Monthly Archives: June 2013


I knew work was heading this way.  I knew a possible breakdown was just on the horizon.  Currently I’m at my desk in the office with a hot chocolate (plus a shot of cappuccino) and an ice pack on the back of my neck.

Seems dumb, I know.  Only thing I can think of to try and ground me and keep me from having a breakdown.  Sensation helps keep my mind from going mental, so I thought the combination of hot and cold might keep me together for at least the next two hours (the extra caffeine can’t hurt).

I’m being hit in two different ways.

First of all; files being thrown at me and threats being dangled about audits and probationary period (not me, my contract- but basically the same thing).  I absolutely have to get shit done and done fast if I don’t want to be jobless in less than a month.

But then my supervisor pulls me into a one-on-one meeting this morning to go over an elaborate plan to elevate me and give me more responsibility and all the new things that will be expected of me.  The good part is more hours and a raise, but I don’t know.  I just don’t know.

My mother has asked if I’ll come back and work for her as a paralegal for her firm.  She’s said she’s pretty sure she can promise me full-time hours.  It’s so very tempting…

But I do love so much about this job.

Just not right now.  And not today.

This moment, I just want to go into a corner (or the bathroom), curl up, and cry.

I’m not sure how much longer I can handle this without letting my coworkers see me cracking.  I can’t let that happen.  I have to remain sane in the eyes of others.

For Germany

Today is my best friend Germany’s birthday.  She is such an amazing woman I had to write something up for her.

(Officially, I’m still on a blog-vacation, so pretend you didn’t see me 😉 )

1.) I can tell this girl pretty much anything. 
Sometimes I get a firm kick in the ass about me being a dolt and/or idiot.  And by sometimes, I mean a lot of times.  And sometimes there is some disagreeing points of view.  But then time passes and we always realize that we’re better friends than any argument.

2.) She makes me want to be better/cooler/stronger.
This girl is AMAZING.  She’s traveled all over the place and is even LIVING overseas.  Sure it’s scary, sure it’s hard, but damn, she just pushes on through.  I want to be like that.   I pine for her ability to be blunt as hell all the time.

3.) She can wear any hat or pair of sunglasses and look fantastic.
It’s a weird effin’ super power.  But she has it.  We’ve searched the planet for a hat or pair of sunglasses that makes her look frumpy.  To no avail.

4.) She knows my moods better than I do.
I can’t lie to this girl (in person).  I can’t pretend to be fine when I’m not.  I can’t wear that mask I wear so effortlessly at times.  It pisses me off when people see through my mask usually.  She is one of the rare gems that I revel in not having to play pretend.  I can be fighting a migraine, bitchy as hell, and this woman will simply ask if I want to swing through somewhere and get a diet coke.  Or she’ll do me one better and bring me one!

5.) Distance means nothing.
Jack shit.  Absolutely nada.  I know there are days, weeks (hopefully not months… L) that we lapse in conversation due to our busy lives.  But it means nothing.  She’s still who I think of whenever I go to Starbucks.  She’s who I want to tell about some cute guy I saw.  I always wish she was around when I’m halfway through a cigarette so I can share the rest.

6.) She makes clothes shopping fun.
There’s ALWAYS time for a montage when shopping with her.  It’s 50% of why we go!  Doesn’t matter if I look awkward or frumpy- all the more laughter is had by all. 

7.) She will hate my enemies with (or for) me.
This seems juvenile, I’m sure, but it is immensely satisfying to have a friend who helps validate those people that are just toxic and awful and you shouldn’t be around.  If I waver on whether they’re truly bad for me, she knows and she rages on my behalf.  She isn’t try to dictate how I feel; she reminds me of why I decided to avoid that person in the first place.  After all, I am forgetful/indecisive in my opinions of people.

8.) She knows pretty much all my secrets.
And I feel like she should just know all of them.  I’m tired of trying to keep part of myself in a box because I worry she’ll judge.  She may.  But we always manage to get past any of that.

9.) She’ll always play my favorite game of “what-if” or “let’s pretend”.
We started this early.  Hypothetical romantic relationships.  Houses.  Cities we’d live in.  Jobs we’ve have.  How we’d own a bakery/shop and I’d do the baking and she’d run the business side of it.  While she’s overseas, we constantly joke about me just dropping in for dinner or a shopping trip.  Little games to pretend our lives are where we want to be.  It helps more than it should.

