He is not prone to terms of endearment. This isn’t a man who slips into language like a diner’s waitress.
After no communication for days. Maybe a week.
I’ve lost track of time.
These days time is like taffy. Stretching, clinging, sticking.
The point is it just slipped out so casually.
And I want to bash my head into a wall repeatedly.
There’s a reason I grew up loving paperback mysteries, Stephen King, and Wes Craven movies. This isn’t a girl who believes in fairy-tale-happy-ending bullshit.
I am my father’s daughter.
And I know better.
I know that there isn’t some white knight who is gonna swoop in at the last minute and make all the hurt disappear. There isn’t even a constant weight on the other side of my bed, much less in less explicit facets of my life.
I am on my own. Always. Regardless of where I’m stuck in time.
Only a single friend has told me “You deserve to have him stay. You give so much.”
All others are silent. And it shows me what I already know, in that deepest heart of mine. That truest heart. That constant companion that’s been there since when I was little.
There’s no point in giving. There is no deserving.
There is only the taffy stretch of time and the constant stickiness of pain.
Basically, Army and I are over with. We haven’t even spoken for a couple weeks now. I don’t really want to talk about the details on this post. Sorry.
Anyway, pretty much all of my friends have a partner and I’m finding it difficult and uncomfortable to hang out with them. It’s giving parts of me some triggering twitches and urges to “correct the problem” (as only Charlotte can).
But I don’t want that.
I want to be alone. I want to be on my own.
But I just…I just wish I had more social opportunities that didn’t involve couples.
It isn’t that they’re affectionate or macking on each other in front of me. In fact, sometimes I am only hanging out with one person out of the “pair”.
But it still feels like I’m missing an arm and they’re whole and perfect. Then they keep doing all these things with their two arms and trying to get me to join in and I’m like “I have only one arm…” but they don’t hear me or notice that I’m incapable.
Maybe that explains it?
I’m not sure.
All I know is I feel a bit dead inside lately and it’s worrying me because when I get this dead feeling, it means some sort of self-destructive fiasco usually follow. I am trying hard to keep a lid on Charlotte but she really dislike feeling ugly and unwanted. She always feels the need to prove that she can entice and ensnare.
But I don’t want to. I really don’t. I just want to….
I took that leap of faith again. Telling someone in real life about my mental-health (yes, the actual detail) and crossing my fingers it doesn’t end up biting me in the ass.
It hasn’t so far, but I keep waiting for the ax to fall. It always has before.
I am managing to remain mostly co-conscious, but there are a few inners who are pissed about my decision. They still remember the last time with stinging clarity.
The fact that I told a male makes it all the more agitating for them. It doesn’t matter that the situation is entirely different and he is a totally different sort of guy. One of the few “safe” ones I’ve encountered in my life. He’s a really great friend who has his own awesome life, residence, and social life (including a lovely girlfriend who has excellent taste in cars). I always have a great time hanging out at his place or going to the drive-in with them. One of the few places I can really relax, even before I ended up telling him that secret aspect of my psyche.
But the fact that he’s been a great support is unfortunately, a bit triggering to parts of me.
That idea of support, of true honest, no walls-up sort of support, is terrifying. Every single time I’ve done that, it just ruins things. Everything. I go back to square one and it’s almost as if it’s worse than if I had never reached out in the first place.
But I can’t exactly go through life being a complete coward. That would be a pretty poor existence. And I know I can’t keep going forward at the rate I am without some sort of break system. The wheels are close to falling off. Not to say I want someone to hold the wheels on, but it’s nice to have a sort of “mechanic” to be honest about the make and model of my car so he can help me purchase and install the correct axle or joints or whatever is fucking me up.
Wow. That car analogy was weird.
So despite the slight backlash of my system, I’m really hoping this leap of faith won’t turn out like all the others. Really hoping.
Let’s see if I can turn some of this pessimism into optimism.
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.
Okay.
Fine.
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?
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
Take:
1 part Pen who is trying to get her butt into more a healing gear lately
Add:
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.
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*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
First of all, I had a lovely “Hump Day Dinner” with Texas and another girl friend of mine that I rarely get to see. It was a lot of fun. There was sangria and calamari; both of which I adore.
