Two less

Two less people in the world.
Two less people who smiled, laughed, cared...

Two people who lost the battle this weekend.

My heart is broken, my mind is a mess. I don't know how to stop this. Could I have stopped these two?


Reach out. Reach inside yourself and find your strength. Sometimes strength is just eating, or moving from the bed to the couch. Take care of yourself and to hell with other people. Good for the marathon runners, business owners, mothers and fathers...but if you woke up today you are winning.

the sound of...

Do you ever hear the silence?
I am sure there is a fancy scientific explanation, but when I am stressed it is there...not quite a buzz, not quite a hum...

My body hurts every morning. Nothing is wrong, it just...aches...I feel heavy, like I'm one of those really strong magnets, being sucked into the earth. I lie in bed, feeling my blood pulsing through me.
I might be a hypochondriac. I also have a throbbing in my right boob.

I need to fix this.
I need to be a better person.
I need to be a better friend.
I need to be an adult.

hmm

I secretly want to be a writer. I want to write about myself at least. That makes me sound like an egomaniac, but I just want to tell my story. I want my shit to help someone know they are not alone.
I keep this blog because I keep losing my current journals. I still have a lot though, I think the earliest is from 1991, so I was six. Rereading them is funny and painful at the same time. I was so angry for awhile. Mad at God, mad at the world, and mostly myself. I have come to a stalemate with God, and I have adjusted to the reality of never being who or what I want to be.

I might be a hypochondriac. I feel like I jump to conclusions about my health. I have had intermittent pain in my right breast for a few months. I still have a knot in my leg from when I hit it with a hammer a month ago.

My scars (literal and figurative) do not have to define me.

putting this here because I can't find my journal

"I live in the tension between extremes."

This will be the subtitle of my book.

I'm emotional tonight.
I am 34 and on disability because if I worked full time I'd probably end up in the hospital. Again. (unless I was an otter fluffer or cat cuddler)

I give all or nothing. I can't find normal.

Count your blessings, name them one by...oh look! A kitty!

Sometimes it is hard to think positive.
My hair is falling out due to stress so when I start to feel overwhelmed I distract myself...

I have an apartment (which is a serious mess).
I have a job (the department is drowning and I am responsible for too much, and accountable for other peoples' mistakes)
Kitties! ( mine won't cutddle, I admire the strays across the street (that need to be TNR'd)
Art (when was the last time I did anything. The gallery is going to drop me. I have too much shit everywhere)
Boyfriend (probably thinks I'm lazy, fat, weird)
Family (I don't see them enough, they spoil me)




I think the worst is when my mind can't connect with my body.

way too much information

Soooo...
I have HPV. The scary strain. Two scary strains actually.
I had a colposcopy a few days ago and I have "precancerous cells."
Now I get to have a LEEP procedure...

"LEEP stands for Loop Electrosurgical Excision Procedure. It's a treatment that prevents cervical cancer. A small electrical wire loop is used to remove abnormal cells from your cervix. LEEP surgery may be performed after abnormal cells are found during a Pap test, colposcopy, or biopsy."

 This is TMI but I don't think anyone reads this anymore and I need an outlet.

what is force?

 "You're manipulating the situation in a way that gives no one a way out. That's force. Look it up."

Gilmore girls season one, episode 3 "Kill Me Now"
Totally taken out of context but this is my life right now.

Something happened, with a guy...It scared me.
I am fine, I handled it.

But emotionally I'm a little messed up. My recall is fuzzy (screw you angry orchard). On the same night I was an asshole to a guy I am lucky to call a friend. I hate myself for that. I hate that I got myself in this kind of situation.

I said no when it was time...and I physically followed through (hence my soreness). I stood up for myself. I stopped something that could have ended terribly.




I can't deal, but I'm telling everyone I'm ok. I'm a f*#king liar.
I think "call E, go sleep on her couch," but I can't. All I do is sleep.

Rawr. A rant.