10.) She’s just her.
She doesn’t bullshit with me.  She’ll split a cig or a drink with me.  She’ll go out dancing or to a dumb movie with me.  She knows how things were in high school.  She knows how I’m dumb when it comes to myself and partners I try to be with.  She knows why I have a fox and butterfly tattoo (and she was there when I squeezed the shit out of her hand in pain getting it) and why my nickname was “Kit” in high school.  She knows why I tremble whenever I see anyone dressed up in a full animal costume.  She knows that Wendy’s is my favorite fast food place.  She knows Dark Castle makes my favorite horror movies.

There is no one I would rather get lost with on a back country road for hours with.  No one I’d rather go to Starbucks with and sit outside for hours talking about nothing.

I absolutely cannot wait for us to be able to hang out in person again.  But despite my missing her, I’m so proud of who she’s become. 

At a quarter of a century in age, she has done so much.  I can’t wait to see what happens for her next.

I’m not dead

I’m not dead.  I’m not well, but I’m not dead.  I realize I’ve been neglecting this place for awhile and I forget that most of you are not in contact with me via Facebook or email.  And I certainly don’t want you all wondering and worrying.

I’m alive.  I’m going through the motions still.

I probably won’t have a real update on here for a another little bit.  Basically things have gone to complete shit at work and I may not have a job soon.  I’m working my ass off to try and prevent that.

My mind is a little….swirly and so very easily triggered because of this.  So please forgive me for taking a vacation from the blogsphere for a bit.

I love all of you so very much and I do desperately miss hearing about all your lives, but I have to focus on myself right now.  It is a rarity for me, but apparently when it comes to keeping myself employed, I will actually be a bit selfish.

Please be patient and bear with me on this momentary sabbatical.

Lots of love.  I will be back ❤ ❤ ❤


Living’s Too Hard To Do

“I’d rather be dreaming than living
Living’s just too hard to do
It’s chances not choices
Noises not voices
A day’s just a thing to get through
Living’s just too hard to do

I’d rather be dreaming than talking
There’s nothing to hear or to say
With ears covered mouth closed
The world is opposed
Nothing gets in or away
There’s nothing to hear or to say

I’d rather be dreaming than thinking
Thoughts are small comfort to me
Dreams might be pretend
But at least dreams end
And I just can’t stop thinking you see
Thoughts are small comfort to me

I’d rather be dreaming than sleeping
Just sleeping you’re just as well dead
In dreams I can fly
In dreams I don’t die
That’s why I lie here in this bed
Just sleeping you’re just as well dead

I’d rather be dreaming”

“Dreaming” by Loudon Wainwright III


I’m not well.  I’m a shell.  A hull.  Going through the motions like a sick twisted puppet.  Higher, faster, better, longer, they all say.  And I do it.  Mechanically my parts move but my mind is long gone.

Lack of meds is spiraling spiraling spiraling.  I don’t want to be there when I crash.  I’m so close.  Closecloseclose.  I can taste the tacky bitterness of it.  The sharp tang, like a slice of my own skin.

The world is splinters and ghosts and I just want to sleep and sleep and dream of days before.

Was there a before?


I hate being triggered. I hate it even more when I try try try to dig myself out. I can’t anymore.

A well-meaning relative posted a picture he took without my knowledge.

I do not seem to possess the ability to see myself as anything by huge rolling mountains of flab and fat. My thighs are trees. My arms are telephone poles.

I try so hard so hard to just be thin. That’s all I want. Why can’t I do it? Why can’t it happen? This stupid body and stupid mind thwart me at every damn step.

I’m tired of it. I don’t want to look at all those rolls and sausage-like swellings anymore.

In a brief surge of bravery, I tried calling yet another doctor. I know we need meds. Desperately. But no one is accepting patients so the pain and hate and depression just swirls and swirls and festers and I just don’t want to do it anymore.

I tried releasing some of it but even the self-harm felt empty and pointless. Like drawing with chalk on a sidewalk while it’s raining.

Can I please just sleep and never wake up? I don’t think it’s too much to ask.

