breathe in the fresh, amazing, cold January air without anyone complaining.

2. I’m happily single. So when the cute guy I met at the O.A.R. concert texted me on Christmas to politely ask if I am single, I could happily reply, “yes.”

3. As a happily single woman living on her own, I make my own rules. And no one can judge, criticize, or otherwise tell me how stupid those rules are. For example, naming things whatever I want to name them.

4. Music, all the time. Music I love, music that’s new, music in the shower. Music.

5. On demand, and books. I’ll never, ever, be lacking in the story department.

6. I have a land line now. And I don’t get criticized for it every time I bring it up. And all my calls come through!!!

7. I’m pursuing my dream FINALLY and saying goodbye to something that only ever brought me misery. Telling my parents I passed two BAR exams on my first try — and their being proud of me — only good thing that happened regarding my career choice since going to law school. I know my Dad would be just as proud of me for finally pursuing something that makes me happy. My Mom supports me every day.

8. I can cook. And not just for me, but for my Mom too. (Probably the biggest shock of this list!)

9. I cannot THANK ENOUGH THE PEOPLE who reached out to me from all walks of life after my recent darker post. The LOVE, KINDNESS, and WILLINGNESS TO HELP, and to tell me you CARE that I’m here, and everything else that you said, was beyond AMAZING. I am blessed and never feel otherwise. Depression brings significant lows. I can’t and will never apologize for the reality of that. Thank you all for your amazing kind words and for checking in on me in whatever way you did.
Likewise, if you think you know better than me, that you can teach me a lesson, or that you can pretend to know my circumstance in some arrogant, preachy, out of touch way, I don’t need you in my life. To quote a very good friend, “comparison is the thief of joy.” I know people are in worse circumstances than mine, but reminding ANYONE with depression of that is probably on the top ten list of the WORST things you can say to us. So I’ll pass — on all forthcoming condescending idiocy. But I wish you good luck in your own life, truly. Just take that log out of your eye.

10. I’m optimistic.

Peace ✌️