We had fun joking around and talking about nothing.
But then it went downhill…
But Texas has been acting weird. She’s seriously contemplating breaking up with her longtime boyfriend of…4 or 5 years now I think. I dunno. Awhile. Mostly due to not getting the attention she needs, but also a lot of money disagreements (basically he wants to use her money for his shit).
While having this crisis of romance, she starts making this really weird deal about how pretty I am and how all the men around us want me (…what?). I’m not really sure how to deal with this. Besides the fact that I have awful self-image issues and can’t even process what she’s suggesting about me; I’ve always thought Texas is a really beautiful woman.
She has this flawless skin I’ll never achieve, shapely legs, gorgeous curly dark hair, and an actual chest region. There’s a reason she was so easily able to steal my high school boyfriend not once, but twice.
Anyway, I am completely befuddled by her behavior. She’s always been nice to me about my looks in that “normal girl friend” way (“Oh you look great in that shirt!”) , but I’ve never experienced such dogged references to me. It feels like she goes out of the way to point out that the waiter is flirting with me and our other friend joins in. I’m completely wigged out at this point. The sangria doesn’t help.
I texted Army to try and get some sort of stabilizing opinion and explain that Texas is making me a bit nervous by pointing out these things. Apparently it comes out wrong because he lashes out at me about trying to “make him jealous” and that if he “said the same thing” to me, I’d be “furious”. I have no idea what he’s talking about.
The words and tone sound like Katherine.
My vision starts swimming and shifting and my head is spinning and I can’t do that again. I can’t be a possession again. I can’t be a slave, an object, a thing. I can’t belong to a person again. I can’t handle over-jealously again. I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t.
Texas notices the shift and comments. I briefly explain, but not entirely. She gets it a bit, but has no words. I understand, she’s dealing with her own frustrations. The car ride home is quiet.
I think about how he doesn’t even acknowledge me on Facebook. I know it’s a shallow teenage thing. I’m not asking for “in a relationship” bullshit. I don’t much care for that. But he mentions when he’s hanging out with friends. Or even his roommates. But he’s goes out of his way to never ever mention my name on there. Even when he uploads pictures of my puppies for his friends to see.
And yet he wants to start talking jealously?
Hell no.
If he wants to be in the “deeper level” of a relationship and it means this sort of stuff, I’m out.
Out out out out out out.
I won’t do the crazy jealously game to myself again. I won’t. I won’t do it.
I’m so very angry with myself. And feeling remorse/regretful.
I broke my promise to myself last night. I could go into which bit of me did and that it was an insider and not the “whole me”, but I feel like that’s just trying to dodge the blame. It doesn’t matter “who” decided to do it. It doesn’t matter.
I broke a promise.
It’s been three months since I’ve actually cut. I’ve thought about it. I’ve talked about doing it. But I haven’t done it since I moved to my new place.
I’ve drank, I’ve self-medicated, and I’ve restricted. But not cut. Not that. I promised myself I wouldn’t. I promised my friends I wouldn’t.
Why can’t I just keep that one promise? Why? Three months is barely anything. I feel so lost, so remorseful, so…
Sad.
I can’t wear shorts this weekend. I’ll have to be sneaky with Army if we get intimate unless I want him to lecture me (again).
Mad.
The burn and sting of the freshly opened cuts feels so sickeningly good. It shouldn’t. I know it shouldn’t. I hate that it does and I’m so mad that I would use that feeling to try and justify doing it.
Bad.
I just can’t win. I thought the promise was something I valued. I thought I (all of us) truly meant it. I thought we could keep this new apartment free of that negative energy.
But blood has been spilled. And blood stains. It soaks in and ruins everything it touches.
I spent some of it with Texas and a chunk of it with Army. The distraction of friends was nice.
But I am worried about the direction of things. Like I always am when things get too intimate. I want to skitter back. I want to run. I want to bolt.
Army’s roommates are moving to Connecticut. They’re giving him a little over 2 months to find a new place.
And he asked me to move with him.
Technically my lease isn’t up at that time, but there have been such fuckups made by the landlord/property management that I can easily get out of this lease whenever I want with some legal magic dancing. And Army knows this.
He says he wants us to get a house.
