Life Now

 She said I was sad and it's true. I used to be happy and sarcastic and silly and I don't really recognize myself right now. I don't know how to get back. I honestly don't see how anyone can help. Or what I could do to feel more like I used to. Life is different now and I don't like how to live in it. 

I used to be so friendly. I wasn't worried what someone might think about my friendliness. I didn't worry they would think it was fake. Now I avoid people. 

I can't seem to be happy in my skin and just love myself as is. I don't like how I look at all. It makes me feel sad and frustrated and less than. Every time I eat anything I feel fat and guilty about it. Disgusted.

I think entirely too much about what others are thinking about me. 

I spent my whole childhood being told how special I was. The 'miracle baby'. Now I'm an adult and I suck just like everybody else. 

I can't decide if I want to be happy with how I am or if I'm angry for being what I am. 

The fairy tale isn't real. Disney has led us on for years. Relationships are nothing like they are on tv, in the movies, on social media. They're hard sometimes and you don't always like the person you're with even if you love them. 

If I just believe that no one with come through. Or that no one will be kind. Or that anything will work out, well I guess I can't be disappointed that way. Anything good then would be a surprise. 

I'm terrified of failure so I don't try. 

I'm afraid of people getting mad at me or being mean. It's why I don't speak up more. But I want to be brave. I want to say things like, "Fuck you. You're a dick and I don't have to take in what you're saying to me because it means NOTHING." I imagine saying something like that if I saw someone being bullied or treated unkindly. I want to be brave enough to do this without worrying about confrontation. I want to be brave enough to do the right thing. I used to be. 

Life right now is full of these kind of thoughts. I keep a notebook next to me all the time and I write the thoughts down so I can reread them and decide if they're true or not. They are. 

Sob Story

 I'm having a hard time. It's likely pms but I hate always having that as an excuse. Maybe I'm just sad. Maybe I'm just tired of feeling this way. I actually had a dark thought pass through while I was in the shower today. I looked at my body and started crying. It's not a pretty body and I can't seem to love it as it is. 

I have days where it doesn't seem to matter that much but then it does again and I can't seem to shake it. I have people around me, surrounding me with love and it should help but it doesn't. I can't seem to absorb their compliments. It doesn't feel like they're lying anymore which is better than how I used to feel. But I still can't let the kind words mean anything. 

It's not just my body. It's my hair too. And my face. My hair I miss so much. When it was long I could hide behind it. When I got it cut it was supposed to be this great symbol of new beginnings and instead it just made me feel ugly. My face has created more chins than I need and when I look at myself in the mirror, I want to cry then too. Damn video chat has become some sort of torture device. 

I can't find anything to do with myself. I have a jigsaw puzzle and my books and my husband but none of those things seem to be enough anymore. I went away for a few days to gaze at the ocean and feel her calm. It helped a little but every time I was out of the hotel room, I felt the anger and frustrations from those around me. It was just a little tourist town but it was full and I was contributing to it-felt hypocritical. 

I feel like I'm drifting away from my husband because all of the activities we usually have done together were cancelled. COVID is not just a pandemic. It's soul sucking. It's depressing and it puts strain everywhere. And I have it lucky. I don't have kids to try and explain it to or suddenly become a teacher for. I don't have a loved one in the hospital that I can't see. I am not homeless and I am not struggling with no longer having a job. 

That's another thing that I think about and kind of hate about myself right now. I can't work. I mean, physically I could but my mental health holds me back. And because of that, I don't even want to try anymore. When I allow myself to ponder the idea of getting back out there, my heart begins to race. I replay every scenario I went through when I was working and things were bad. I remember all of the harsh words, lack of encouragement, and political nonsense that evidently any corporation has. 

I know hate is a strong word and I don't want to use it when describing myself but there it is. It feels very much like there is no escaping these feelings and if it is just pms, well I hate that too. 

I just want to feel good again. 

I.A.S.

 It's hard to think of it as 'grooming' when you start it. He was 28, I was 17 and didn't care at all. My reasoning was that my parents were 11 years apart, so it clearly wasn't a big deal to have an age difference. And the longer we communicated, the more I was convinced I was falling in love. It always feels like love when you're 17. 

He was the overnight DJ on a radio station I listened to. One night I was up late, cleaning my room I think or just rearranging the posters on the wall-it doesn't matter. I called to request a song. Brown-Eyed Girl, 'because I am one'. And he played it. I called him back to say thank you and before I knew it, hours had gone by and it was nearing 6 o'clock in the morning and the end of his shift.  

