Monday, June 27, 2011

Getting to Know You Questions


My grandmother with my original name. I named myself when I was adopted at 14.

Last night

It's ok



Probably not

I should use it a bit less,.


Yes, I have sky dived before

Oh's or Cookie Crisp

Not normally


Rocky Road

Their personality.


That I have a hard time expressing my feelings



Im currently barefoot

A bowl of berries with some Greek yogurt

The Protector


Fresh cut grass, rain, my husband


Beach house





Comfort foods. Mashed potatoes, pastas, mac n cheese.

Happy Endings

True Grit



Hugs from friends, Kisses from husband

Dark chocolate m&ms. Cupcakes.



Putting Away Childish Things











Sunday, June 26, 2011

Arms of An Angel

Spend all your time waiting for that second chance 
For the break that will make it ok
There's always some reason to feel not good enough 
And it's hard at the end of the day 
I need some distraction oh beautiful release 
Memories seep from my veins 
They may be empty and weightless and maybe 
I'll find some peace tonight 

In the arms of an Angel fly away from here 
From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear 
You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie 
You're in the arms of an Angel; may you find some comfort here 

So tired of the straight line, and everywhere you turn 
There's vultures and thieves at your back 
The storm keeps on twisting, you keep on building the lies 
That you make up for all that you lack 
It don't make no difference, escaping one last time 
It's easier to believe 
In this sweet madness, oh this glorious sadness 
That brings me to my knees 

In the arms of an Angel far away from here 
From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear 
You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie 
In the arms of an Angel; may you find some comfort here 

You're in the arms of an Angel; may you find some comfort here 

What can I do for you?

Since I am so self absorbed let me list some of the things I have done for people in the last year:

-    Babysit. I have babysat over a dozen children. Sometimes last minute. Sometimes for date night. Sometimes for days at a time. I have received zero dollars for this. A rough estimate that I just did was over 200 hours of babysitting. I have never received a gift card, a dinner, a thank you card, or even a dollar for this. I have dropped everything for many families and done this.

-    Errands. I have picked up medication, mail, packages, groceries as well as many other random items for people. Picked kids up, taken them to appointments, taken animals to appointments, picked kids up from daycare/school, watched them for parents etc. Again, nothing in return. (Except a friend recently who bought me Starcbucks J )

-    Animal sitting. I have pet sit four dogs, two cats and a fish. Some for really long periods of time. Again, nothing in return.

-    Taken care of sick friends/children. Constantly. Picked up people from docs/dentist/ sat with them at doc/dentist/er.

-    Cooked meals for people when they were sick.

-     Taken family photo shoots.

-    Picked people up and transported them while their vehicles broken/at repair shops.

-    Opened my home and car to people for long periods of time who had nowhere else to go.

-    Loaned hundreds of dollars out to friends in need.

-    Paid utility bills for friends who couldn't afford them.

-    Bought groceries for a friend who couldn't afford them at the time.

-    Write letters to companies

-     Proof papers for college

-    Do projects/papers

-    Make phone calls

This list could go on and on for days. In short I have spent countless hours giving to people. And I don't even get a phone call in return. One family specifically I feel betrayed by. I was there and did so much during the deployment for them and then bam, husband's home and I am written off. I want to be clear. I have never ever asked for anything in return, charged anyone, nor do I want to. I am simply stating that for being a self absorbed person I sure seem to do a LOT for other people.

I feel completely used and betrayed right now. I have some dental work that needs done but has to wait until KC comes home. Because, there isn't anyone I can ask to pick me up that I would trust would actually be there. People make appointments all the time and AFTER they make the appointment call and expect me to be there. If I do that everyone is busy and there has been twice this deployment when the car has needed timely repairs and I have sat at the repair shop for over eight hours because the people who were supposed to pick me up "forgot and made other plans". There is a medical procedure they wanted me to get done for the past six months, but yeah, I need a ride afterwards. I am the first person people call because I am reliable and I don't have kids, but God forbid I need something in return.

I stopped asking because I was tired of being told no. I stopped asking because I was tired of being reminded how low on everyone's list I am. And the few times I have had someone do something for me it ended up with me feeling like shit for asking, being told what an inconvenience I am, etc. I can do it myself or it won't get done. That is how I am now and that is not changing. I will never again open up or rely on anyone. Ever.

