Missing the Party

I thought for a moment about doing a year in review type of thing. But, then I figured, nah. First, it's interesting when the news does it... not so interesting when I do it. While there have been plenty of events unfolding over the last year, overall I've written plenty of blogs to reflect back on, if either you or I are interested to see what has happened.

So... I'll go back to my original idea. I watched Superbad last night. (I signed up for Netflix yesterday so be prepared for more movie references and movie mentionings than there used to be.) However, Superbad was borrowed from my Britney Spears loving chemist friend. I haven't decided on a name for her clearly... I like Britney too and I think the fact that she's all into chemistry rocks. So, I have to come up with a hybrid, of some sort. I will. Anyway... I borrowed the movie from her months ago and finally got to watch it last night. I have to say, I'm not a fan. I laughed once or twice but only once was it a real, hearty couldn't help but give it up kind of laugh though I can't recall what the joke was that made me laugh like that. Not that I have no respect whatsoever for the movie, it just wasn't me.

However, I did get two things out of it. I guess in some ways they combine into one thing. The formerly cutest boy ever really liked the movie and two, I guess I didn't miss out on much when I missed countless parties both during and after high school. Some of those parties are what make the formerly cutest boy ever tick. But, I was invited once and wasn't invited at least twice. Then there was the cloudy, murky invite that supposedly was sent to the wrong person via text. However, watching the remnants of the party in the movie last night was very real. Probably the only truly real part of the movie as far as I could see. The embarrassment that comes with the morning after. Come to think of it, although I was grounded for a long time then had a straight edged boyfriend then went buck wild in my own way, I still did my fair share of partying. Just not at a large amount of people scale. And not that I'll never party again. I just don't care to have random house parties or the frat party experience. I had tastes but no real concrete memories. Which, up until now, wasn't exactly ok with me. I thought I had maybe missed out on something. I've done plenty of stupid things in smaller, more intimate party scenes... kind of feeling glad I missed out on more large scale embarrassment.

As for the cutest boy ever... so what? He had plenty of beer pong experiences... somehow I felt that made him more or better than me. Nah. Not at all. Something about that movie did remind me of that. I did enjoy beer pong the one time I played at a friend's party. However, that night was soured when everyone went home and there was my friend... passed out in the backyard... all of her other guests simply not caring. I helped her to bed where her fiance was laying down (I couldn't stand that dick, she didn't end up marrying him). I think that experience says it all without me having to expand too much.

Everytime I hear this lyric on the radio, I turn it up loud and then ignore the rest of the song:

I don't care what you think
As long as it's about me

(Fall Out Boy - I Don't Care)

And everytime I hear it, I nearly yell it. Loud and clear. Seems to me I'm starting to believe it. See, affirmations aren't always Stuart Smalley.

Roger Rabbit's Final Dip

My phone flew across my bedroom, down the hall and halfway down the steps. The battery out and the back popped off. As I went to go pick it up, I was hoping I didn't destroy it. I can't afford to buy a new phone at the moment. I didn't mind my reaction to someone else's bad mood though I probably would have been angry if my phone didn't turn back on. But, it did.

Is it foolish of me to not go on MORE medication? I have a seasonal component to my disorder that is really showing it's ugly head lately. Pure depression. Not suicidal depression, just unfocused and feelingless depression. Going through the motions and sometimes the motions take everything out of me, even if they shouldn't. Running to the store to pick up my prescription surely should not be my "outing" for the day. It should just be an errand. Still, I'm ok. I don't feel like talking to that many people right now but that's mostly just because I can't focus.

I don't want to go on an antidepressant. For two reasons, I don't want to take more medication and two, an antidepressant could cause my cycles to go into overdrive, which is simply not a risk I am willing to take. Am I suffering right now? I dunno... suffering seems like a strong word for what this is. I'm just nothing right now. That's how it feels. Not that I believe I'm nothing but I'm nothing in the sense that I am feeling little good. The bad isn't SO bad, it just is.

However, I am feeling a bit on edge in some ways. I was prepared to tell my beloved I never wanted to speak to him again - even though I know that's not true. And I threw my phone. And Roger Rabbit got on my nerves last night. I could have cared less if he was dipped in that final dip... I think part of me was hoping for it as I watched the movie. Though the moments he would be dissolving would probably have actually caused a cringe.

Looking forward to March at this point.