So many facebook posts are about "faith in humanity restored" and feature an old person or someone with special needs. Why is it news when we are kind? Why are we shocked? Why do we ask for congratulations for treating humans like humans? Yes, it's great that you did something compassionate, but I wish that it were the norm, not a news-worthy exception.

Perfect weather for it...

I wrote this as though I hadn't heard the results. I think it would be just as relevant if things had gone another way...


It's time to build a campfire hold hands, and sing a little kumbaya.

If your candidate won, celebrate. Be grateful. But be gracious.
To continue to argue your point or insult the other candidate/party is hurting our nation by keeping us divided and angry.
It's time to heal, to cooperate, to be kind.

Parents, you are setting an example for your children. The jokes, the mocking, the memes...we are saying it's ok to be a bully or to laugh at jokes at someone else's expense. I am not innocent in this.

Christians, we should be the first to act with grace and humility, the first to love our enemies. This is the time to let your words and actions be your witness.

Fail

Cleaning, consolidating...

Should I file my SSI paperwork under "f" for "fuck up," or "l" for "loser,..." Hmmmm...
Perhaps "s" for "shame?"

Story? What Story?

This article explains a lot of what I wish I could say.

"If the situation of our story is historic we may be tempted to shape the story to a presentable narrative arc with redemption and a happy ending which may not represent the reality of the problem for others." 

"While we applaud people for their bravery in sharing their personal stories, we often forget to continue to applaud their bravery for dealing with the results."

I am stuck in the in between.

I am not well, but I am not broken.

I can be paralyzed by a panic attack one day and having a dance party with my cat the next.

I can smile, interact with people, and even be funny. But the truth is, I'd rather not be alive (please understand that this is not the same as being suicidal).

This is my normal, I have trouble understanding why people are afraid to die. I lie awake at night wishing I could take the place of a mom dying of cancer.

So yeah, I want to tell my story, but it isn't finished. But I am more than my dark days.

[as are you]

I should be afraid to die, right?

"Maybe, you have to be dying to understand. But there’s this thing that happens where death stops being scary. What starts being scary is hope, because it's not true."  

I still have hope, but I also understand reality. I may never stop feeling like this, and that's ok. There is a purpose that I may never know.

Dying doesn't scare me. It'd be kinda nice I think. Apparently that's not normal.

sleep is good (so I hear)

10:30pm - Lunesta #1

11:30pm - Lunesta #2

Midnight - Ativan

2:00am - over the counter sleep aid and another half of an Ativan

between 3 & 4am - sleeeeep.........



I was supposed to work a nine hour shift today...yeah, thats not happening. Lets try 5.5.

A twitter-gram/graham

Twitter isn't just good for stalking. Fakejasonboyett is the best kind of funny - random, full of great culture references (Foreigner, noodle soup, unicycles...), and quick. I'm surely not the only one who feels too busy/A.D.D. to read long, satirical blogs just to get a laugh. Make me laugh in 140 characters and you're a rockstar.
Here are a few of my favorites:









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I bought seven boxes of graham crackers today. I'll probably finish them off by Wednesday.


Supposedly graham crackers were invented by a guy in the 1800s who thought you should eat bland foods to curb your sexual appetite. . . but apparently the recipe has changed, sorry Rev. Graham. At least his trend of frequent bathing stuck.

Rowdy

Last week I saw a cat outside my apartment, so naturally I chased it. That's when I met Rowdy.
Well, "Rowdy" is what I called him, because I'd been netflixing Scrubs, and, well, you know...



So Rowdy and I walked all over my neighborhood, I swear he was smirking...I kept saying "Go home, boy!" but he just kept following me...

Eventually I realized it was 7am on a Sunday and I was awake, and that's just unacceptable, so I tricked him into chasing a squirrel and scurried back to my apartment.

big brother

I've never been one for conspiracy theories or whining about the government's invasion of privacy, but I'm beginning to rethink my naivety.  Maybe they know more about me than I thought. . .