People fail. I get that. But I am tired of people failing me. I do everything in my power not to fail other people but I am not on that list for anyone else.

So, now I don't ask for help. If I don't ask I wont get turned down.

Now, I don't invite people to anything. Why, if I don't invite them they wont make excuses not to come.

I received an email recently from a new friend who told me she didn't understand why I thought I was so negative, I had never been negative around her and she always had fun when I am around. This is because I make surface friends, I go, have fun, laugh and appear happy. Because, I can, for short periods of time have fun and be happy. I can enjoy my time with people, and I do. I am not a debby downer at events and dramatic, and depressed like I am on my blog. She didn't get the difference between my blog posts and my in person personality.

The difference is, my blog is my deep down feelings. How I perceive things, how I think about things, what I feel. Things I don't feel confident or ballsy enough to bring t the table in real life. And I acted the way I feel no one would want to hang out with me, and I really can enjoy moments and I do. I do have fun, I do laugh, I just don't get too close.

Then I go home. And I am stuck with my insecurities and failures staring me in the face.

Someday I will grow more balls and be able to face the one thing that I wish I could face. But until then this is it.

and I feel faceless... like a vessel to be used.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Self Absorbed.

Hello! Maybe I am "self absorbed" because all that I have had for TWELVE months is MYSELF. No phone calls. Do you know how much I would have LOVED for someone/anyone to have just called for no other reason than to check on me, or say they love me, or say they were thinking of me? NO ONE has done that this year. NO ONE. Not a single friend or relative. It has always been another reason for calling. I didn't get any letters, cards, emails, or phone calls just to see how I am doing. Because I am that damn strong.

So don't even tell me I am self absorbed right now. I have been forced to be self absorbed. All I do is do for other people. Period. Cook them meals, get their mail, pet sit, babysit, housesit, help with homework/housework/errands, etc etc. Do you know how RARE it is that someone wants to hang out JUST TO HANG OUT? But I continue to bend over backwards for every damn person in my physical life. To the point where I wasn't doing my things. I wasn't eating right, I wasn't sleeping, I wasn't cleaning, I wasn't taking care of myself because every second of everyday was taking care of someone else.

I take damn good care of my husband. His needs ALWAYS come first. Always. That will never change. His emotional and physical needs. But when he deployed I lost my confidant. This entire deployment I have had NO ONE, I mean NO one to talk to about whats going on in my life. My best friend has issues going on and I don't want to bug her with my things, my husband is in Afghanistan and I cant bug him with it. Who does that leave? No one. No one that I could go to with everything going on.

Lets pretend for a second that getting a counselor is easy… which after trying FIVE FUCKING TIMES, it is not. It is incredibly difficult unless I want to pay hundreds of dollars out of pocket, even if I did and was able I would spend most of the sessions just catching the counselor up in everything, before even getting to the present. And that is a pain in the ass and not something I feel like doing. But you cant understand why/how I think the way I do now without knowing about the past.

And I don't live in the fucking past. To those of you who do not know me and who it is obvious don't know me, I don't. I live in the present and the future. For instance, I still to this day get told I am ugly. It is not a past issue, it is a current issue. How would you feel if you found out a group of soldiers were sitting around talking about the wives in the unit and ranked them on physical appearance and you came in last, or a soldier came over and pointed to a photo on your wall and said, "Wow, you used to be pretty what happened?"

The present right now? Sucks for me. I have no one. That has not changed. I still don't have a loving family, and I didn't marry into one either. Its obvious they love my husband and tolerate me. But when your husband is deployed for a year and no one checks on you, no one cares enough to call, no one bothers to take a minute out of their day, actions speak louder than words.

Case in point: Volunteer of the quarter award. I went in, got it awarded to me and left. No pictures, no friends, no one there for me. Even though Ive been there for dozens of people, no one could bother to come support me in getting that. Not that Im surprised.

I am not living in the past, I am living in the present. And I tried and tried and tried to change it and change my life over the years. And there were times when I felt like I had, there were times I felt like I had a support group and love in my life, and for short periods of time felt like maybe I was lovable.