Besides 21 Grams

I'm good at several things. And I'm currently feeling very grateful for those things and for the people in my life who matter most. Who are the people who matter most? The ones who show me respect and also who love me even when I choose to disappear.

I am feeling pretty burnt out. I spent the day watching movies and monitoring backups at work. The resounding message I got from all the movies I watched (except one that just wasn't so good) was being thankful for what's in front of you. Instead of always looking elsewhere. To be proud of who you are even if you're not perfect and to love those who love you, forget the rest.

The other strange thing that I couldn't help but notice was the amount of Jewish characters. Nearly all of them were Jewish. But, almost none of them were stereotypical. Just like the Jewish boy who broke my heart. And why did he break my heart? Because he chose to not be the amazing person I know is there. At least not around me. My heart is broken right now, not because he wouldn't be with me on a daily basis but rather because he simply chose to not be anywhere near the man he could be. And because of this choice, he has treated me badly.

I have spent more times than I could name beating myself up for not being good enough for him. For not having my degree, for being bipolar, and for simply not being able to stand up to him when I should have. That last part was a failure on my end to not only challenge myself but also to challenge him. The one time I did, my phone was blowing up and I was ignoring him. He didn't like that too much.

I oftentimes put words in his mouth and in his mind. I'd figure "this is what he's thinking" when, really, it was me who was thinking it. Whatever the choice of that day may be. Whatever I would chose to pick on myself for in that instance. I have done many, many embarrassing things. Right down to last night. I went out limping and not feeling well (most of it was mental), made a fool of myself, I'm afraid. Just one more fucking time I have to forgive myself for. My fuckups come so regularly, it's a wonder I can look at myself long enough in the mirror to put my makeup on.

But... all I can do is keep moving. And that is something I will do. And I will choose to listen to and feel those people who contacted me today instead of worrying about what the one who didn't might have been thinking. Not that I actually did think about him much at all. Until I started noticing all the Jewish folks in the movies I was watching.

No Cable

Christmas has come and gone. Only one holiday left and then life can resume as normal. Looking forward to it.

Had a few friends over for dinner last night as well as my parents. It was fun and the conversation was good. Very good. Made me proud that my friends are who they are. They are thinkers. And thinkers make me happy.

However, I'm hungover. Massively hungover. Lots of drinking over the last week, keeping it mostly to special occasions these days, or at least, trying to. I'm going out tonight, think I'll be sticking with iced tea. And not Long Island, just regular ol' iced tea.

When my parents got to my apartment, they sat down to rest and my dad asked me if he could turn on the TV. I had to tell him that I have no cable. He was ok with that and I had to fill him in that there's no picture on my TV. Then both my parents tried to convince me to get a converter box. I don't want one. I just want to keep the TV off except when it's time to watch movies. I don't watch TV in my downtime, I just don't want to. I don't enjoy just vegging out unless it's in front of a movie or with a good book.

I am curious why this is so hard to understand. Recently I've been called weird for it and now even my parents are trying to convince me. I'm standing my ground on this one people. If anything, I think each time someone mentions to me that I should get cable, I get a little more defiant.

Plus, right now... I can't afford a cable bill anyway so that gives me a quick excuse when pressed as to the why nots of my television situation.

Love Thyself

I stared at this picture yesterday from another friend's post (I will call her Spice from here on out, I'm slowly coming up with the names... please give it time until I figure out yours) and something clicked...

I've wondered for some time why I keep getting involved with people who don't treat me right. It's not as though it's everyone in my life but it is a certain group of "special" folks. And there's nearly consistently always been one who I would just let treat me like garbage and I'd stick with them. Through thick and thin. Even when everyone wanted me away from them. Even when people would confront me about how I wasn't being treated right. I nearly lost biff over one of these mediocre friends. I wouldn't "give up on them". I would do everything in my power to try and "love" them into liking me enough to treat me as I deserve to be treated. This is your basic cycle of abuse, tailored to my specific needs... as it would be for anyone.

It's been happening since I was in 6th grade. I got involved with a friend who became my world. And the cycle began. In fifth grade things changed for me. I became different on my own since my bipolar symptoms started making their way to the surface. However, it wasn't until 6th grade that it began to reflect in my relationships. That's when my co-dependent behavior began. My parents moved me out of public school and placed me in private. There were things going on at home and they thought Catholic school would teach us more morals. While I won't call it a curse, I will say it may have taught me morals, doctrine, and dogma it did not teach me the meaning behind "Loving others as you love yourself". The second greatest command according to the One who the entire religion is based on, spoken during the Sermon on the Mount. In order to love others like yourself you have to love yourself first or you won't know how to truly love others. And the first greatest command is to love God. Again, you can't love others until you love yourself. Seems we have a Catch 22 here.

