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It takes exactly zero god damn effort to not be a fuck.

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I have been a real slackass with writing lately.  Nevermind that I write for myself and only share these posts in the hopes something I say helps someone.. These are my catharsis, my therapy, my healing on the path to self-enlightenment and happiness.  The past (nearly) two years have been incredibly painful and stressful in multiple ways, and I am attempting to work through a LOT of pent up anger.  Well, “anger” does not even come close to encompassing the depth of how I have been feeling, but it will do for now.

A common belief states there are five stages to grief:

  1. Denial
  2. Anger
  3. Bargaining
  4. Depression
  5. Acceptance

In all times of loss, we experience one or more of these stages.  I have found, for myself, I never experience denial or bargaining. Ever.  I sometimes skip anger, but as that is my bailiwick, I skip it only rarely.  My anger fuels me to do, be, experience, see more.  When I lose, when I grieve, I generally stomp through anger, depression, and acceptance all at once.  Very very rarely, I experience a brief moment of denial, but I generally just accept it and get angry and depressed.  I highly dislike feeling or being helpless.  I have been so too many times and now it simply pisses me the fuck off.  I will find a way to do something about my situation, even if it is only to work towards a better next year.  But I am also a worrier, and someone who clings to hurt so I can understand it.  Which is rather stupid, really.  How the fuck can you really understand the actions of another person without being that person?  You cannot.  I know this, yet I still have a pressing nearly all-consuming need to understand a thing before I can breathe it out and let it go. Which means I sit in the angry god damn depression for AGES sometimes.

Which brings me to my current (and recent) reality.

I was in a relationship for a little while, until the beginning of last year.  Unlike my normal pattern, I feel hard and fast; I was breathlessly entirely in love. Having been through some incredibly painful shit in my past, I commiserate with and am compassionate regarding what others have endured. I am far too lenient with their negativity and bullshit and ashing out.  Well, I was.  If I cared, I would allow more abuse against my own heart and mind than is ever healthy.  Because i understand.  I know that pain.  I know that anguish.  I know that driving need to just get the fucking hurt out! and be done with it.  However.. I don’t take my god damn shit out on others, especially those who repeatedly show they support me or love me.  That seems a bit counterproductive to me, but I am apparently the exception here.

So I had this thing, with a guy. I met his folk, his grandmother, some cousins, etc. He met a few of mine.  I met 3 of his friends, and he didn’t really meet many of mine, either. And not for lack of inviting him to a lot of shit.  Hell, he wouldn’t even meet my siblings. Now, I know I have several (6), but when you’re constantly invited and you say no, don’t bitch abut the other person hiding you.  Again, that is counterproductive, as well and incredibly puerile.  Heh.. I was only invited to meet his dad and grandmother after he bitched about not meeting my family and friends, despite numerous invitations, and me finally getting exasperated enough to snap back at him about his lack of introducing me to anyone. After two years.  He has a shitty past, this guy.  He hasn’t been “lucky in love” any more than I have been.  I get it.  But I am no one’s doormat, punching bag, or back burner bitch.  Verbally, physically, financially, whatever.  There was real actual positive emotion there.  But wouldn’t you know, he couldn’t let go of shit other women had done to him.  Nope. I must be cheating.  Fucking around.  He went so far as to track down someone from my past to try to find out if I had been honest about a situation.  And then, already knowing this dude was shady, at best, he believed what that guy said about me.  Despite providing proof to the contrary.  And fucking held that shit that happened years before him over my head.  This dude.. he CHASES misery like a junkie chases that next high.  He would apparently prefer to be hurting and absolutely miserable and dejected rather than give any sort of happiness a real fucking chance.  Hell, he TRIED to get me to pop off at him, to make me angry so he could see how deep my cruelty could go.  He actively TOLD me that.  And when I’d had enough and gave him perhaps 10% of my anger, he got very quiet and finally said “damn.”  I am quite good at destroying someone verbally when I so chose.  It is not a point of pride, it is simply truth.  I don’t revel in it, as I truly believe there is enough god damn misery and hurt and negativity in this fucked up world without me adding to it one iota.  I fucking LOATHE doing shit like that now unless it is deserved.  And holy fuck did he, does he, deserve it.  Despite that.. That is not the person I want to be.  It is inherently who I am at my core, but so is the selfless cunt who gives too much of herself and her heart to those she can, when she can.  The cognitive dissonance is brilliantly blinding.  But I am not just one side of a coin; I am the entire god damn coin.  And I like that, because *I* get to choose who and what and where and how I am.  Me.  Just me.  Only I am in control of me and my words and actions.  Only I can be blamed for anything I say or do or am or was.