Half of my head lights up with blaring neon sirens.
The other half murmurs dreamily as images of a backyard and bigger kitchen spin lazily around.
I think about before. He swears the issues I had with him have all changed. I think about the good aspects. I miss them.
But I don’t think I deserve to play house. With anyone. I don’t deserve a healthy relationship.
I thought about Jeff a lot this weekend. I’m not sure why. Texas mentioned something to me that had me worried about him. I know I fucked things up. I know I don’t deserve to even be around him.
And I know that I can’t be anything close to what he needs.
But before we tried (and I destroyed) that whole romantic possibility, we were friends. For almost a decade. And close friends for the last four years.
I miss him.
I miss having someone I could just be honest with. I know it completely blew up in my face (and my mind tells me never ever to trust to that degree again), but I can’t help but push that fact aside.
I just want to make sure he’s all right. And that things are good with him. He deserves that.
There’s blood in my mouth ’cause I’ve been biting my tongue all week. I keep on talking trash, but I never say anything.
And the talking leads to touching, And the touching leads to sex, And then there is no mystery left.
And it’s bad news, baby I’m bad news I’m just bad news, bad news, bad news
I know I’m alone if I’m with or without you, But just being around you offers me another form of relief When the loneliness leads to bad dreams, And the bad dreams lead me to calling you, And I call you and say “C’mere!”
And it’s bad news, baby I’m bad news I’m just bad news, bad news, bad news
And it’s bad news, baby it’s bad news It’s just bad news, bad news, bad news ‘Cause you’re just damage control For a walking corpse like me, Like you, ‘Cause we’ll all be portions for foxes. Yeah, we’ll all be portions for foxes.
There’s a pretty young thing in front of you And she’s real pretty, and she’s real into you And then she’s sleepin’ inside of you.
And the talking leads to touching, then the touching leads to sex And then there is no mystery left.
And it’s bad news. I don’t blame you, I do the same thing. I get lonely too. And you’re bad news; my friends tell me to leave you, That you’re bad news, bad news, bad news
You’re bad news, baby you’re bad news And you’re bad news, baby you’re bad news
And you’re bad news I don’t care, I like you And you’re bad news I don’t care, I like you I like you
Another one from SortaGinger – she can really work those meme generators like magic. I’ve never had my name on one 🙂
And the wonderful VwoopVwoop even drew me a picture. It’s going on my fridge. Once I can get a color ink printout to do it justice.
She even got the spotted one perfectly!
I feel very warm and fuzzy to have such lovely supportive friends. So many of you emailed me. It meant a lot. I never thought this could be a place where I could reach out and get that support.
I also had some great real-life friends reach out as best they could. Sometimes I don’t give them enough credit because I’m not forthright or honest about my mental-health 99% of the time. But that isn’t fair to them. They can’t be psychic.
I wish there was a code word I could give friends and family that meant “I’m feeling bad mentally and need you to just sit and talk with me about bullshit because I really don’t want to get into it and have you judge the shit out of me and how messed up I am but I’m scared of what I’ll do if I’m alone right now.”
A mouthful, huh?
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My codeword internally used to be “windchimes”.
Also, funny story, I was talking to USAA the other day (a financial company where I have a bank account and my car insurance) and their normal security check system was down, so they had to ask me for my “pass code”. I made this code over 5 years ago. I started freaking out because how the heck am I supposed to remember a code I never use that I made so many years ago.
Then the rep said “I can give you a hint”.
I asked for it and she replied “Danger”.
I laughed and said “windchimes”. The rep sort of chuckled and was like “That’s a strange association”. I agreed. But I know what it means. It’s hardwired into me.
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Ahem. That was a big tangent.
The point is, I’m doing better. Not completely well, but better. And I’m so thankful to all of you.
Edit: I’ve had some very lovely and sweet blog friends/supporters suggest the idea of emailing me to distract and cheer me up. I think it’s such a lovely idea. You guys do such a great job in the comments, but I feel like it always stops so abruptly after the reply.
If you feel so inclined (absolutely no pressure) to drop me a caring, funny, insightful thought or pictures, my email is kneargarder@gmail.com . Any distraction helps.
pen, paper, and crazy 