So... how is my cycle operating itself? Before you can fix something you have to know what's wrong. And, finally... finally... finally I understand it. My therapist is going to love this when I see her again. This is the biggest breakthrough I've had since acknowledging that I needed medication. It's been just over a year. Apparently some good stuff really does happen during the holidays.

I don't like myself very much. I haven't since about 6th grade when I started listening to everyone around me and stopped listening to myself. Before that, I had no problem with me that I recall. Sure, I tried to act certain ways periodically but I could never keep up the fakeness long enough to convince anyone. Like when I tried to be tough in 4th grade when starting a new school... again. Ahh... about 5 minutes in when I had to stand up and say my name, turning red all the while, the mask fell off. I made plenty of friends quickly. It wasn't until walking into St. John's that I felt really out of place. That the other students made sure I would never be "one of them". Which looking back is fine with me because they were some mean S.O.Bs. With the exception of two other girls who by the end of 8th grade I had grown close to. One just didn't seem to care what anyone thought and another had also become an outcast over time. The girl who was "special" had failed a year so she was no longer in my class. Giving me the ability to move on.

But, as for the actual mechanics of the cycle: I don't like myself, I find someone who will help me feed my need to not like myself, will help me keep on beating myself up. I pray and hope and basically beg the situation to change, that they'll start being nice to me. They don't become nice to me. They just stay the same and that way so do I. I was praying recently to learn how to love myself. Finally, I was praying for the right thing. Being an enabler for those folks wasn't very loving either though I'm sure they'll continue to find people to feed into their own self hatred. I just don't want to be one of them anymore. I want to scoop out the bad stuff inside of me and replace it with good stuff. I want to be delicate with myself and treat myself right. It'll take one small choice and change at a time but eventually I'll be good to go.

Many of my panic attacks have been focused on the impending doom that God will ultimately reject me. Turns out it wasn't Him rejecting me, it was me rejecting me.

Thank you, Spice for yesterday's blog.

Appendix to earlier post...

You know what? It's not that I hate the holidays. I am seriously, completely, and finally pissed off. At all the people who have mistreated me, seriously mistreated me over the years. And now my life will change.

The Smell of Vinegar

Good Lord, they are beautiful. Those five kids. I know four of them, one came into this world after the breakup. I haven't seen any of them up close and personal in a few years now. And I am still in love with them.

My ex's sister's kids. Got a picture of them in the mail yesterday. And I cried and cried and cried. Sometimes you go around missing people and you also forget how much you do. Not that I don't think of them regularly but you grow accustomed to the absence somehow. Woke up with puffy eyes this morning and had to use the cucumber gel.

I am really turning into a hate the holidays kind of girl. My mom called last night to ask me to make the Christmas cake. I agreed, nearly unwillingly but it's not too much for her to ask at all. I just wasn't in the mood to think anymore Christmas. All I want to do right about now is bury myself in my apartment which just a few days ago was filled with folk. I am still thankful for all of my friends who came over to celebrate the holiday with me but there's still a loneliness that I know I'm one of many who are experiencing.

The holiday season is also suicide season. Which is one of those things we don't speak of. Shh. Much. I'm not anywhere near that low but I've struggled with the holidays for the last few years and right about now it's not getting any better. Fifteen degree weather isn't helping either.

I spent the remainder of my night cleaning more dishes left over from the party, most of them are taking a while because they have some soaking to do, and I did some reading. Finished up Vinegar Hill, which was excellent though mentally intense enough to make my life look like cartwheels. The ending surprised me but I don't want to ruin it for anyone who may choose to read it. I've since moved onto Freud's Interpretation of Dreams. Should make for some interesting reading, albeit a little "off" in the Freud only kind of way.

Vinegar Hill really dove into it's characters like no book I've ever read. Every few paragraphs you'd get deep into someone's thoughts and then they'd interact with the rest of the characters before jumping into the next character's memories and rituals. Where was James to sit? Why was Salome never married? Would Ellen have enough guts to walk away? Would Amy ever be happy again? Where are the two babies?

