Monthly Archives: January 2013

Lost heart

I’m not sure where my heart is at the moment.  I feel hollow and empty and uncaring.  I know my last post made it seem like I was struggling with the whole “fuck Army” thing, but I’m not.  It makes me feel pretty bitchy and heartless to not even dwell on him once I’ve formally decided we’re through. 

I really haven’t been able to find it within myself to really care a lot about life on any sort of deeper level in a long time.

I think I may have left my heart somewhere.

My theory is either Chicago or Kentucky.


Chicago is my home town, where the majority of my family is, where I spent all my summers and holidays up until two years ago. 
I love this place more than I think most of me realizes.

I miss the museums, I miss the stores, I miss the plays, I miss the food, I miss the people.  I even miss the train a little bit.

I lean my forehead against the cool window and watch the lights of buildings flash past in the night.  It’s late- one of the last trains back to my grandparents’ house.  The day was long but enjoyable.  Germany sits in the seat across from me.  The cramped nature of the train has our knees brushing, but we’ve been friends long enough that it doesn’t faze us.  She grins at me. She isn’t normally so into exploring a city at random, but we managed to find a bit of everything that we’d both enjoy.  Tomorrow we plan on going to Six Flags, where she will be the first person to get me to ride a roller coaster and enjoy it.  I know I am always safe with Germany.  And happy.  She makes my heart full.  We make a pact to be friends forever.

I never thought distance would feel so far.


But Kentucky…
Kentucky is the complete opposite.  I have no family down their. 
Except Katherine’s.  Her whole family is from Kentucky.  They became my family for 5 years when we would drive down their at least once a month, if not every other weekend.

There’s no culture really, no shopping (Wal-mart doesn’t count), no trains (for people), no plays.

But the food is homemade, mostly from scratch, and amazing.  It’s where I had my first illicit taste of alcohol. 
It’s where I learned to just hear nature breath.

I got to wake up and walk outside to this every single day I was down there.

Everyone was so sweet to me, despite me being a “Yankee”.  It was supposed to become my second home.

She tried to get me to drive the four wheeler, but since I’d never even tried a car, I refused in terror.  I watched her zip across the backyard towards the rising hills that made up a good portion of her grandparents’ land.  Her grandpa laughed next to me.
“It’s not that dangerous.  Just looks that way.  She isn’t actually going that much faster than a car on a road.”
Katherine zips back around and pauses next to me.  She gives me an enticing smile.
“Come on. Get on. You can trust me.”  I hesitate a moment, but then my eyes meet her’s and she’s right.  I do trust her.  With anything.  With everything.
There is nothing like whipping up and down the hills of Kentucky, wind swirling, dodging branches, and arms wrapped around the person you love.



Maybe my heart is just dust.

Maybe it’s better that way.


“White knuckles and sweaty palms from hanging on too tight
Clenched shut jaw, I’ve got another headache again tonight
Eyes on fire, eyes on fire, and they burn from all the tears
I’ve been crying, I’ve been crying, I’ve been dying over you
Tie a knot in the rope, tryin’ to hold, tryin’ to hold,
But there’s nothing to grasp so I let go

I think I’ve finally had enough, I think I maybe think too much
I think this might be it for us (blow me one last kiss)
You think I’m just too serious, I think you’re full of shit
My head is spinning so (blow me one last kiss)

Just when it can’t get worse, I’ve had a shit day
Have you had a shit day?
We’ve had a shit day
I think that life’s too short for this
I want back my ignorance and bliss
I think I’ve had enough of this
Blow me one last kiss.

I won’t miss all of the fighting that we always did,
Take it in, I mean what I say when I say there is nothing left
No more sick whiskey dick, no more battles for me
You’ll be calling a trick, ’cause you’ll no longer sleep
I’ll dress nice, I’ll look good, I’ll go dancing alone
I will laugh, I’ll get drunk, I’ll take somebody home

I think I’ve finally had enough, I think I maybe think too much
I think this might be it for us (blow me one last kiss)
You think I’m just too serious, I think you’re full of shit
My head is spinning, so blow me one last kiss

Just when it can’t get worse, I’ve had a shit day (No!)
Have you had a shit day? (No!), we’ve had a shit day (No!)
I think that life’s too short for this, I want back my ignorance and bliss
I think I’ve had enough of this, blow me one last kiss.