It got to a point where I was beginning to feel guilty about things I’d done well before I met him or even knew he existed.  And when I realized that (quickly, thankfully), I quit taking so much of his shit.  I told him I understood, but he needed to clean his shit the fuck up.  He did not.  We split about two months and I wrote him a letter two years and about two weeks ago outlining all the shit I loved about him.  Pouring my heart terrifyingly on to crushed and soaked wood, physically writing and rambling all those things out.  Which is a big damn deal for me, because I put everything in to those 22 pages.  I type all day, so writing took me hours.  I know I rambled.  I know I repeated.  I didn’t think; I just wrote.  And wrote.  And wrote.  I let everything in me come out.  People don’t write love letters any more..so I did.  We got back together and things seemed to be honestly getting better. For all of about 6 weeks…then it got worse than it was before.  We lasted until January, when i had enough.  I stuck it out so he’d not be alone on christmas, which I knew he hated.  We went to the beach on New Year’s day.  Some sincerely terrible shit happened that I can honestly say I will never fucking forgive him for.  He broke that last piece of me that held hope and promise and love, and I fucking let him.  Well, not like inviting him in, but I stuck it out too fucking long and let it happen.  No; it is not my fault for the physical assault.  He took the action and that is something he will have to live with, if he even gives a shit.  I fought him off enough that he gave up for whatever reason.  But it still broke something in me.  He knew my god damn past, and he ass fucked my hurt with no lube or consideration or fucking caring.  Heh.  And here I am respecting his privacy or whatever enough to not even say what the fuck he did.  Why?  Maybe because I believe in honour.  I believe in not being an honourless fucking cuntmonkey just because the other person is.  Maybe because I have genuine respect and maybe even love for myself.  Because my god damn word means something to me, at least sometimes.  I do not think I can say the same for him.

So I told him to get the fuck out, and he did.  I dropped something off to him in February while I was in town and we slept curled up on his couch, one last time.  And that is the last time I saw him.  I’ve heard from him now and then.  I haven’t answered in a long while, because he does not deserve my time or effort or heart or even consideration.  To let him back in to my life in even the most minuscule of ways is more than his actions warrant.

And all of this fucking pisses me off.  It makes me want to break shit and scream and bleed and fuck things up.  It makes me want to put him through the hurt he inflicted on me.  But how can you make someone hurt who doesn’t give a real fuck because his head is shoved too far up his own ass due to fear??  You cannot.  You just cannot.  So I stew in my frothy white-hot anger, still.  Why angry?  Because there was something real there.  Something that could abide and grow and be .. Something that almost makes up for the horrific pasts we endured.  There was a chance for us to correct our past fuck ups and turn the future in to something memorable and loving and enjoyable and RIGHT.  And instead of even fucking trying, he sank in to his fears and bullshit.  And tried to destroy someone who actually cared and tried to help.  And yes, that makes me blindingly horrifically angry.  Fuck, I am infuriatingly indignant.  Livid.  Irascibly fucking rancorous.  It takes quite a bit of bullshit fuckery to make me full-on rancorous, yet here we are!  How the bloody fucksticks can you waste love??  How can you be so sunk in to your stagnant fears that you absolutely throw away one of the few things that can bring a shining ting of happiness to everything you do?  I simply cannot understand it.

fuck you too

Yeah, yeah, fuck you, too.

But that is fine.  I no longer want to feel or be loved or have anything to do with romantic bullshit.  Or even sex.  No fucking person on this shitass planet is worth going through that again.  That sort of love is simply not worth the bullshit you must wade through.  I have more money now, and less bullshit.  I still have not been able to get back to the level of happy I was before meeting him, but maybe one day I will.  When I can finally let go of this incredulous fucking ire I carry around with me every second of every hour of every god damn day.  Maybe one day, I’ll be able to feel something again, to cry, to laugh and feel genuinely limitless, weightless.  Maybe one day, I will once again smile just for the sheer soul-sucking pleasure of fucking smiling.  I miss that.  I miss waking up and just smiling because GOD DAMN it’s good to be alive.