I went to school floating that next day. I'd had one of those magical talk through the night conversations with someone that seemed to really get me and it was elating. I felt special. Someone seemed to like me for me. 

We talked every time he was working. I'd be put on hold while he addressed the listening audience and wait patiently for his attention to come back to me. He'd sometimes play songs he knew I liked just because he knew I liked them and I could feel myself liking him more and more. It was easy to do, and exciting. 

I told him where I worked and one night, he was there. We'd never seen each other but I just knew it was him. He was wearing Chucks and a band tshirt and flannel. The uniform of the 90s. He never said a word, just sat in my section. The hostess told me he'd asked for it and then I knew. I was bursting but so nervous to approach him first. 

Before he left, he came up to me and simply said 'Hi Lindsay' and handed me a letter. He told me to read it after he left. I was completely mystified and intrigued and smitten. He'd written me a letter! It was exactly what my 17 year old heart wanted. 

Inside the beautiful stationery were words that I had waited my whole teenage life wanting to hear. He'd written it BEFORE he saw me and that made it so special. He told me he was concerned about the age difference but that my maturity level made it easy to forget. He told me he loved talking to me and that I was the highlight of his day. He told me he hoped to meet my parents one day. I was over the moon and so happy. 

It didn't last. 

He didn't drive and neither did I but I had a friend that did and C helped us see each other by providing rides. She was there with us, IAS and I were never really alone. One night, IAS claimed to not be feeling well and C offered to take him home. I thought nothing of it. She was supposed to drop him off and then come back to my house to stay the night. 

I got in a terrible fight with my dad that night. It was the only time I left the house in anger. I had a friend come pick me up and I walked out the door in tears. After I'd been at my friend's house for awhile and calmed down from the fight with dad, I wanted to talk to IAS. Or C. I paged IAS but got no response. That was the way it used to be then. You just had to wait. I tried C to tell her I wasn't at home. Nothing. And that's when my brain started spinning. 

C was a year younger than me and we'd been friends for a couple of years. Long enough that I considered her one of my best friends. I trusted her. She'd been flirty with IAS but she was always flirty so again, I thought nothing of it. Until they didn't answer their phones. First I thought there was something wrong and then I felt something wasn't right. I knew where IAS lived and I asked my friend to take me by his place. I didn't know what I was going to do when I got there but something in my gut told me I needed to just go. 

The car ride downtown was filled with a pregnant silence. I just had a feeling, I just knew something was going on. Sure enough, when we drove by his place, C's car was parked out front. I could see the exhaust pluming from it so I knew she was in the car. I couldn't understand why she was still there but I wanted to just tell her not to go to my house.  

My friend parked her car down the street and I walked slowly to C's car. As I got near, I could see the windows were foggy and then I just...I didn't want to know. I ripped the passenger side door open and there he was. IAS and C were  holding hands and clearly had just pulled apart from one another. A million thoughts and feelings went through me. I was hurt, surprised, confused and jealous all at the same time. "It just happened, I'm sorry."  "We didn't plan for this to happen, it just did." They tried to explain but I just stood there, my heart breaking. Here was the guy I'd hoped for, longed for and finally had a chance to have, wrapped up with my best friend. I looked at her, saw her guilt and felt nothing. 

"I just wanted to tell you not to go to my house because I won't be there." I closed the passenger door and walked back to my friend's car. I was numb. My heart hurt. 

But I forgave them. Both. I tried to tell myself that it wasn't that big of a deal since IAS and I hadn't even kissed or anything. I made myself forget about the letter filled with promise and decided that I would be fine with them being a couple. Oh but I wasn't. Every time I saw them together my heart ached a little more. He started playing songs he knew she liked during his shift, sending out dedications to his 'sweet 16'. In order to show how 'ok' I was with everything I lied to my parents about where I was going and a bunch of us went and stayed the night at IAS's house. I lay there listening to C and IAS kissing and moving around on the bed in a way that was undeniable. I didn't sleep. I cried silently and asked myself over and over what I was doing there. I wanted to go so badly but I was stuck. I waited impatiently for the sun to rise so we could leave and I could go home to cry in my own bed. 

They dated for awhile. I know they had a sexual relationship. During the school day, I tried to be friends with C but couldn't handle listening to how amazing IAS was. It was a difficult time for me. I wasn't strong enough to stick up for myself, to say all the things I should have said. 