As the holidays approach, we have lots of family interaction... and when you think about it, some of it is sweet... some of it is sour... some of it stinks... and some of it smells of cake. And though it hurts, I guess I wouldn't trade it. I wouldn't trade it for less than what I want so I guess I'll take it. I still feel like hiding from it and hope for better years in the future but I think this year I might look around at my own family's faces and wonder a bit more about what they're thinking. They've all had hurts and disappointments and joys which make them who they are just as much as me. And it'll always be that way so I mine as well soak it in.

Small Wall

Ok. Had a very special weekend. A good one. My first annual Christmas party. And it went well. Of course now I'm busy feeling stupid about something I did, though that'll pass in time. Grateful someone kept their head about them when I wasn't keeping mine.

And now I've hit a wall. Not a big wall, just a small one that will not take all that much overcoming. Just a few days of getting used to the new schedule and getting over how much I drank at the party. The aftereffects are still working in my system. As my doctor said "alcohol simply makes the medicine not work as well".

Ugh... boring post. Hopefully by tomorrow I'll have bounced back.

Doormatville

A few years ago, I had a definite "spine" moment. I watched something on the news, over and over and over again and wrote an editorial about it. I was direct and I was angry. The worst moment of a man's life was recorded by accident and shown live on-air at the time. What I disagreed with was the media showing the clip repeatedly. It wasn't necessary. The world could have found out what happened to those beautiful little boys in the trunk without seeing that horrific moment of "finding". So, I sat down and plugged away at my anger in a constructive way and then sent the editorial to every news outlet I could think of. It was published in the online edition of the local paper and I was proud. I also sent the editorial out via email to my friends and family. Getting a few responses, including one negative one. I took that on as well. If I'm going to put it out there I have to be willing to take the negatives as well as the positives without letting it rock me to the core.

My friend had a point but she missed the bigger picture. Yes, news is done on a demand and supply basis. But, that just points to a larger problem... and that is people, rubbernecking and train crash watching people. In short, most of us. Why would we demand the experience of seeing someone else's misery? It's just not cool of us at all.

That's not what this blog is about though...

This blog is about my spine. Or lack thereof, it seems. Both my therapist and I had a moment yesterday where we both acknowledged that we just can't figure out what the problem is, exactly. My beloved says his theory is that I haven't reached my potential in life (and he's right) so therefore my self worth is lagging behind. And in return I allow myself to be a doormat. Yes, my life has been rocky and finally seems to be in a place where I can make what I want of it. So... even though that's what I'm doing or trying to do, I keep falling back to this place of doormatville. It's an ugly little town with muddy streets and windows covered in old towels instead of curtains.

I'd like to start standing up for myself. Not that I need to go around yelling at everyone but I'd like to call it like I see it when I need to. But, a gear usually shifts inside and I shut up when it's most important. Then when it's not all that important I can tear something to shreds that doesn't deserve my time or energy. In other words, things that should have no real baring on my life seem to be of utmost importance. I get annoyed at things that shouldn't annoy me and I take offense to things I really don't care about. I ignore the flaws in some people when they need to be taken on because they hurt me and people who are simply acting foolish but aren't of critical issue to me take the passenger seat in my mind.

Where's the gap coming from? When did I get the message? Somewhere in childhood I know. I don't BLAME my parents but I see the reasons why I am this way in some of my rearing. Then I continued to reinforce it myself by finding other people who were important to me and letting them walk all over me. My parents are on a natural pedestal... the others were just lifted there by default. Coming along at the right time in the right way.

So... in conclusion... I recognize it. I need to get over. Grieve the losses and move on.

I mean, come on... if I could take on whomever in an editorial, knowing I was definitely going to piss someone, somewhere off with my name stapled right to the cover sheet then I certainely should be able to take on people I claim to love. After all, in many ways it's better for both of us.

Affirmations and An Affair

Been doing my workbook each night. Actually, yesterday I only had to do my morning pages, affirmations, and go on my "artist's date" with myself. So, I watched a movie I've long wanted to see... and own. An Affair To Remember.

The morning pages are tough for me to get out. And I'm nervous about having to do them when I get back to first shift. Which is on Monday. They take about a half hour to do and I spill out most of the drama that's going on in my head. Strangely, though, even though I hate doing them... I don't want to go without them now. And I cheat a bit. I stop at two and a half pages. I wonder if the "magic" only happens in the last half of the third page. Every few days I do actually make it that far.