 

This serves no other purpose than to be a place to toss down my thoughts and anger and hurt and genera malaise at the fuckery of the world, of people.  If you have a shitty past, go cry me a fucking river in the god damn corner.  Share your misery to let go of it, don’t inflict your god damn misery on another.  Don’t make the world worse just because you’re a pussy motherfucker who can’t step past the fear long enough to give the world, a person, an experience a chance.  Don’t cheapen someone else’s life by destroying them just because you fucking can, just because someone destroyed you.  Don’t be a god damn shit.  Don’t be a god damn soul-sucking fuck to anyone, but especially not to the people who genuinely care, be they friend, family, child, or lover.  Don’t destroy someone’s fucking world or life just because you can’t get your own god damn shit together.  Be a fucking adult.  Be a GOOD fucking person.  Don’t mouth platitudes, just fucking do.

It takes exactly zero god damn effort to not be a fuck.

Depression Sucks, So Give It The Finger

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I have been depressed this entire year. Yup; from before the first second until now. Through now.

However……..

I put chocolate syrup in my coffee today. I had a bitchin’ bowl of homemade stew. Callista is wearing a Hello Kitty nightgown while doing her school work. I have a mohawk I love, friends I love, family I love. I don’t live where I want, I don’t have everyone here that I want. The past year and a half has been incredibly painful and difficult in ways words cannot describe. But I am still here, I am still smiling (now with 100% MOAR TEETHS, as Scott put it), and every day is another chance to pick my stubborn ass back up, dust off, and keep skipping along with a twinkle in my eyes. Or crawling with a twinkle, on the bad days.

I may seem happy most of the time.. and once upon a time, I was. It is not easy maintaining a positive outlook, especially when I was 100% negative until 8 years ago, but I am positively sure I don’t give two shits how hard it is; this hooker abides.

I can’t explain it, but I feel yesterday and today are vital turning points in the struggle (I have partially subjected myself to) of the past 18 months or so. Hard days are inevitable. Depression, for me, is inevitable. ACCEPTING either without busting ass to change them are not. So bring on the bright sparkly whatevers, and bust out the toothy grins, bitches, and make today what you will. xo

Depression isn't the killer - our choices are.

Depression isn’t the killer – our choices are.

Life: Are You Experienced, Baby?

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I have most often lived my life in a purposeful state of casual deliberation.  I do very few things accidentally, and I have precious few regrets.  At the end of each day, the lack of regrets allows me to sleep better, dream better, live better.

We live in a world of lost opportunities, missed connections, not stepping forward, keeping our mouths closed when we should shout from the rooftops.  We live in a world of mice-like scurrying form one destination, job, experience, love, new thing to the next.  We are far too often concerned with getting to the next experience, place, thing and not at all concerned with enjoying the one we are currently in, and this cheapens the very existence of our life.

This is not, at all, to state new experiences are a waste.  No, dear reader! this is to express the idea that we can enjoy the experience we are in now without longing for the next right away.  We are so busy telling ourselves we are sucking all the marrow out of life that we frequently do not see we are, in fact, overlooking the bones for the next great conquest before we have even began to enjoy the current one.  Part of winning, friends, is knowing how to enjoy the win, no matter how large or small.  The joy of a journey may be in the journey itself, but we can also enjoy the destination for a spell before moving on.  Part of the journey is enjoying arriving, after all; reveling in how we got there and what brought us to that point.

I have often heard people reminisce on their lives rather woefully, stating they feel so empty, despite having whatever society tells them they must have (specific job, spouse, kids, house, etc), despite having loving friends, family and companions, despite having a great job, car, house, whatever.  We are so busy trying to attain the next thing, the next level of life we’re told we should want that we don’t sit back contentedly, stare at what we have accomplished, and say “god damn right. This is great.”  And you know what?  We damn well should.  Look at you, motherfucker!  Here you are, alive and thriving, and doing your damn thing.  You’re surviving in a world that doesn’t give two shits or a fuck about you.  You are making it even when you think you are failing.  How is that? Because you are still fucking here, fighting to come back up for air even when you’re drowning.  You’re a bad ass motherfucker, and don’t you dare ever let anyone tell you differently.

As I stated, I have precious few regrets.  If I took an action, chances are I do so deliberately whether I thought it through beforehand or not.  I do not regret my decision; I simply make the best of the consequences and move on.  I wallow in some things, but not very many.  Well, I do not even wallow so much as mourn a loss of a person or opportunity.  If I fuck up, I try to make it better.  If I cannot make it better, I say my peace and move on.  I do not have “what might have been” issues, mainly because I would not be where I am NOW had my past run another route.  I am not, by any means, happy all the time.  I am not content with my job nor place of residence nor romantic liasons nor a dozen other minutia of my life, but I am working on those.  I do not wish to be content as for me that promotes stagnation, but I am working towards more peace in my heart regarding my station in life and how I perceive it.  You see, my life is not bad, it is simply not how I want it to be in many ways.  Therefore, I work to resolve those trivialities so I can be more relaxed and at ease at the end of my day.  I do not regret; I bust ass to resolve.