The one thing I learned this deployment is that I am not lovable and I was stupid to ever think otherwise. I will never have a support group that cares, all I will ever have is disposable, people who find me disposable, as long as they need me they will be in my life but as soon as they don't they will be gone.

I love my husband dearly, but there are many many occasions where I feel it is one sided.

And, to end this rant, lately, it is all I can do to just survive life. I cant give any more energy to it. I don't have any left to give. I just go, day by day, until the day God, or whoever the hell is out there, decides its my last day.

Because, frankly, if you don't have that love in your life, you don't have a reason to enjoy it.

No children, no family, and a husband who has his own issues knowing how to love and how to accept people. Yeah, Im on the right track.


Friday, June 24, 2011

My Form of Patriotism

*I took this photo. Please do not steal it. 

I was born in America. For that, I am eternally grateful. See, many things did not go right in my life. I was born addicted to cocaine, to a drug addicted prostitute. I was abused brutally by my parents and put into the foster care system. I bounced around like a basket ball, one home to another. Abused more in the homes, unwanted, unloved. But alive.

I love my country.

Had I been born in China or Russia, or many other countries, the outcome would have been very different. I would have been cast aside, or never removed from the home. A female child, with little rights. I could have remained with my father and instead of stabbed, raped and set on fire, I could have been killed, and no one would have cared. I could have been thrown into an orphanage, discarded by society, and starved to death. I could have been traded into the sex slave industry. I could have been. But I wasn’t.

I love my country.

I wasn’t because I was born an American. I was born free. Regardless of my childhood, regardless of the parents I was born to, I was born American. That, was, my saving grace. As an American I was given the opportunity to seize the bull by the horn and make something of myself. I was given the resources to succeed, 

I was given a choice.

I love my country.

In America, no matter where you have come from in your life, the choice of where to go from there is yours. 
You can, with the right mental attitude and courage, become anything you want. You can as an American citizen, use the resources our Great Nation offers, to pull yourself up from your bootstraps and raise above your birth circumstances. Because, as an American, you matter. Human life is valued, regardless of race or gender.

I love my country.

Some people say I have an abundance of patriotism. Sure, my husband is a soldier in the United States Army, fighting overseas. I support him, and our troops. But, it is so much more than that. My patriotism is because I owe my life to the country I was born in. A country, that gave me food, education, and rights. A country that, did not devalue me because of my gender, did not give up on me because of who my parents were or what they did, a country that supported my dreams and hopes, because I belonged to them.

I love my country.

God gave me a great blessing having been born in America, on American soil. A blessing that cannot be overlooked. Patriotism to me, is not blindly supporting the government. Government is made of men, and men fail. Patriotism is questioning the government, challenging the elected officials to better our country, fighting to keep the ideals and freedoms of America strong. Patriotism is not waving a flag, or pasting a yellow magnet on a car. It is about being grateful to a Nation that has done so much for me, and who has given me the opportunities I wouldn’t have without my birthright.

Patriotism is about the brotherhood that is formed when service members sign the dotted line, it is about the bonds formed by families who say goodbye to their loved ones not knowing if they will be returning, it is about buying American made products, American grown produce, it is about putting my money, time, and effort back into the community that has given me life. Patriotism is about knowing how lucky you are to be from the land of the Red, White and Blue.

I love my country.

When the National Anthem plays, tears are brought to my eyes. I remember where I came from and where I am. I remember our dear friends who have died serving our great Nation. I remember the opportunity afforded to me, by my birth. When the National Anthem plays, my heart and spirit swells in pride.

Because, I am free. I am an American. 

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Ageism- A Random Vent

Recently I have been infuriated by the ageism that exists in this country. To the point where I actually blew up at a furniture store, something I never ever do. I am 28 years old, considered young. But my life experience is not that of the normal twenty eight year old. Regardless of life experience, to judge a person based on their age is ridiculous. We are a nation that does not tolerate racism or sexism, but ageism is ok?