I look back on all of this and I can see how wrong it was. A 28 year old man had no business trying to woo a 17 year old with conversations and letters. And he certainly shouldn't have then moved on to my younger friend.  Eventually she dumped him for another guy and we never heard from him again. I changed radio stations to listen to at night but I held onto the letter for a long time. 

He'd made me feel wanted, desired. And it felt like C swooped in and took that all away. It hurt for a long time. I don't remember exactly what it was that made me stop having feelings for him-likely another boy, one my own age-but I got over him. 

I was watching a show the other day and the relationship was eerily similar to mine. I watched, nearly 30 years later and felt disgust. IAS should have known better. Even if I was the one who started it. 

Scraps

I wish I had something important to say. Instead I'm just here because I like the way it feels when I type. The soft click of the keys and the gentle dispense of the space bar. It makes me more nerdy probably but I am what I am.

Took me a long time to figure out who that was and some days I'm still not sure. I don't think anyone really knows. I'm not good at faking it til I make it either.

I keep trying to push it. I want to make myself better than I am and don't have the strength (?) to try.

Get a Job

There's this part of me that won't let up about having a job.

I'm extremely lucky to not  have to work. For many years I worked paycheck to paycheck and having to not worry so much about finances is a huge relief.

But I still feel like I should be working. A part of me knows that it would likely help rid me of the feeling of restlessness I often experience. It would give me a sense of independence too which I crave. But it also triggers my anxiety.

What if I'm not able to do the very best at the job I've been assigned? What if I can't do it right? What if I make a mistake and it's such a terrible mistake there's no coming back from it? What if I'm not perfect?

If a friend came to me and voiced these concerns, I'd be quick to assure them that no one is perfect. That's it's ok to make mistakes because then we can learn from them. I would encourage them to reach for their goals.

But I'm not that nice to myself and I think I know why. It's not all my fault. I struggle with authority figures. I think it's because I never really had any growing up. My parents pretty much let me do what I wanted and so when someone started telling me what to do because they were my boss, my hackles went up. I also don't like that people often take advantage of positions of power and treat everyone else as less than. No one is better than anyone else.

I've had some pretty heinous bosses.

My first job I started as a busser, then waited tables, hosted and even popped in the kitchen when we needed more toast.
My boss there would walk by and pinch my sides, telling me I should watch my weight. He hired men that leered from the dish pit and cornered us at the bussing station with lewd remarks and wandering hands. He walked the restaurant drunk off wine poured into a coffee cup we were instructed to always keep full. He burned a friend of mine with a pot of hot water because he was drunkenly weaving. He was belittling and unkind. He was selfish and greedy and had no regard for the people that worked so hard for him. He might have owned the restaurant, but we ran it.

Second job was working with kids as a teacher's assistant, then later I became a teacher for 4 year olds
The next boss I had turned a blind eye to any concerns shared. A child bit me but it was my fault. Another teacher was playing favorites with the children and I didn't know what I was talking about. She didn't listen to anything that didn't help her in some favor and the frustrations that came with that were too much. There's right and there's wrong and sometimes they are black and white.

I took time off for awhile due to the extreme stress of working the two jobs and eventually going back to waiting tables full time. I had a hard time in my mid 20s and then when mom died I just needed some time before going back to work. I was grateful to have financial help from my parents. I learned later that it was because my father was selling drugs to support me and my mom. I wish I could go back and be stronger during that time.

When I found the pet store, I thought it would be temporary as I wasn't interested in working retail at all. But this place felt different. They told you were special, important and I needed that. I started as store staff, then was quickly promoted to shift lead and finally as store manager.
I had 3 district managers that I clashed with as a manager. With each of them I received advice on how to run my store better when I felt they had no clue as to how it was being run. In retrospect, I was able to learn some things and by the end of my time as a manager, I was really good at it and my store was happy. But the way I was 'taught' was often done with cruel words instead of support. I remember many days of crying in the bathroom or on the way home. I felt like no one understood that I was trying my best. Of all my jobs though, managing felt like I had the most control. My store, my staff, my customers. But not really. There's always a bigger fish.

I quit my job to move to a different city with my boyfriend, now husband. I wanted back into the pet store industry-specifically to work at the home office behind the scenes. Eventually I got in but my boss was a friend first and that was a near immediate mistake. I was conflicted from the start because I could tell management was not her strong suit and it frustrated me. I wasn't learning anything and I wasn't being acknowledged for the things I did do. I felt worthless and stupid. I even tried to voice these feelings and by the end of the conversation I felt even worse. After 2 years of stressful and emotional days working under  her I got a new boss.