Yes... I said affirmations. Embarrassing as it sounds, though none of them sound like Stuart Smalley. They seem to be helping me too so I don't care. The workbook I'm doing said they only sound stupid to people because they don't believe the kind of things you say to yourself, that you get the backtalk from yourself. I don't get much of that. But, I think the reason so many people would not be willing to do them is because they do sound... stupid... so I refuse to look in the mirror while doing it. I just run through them and that's that.

As for the movie last night. A few times through the course of it I had to remind myself to be present to the flick. Though I did have to fast forward through the second children's singing number... it was just sort of awful, to be honest. Especially being that the movie really isn't a musical. As for the rest of the movie, well done. Very well done. The writing, the acting, the chemistry, the story... all very well done. And the dresses the leading lady wears... gourgeous, just simply stunning. I'd recommend it to anyone who's up to enjoying the early days of the romantic comedy.

This book is opening me back up in a way I haven't been in years. It feels good, honestly. I can remember a bit more of who I was before. The kind of stuff I liked just for me. I have to do one of these artist dates a week. Though I think next week will probably have to occur on Sunday. I wonder what movie I'll watch since I'll be too broke to do much of anything else.

The Girl In the Blue Shirt

Over the weekend I went to a surprise party for a good friend of mine. She was surprised and I was too late to see it but she seemed thrilled and that's all I could ask for.

Meanwhile, another friend of hers was there. I hadn't seen this girl in several years and when I asked her how she was doing, I got the basic "alright". But, she wasn't alright. Not by a long shot. I could see it in her eyes and in her body language. I saw myself and how I behaved a few years ago now. Probably around the last time I had seen her. Her boyfriend was nowhere to be found and a little birdie mentioned that things were rocky between them. This is nothing new, from what I recall. When she said "alright", the look was haunting... almost as if she didn't recognize me. But, she did.

Sometimes it's scary when you see some of who you used to be in someone else's eyes. It wasn't that she didn't recognize me, she simply doesn't know who to be, she probably doesn't recognize herself. She's his and that's what she's used to being. If he's no longer in the picture, who does that make her? He's probably her connection to herself, how she relates to everyone else is who he expects her to be... real or imagined, I'm not sure. Conditioned on her own or by him, can't fully say though I have my guesses. Usually there's a mix of the two, it takes two to tango after all.

She stood alone in a room full of near strangers though they didn't have to be. But what was there to talk about with these people? When someone is not clear on themselves, it's nearly impossible to be clear with anyone else. The girl in the blue shirt needed a hug and I wanted to give it to her. Whether I'm right or wrong, either way... those eyes were sad.

Weltanschauung

Woman, daughter, sister, niece, friend, grandchild, aunt, youngest child, crazy, sane, bipolar (both medicated and unmedicated), highly sexual, obsessive, anxious, dreamer, Catholic Christian, liberal minded pro-life American, identify as Italian in decent, survivor of several broken hearts, a TSE, tortured for being different, been suicidal and survived it, briefly Gothish, battle with the bottle on occasion, long term girlfriend (a couple times), ignored voice, cheerleader, figure skater, softball player, moved often, kicked off the safety patrol, animal lover, meetup coordinator, smoker, ex-adult entertainer and waitress but overall, someone who fights for who she is and who she wants to be. This is much of where my weltanschauung comes from.

Leeway

I'm having one of those beat myself up days. I feel guilty for everything I said about someone last night, even if it was the truth. So why do I feel guilty? Because I was at one point told my feelings about a subject were wrong. That I wasn't thinking correctly about the subject at hand. And while I do find myself being a little crazy sometimes, a little obsessive, sometimes history seems to repeat itself. And similar problems keep cropping up, keep finding you (or me) until you confront them head-on.

I can't stand up for myself efficiently and I'm constantly unsure that I'm taking things the way I should. Because I know no one is perfect and everyone makes mistakes, I always give too much leeway in the way I am treated. I know everyone's wounded to some degree, all in different ways so it comes out in different ways so I never make anyone take real responsibility for their actions.

Yet - I am rather hard on myself when I mess up. I should have been more responsible last night, I shouldn't have used my credit card. I shouldn't have said something that I said. I should just be perfect and never make a mistake. I would like to just shake this stuff off and start again today, in the right now.

Dammit.

Tomorrow will be better.

Alone Time

The machinery keeps me company while I'm at work on the weekends. I like the quiet, just wish it was in the comfort of my own home. I need more recharge time. Somehow being in the office with little but youtube to do, just don't cut it. So, I'm going to be taking it. And in some ways it's going to be forced on me. Between being broke and the upcoming lack of overtime, I'll be spending plenty of time at home. Doing my thing... maybe even some writing. Hopefully some writing.