While registering to apply for state jobs, this was my captcha:

All DP?  As in All Dr Pepper?   That's me alright.







Then I ran into this:

 

Excuse me?  First of all, why can't  it contain a dictionary word?  Its called a password, not a passnonsensestringofcharacters.

Second, "julio" simply cannot be a common password, let's be honest.  So it must violate the dictionary rule, right?  But what dictionary are they using?

2 hours later: I've finally registered but my password is more complex than a DNA double helix.

And here's a picture of my dad putting a skirt on Julio to calm everyone's nerves:

year. in. review.

The end of a year...another year. A year I tried to ignore. To simply survive. I suppose I did that [we'll see in a few days I suppose].

My year started off on a high note with my niece seeing my name on the "Armstrongs" wall at my old gym and being pretty impressed. I think I did like 70 push-ups to get my name on that wall. To be fair, I was 12 and like 80 lbs. [Currently in early 2013 I was at my max weight due to, well, weight gain, and medicine changes that seriously added to that gain-age]

Then, for the second time ever, I ate a salad. And liked it. Thus began the year of Arby's grilled chicken, no tomatoes, with balsamic vinaigrette salads.

THEN...I decided to get a kitten, but wrecked my car instead.
A short time later, my sister was in a wreck. Despite having talked about possibly giving her car to me, my mom and dad decided to give her car to my sister. I understood...she had a proper life,Despite rolling the sucker they were able to make it drivable...just not-so-much desirable. It doesn't lock so it get's broken into fairly often and I'm quite certain it's been slept in a few times.

In April...I QUIT DR PEPPER.
To be fair, it wasn't by choice. I was prescribed a medicine that's side effect was unfortunately making carbonated beverages tastes horrible. So, after 6-7 year of guzzling this stuff, it was no longer appealing. I mean wow. Darkie Pepper, R.I.P.

The bigger news I suppose, was that I quit drinking...
     like...alcohol...
     It had gotten pretty bad. Worse than I would admit to just about anyone. And it'd been like that for awhile. The booze was behind so many of the bad decisions I'd made the past year or three. I knew it worried my mum. Maybe that was what inspired the change. I honestly don't know. One day, at 11am, instead of vodka, I decided to drink water.
This was honestly the biggest turning point in my year.
        {I didn't quit drinking entirely...just as a lifeline. I drink occasionally, on weekends...when the time is right}

But wait! I got a job!
Apparently even the " mentally interesting" are good for something...and but "something" I mean "retail."

At some point mid-summer I began taking this medicine that soldiers with PTSD take...because my dreams are so whacked.

Jars of Clay came to LR are were AMAZING.

I randomly began to puke. A stress reaction perhaps?...about 4 months later and I still don't know.

Then I hung out with the ex-boyfriend's ex-boyfriend. Confused? Just go with it...


And now?

Yeah...
About that...
I am SERIOUSLY in denial...
...about my age.
...about my "career," ha!
...about the future.
...about just about everything including who I am and who I should have been...

dear diary

I've always liked to write to make sense of my emotions, or simply for catharsis. I was given a hand-me-down journal when I was in second grade, which I still have.

I like to go back and re-read my journals occasionally. The early entries are cute and innocent. The most recent are desperate and searching. The rest are anything and everything in between, just...my life.

This one specific journal holds what's probably the turning point in my life...when I went from normal to sad. Eighth grade. That's when I started hurting myself, or at least the first time I wrote about it.  I wasn't that girl in the bathroom with a razor, I just started scratching myself with my fingernails. "I feel like I deserve it," I wrote.

create and create and. . .

Don't let yourself become a prisoner to anyone's expectations or their lack of belief.

Truth

Confessions:

1. I can be horrible, even more so to my friends.
2. I avoid things I fear or that appear difficult.
3. I text too much and call too little.
4. I punch holes in walls and commit other destructive acts when I let my anger rule me.
5. I expect too much.
6. I expect too little.
7. I judge people based on personalized license plates.