I will do what I please, anything that I want
I will breathe, I will breathe, I won’t worry at all
You will pay for your sins, you’ll be sorry my dear
All the lies, all the why’s, will all be crystal clear

I think I’ve finally had enough, I think I maybe think too much
I think this might be it for us (blow me one last kiss)
You think I’m just too serious, I think you’re full of shit
My head is spinning, so blow me one last kiss

Just when it can’t get worse, I’ve had a shit day
Have you had a shit day? We’ve had a shit day
I think that life’s too short for this, I want back my ignorance and bliss
I think I’ve had enough of this, blow me one last kiss.”

-Pink, “Blow Me (One Last Kiss)”


I’m done.  For serious this time.

I’m done being ignored.  I’m done being only a booty call. I’m done being a secret.  Normally I hate when Father insists I live my life as a perfect lady, but this time I’m going with his words.

I’m a lady.

I don’t deserve this shit.


Be At Peace

I don’t want to take away from the grieving that is going on for Sara.  It’s not my place.  I just have to get my thoughts down about my friend I knew outside of these blogging walls that is also gone now.

But before I logged on here and saw about Sara, I was notified that a friend of mine committed suicide.  By hanging himself.  His poor girlfriend found him yesterday evening.

I can’t imagine that.  It’s just….I’m having a hard time just dealing with his death and he and I were never romantically involved.  In fact, he drove me nuts 90% of the time.  I have no alias for you readers as I didn’t really write about him.  I didn’t see him much lately.  I’m sad about that now.

He was only bipolar as far as I knew, but I know a lot of us keep our mental-health demons well hidden, especially with persons we know in real life, as opposed to the internet.

It isn’t officially known that he passed away yet.  I was only told because I’m close friends with his best friend.  I just don’t even know how to react.  I don’t know how to feel.

I intended to write about how I’ve been losing a lot of time and how a part of me is attempting to severe some relationship ties that I think they consider “unhealthy”.

But that all seems so petty and stupid now.

I’m here.

Despite some self-harm and minor health issues, I’m safe and sound.

The self-hatred hasn’t dragged me all the way down yet.

I bow my head for my friends who weren’t able to keep their heads above the water.  I know that water is dark and deep and it’s hard to keep treading.  You will find no judgment here, my friends.

Only love.

You are greatly missed.

Be well and at peace, wherever you are.

Edit/Note:  When I said “only bipolar” I did not mean that it is any lesser than any other mental-health diagnosis.  I only meant that his bipolar diagnosis was the only thing I was aware of.  I’m sure that in itself was a hard struggle for him daily.  I have no personal experience with being bipolar.  It was not my intention to offend anyone.  I apologize if I did.

Army and I

Apparently we aren’t speaking.  I wasn’t aware of this.  I’m not even sure what the hell I did.  Something to do with some new friends I made recently.  He inferred that he basically thinks I’m screwing around on him.  Apparently I’m not allowed to have friends he doesn’t know. 

Shadow Dragon and Texas both think the problem is the husband of the new friends (it’s a couple) is ex-army as well, so Army’s all uncomfortable because technically he’s my only friend who served in that branch of the military (I do live in an Air Force town).  But I made a big deal about them being a married couple and older and only helping me with some of depression and mental issues by being lovely supportive friends.

At first Army was just sort of quiet about them when I said I’d made new friends and described them a bit.

And then they helped me find my new apartment.  After I told Army that, he hinted that I now owed them sexual favors (in a biting, spiteful way) and hasn’t spoken to me since.

I wish it didn’t affect me as much as it is.

I was so happy about this new apartment.

Now I just feel…lonely and depressed again.  Living alone is currently sucking.

My hot water heater decided to not work yesterday inexplicably.  Thankfully it magically fixed itself this morning and I was able to take a shower.  I hope it stays working now.

There’s a baby next door (despite the landlord swearing no children lived anywhere nearby) that has colic or something because it’s been wailing and screaming for about 4 days straight.  Walls are thin here.

I’m just…not sure about this whole living alone thing.

Maybe I’m not cut out for it…

This is exactly how this whole mental-health vs. violence should be viewed. It isn’t a matter of a bunch of new institutions and drugs and doctors. It’s a matter of proper therapy and treatment (that shouldn’t be so hard to get or balls-ass expensive).

The Life You Save May Be Your Own

I’m a member of MoveOn, a progressive group. They do a lot of online petitions, and today they sent me this petition about addressing the root cause of mass shootings: poor mental health care.

Here’s the response I sent MoveOn as an explanation of why I refused to sign this petition.

It’s a good idea in theory, but the reality is that increased funding for mental health will only result in more incarceration and drugging of people with mental illness. These approaches isolate people with mental illness from their communities, and isolation–not mental illness–is what breeds violence.