I started a "program" of sorts recently. A book that is supposed to guide me into my own creative path. Not sure if it's going to work but it's adding new things to my life, hopefully a kickstart will be in there somewhere. I have lots and lots of ideas, just not sure how to get them started, exactly.

The first thing that's added is my three pages a day. Each morning I'm supposed to write three pages of whatever is going through my head. Done it the last two days, I think it'll take just a bit more time than that to feel a difference. Basically, I think the idea is to clean out the psyche first thing in the morning so the rest of the day doesn't feel so daunting. And from the way the book explains it, good ideas will begin to flow. If I want to make my writing work for me I have to get more serious about it. For instance, I have to sit down and do it. Really do it.

Which means alone time. Which is fine with me.

Building Blocks

I want to fix my self esteem.

And, unfortunately, this is a process that will take time and stability. My biff recently told me she thinks that's what I need to work on. And my beloved told me he was proud of me when a guy who wanted to sleep with me "one more time" was turned down. Proud of me for doing the rational thing? Yikes... doesn't say too much about how even those closest to me perceive me. But, I'm not saying they're wrong.

It'll take time... and it'll take me continuing to make smart choices for myself.

I listened to a story this morning of how a young woman I know (that phrase makes me feel old but she is younger than I) is going to follow her boyfriend, not fiance to another city. And start life anew with him there. However, she wants the ring and she's going to leave everything she has here behind to be with him. While it may sound like a romantic notion... it's not as peachy keen as it appears. She's never told him she wants to get married and he's not a mind reader. He has asked about it, not popping the question but gauging where she's at and she has lied. She has told him what she thinks he wants to hear. This is not his fault, of course. But I can only think of one reason why she only tells him what he wants to hear. She's afraid she'll lose him. Instead, she going to sacrifice her own life, her own career here, her relationships with her close-knit family and go follow him. I don't know, though I wonder, if she wants anything more than him for herself. What does she want for her own life? Is there any way to mesh the two? These are questions, of course, to be answered between the two of them. It's not for me to say. She's a beautiful girl... I hope she knows that.

And so... I realize... while I have allowed myself to be mistreated by some... I have not always bowed down and done exactly what was asked of me. I did what I needed to do. This comes as a surprise to me, as I look back. There have been many, many things I have done for "love" that I am certainely not proud of and I have allowed myself to be a figurative punching bag for extended periods of time. The difference here is when it mattered most, I rebelled and I stood strong. I had to work a second job so I could comfortably pay my bills, even if two jobs killed me and I worked hard to make a dream come true... travel. I did not quit because it was asked of me. I was making the decision I had to make, the right one for me. And when it seemed apparent that someone out there was looking for an "open" relationship even though I was in love, I still loved myself more and said "no". Even if it meant losing him. And lose him I did, in both situations.

I'd still make the same choices today. And it is knowing that I made these decisions when "everything" was at stake that I'll remind myself, I have more strength in me than I realized.

Fat and Flesh

I had a dream, not just any dream... a nightmare. Yeah, you probably thought I was going to break into some MLK type thing but alas... I'll tell you about the nightmare I had earlier this week which is what made me call first, my beloved. And second, my doctor.

Anxiety was overriding everything, including my drug induced nightly rest but this nightmare was the thing that pushed me over the edge.

I went to bed the other night thinking I may not make it through the night. My mom said recently that my 81 year old grandfather told her he's ready to go. He's still up and about, keeping busy but he's pretty tired of this life thing as only old people could be. Even those of us who've had bouts with suicidal behavior couldn't understand this idea. It's not that they're suicidal, or at least not most of them... they're just ready for whatever is next... a rest, you could say. After my mom expressed sadness about the sentiment she commented how it must be frightening to really not know whether you're going to make it through the day, each day. The other night when I was getting ready to lay down - I geniunely thought I might not make it through the night. It was scary... and I considered writing a note but I just didn't have it in me.

Eventually, I fell asleep.