Though I admit I do have a few regrets.

Several years back, I had two abortions.  Now some people would say they regret that infinitely.  I do not.  Why?? Because they saved my life.  Yup, that’s right; they saved my life.  I had already gone in for my yearly exam recently when I had one.  I had to go back, after, for a pap smear to verify everything was okay and it was found I had pre-cancerous cells in my cervix.  I went in for another two weeks later, and it had developed in to full-blown cancer.  I was whisked away and had an (at the time) experimental laser surgery to remove several layers of tissue.  The surgery is run-of-the-mill now, but at the time it was new and terrifying.  But I survived.  I am alive.  And I went on to give birth to a precocious daughter who drives me batty and gives me hugs and kisses and cuddles even when we want to scream at each other.  {{grins}}  So, you see, even those actions that we might want to regret can lead to good things..  I can be upset at my choice, or I can be grateful for the long-term outcome.

And that is part of the problem with people and their warped mindsets today.  We are in such a downward spiral of instant gratification that we have no real concept of the long game any more.  We want more, to do more, to see more, to experience more, to LIVE more rightnowdamnit so much, we quit really living.  We go through so damn many experience, but how many of you actually experience your life as opposed to trudging through it looking for The Next Big Thing?

Most of us don’t.  We’re so concerned with providing for our children’s futures after we’re gone, and getting that new luxury car and impressing X people and partying on the weekends to shake off the emptiness or frustration at the week and jumping from relationship to relationship (in regards to both friends AND lovers) and finding a new living room set every two years, and.. I can go on.  Fuck all that.  I mean, leave a little something for your kids in the positive instead of all bills, if you can, but how about you spend some of that money NOW on an experience TOGETHER that you can all enjoy?? go on a family Disney cruise.  Go to Great Wolf lodges. Go to Hawaii, to Ireland, to Japan, to the damn beach down the road, to something together NOW.  Make memories, not plans.  Our lives are an in-progress motion picture we cannot rewind or fast forward.  If we press stop, we can’t press play again.Our lives are a series of memories we can hold on to when the stresses of our responsibilities become too much and we need a little moonlight to guide us out of the troubled turbulent waters.  Our memories are what we have left when the experience is over, and sometimes revisiting those memories, eyes closed, smiling, is a good way to spend some time, to fully taste and savor the delicate blending of smells, colours, emotions that an experience can give us if we truly dive in to it and enjoy it for what it is.  If we truly experience the now, we can go back and re-live it over and over and over, until our eyes close for good.  When you truly experience something, you get to carry it with you.

Why do we wallow in the hurtful experiences by fly through the good ones, trying to get to the next?? Nah, man.  Feel the hurt, the pain, the heartbreak, the mourning.. but give just as much time and as many emotions to the positive.  When you smell that fucking flower, you close your god damn eyes and take that scent with you to your grave.  You feel those jumping happy fuckin’ butterflies in your stomach so you ALWAYs have a spring in your step, even if you get to the point of no longer being able to walk.  You take the memory of jumping in puddles with your kid with you until you are nothing more that flecks of dust flung back in to the cosmos.  Don’t rush through it.  Don’t overlook it.  Don’t you dare take that god damn moment for granted.  You live each moment deliberately, with happy fuckin’ abandon, and don’t you dare regret or overlook the good or bad that brought you to this exact moment, this exact time, this exact place, this exact experience.

How at the moon. Live your god damn life like you motherfucking mean it.

Take in every experience, no matter how big or small.

Take in every experience, no matter how big or small.

Mawwaige Is What Bwings Us Togevvuh, Today!

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My daughter, 8, asked me (via written message on a whiteboard, complete with yes/no check boxes) if I am going to marry a specific someone one day. Which she followed up with a note asking me to not be mad at her asking, she was just curious. (No worries, dear reader, I told her in no uncertain terms she can ask me anything any time and I will answer to the best of my ability…and I will not be upset over the asking of questions.) This got me thinking, as the topic of marriage usually does.

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Love Is a Many-Splintered Thing

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Before any of you get all panty-wadded over the titled, just don’t.  Fucking don’t.