My last boss seemed perfect at first. She listened, supported me and encouraged me. It was as though I'd finally met the best boss for me and I was excited to move forward and try new skills. But I made a mistake. A big one and she treated me differently after that. I felt like I was a child with a parent that was disappointed. I was casually being pushed out of projects and responsibilities but I didn't see it. Each time I showed progress on a project I was working on it was wrong and I was dismissed. It hurt on a personal level and perhaps it shouldn't have. I don't know. I only know that one day I came to work and was happy to see my boss was out for the day. The constant worry of what kind of mood she'd be in was tiresome and stressful.

I haven't worked since. I have days where I hate that she 'won'. I feel weak for letting it happen, for not sticking up for myself. I feel like I was being ridiculous. Who actually likes their boss anyway? But the culture I was groomed in made you feel like you were family even when you were being treated like the cousin no one liked. My last boss affected me more than any other. She showed me trust and kindness and took it away because I made a mistake. I wasn't perfect.

I tried to go back to work to a very low key job. I was an assistant and did just a few errands and things for my bosses. I liked them and since they'd come from a toxic work environment too, they understood me. But I didn't. I couldn't understand why I couldn't shake the skittishness. That feeling of 'what if I do something wrong?' wouldn't go away. I was given a task that I wasn't able to finish, literally because I didn't have the tools and I cried on the way home because I couldn't do it 'right'.

I think about going back to work now and I can feel my stomach jump. I feel my hands go clammy when I imagine that first meeting with a potential superior. Even the idea of an interview makes me nervous. I worry about what might happen if I'm not perfect even though I know logically that's ridiculous.  This is what anxiety does and I hate it. Logically I know I could be happy, have that sense of fulfillment I so desperately miss if only I could work. I've thought about volunteer work too but because of recent events (COVID) so many opportunities are not available. I waited too long. I don't even have my assistant job because it's just not needed. And truly if it was, I don't know if I'd go back. The stress I still feel, the anxiety that still manifests is strong and frustrating.

Find a hobby. Friends have suggested this and I agree it could be helpful. The trouble is, I don't have a lot of interest in finding one. The depression doesn't even let me enjoy the hobbies I already have sometimes so finding something new seems daunting. And again, the fucking COVID makes exploring new things challenging if not down right impossible.

When I feel like this I have to remember that it's ok I'm not working. I am financially taken care of which is something that still feels weird sometimes. Working paycheck to paycheck to not having to work was a huge adjustment. But my husband takes care of me. Not only financially  but with constant reassurance that it's ok I'm not working. That he understands the anxiety that rears its ugly head. I'm very lucky.

But there's still this part of me that can't quite shake that I need to have a job. It's what 'normal' people do. It's what is expected. When people ask what I do, I never know what to tell them. Usually my anxiety won't let me.

Red Caps

The restaurant was crowded. It always was at the conventions but it was one of the only places to eat so we waited. A booth cleared out and we staked our claim. I watched as the waitstaff hurried from table to table, exhausted and no longer smiling for tips. I watched food get delivered and orders taken as I scanned the room and then I saw it. A red cap in a sea of sci-fi costumes.

What the fuck?

I instantly became defensive. Why was someone wearing that hat here? This was a peaceful environment. A place for like minded individuals to gather and talk about all things near and nerdy to their hearts. That red cap didn't belong here.

I shared my disgust with my dining mates and they looked on, amused at my reaction. I couldn't help staring at the back of the cap, trying to imagine what kind of face they had. I watched as others surrounded him, seemingly enjoying his company and that made me angry too. So it wasn't just one of them, brave enough to wear a cap, it was a group.

How could anyone wearing that cap be here? I didn't understand and the longer I stared, the more I got upset.

And then he turned. And his cap said something else entirely. It wasn't one of those caps. I felt like a fool and properly chagrined. Here I was, behaving exactly as I'd assumed that person in the red cap would. Judgy, close minded...I quickly saw the lesson given to me.

Relaying the story later, a friend brought up an interesting point. Why wear a red cap that looks so similar with a 'positive' phrase when you know it's likely to be misinterpreted? I didn't know and I still don't. How does a symbol become so powerful?