Sometime, while it was still dark out I had a dream that I was laying in my bed, in my apartment, wide awake. Scared - in the dream - that someone was just outside my bedroom door, that someone or something was stalking me from inside. They could see me. I couldn't see them. So, I stared... not sure what to do at the ceiling. In the dream it was not dark out, probably early evening. I was watching the cracks in my ceiling's paint. (Mind you, in real life, there are no cracks in the ceiling's paint.) Then I heard a loud noise, a noise or movement loud enough to shake my apartment building. Whatever it was that I feared was now inside the apartment, definitely. I still saw no one but when I continued to stare at the cracks in the ceiling, suddenly they were larger with stuff leaking through... bubbling and thick... flesh and fat together, getting ready to break through. I sat up, trying to scream out... but all I could make was a grunt. My lips were sealed shut and I couldn't see out of my right eye. Something was blocking it. Then something moved outside of my bedroom door, I went to run at it... trying to knock whatever was blocking my eye out of the way. I had gone blind in my right eye. There was nothing to knock out of the way. And something was in my place... and I couldn't scream. I was trapped.

And I woke up.

Making Amends

Well, I sent out a text last night. To someone who used to be a close friend. I apologized for the way our friendship ended. Not so much for having stood up for myself as for the way I know she was hurt. I didn't give her good explanation, I didn't talk to her about it. I just didn't talk to her anymore. We had been very close for several years. Granted, she was always a bit on the goofy side but I never did feel right about the way it went down. So, I said sorry.

And she seems to have accepted the text. She wants to get together when she's back in town mid-month. But, that won't be until the weekend of my party. I don't feel comfortable inviting her to the party so maybe drinks the night before. I don't know that it's a friendship that can be fixed but it would be great to talk it out.

Where did the text come from? Why last night?

I was going over stuff in my head, as I seem to do often enough. And I have been angry and frustrated and hurt and tired of the crappiness that is in this world. I have hurt a few people and I started thinking about how I feel the need to make amends. How I would like a few heartfelt apologies in my life. People who have hurt me. But, who do I owe those same apologies to?

I have only ever cut a couple people out of my life. The first was a drug addict friend. I loved her very much. But, once she stole my rent money from me I just couldn't keep her in my life. In my goodbye letter to her I did tell her I loved her and that if she ever needed anything to please contact me. However, it couldn't have anything to do with her drug habit... I specifically said if her mother's illness progressed and things of that nature. I still look for her name in the obituaries from time to time. Another was a friend whom I never would have cut out if it hadn't been for the way she became when she got married. That is, not herself anymore. She allowed her husband to berate me about how I had "hidden sin" in my life. I felt ganged up on and attacked and she just sat by and wouldn't say a word. Attacking me with a Bible doesn't make it any less intrusive. I did, however, send her and her family a Christmas card last year as a peace offering. I loved her too. Another person I hurt, he and I made up years ago. A three hour talk at a bar did us good. Getting down to specifics, not just a blanket "sorry about everything" helped me clear the air. It's best if when you give an apology, you know what you're apologizing for. If you don't understand why someone is hurt, ask them. I hope he's doing well in Iraq right now. And I hope the bravado he displayed last time I saw him was just that - and nothing more. The last of the folk that I know I directly hurt is this girl. And luckily I have a way to get in touch with her.

There have been other people. I know there have. I've dated some guys or wouldn't date some guys and I know they were not happy about the way it turned out. But, the one consolation there is that I have always tried my best to be honest with them. And I try my best to never lead anyone on.

Loss of Ground

Ahh... yes... who was that whom didn't stand their ground after all? That would be me. Yup, me. But, at least one good thing came out of it. I heard a few words I needed to hear so that I could move on.

"The way I treat you... so bad."

"You know you do?"

"Yeah..." Then following it up with statements that make it clear he has no intention of changing that fact. Suddenly, he doesn't look as beautiful in my eyes anymore. He's kind of really shitty at this being human thing after all. He may be able to have a good time (or so it seems) and he may be comfortable in his job and in other ways... but at this being fully human thing, he fucking sucks.

My meds have also been causing me some problems lately. I haven't been sleeping well. Anxiety is getting the best of me. I'm only 29 years old... I shouldn't go to bed thinking that I won't make it through the night. I mean, granted, there's always the possibility. But, it's actually quite slim. My doc upped my dosage again. Hopefully that'll work.

Standing My Ground

I'm standing here. Fists tight. The sun is shining down on me but it's cold out. I have spoken. And now I will just stand here. The shadows the sun creates on the pavement have an ominous feel. She's no longer who she was... that person is fading.

