Saturday, September 17, 2011

Peace the fuck out, Portland

Off to California, kiddos. There will be lots of burritos and In n Out. Hot Pants will be meeting, well, everyone. There will be beach time. And most of all? There will be vacation!

Don't miss me too much (like I ever post anymore anyway)

Thursday, September 15, 2011


I live across the hall from the college guys. I have yet to befried these young dudes, but my roommate has been in their apartment (being the former manager) and can attest to their typical college male style.

The other day, I got home from work as I always do, and walk down the long driveway from my car to the front door of our apartment building.

Said guys are gathered on their balcony, which is just above and slightly left of the front door. Meaning I feel like I'm walking under the peanut gallery itself.

As I walk, they're elbowing each other and issuing calls of, "DAMN! She got some long ass legs!" And "AW YEAH!"

As if they worked in construction instead of paying good tuition for a higher education.

It immediately reminded me of this:

One of TV's most brilliant moments to be sure, mostly because it's so true. SO TRUE.

Back to the story, what's a girl to do but point out the obvious?

"I can hear you," I said to the balcony without making eye contact. To which they scattered like roaches in a kitchen.

Sigh. I fear for the next generation.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011


You may have noticed that I've been having some anxiety lately. I haven't been totally happy and I've come to think that's my fault because I've let go many of the things that make me happy. Amateur move right there.

So it's been a slow crawl into crazy town, lemme tell ya.

For one, I'm not in therapy anymore so it's not like I have a coach in my corner keeping an eye out for any stumbles. Not that I want to need a therapist for the rest of my life, but I was maybe not ready to lose that help. When I was in therapy, I was doing great! I was making progress and healing and learning and growing. I had cut my visits down dramatically. Also, I used to take anti-anxiety drugs (more on that in a minute), which my therapist helped me taper off of. By the time I moved to Portland, she was confident I'd be fine.

Except I didn't keep up all the good skills I learned there. I wasn't nurturing myself. I wasn't continuing my personal growth at all. And my anxiety just popped right back up.

I have to say it was a bad sort of manic feeling. Not manic exactly, because I wasn't swinging from the rafters one minute and then hanging myself from them the next (sorry to make light of that). But my anxiety episodes would feel sort of manic, like out of control. Once I felt it, I couldn't stop it. And the more I tried to stop it, the worse it got.

I'm positive, too, that a lot of this is due to once again putting my heart on the line and really letting myself fall. Now, we can't blame any of this on him, because he is a fucking trooper for dealing with my array of shit and I wouldn't blame him if he ran the other fucking direction, leaving flaming tracks in his wake. But he seems to love me, so he pushes back. Which, in the moment, makes me feel awful, but in truth, is probably good.

Nonetheless, heart outage is scary yo. And he'll meet my family in like two weeks which is MAJOR scary. Not that I'm worried they won't like him, because they will and even if they didn't, I wouldn't care. It's mostly that I just want things to go smoothly, but also because this is a big deal. Big. For me, anyway.

So yeah, I can't believe I didn't see all that anxiety coming and that I was arrogant enough to think I could just manage it on my own.

And yeah, the drugs. Xanax helped me in the past. A lot. I could never take a full dose anyway, because I felt like a damn zombie. Plus I never wanted to stay on it because, HELLO! my mother is a prescription drug addict and putting chemicals into my body for extended periods of times scares me more than I can express. But I haven't taken any in almost two years and I was doing splendidly.

Until personal demons and twelve o'clock!


And I've been acting irrationally for absolutely no good reason and out of the damn blue. Well, not totally out of the blue. There's always a trigger, but it's never anything to get worked up over. The real me would just get annoyed and then decide whether it's worth worrying about or just letting go. I'm a big fan of letting things go because life is just too damn short and I spend enough of it worrying anyway.

But last night, I was a crazy bitch. I flipped out on Hot Pants because he fell asleep. Yup. Criminal right? Sleeping is bullshit. How dare he. Sarcasm font.

I can't believe he didn't dump my ass right then. Who needs a crazy bitch flipping out on them for stupid shit? Nobody, that's who. But he didn't.