I feel my lip curl in disgust when I see a bumper sticker blazing the name I cannot stand. I feel anger begin to rise inside when I see a flag, logo or tshirt stating support for someone my morals forbid me to. It's involuntary. I feel revulsion when I see a swastika, a Hitler salute, a white power hand gesture...it sickens me. And I think about that red cap with a positive message, hidden in a font associated with hatred and bigotry. It felt awkward.

Isn't it already awkward enough?

Tears of a Clown

I've had a song playing in my head for over a week. I don't usually mind when my inner jukebox is on play but this song is depressing.

"Tears of a Clown" by The Miracles

It's about a man that's trying not to show his ex that he's still sad that they're broken up. At least that's how I always interpreted it. But if you break down the lyrics, there's some pretty profound shit in there that could also be talking about depression.

Now if there's a smile on my face
It's only there trying to fool the public
But when it comes down to fooling you
Now, honey, that's quite a different subject

But don't let my glad expression
Give you the wrong impression
Really I'm sad
Oh, I'm sadder than sad
You're gone and I'm hurtin' so bad  <--- probably about a breakup
Like a clown I pretend to be glad

Now they're some sad things known to man
But ain't too much sadder than
The tears of a clown
When there's no one around
Hmm hmm, oh yeah, baby

Now if I appear to be carefree
It's only to camouflage my sadness
In order to shield my pride I try
To cover this hurt with a show of gladness

But don't let my show convince you
That I've been happy since you  <--definitely about a breakup
Decided to go
(Decided to go)
Oh, I need you so
(I need you so)
I'm hurt…

Maybe if I write about this song it will get the fuck out of my head. I've been waking up everyday with the lines haunting me and I've had it. I figure it must mean something. It usually does when I'm stuck like this. The only thing I can think of is that I'm battling the sads lately and I don't like to show it. I feel like I'm not worthy of them and try to ignore they're there. I guess I can't deny it anymore. 

Liars

My anxiety is such a liar. You're probably tired of reading about my anxiety adventures. Not as much as I am of experiencing them.

Last night I went online to check the symptoms of a heart attack. Again. Because my anxiety is a liar. It makes my chest tight and my heart beat quickly and then it sends my thoughts into a tailspin of 'oh god, what's wrong, am I going to die?' and the tightness gets tighter and I feel like everything is falling apart inside.

Once I've accepted I'm probably not going to die of a heart attack, I begin to wonder what else it might be because it couldn't possibly be anxiety. I'm not that bad, right? Gallbladder?

I looked up symptoms of an angry gallbladder and sure enough, I have a few. New anxiety. What if something is wrong? So I make a doctor appointment. New anxiety. The doctor's office is not a place I feel comfortable. I hate the smell. It smells like the hospital my mother died in. And they weigh me and I get the sense my doctor feels I'm a bit of a hypochondriac. Every test I've taken has come back positively and there is nothing seemingly wrong. But my anxiety is a liar and it makes me believe differently.

When depression gets into the mix, that's when it gets really fun. I feel sad on top of the anxiety and I feel like nothing I do matters. I tend to do a lot of nothing during these times. I can't even tell if it's better to have them alternate or just in one giant muck of bullshit that eventually fades until it's bearable. The depression is a liar too.

So I'm surrounded by liars.

Random Thoughts

Why is one of my fingernails ridiculously longer than the others?

It feels like time no longer exists. Each night I lay in bed, telling myself that the next day holds promise-that I can go out and do things and then I sleep until noon and nothing happens.

My cat scratches and licks all the time and she doesn't have fleas. I think she has anxiety like I do. Is it fucking catching now?

I read something I wrote 2 years ago about my anxiety and how it lead to my eventual departure from work and I was so blinded. My supervisor was not the right supervisor for me and perhaps for several others.

I want to get away. I want to go to the ocean or the mountains--just somewhere quiet.

I wish my husband liked more of the same things as me.  We have so many opposite interests that it used to worry me. It doesn't anymore. It just makes spending time together a challenge sometimes.

I seem to be having a bit of the ol depression monster on my back again and that's just lame.

My anxiety only flairs up when I have to interact with people so... good thing we're all in quarantine.

You don't realize how fat your face is until you use video chat. Not a good look. I don't even care about food anymore-nothing really tastes good. Unless I'm high and I do that often because I'm fucking BORED.

My hands are dry from washing them so often.

I'm being a whiny shit. There are people working every day and feeling uncomfortable in masks or with cranky assholes that make their job more difficult.

Should I go for a drive? Get out and get a coffee or something? And go where? I used to think I'd just drive places, didn't matter where but now that I can I just don't care.