My eyes are wide open, I'm staring straight ahead. This road has been rocky by nature... as is life. Rarely goes how you see it in your fantasies because to get to the fantasy you have to eat the apple and fall asleep. For years. You can't just be without having become that which you did not want to be. Suffering is not romantic, it's ugly. Even Romeo and Juliet chose to end their suffering quickly.

The ground will probably shake again and I will run to the doorway I've now opened for shelter. Letting things crash around me, not without care but without trying to figure out how to keep the plates on the shelf before even knowing the earthquake was on it's way.

I will continue holding my little place here. Because this little place is all any of us have. Our own little worlds, shaken not stirred for me, please. Settled but never complete until we're asked to say goodnight.

Lump

The boredom is amazing. My mood is actually very stable right now but here I am thinking about depressing things. And I have come to a conclusion I've come to time and time again.

And now I've done it. Told the boy I've been in love with that it's over. That my feelings for him are too strong for me to be his booty call.

This lump in my throat hurts. Just twenty minutes and I'll be out of work... I can start crying then.

Ahh... Yoga

Did some yoga today. Ahh... what a feeling. By the time it was over and I plopped down to rest for a moment, I felt like myself again. I haven't felt like myself in a little while but I do right now. My mind is clear and life is looking a little better. A little brighter. But not too bright... not manic bright. I have to keep working out on my daily routine. I want my body back. Hasn't looked really that good since I was about 22/23. Went through an exercise maniac phase at that point. While I don't see myself spending THAT much time working out again, I plan to get at least a little working out in each day.

Cardio, yoga, and 8 minute abs. I may not even have to join a gym again. We'll see. I do want to invest in a few more DVDs so I don't get bored with the routines.

Tomorrow... I think it'll be 8 minute abs and some cardio. Just not sure what I'm going to do... maybe just a walk around the park near my place. Maybe twice around the park, actually. Fuck the cold.

Did my pampering stuff and then read a few chapters of the book I'm into at the moment. Vinegar Hill. Good book so far. About halfway through, I think.

Pamper

I think my brain is broken right now. I'm not sure if it's because my sleep schedule is all messed up but I do think that has something to do with it. Anything and everything feels like just a bit too much for me right now. I feel like a ton of people are demanding too much of me. Though that simply isn't the case, I'm too demanding on myself. I want to have my shit back together - instantly. But, I don't. It's one step at a time in the real world and I have to get used to that.

First on my list of priorities... me. Pampering myself would be worth it right about now and tonight that's what I plan to do. I have my little list of beauty treatments I like to do weekly and I haven't had a chance to do them completely in the last two weeks. They make me feel better both physically and mentally. Next thing I have to get a jump on... exercising. I want to get back to a gym soon. But, I just can't afford to put out anything extra for a while. So, I'll make do with my mom's treadmill, my bike, my own two legs for walking, and my friend's elliptical which she said is just collecting dust. She got it and then got pregnant.

I have an appointment in January to go up to NYC to get my hair done at Ouida. They specialize in curly hair. Can't wait to get myself a style. I'm sick of the look I've been carrying around forever. Except, of course, that interlude of horrible boy cut. Biggest mistake I ever made with my hair. The only thing I could imagine beating it would be going blonde. But, I'll never make that mistake so nothing much to worry about there. The biggest mistake has been made already.

Hopefully this jittery feeling I'm feeling will go away. I'm afraid I made a fool of myself at the meeting I went to this afternoon. I felt that rush of anger buzz through me during it, I hope no one else could see it. It's so embarrassing when that happens. Granted, sometimes I'm the only one affected by it but who knows what people may notice.

Falling Out of Bed

My tummy's been in knots all day. Not bad knots, good knots. Nothing has changed but I have. I'm showing my spots now and I like it. I can laugh at myself when I do something stupid, like falling off my bed... and even though I'm embarrassed, it's an "oh well, I'm human" feeling that prevails.

Had a bunch of my girls over last night for dinner. Laughing was nearly non-stop and I really began to feel myself just being simply me, not trying for anything in particular. At some point I told a good old friend of mine that since the twenties are almost over, it's kind of nice because I'm back to being me... the girl I was when I first met her. I'm not trying to be anything in particular and I've got my heart back. Just slightly wiser and able to see different sides to the same coin.

I love those girls. And I look forward to more nights with them in the months and years to come. Maybe one day, too... the neighbor will be more of an actual fixture not just a pleasant surprise who shows up at the end of the evening. Cute as could be though... could have been happier with him in the light of my teeny, tiny Christmas tree.