A friend and I have been furniture shopping lately. Furniture shopping is not something I do for the hell of it. We noticed that in the over a dozen stores that we have gone into, we get horrible, or no customer service. I have literally almost ran into a store employee and they didn't say a word, just sidestepped. I have looked at a sectional an employee was sitting on gossiping with another employee, a sectional mind you that I had the go ahead from my husband to purchase, but did not because of the treatment of the employee. I said, "I'm sorry if I am in your way" when he got off the sectional and walked around me, and his response, "Its fine." In a huffy tone. Did he offer to help, to give information? No.

Then there was the time we walked into a store, three men standing there, didn't say hello, welcome, nothing. But the couple who walked in, literally two steps behind us, in their forties, "Can we get you some water? Some soda? What are you looking for today?" As my friend and I look over our shoulders in shock. Really? When both of us have thousands of dollars we intend to spend on furniture? We didn't go shopping in sweats. I had on a dress, my hair done, makeup on. We were clean, well dressed, and ready to buy.

Same friend and I on another day go to a nice restaurant. We get HORRIBLE, I mean, the server should have been fired, service. Because, again, we are young, so surely we aren't going to spend much. Right? Wrong! We spent over $100! Yet, because of our age, we were treated poorly. I am nice, respectful and very sweet to those in the service orientated industry. Yet again, the couple in the booth next to us, in their 50's. They received excellent service. In fact, our waiter would stand there talking to them for ten minutes, walk by us without a glance. The glasses there were shorter than most and I finished my diet coke with my salad. It was not refilled, ever, not one time. Nor was my water. I finished my meal thirsty, not for lack of asking either. The busboy treated us awesome, the waiter, horribly. This is not the first, nor will it be the last time.

I am getting increasingly more angry with ageism. The problem here folks, is that my generation is not the generation of the 50's and 60's. Our generation has gone through so much. Traditional families are no longer involved. Most of us came from broken homes, the number of divorces, multiple marriages, child abuse, and single parents is overwhelming. Many of us came from hard childhoods. Many of us know what poverty feels like. Many of us grew up with violence, sex and drugs as the norm. We are survivors. We didn't have the two parent fantasy tv land, Nick at Night special homes. We fought for everything we have. Many of us have worked from childhood and know what it is like to struggle. We aren't a spoiled generation that has had everything handed to us.

Our generation has been at war for the last decade. I suppose, if you are young, you have no life experience, so the one, two, three or more deployments that millions of young Americans have been on do not count for anything either, because, you know, being young, means you don't know what it is like to live, to suffer, to survive yet.

Hell, what do we know?

We know more at our young ages then the generations before us knew when they were in their 40's. We have more life experience, more maturity, more experiences overall then some people in their 80s will ever have. We are a generation where sex is not for the marriage bed, a generation where drugs are not taboo, a generation where violence is an everyday experience. We are a generation that has lived through death, destruction, and pain.

We know what it is to value things because we have gone without. We know what it is like to love, because we have felt the pain of loss. We know how to appreciate life because we have seen it taken too often.

Don't judge a person by their age. I spoke to an elderly lady the other day who told me she couldn't understand how we do it. We are a new breed. What we have had to go throw as children and teenagers she never had to go through in her entire life.

We purchase cars, we buy homes, and we buy furniture. Yes, in our twenties.

Newsflash: My money is just as good as anyone else's. And if you are a waiter or working retail, how are you any better than me? (Ive had both jobs I am not putting them down), come on, stop snubbing your nose at youth and start treating them like they should be treated.

I don't care what a person's physical age is. How they act should be the only indicator of the service they receive. Respect begets respect.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

All You Have Is Yourself

I wrote this blog about eight weeks ago. For the past eight weeks I have tried to put myself out there. I have tried to be active, to be on the go, to be social. I have tried to open myself up, I have tried to make and develop friendships. I have. But I have a hard time with these walls, a hard time letting down enough to develop real meaningful relationships. As I sit here tonight, Ive cried my eyes out, I have screamed, I have felt numb. But mainly, I have felt completely and utterly alone. So alone, that I am not sure if there is such a thing as being more alone. I feel... lost, empty, and alone. I dont feel connected to anyone out there. And as much as it pains me to say it, maybe it is my cross to bare to be alone. Maybe the people that are forced to be in my life simply need to be cut free so they can do their thing without debbie downer bringing negativity into their lives. Maybe, people can stop pretending, stop acting the way they should and saying what they feel I need to or I want to hear from them. Maybe Ill stop being a pity invite, or a last minute call because "they should". I dont want that. Maybe my husband is better off without me, to find a real woman who is loveable and a good person to be his wife and the mother of his children, a task I am not capable of doing. Maybe, just maybe it makes sense. All I know is that I dont want to talk to, see or be around anyone for awhile. Just, leave me alone, everyones so damn good at that anyway. 
Lately I have spent more and more time alone. It takes so much energy to be social and one thing I don’t have is energy. This deployment has been the worst. You know why? Because I don’t have a support system. 