And I didn't see it right away, but after an insomniac night of sort of loathing myself and wondering if I'd gone off the deep end (Which I'm told is a sign of sanity. Crazy people never wonder if they're crazy right?), I sort of had enough. It wasn't quite an epiphany, but more of a feeling of being fed up with my own behavior.

So I called my old therapist today (lard love her) and had a long talk about everything and she reminded me about what I used to do to find outlets and feel happy and creative and nurture myself. She also talked me into trying some herbal remedies that have worked for some of her other patients for controlling anxiety and mood. So I'm gonna try that. Everyone cross your fingers.

Plus, I'm getting benefits at Le Job and so I'm going to find a new therapist ASAP.

And of course I apologized to Hot Pants and he forgave me, like the awesome guy he is. I only hope he acts crazy one day so I can return the favor. Wait, I take that back.

Monday, September 5, 2011


I am hypersensitive sometimes. Other times, I can let things roll off my back. You won't know which times are which.

I don't take criticism well when it's about a personal matter. I always end up feeling attacked and demeaned and sometimes rejected. It's stupid, but don't tell me that. If you must point out a shortcoming, please do it as gently as possible.

I can be a great listener and a good shoulder to cry on. That said, I can also be insensitive when it matter most. I sometimes don't know when to do which.

THAT said, once you're in my circle of those I love, I'll defend you no matter what. I'm fiercely protective of my loved ones.

There is a good chance I'm actually crazy. My mom is batshit, so who knows. It's my biggest fear and when I start acting irrationally, I hate myself so much that I make it worse.

When I feel confident about something or in a situation, though, watch out. I'll kick ass and take names. And then I'll make myself a huge gold star and hang it where everyone can see how awesome I was. Because I need that kind of validation. 

I require a lot of sex. When I haven't orgasmed in a while, I get really unpleasant.

I miss therapy. It was the most functional time of my life.

I am happiest and kindest and most reasonable when I have creative outlets. When I have no time to express myself artistically in some way, I become very unpleasant.

I can be antisocial. By this I mean that I can be social up to a point, then I need down time to recharge.

I am more afraid of hurting feelings than being dishonest.

I'd rather make other people happy than myself. But then I often don't give myself permission to be happy enough.

I have a perfection complex. Don't worry, not about you. You can be as imperfect as you'll allow yourself. But I can't allow myself that. I have a hard time accepting when I fall short. Which is often.

I'm brilliant about a lot of things. I have a sharp mind. I excel in many areas and I absorb new knowledge with unparalleled pleasure. 

But then sometimes I come close to retardation when put on the spot. I'll have no idea what to say and completely shut down. Like a little child. It's ridiculous. I hate that about myself.

And if someone talks to me like I'm stupid or tells me I'm dumb, I'll be deeply wounded. Because smart is the one thing I need to be.

I'd rather live in pain than take a bunch of pills.

That said, I'm a wuss. I hate being in pain.

I want a baby. I may not be able to have a baby. I also might be a horrible mother. But I want a baby. I promise not to start stealing babies. Promise. I'm not THAT crazy.

I often write blog posts that I never publish because I'm afraid of hurting feelings. They just sit in the queue, collecting dust. It's sad, really.

Being vulnerable is hard for me. If I do let my guard down, please be kind. It's not gone well for me in the past and each time I get hurt, I build the armor up more. Pretty soon, no one will get in. Not even me.

I like the word fuck. A lot.

I hate the phrase, "a lot." Yet I use it improperly all the time. This is why I hate vernacular.

I am a lifelong insomniac. Yet I require lots of sleep to function. This is another thing that makes me feel like a crazy person.

I miss smoking. A lot. But I cannot start again (why the fuck does everyone in Portland smoke?). It's not easy.

I feel like a doormat so much of the time, but when I stand up for what I want, I feel like I'm unreasonable and demanding. Guess I can't win that one.

I hate when I gain weight, but love food too much to really do anything about it. I have the potential to become really huge I tell ya.

Therefore, I really need to start dancing and running again. I guarantee I'll be a nicer person then too.

I hate this blog sometimes. Hate it.

I really need a break from myself.
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