I don't care about anything right now. Apathy is kind of a dick.

I didn't shower today because fuck it. I don't smell and no one's going to see me anyway.

The weather is my favorite kind and I'd love to be out in it but I'd also love to have company and no one is available and my husband doesn't like the outdoors. Well, that's not true, I do have a couple friends available but I don't call them because I feel like my anxiety would just peak and it's better to avoid that right?

My fucking cat keeps pissing on my office chair. I don't know why and I don't care. I just want the little shit to stop it. It doesn't matter if I clean it with the best cleaner I have, it's stuck in my nose.

I kind of just want to scream at the top of my lungs for no reason.

I could try painting I guess but the last few I've done seemed less than great and I don't want to be disappointed again. I just don't have the talent I wish I did. I can't even think of something to write about. This post is stupid.

I don't even feel like I want to cry. I just...don't feel anything right now.

The world is kind of a shit storm right now and I don't have the energy to be mad about it. I'm so tired of reading things that make me mad or sad or both. I watch the kitten videos to try and wipe out the ick but you know what? It doesn't really help because the world is just ugly too much.

I still think about my old boss and coworkers. I still miss the environment sometimes even though I don't want to at all.

I let go of someone toxic for the first time ever. Like where I told them I didn't want to hear from them ever again. It was hard but not as hard as it might have been years ago.

I'm not sure I'm going to need to continue therapy. Or maybe I need a different kind. I don't know. I just know it hasn't really been an issue to not have appointments.

I want to live somewhere else. I'm tired of the dogs and the blue lives matter flags and the thumping of bass from the neighbors down the street. I want to rearrange the house and all that's in it. I need change but am afraid of it for almost everything.

I have lots of hair on my chin and it pisses me off.

The house smells like jasmine rice because I made some and then didn't eat any because fuck food.

I sleep a lot. A LOT.

My book is good but not reading during the day good so I watch crime shows or star wars cartoons to keep my mind off the fact that I'm not doing anything.

My best friend calls me every day and it's the highlight. Even if all I do it watch her talk to her kids, it makes me feel less alone.

I have a brand new camera that is slowly gathering dust because all the fucking parks are still closed or too crowded with people not wearing masks. I want out but I'm afraid to go.

Things that used to seem like a good idea just seem stupid now and I can't seem to give a shit. I want to care but I'm too depressed to.

Time meant nothing, never would again.
Time's is hard. Even harder than the worst pies in London.

Boundaries

Identify 

physical 

emotional 

mental limits 

Consider 

tolerate 

accept stressful 

situations 

See red flags  

resentment 

interaction 

expectation 

Push beyond 

limits because we feel guilty 

Just want to be a good daughter or wife 

Forgiveness

This is what I felt. The words filled my mouth and I spit them out onto the screen, onto you. This is what I wanted to scream at you:

I forgave you. But I haven't forgotten. I wanted to but it's turned out to be much harder than I thought.

You hurt me. You fucking hurt me so much that more than a decade later it still hurts. Your apology seemed sincere at first, but then I remembered you don't know the meaning of the word. You're selfish and narcissistic and ugly inside. You have anger and hate in your heart that you proudly display.

You destroyed me. You killed my self esteem and any shred of confidence I had. I cried so often, it became strange when I didn't. You broke me. You made me feel that I was nothing and would never be anything to anyone.

And then, 13 years later, you said you were sorry. You told me you regretted what you'd been like with me. I want to believe you but I can't.

You say I'm important to you yet you have no interest in me. Since you've contacted me you haven't asked about me once. You only want to talk to me about your problems and your hatred to another person. You even asked me for a favor. Are you kidding?

I had deleted you from my life. I'd even gotten to a point where I could laugh a little at the bullshit you put me through before. But now it hurts again and all I want to do is hurt you. I don't want to play 'remember when' with you or talk about meeting up 'after all these years'. Fuck you.

You told me that someone said they disdain you. First, I don't think they used the word properly. You didn't when you relayed the story which only confirms that studying isn't something you did all these years. But the definition of the word is 'to think unworthy, to despise' and you know what? I bet they meant every breath of the word. You're not difficult to despise.

I don't like feeling this way about you. About anyone. But you ruined me on a level I didn't know was as deep as it is. Still, I forgave you. I'd hoped you'd changed like you said you had and once more, even after all these years, you proved me stupid for believing. Fuck you.