Sure I have lots of comments and emails on facebook, but can I tell you actions speak louder than words? I had a friend who I pretty much did everything with then her husband came home and I have seen her pretty much disappear since then. It sucked because I felt like I was there for her during his deployment and Im left fending for myself. My best friend has her husband here and a child to care for and I don’t like forcing myself on them.  More so, I am sort of pissed off at the “we love you” and “we care about you” crap I see online. Its bullshit. Why do I say this? Because I have received two phone calls this deployment checking to see how I am, from my husband’s grandmother. No one else has called just to say, “Hey how are you doing?” I am a passing thought on facebook, a comment on a newsfeed. No one really gives a shit. It’s so easy to say that they care on a facebook post. But you know what? I don’t believe it. Why? My phone is silent.

When my phone rings it’s always because someone wants something and then as a passing thought, “So how are you anyway?” Almost like they feel they have to say that. No one, not even my father in law, has called to check on me and see how I am doing. Ever.  Let me tell you how many times in ten months someone has called to  check on me, to see if I needed anything… or better yet let me tell you about Thanksgiving. If my best friend hadn’t pcsed here from Washington State and my husband’s cousin hadn’t come to Colorado to ski, I would have been completely alone again. And, his cousin didn’t come to see me, he came to ski, which I totally understand, we had never even met before. But the thought that I would have been as alone as I was in college, made me sad. No one here thought even once to include or invite me over, the same for Christmas. 

I spent most of Christmas day crying. I don’t have a home to go to, fine, I get that, it wasn’t my first Christmas alone.  But waking up alone on Christmas morning to an empty house, feeling out of place at a Christmas dinner that you wonder if it was a pity invite, and then coming back to an empty house, especially knowing the children you would have had if the pregnancies hadn’t, if YOU hadn’t failed. Or wanting, just wanting someone to love you enough to call and wish you a Merry Christmas… because with all the “love” I receive on facebook, I received a couple text messages that day. Know what I wouldn’t have given to just have someone call and say “Im thinking of you, Merry Christmas?” It might have made me felt not so alone in this world.

You know, I spent the last couple years calling everyone, making the rounds so to speak, but this year I thought, what’s the point? I interrupt their family gatherings and if they really care they will call. But, my phone was silent. Just to make sure I wasn’t imagining things I went back to my phone record and did a screen capture. Guess, what, my husband was the only person to call me on Christmas. Imagine that. Not a single “loving” family member or friend called me to wish me a Merry Christmas. While my husband was deployed. 

While I sat alone in my big house, that I am so thankful for, but that feels bigger when empty. Everyone knows I don’t have a family, everyone knows I don’t have parents. Its not a big deep dark secret, there is no “home” to go to during the holidays. But how many of these “we care about you” and “we hurt when you hurt” people decided that they could take two seconds out of their day and call and wish me a Merry Christmas or even see if Im ok, knowing I was all alone? None. Not a single one. Not a single “family” member called me.

Yeah, Im a horrible, terrible person who does nothing for anyone else. I am selfish. I am mean. Obviously. 

Because I mean, what other reason would there be for a person to be alone so often. To have such a hard 
time making friends, or maintaining friendships? It couldn’t be that I cant trust anyone. That I get rejected easily. That my personality isn’t conducive to interpersonal relationships. Yeah, lately Ive been negative a lot. I own that. But even when I was positive it wasn’t good enough. I wouldn’t want to be around me either. But if you don’t want to be around me, don’t, don’t give me lip service on facebook.  Actions speak louder than words. So many so called Christians in my life who preach Christian love, and showing the love of Christ. Right. That happens.