Figure it out your damn self

Can I just pretend I don’t have any legal expertise?  A 8+ paralegal experience and plans of going for a proper law degree.
Can I pretend I am not planning on going to law school? (eventually. hopefully. maybe. if money and mental-health allow.)

I wish it was legal to get a bar license under a pseudonym so no one except really close friends knew I was practicing. 

And I really wish I wasn’t a paralegal today.

One of my friends who I don’t see often asked me for some “unofficial legal advice” late yesterday/this morning.  Without going into too much detail, let’s just say it was regarding a small claims matter and trying to get money out of an ex.

I really didn’t want to touch it with a 50 foot pole.

But she’s a friend I’ve known a loooooong time (longer than Germany, actually), and even though our friendship has had many ups and downs, I am a sucker for that ol’ nostalgia.  Ever the Taurus.

So I tried.  I gave her the disappointing news that she didn’t have much of a case as she wasn’t technically legally involved in the matter (technically it’s a matter regarding Texas, but Texas isn’t super interested in pursuing it).  Said friend got pissed.  Obviously not what she wanted to hear.

I gave the best disclaimer I could.  I told her my expertise is mostly criminal and property law and I know very little about small claim civil matters.  And that I am not an attorney.

She send me a nasty text this morning saying a “real attorney” told her she has a “really good case” on her hands.



Next time, how about you don’t come to me for a free legal opinion.  Just figure it out your damn self.  I don’t need this resentment.  I don’t need the drama.  And I certainly don’t need the stress.

I hate being the only legal-type person in my group of friends.  I’m constantly the one called or texted at weird hours and told “Omg, I have to know what to do about this matter right now“.  Like I’m on a freakin’ retainer for them.

So I’m done.  I shall be playing dumb any time anyone asks my advice.
I have no idea how to go about handling that situation. 
Why don’t you consult a real attorney
Yeah, you do have to drop at least 300 bucks. 
Funny how free legal advice is scarce, huh?

I don’t need this.

Cluster Casserole

Yeah.  I meant clusterfuck, but I thought that might be an inappropriate blog post title.

I know a lot of my blog friends are from the U.K. and I’m not sure if they have the expression “clusterfuck” over there, but that is the only apt descriptor for my current situation.

(I’m gonna borrow lovely WeeGee’s footnotes style for one entry because I cannot express myself in this entry without a lot of quick abbreviations and expression because my mind is a great big swirly mess of horribleness*)

Clusterfuck.  It means that basically, some big universe-controlling person** took the ingredients of my life and swirled them around in a bowl.  Then they were supposed to add the ingredients to create a semi-passable cake or brownie; but instead, this idiot PTB*** added the WRONG ingredients that turned my bowl of a life into some awful casserole of fuck-uppery instead of a good sweet dessert of yumminess like I desired.

Clusterfuck Casserole

1 part Pen who is trying to get her butt into more a healing gear lately

1 part messy “vacation” with her father to her hometown that was a mix of good, bad, and utterly horrible****
1 part her grandfather (the local/maternal one, not Chicago/paternal) going into a risky surgery this past Friday*****
1 part things going all roller coaster-y in the relationship with Army******
1 part having to spend time with a lot of family and be near/in a hospital
1 part making the mistake of going out drinking with people she barely knows Friday night

Season with:
a sprinkle of taking care of puppies for extended periods of time (as well as another one getting adopted)
a pinch of no communication or spending time with close friends in almost a week
a dollop of next to no sleep for going on 4 days now

Stick in the oven at about 400 degrees for 5 days.


The blog world is a bit much right now.  I’m trying to ease back into reading and commenting on some.  Sorry it isn’t everyone.  I’m doing my best.  Bear with me.  I’ll eventually be back to normal.  Hopefully.  For the moment I’m going to attempt pretending at being a normal person at work when all I really want to do is curl into a ball of self-loathing and debate on sobbing.

*i.e. Clusterfuck
**I don’t mean a god, necessarily.  Maybe I mean FSM.*******
***Powers That Be.  I took this from Cordelia’s expression of them in the show “Angel” (Joss Whedon!)
****Yes, that was over a week ago, but I am still recovering due to the extreme backlash of drama that happened from it
*****For which I was just told the night before.  The night before.  About surgery that he could easily DIE from.
****** Of course, when is it not?
*******Flying Spaghetti Monster