I decided this was something you needed to know. That our friendship was not capable of keeping any longer. Not for me. I decided to put myself before you and tell you everything I'd always wanted to say. I changed the words a little. I knew that if I sent it to you just like I'd written it you wouldn't see through the 'fuck yous' and the meaning of my words would get lost. They may anyway but at least I've given them to  you. I sent  you this instead: 

When you first contacted me, I said my hard feelings had faded but I was wrong. It's because I can't forget. You hurt me. You hurt me so much that more than a decade later it still hurts. You destroyed me. You killed my self esteem and any shred of confidence I had when we were together. I cried so often, it became strange when I didn't. You broke me. You made me feel that I was nothing and would never be anything to anyone. It took me years to work through that hurt and now it seems...there is still some left.

You say I'm important to you, that you are sorry you let me down. You didn't let me down, you hurt me. You told me I was never going to be good enough for you and said it so often I believed it. You were selfish, narcissistic and unkind to me. I didn't even see it until I wasn't with you and then, looking back, I was embarrassed and saddened.

Years passed and I had deleted you from my life. I'd even gotten to the point where I could laugh a little at the pain you put me through. But now it hurts all over again. I don't want to pretend that I'm ok with being friends again. I don't like feeling this way but you hurt me on a level I didn't know was as deep as it is. I wanted to forgive you but I can't forget. I'm sorry but I think it's best if you don't contact me anymore.

And even though I asked you not to, you responded with a letter than began, "Well that sucks..."  Then a lot of "I didn't know" and "I never meant to" but honestly that opening... I've sent it and this morning when I woke up, I knew there wouldn't be a message from you and it made my heart feel light. I let go. I forgave myself.  

Bitch Fest

I have opinions. I used to share them a lot more. I don't know if I've stopped because I'm older or if I'm just scared of confrontation but I don't say as much as I feel.

Except here. This is my safe space and I'm going to let some shit out that's been building.

Fuck Trump. He's a terrible misinformed bigot that feeds anger and animosity to the world. He can't even form a sentence. He infuriates me with the decisions he makes because they are so self serving.

Speaking of self serving...people that aren't wearing masks are assholes. You're wearing a mask for other people not for yourself. Someone I know said, "my body, my choice" in regards to wearing one and I became incensed. Where were you when they were picketing abortion clinics? I hope your mantra is all inclusive. BUT it's not even about that! The guy at the tire place told me he couldn't wear one because he had a deviated septum and he would 'die' if he wore one because he breathes through his mouth. This 'logic' was so ridiculous to me I ignored it and went about my day.

My days. Well they're less than interesting. I usually get up, make breakfast, scroll and then read. Sometimes I skip the book and go straight into TV. Usually I wait until about 4 or so to light up but sometimes I don't make it that far. I'm bored. But I'm scared. Running the errand yesterday was scary. I felt anxious about being out in the world and that pissed me off, mixing with my fear. Hardly no one was wearing face masks. To me it's a sign of disrespect for all others. Great, you have tape on the floor. What about some other basic steps to help your fellow human be safe?

I miss my friends. I miss hugging them and bullshitting with them over pancakes or coffee. I miss wandering around Target with my girlfriends, buying things we don't really need but totally enabling each other because we can.

I want to go to all the places I've never been and only because I can't now. I miss being free and actually feeling that way.

I want to smack the tree bro guys behind my house. They have taken down 4 of the neighbor's trees and yes, I know it's not the tree bro guys fault. But listening to chainsaws for over a week and knowing that trees were killed for no reason breaks my heart. And I'm fairly certain that's why they're down. Now we can see more of the neighbor and no one wants that.

I don't know if I have a job still. My work isn't as it was before all this shit hit the fan and I wonder if I'll have a role when or if we can go back to 'normal'.

I have gained weight and feel like shit about it. And yet...do I do anything about it? Nope. Most days I don't even get off the chair except to go to the couch and lay down. Yesterday was the first time I've worn a bra in months. I couldn't fathom putting on jeans so I went with leggings. In public and I didn't give a shit. I guess I'm ok about my weight as long as I don't see myself. If only I didn't like food so much.

Is it depression? Who knows? Probably. Who cares?

I sit here, wondering about the state of things and trying not to cry. I don't have anything to look forward to. Our honeymoon was cancelled. The concert I was going to was 'postponed indefinitely' and my birthday will be just another day. I'm mad about it. Sad about it and completely helpless to it.

I have a friend that's suicidal. I have a neighbor that sucks. I have no motivation and I'm sad.