Take a look at my phone bill from Christmas and ask me again why I think Im unlovable. I fucking dare you. 

It’s black and white. Here it is:

Did my father in law, who calls “everyone” on the holidays call me? No. He did not. It was funny listening to his brother tell me how he never misses a holiday or a birthday and he calls everyone when we went to Missouri in April. Yet, his daughter in law is sitting along in her house Christmas morning, hugging her knees to her stomach, crying her eyes out, and her phone doesn’t ring. Not that it should be a surprise to anyone. My husband’s parents don’t love me; they tolerate me because I am married to their son. I have no doubt that is the case. I wasn’t invited to visit them during this deployment and in all the years weve been married, even when they visited his sister an hour away from us, twice, they’ve never been to our home. And in fact, his sister bragged to us after one visit about how they didn’t even ask about us, not once, nor did they suggest we drive up for lunch. We were one hour away, my husband hadn’t seen his dad in four years, and we don’t even get a lunch/dinner invite. Hell, we would have made dinner if they had come to us, but no, we find out after the fact that they were even there.

Oh and let me tell you out of the dozens of people that I have dropped everything for, babysat for, paid bills for, ran errands for, took care of sick pets and kids, helped with schoolwork, I could go on and on, locally how many of them invited me to Christmas dinner. Yep. You guessed it. Oh, I got two very last minute, pity, if you don’t have anywhere else to go… x, y, z. The, I don’t really want you to come but I am going to ask anyway just because it’s the right thing to do, afterthought, invites. I am not stupid. I could tell by the tone of voice, by the words, “well if you don’t have anywhere else to go…” Not a, “What are you doing for Christmas? Wed love to have you come over.” Type of deal. Or, “I invited everyone so no one felt left out so if you want you can come too…” I don’t want pity invites. I want people to like me, people who claim to care about me, to invite me because they “love” me. But obviously, I am unlovable. I believe that with every core of my being.

What is the point? The point is for ten months I have been living alone while my husband is at war. And for ten months I have felt like the foster child I once was, just floating along, not belonging anywhere or to anyone. I have felt completely lost and all alone. While I see so many support groups that have formed, and people running off to visit families, and friendships that have merged, that hasn’t happened. And I know its my own damn fault. I cant put myself out there to be rejected like I have been, or misinterpreted, and perhaps because of my insecurities, my fears, my doubts, I sink my own boat before it has left the harbor, who knows. 

Or I leave myself out there for critique, lies and rumors to spread because I don’t get deep at a personal level, because people don’t know me, it makes it easy to put a target on my back. It was easy to target me and make me the bad guy when I wasn’t close to any one specific person and no one was there to defend me, or knew me well enough to say, no that’s not like her. You know, that’s ok. Im used to that with women.  Ive worn this target time and time again during this deployment, even when, in all honesty I had no idea what anyone was talking about or the situations they were implying.

Sometimes I try too hard, sometimes I don’t try enough. Sometimes I talk too much. Sometimes I don’t talk enough. Sometimes…

Well in the last five months I stopped caring. I stopped talking to people. I stopped hanging out. Not like anyone noticed, or cared. But I did. And being alone has been the best thing for me. Because I don’t get hurt. If I don’t love, I don’t have to be punched in the gut when I am reminded, as I have been for twenty eight years, that I am not loveable.

I take responsibility for my actions. I am not the most socially graceful person. I don’t always have a filter with what comes out of my mouth. But some of what has said about me, not only is it absolutely untrue, its extremely hurtful. I am not a spiteful person. I am not a mean person. I don’t ever do anything to hurt people, never ever on purpose. If I screw up I am the first one to admit it. I am very aware of my actions and words and sometimes, it doesn’t come out right, but the intention was there and I try so hard to make up for it when I do say or do incentive things. I care damnit, too much about people. And while I understand I suck at life and I am not fun to be around, I accept that. Because when I am positive about things, people say Im fake, and when Im negative people say Im a Debbie Downer. I cant win. No matter what. When I just am myself.
I talk too much as a defense mechanism. It’s part of my wall.

Hands down I was used this deployment. I did things for so many people, gave time, energy, money and effort. But in return I got nothing back. Not that I am surprised. I mean, I don’t ask for anything so how would I get anything? But a thank you, or a “how are you” would have been nice. Someone to care enough to ask how I am doing.