It’s entirely possible for someone to be legally sane but also hate-filled and violent. We feel more comfortable blaming mental illness for violence because it provides an easy answer to what is actually a much more complex issue. That greatly increases stigma against people living with mental illness.

Most people with mental…

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New Place

I hesitate to call it “home” yet.  Still brand new.

Just moved into my own place yesterday.  It’s a one bedroom apartment.  Not super small, but not super huge (which I’d feel uncomfortably lonely in anyway without others).

It’s really close to work, which I love.  It’s pretty centrally located to a lot of my friends and family, which I also love.

However….I didn’t sleep well last night (my first night).  Zoe was on edge too.  She was glued to my side, her face either on my shoulder, chest, or half on my head.  She would growl softly for no disernable reason occasionally.  And I was on an air mattress because yesterday was pouring rain, so we couldn’t move my mattress and boxspring.

Things I learned:

1. I need my bed.  Seriously.  My back is pretty hateful today.  And I think it would help Zoe too.

2. Noises are really magnified in a new place when you’re by yourself.  May need to play music softly for a couple nights.

3. Comforting Zoe did help push away my own freaked-out feelings.  The “I’maloneI’maloneI’malone” mantra was distant in the head when trying to help Zoe settle.

4. I did not self-harm.

5. I managed a bit of bacon and two of these coconut strips like are sort of like candy, but sugar and gluten free.

6. I didn’t eat anything this morning, but I don’t normally eat breakfast and my tummy was pretty freaked out from sleeping so badly.

7. It’s nice to taking a lingering scalding-hot shower with the door open.  I know this seems weird, but I like it.

Hopefully this transition into living alone for the first time will go smoothly (well…second, technically, but we do not speak of the other time) and without repercussions.

I didn’t have Zoe last time.

I am going to do great.  It is going to be fantastic.

Fat (TW)

I hate having to deal with the aftermath of a self-harming episode.  I hate dealing with the withdraw from Middi’s pill popping. I hate dealing with the stinging of Daria’s mutilation whenever clothes or above-tepid water touch the tiny cat-like scratches.

But what I hate the most is having hide Victoria’s crazy self-mutilation. She cuts and burns actual words into my skin. Not something I can pass off as a dog or cat scratch after a week of healing. Nope. Something I have to hide for months until the scar fades enough that it can’t be read.

It’s been almost a year since she last tried to do this. And someone was able to stop her before she managed anything resembling readable English.

Not this time.

I’m so ashamed.

All it does is give power to her desire to starve us to death.

Every time I look down and see those three letters, I believe them.

It doesn’t matter what others say. Even a completely unbiased (and well-meaning) friend of Shadow Dragon who was over last night said “Where’s the rest of you?” and some other comments about my supposed dramatic weight loss. But it’s so hard for me to see it myself.

Why? Why?

Why do I only see flab and fat? I just try not to be as bad as Victoria. But I see it. Every day.

And now those three letters carved into my skin whisper to me that I’m not good enough. I’m not there yet. Moremoremore.

I don’t want to die. I know parts of me do, but most of me wants to live. Why can’t those parts be stronger? Why do the negative parts get away with so much? How do they get so much power? Why does insecurity always slip back in instead of the compliments I hear from friends and family?

I don’t understand.

Hipbone (TW)

I seem to be stuck in focus.

Not in a specific memory, so to speak, but more a collection of memories.

All centered around my hipbones.

Katherine used to be obsessed with my hipbones. She would do this forced striptease where she would tug down my pants or skirt just enough so she could stroke both of them and croon about how she thought they were so sexybeautifulgorgeousperfect.

In bed she would require I wear nothing to prohibit her from touching them. I was limited to just shirts, occasionally I could get away with bikini-type underwear.

Her examinations would border on clinical at times, the way she would just strokeandstrokeandstroke. And stare.

And she would flip out the moment it seemed like any weight gain would affect this part of my body.

Somehow she passed this obsession on to a part of me.  Every night I run my fingers along them in a strange sort of pre-bed ritual.  When I examine myself in the mirror to see if I’m losing any weight, the first place I look are my hips.

Those bones are never jutting out enough to satisfy me.

Tonight I can’t get her crooning purr out of my head.

“God, I just love your hips. Wait. Turn to the side, just a little. Perfect.”

The tone she used right before she expected sex.

I hate being stuck in this place. I just want to escape.

Why can’t I shake it?

Red and Silver (TW)

i’ve never cut at work before.

goodgood victoria for squirreling away blades.  goodgood.

gotta make the outside and inside balance. matchmatchmatch.

shoulda died in that car accident.  woulda been better.

red and silver look so nice together.  prettypretty.