Fuck Trump. Fuck this virus. Fuck the tree bros. Fuck everything right now. I'm over it.

Hurricane

I don't want to do anything but I did some small chores around the house and that seems like enough. I opened up the pages of my book but I can't seem to care about putting them together. I have already broken the promise to myself that I would have it done by the beginning of the year.

It's only February but it feels later. Like it's too late.

I've been having a hard time lately but it doesn't really matter. I can't seem to let myself feel anything but annoyance at my feelings. And sadness. My depression is a hurricane.

I am standing on a beach of white sand when the winds come. They don't start as a breeze, they rage. There is no control over it. The trees bend and the water roars sending huge waves tumbling into one another. It sounds like screaming. It feels like screaming.

When the intensity refuses to lessen I imagine being a block away from the storm. I could still hear it ringing loud in my ears. I could not get away from it. I still can't

The hurricane is my depression. The winds will die down, they have to because I've functioned without them before. But they seem so consuming that it doesn't seem possible. I feel wiped out, broken like the trees that gave up bending and finally broke. I feel like screaming into the storm but I don't want to do anything.

Brave

I can't write. I worked on my book earlier, copying and pasting and editing and thinking about all the reasons the pages were written in the first place. Pain. Happiness. Sadness. Confusion. Memories.

It made me want to write something new, something fresh, something that better reflects where I am now. But I can't. I tried writing about the past, an old situation about a guy that I've wanted to write about for years. But I can't-it's too painful right now. There's a part of me that thinks that's ridiculous. It was over 30 years ago. Clearly though, part of it still haunts me. Fucking guy. Fuck  him.

I tried writing about a recent conversation I had with a friend. It was funny and introspective just like a good conversation should be. But I couldn't write that either. It reminded me of who I used to be  and it made me sad. Since I was hoping to write good things about my growth, I gave up. Fucking emotions. Fuck them.

A song comes on, one the same friend says reminds her of me. The chorus speaks of bravery and hope and about how to speak your mind.
Let your words be anything but empty. 
Let the words fall out. Say what you want to say. 

I worry about doing that. I worry about what people will think of me. I worry.

"You used to have balls dude! You didn't take shit from anyone! You were a badass!"

I was a lot stronger when I was younger. Before life, before people, showed me how cruel they can be.

What would I say if I didn't have to worry? What if I just let the words fall out?

I was 18 years old when my best friend told me she was pregnant and keeping the baby. I freaked out as though I was her mother. I shouted my opinions about the situation without hesitation and I was kind of a dick about it. But I didn't stop there. I went to the father's place of work and told him what I thought too.

I stood in the parking lot of his place of employment and told him what an idiot I thought he was for not being safe with a girl that was still in high school. He was older and should have known better I thought. I was livid. He didn't want to be with my friend anymore, hadn't for a while but he was still fucking her and it pissed me off. I was concerned my friend was going to be hurt and I was fiercely protective of my friends. While I yelled he nodded silently and took it. He never really said anything except, "you're right" which I guess would have satisfied some. It didn't me and I kept ill feelings for him longer even than the mother of his child did. I saw him 18 years later and it took everything inside me not to call him out on all he'd missed with his son but decided then it wasn't my place. Did I lose my balls or gain maturity? I've never really known.

Same friend, different man in her life. Her brother. He was terrible to her. He called her names and made fun of her until she cried. He treated her like she was worthless and it infuriated me. More than just sibling rivalry, he was cruel.  We picked him up from school one day and I laid into him. I did it again later when I was in his house, in front of his mother. I had no right to do that and as I type it I shake my head. Did he deserve it? Totally but should I have stepped in? I don't know. Maybe.

I told people they were making mistakes. I told them they were wrong. I told them why I thought they were and most of the time I didn't care if it pissed them off. Eventually I realized people not only didn't need to hear my opinion, they didn't deserve to be yelled at no matter how much I 'did it out of love'. I made mistakes, hurt people. I talked too much and fucked stuff up like everyone does in their 20s.

I got hurt too. Men and women hurt me with cutting remarks or personal attacks. Every time my 'balls' got smaller until they were gone and I didn't remember the girl that said what she wanted to say. The girl that let the words just fall out.

I still have opinions and I still like to talk about how I feel about them but -and maybe this comes with age- I'm more careful about how. I choose my subjects carefully, take into consideration the people I'm talking to. I keep quiet.

I don't want to do that anymore. I want my balls back. I want to say what I want to say. I don't want to care what others think. I can do that without being a dick. I can be brave.