So here is where I am right now. I don’t cry in front of people. I don’t do it. Ask my best friend, the number of times she has seen me cry and Im pretty sure it was twice. Once when my adopted mother had a stroke while on the phone with me and once when my dog was almost killed in an attack. And even that second time was extremely private. I don’t cry in front of people.

But I do alone.

And for the last week I have spent the better part of everyday crying. I know I am unlovable. Know it. There is nothing anyone will ever say or can say to make me think otherwise. Im ok with that. Its my fate, my cross to bear. But I love others, sometimes too much and too intensely and I love those who don’t deserve my love and I care about people who don’t care about me back. So what ends up happening in the end when they don’t care back? I hurt, I cry, I feel ashamed.

When Brian died I felt like my heart was ripped from my chest. I swore I would never love anyone that much ever again. Then, the car accident happened. I don’t talk about it, I don’t talk about them. I cant. It hurts too much. In one breathe. Every good friend, I had on the planet died. How do you love again after that? How do you turn around after feeling such loss in your life. Your parents. Dead. Your best friend, I swear if Brian had asked me to marry him, I would have, dead. Your three best girlfriends, friends you had for years, the ones you would give your life for, dead. And you survive. I don’t want to get into the guilt or asking why, or wondering how many times you have died and they brought you back, why do they bring you back? Why do you have to call an old roommate to pick you up from the hospital after a damn coma because you have no one else. I went through all of that alone. Completely. And I survived. I survived. And I kept moving forward. One foot in front of each other. I went through physical therapy alone. I drove across country alone. I started a new job. I made a new life. No one missed me from my old one.

I get the phone goes both ways. I get emails do as well. And they did, and I did. I cant tell you the number of emails or texts or calls Ive made that have gone unanswered. Its fine. I get the point. I am not a stupid, na├»ve, ten year old who is going to beg someone to be her friend. Actions speak louder then words. And in the last five months Ive realized its better to be alone, it’s a place I know, its something I can cope with way better than loss, way better than being stabbed in the back, or having to grieve, or feeling disappointed when people don’t like me the way they like other people.

My walls are protection. They are what keeps me from going from a mild hurt to a devastating hurt. I cant let them down, because I am absolutely convinced if they crumbled, so would I. That means that I cant accept love, love to me isn’t real. It isn’t an emotion that exists. I sometimes feel like I am Gods pain project, to see how much emotional pain a person can endure in one lifetime. He has done a good job inflicting it. Death, torture, rape, loss of babies, hell Im right on my way. Too bad pains not measurable. Id have like a medal or something, it’s about the only thing I do right and consistently in this life.

So, I guess the point of this? Fuck off with your fake and empty words of concern, care and “love.” Check out the Christmas phone picture. Love, right. I have abundance of that in my life.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011


I have been working hard at trying to be more positive. I finally got a medication that works for sleep but doesn’t make me crazy like the ambien did. It’s actually an old anti-depressant that they don’t use for that anymore, but they use it for sleep because the old ones had a tranquilizing property to them. Anyway, it’s working. Im sleeping good and not having the weird drugged feeling afterwards. Sleep can make all the difference.

I started to try to get out again. I haven’t done anything big, but I did go to a Scentsy party and two bbqs. 

The thing is, I really have a hard time relaxing at events. I am always on guard, my walls up and reinforced, in addition I constantly wonder if Im doing ok. Am I talking too much? Am I being too pushy? Do they like me? 
I concentrate so much on what Im doing, what Im saying that I don’t really relax enough to enjoy the event, or to let them know the real me. Im too scared to open up, not after this year. I cant do it.

I was glad I got out and got around people. It was nice to just have that energy around me.  I love babies and toddlers, they make me laugh and I know they aren’t judging me or analyzing my behavior (although others probably aren’t nearly as much as I do it to myself) so I really enjoyed holding the babies and snuggling. It’s such a natural feeling. I don’t even mind changing poopy diapers, at all. It doesn’t bother or hinder me one bit. 
I think people are confused when I just change their child but they always seem happy that I did, lol.

So just wanted to say Ive been trying harder to be more social.