Now that’s over with, let us continue.  I am sure several of you have seen the article comparing John Lennon and Trent Reznor where it waxes poetical about Lennon’s Love Is All You Need and Reznor’s Love Is Not Enough.  It goes on to state Lennon was a known abuser of his love and sex interests (so was Reznor, actually)  and how he never took time for his family and wife and whatever.  Then it goes on to say how Reznor took time off to spend with his family (very admirable) and how he understood love isn’t all you need.  For the record; Reznor was a piece of shit to most of his love interests until he fell for his wife.  It has been pretty well documented by groupies, staff, other bands.  So let’s not try to compare apples and apples and call one an orange, mmmkay?  HOWEVER, he DID clean his shit up, and he is correct: love is NOT enough.  In case you have not read the post and give a fuck – http://markmanson.net/love

Love is the absolute smallest and most easily obtained building block one needs for a healthy and happy relationship.  Love is the one piece of a relationship that comes EASILY.  It is also easily lost, if you do not take care of it.  But that goes in to other aspects of relationships.

You must have compassion, understanding, trust, loyalty, a deep desire to stay together, a willingness to compromise and work with the other person, genuine joy in their presence, a profound commitment to their happiness, your happiness, your happiness together.  Love is NOT enough.  You must be willing to take care of one another, defend one another, and kick one another in the ass when necessary (though the manner of the kicking differs greatly for each person and situation).  You must BOTH have all of these qualities, and more.  You both have to hold your relationship as THE most important relationship, because all your other relationships can be built or destroyed based on that one at the center.

(Read more below.)

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So this post will likely not be easy to type.  But then none of the recent ones have been.  Alright, I will be honest.  Precious few of them are easy for me to type, because I am reaching in to a pitted and torn soul and pulling out pieces to share with you.  It doesn’t even matter so much that you, anyone, read them so much as I type them and put them out here so they CAN be read.  And I can explain it no further than that.

I recently – just a few minutes ago – watched a viral video from YouTube user SupDaily06…I am sure most of you have seen it fly past your FaceBook feed if nothing else.  It is the video of a straight man talking about a recent viral video of a teenager coming out to his parents about being gay.  First, if you haven’t seen the video, I want you to watch the video before you continue reading.

Now on to why this hits me, a straight (but never narrow) 34 year old woman RIGHT in dem feels… Continue reading →

Anxiety Attacks and drowning in the ocean…

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It’s funny how, being classified as bipolar, when I get stressed enough, I stim like someone with autism, asbergers, Tourette’s, etc. And yes, I’m spelling shit all sorts of wrong, and, at the moment, I could give two fucks or a shit less about that or grammatical errors. I have been having fairly intense stims somewhere around an hour. For those of you who suffer from any psychological prizes (hey, let’s call it something fun, instead of a disorder!!), you know how utterly motherfucking god damb exhausting they can be. Just…life-draining. And when I stim, I tic like a motherfucker. Scratching, rubbing my fingers, hitting myself, rocking back and forth,openingand closin gmy mouth,s ieltn screams, rapid blinking, rapid eye movement, tapping, sometimes sounds.. I get a nice lovely run of the stim spectrum. LUCKY ME. Thankfully, it’s only when I am incredibly super HOLY FUCKSHIT stressed the motherfuc out. And I have been..

This time of year is always pretty fucking tough on me. Starting at the beginngin of July through about the first week of August. I adopted a son out the day he was born, August 4th, 2004. And starting about a month before, I just………sink. I sink beneathe the waves of.. everything. Sounds, tastes, touches, feels. thoughts, breaths, leaves, colours, life itself. I have to keep busy. God damn, do I have to keep busy. I will cut a fuckin gentire yard with a god damn pair of scissors if that is absolutely all I have I can do to keep busy. Today, I rearranged my entire livibng room. That may not seem like much, but I had to vacuum and spray for spiders, too, because I have apparently gained an infestation of cute cuddly wolf spiders. Absolutely adorable, not lethal to most folks, but their bites suck big bulbous elephant balls. And I don’t like things randomly crawling on my face for me to squash. Yes, this has happened. And these motherfuckers are fast as hell. Look them up. Shoo, spider, you belong outside. Assholes. Anyw ay. This involved moving one 32″? television that is somewhere around 75-100 pounds off a 2′ high stand across the room.. rearranging 2 oversized loveseats and an oversized couch, moving two old-school studio speakers (the 4′ tall heavy as fuck type), the tv stand and putting a 42″? 75″ television back on the fucking stand. Alone. While dodging fucking spiders and keeping the kid busy. Whereupon I also found a tote I forgot about, seeing how it was cleverly disguised as a side table (don’t ask) and I found old birthday cards. And pictures.

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