Did You Miss Me??

I haven’t been here in a while… I haven’t really felt inspired to bore anyone with the details of my life.  The details haven’t been worthy of writing about anyway.

I survived Christmas.  I guess that’s a victory.  I can’t say that I wanted to, survive that is.  I’ve made a few promises to friends that if I ever feel suicidal I’ll talk to them.

Was I sincere when I made the promise? No.

I just wanted to make them feel better and promising was the easy way to move on.

That being said, I’m kinda big on promises.  I try my damnedest not to break them.

Lying in my bed on Christmas Eve, I flirted with my contingency plan, but thoughts of the promises kept surfacing, making their way up through the ocean of vodka I was trying to drown my feelings in.

First of all, would I call any of my friends on Christmas Eve (when they are happily celebrating with their friends and family) and tell them that I’m feeling suicidal?

Uuuuummmm fuck no.  I’m not a complete fuckweasel.

And offing yourself at Christmas is just too pathetic and cliché.

So I just got drunk.  I know, my coping powers are pretty goddamn amazing.

I also got a tattoo and my hair isn’t red anymore… my mental condition can be measured by my tattoos and hair color changes… like some weird dysfunctional barometer.  It’s ok though, I love the new tattoo and the hair doesn’t look awful.

I, honestly, think that I can thank (or blame) the camera for helping me survive 2013.

Last week someone asked why I choose the subjects that I do for my photography (abandonments, specifically)… I can relate to them… they’re rejected, unloved, forgotten, ignored, not as pretty as they used to be, no longer useful, haunted… just like me.  Maybe, together, the camera and I can save a little bit of these places, for posterity… and maybe, save me in the process??

I was asked “Why did you change your hair?”  My answer “I wanted to be someone different, maybe, eventually I’ll be someone that I like.”

It just occurred to me, that this time last year, I was in Georgia… seems like a lifetime ago…

And New Year’s Eve… fuck… I find it hard to get excited about a new year… I really wish that I could though.  It’s not like a have a dance card full of party invitations anyway… maybe I’ve been spending too much time in my hermit hole.

People say “You’ve got so many things to be happy about” and they’ll go so far as to enumerate them.  Perhaps in an attempt to guilt me out of depression… I mean, that’s a proven effective method, right?  But, I’m almost glad that people don’t understand… it means they haven’t lived it.

Can I Borrow Your Neuralyzer??

Friday night I was supposed to go out with BD…

BD, a lothario from my recent past.  If I believed in a god, I would tell you that god had blessed him immensely, we always have a good time, we have HOT sex and I genuinely like him.  Over the period of time that we’ve seen each other, he said he didn’t think he was ready for a “relationship”, which I interpreted as meaning that he just didn’t want to be in a relationship with ME.  Which didn’t surprise me, because, who does want to be with me??

Right? Only my cat and I really question her judgment.  She obviously makes bad decisions or she wouldn’t have ended up out on the streets in the first place.

But now…. BD tells me that I am the only girl he talks to and the he really wants to have a “relationship” with me.  That statement has progressed from “I want to try to give you what you need” to “I want a relationship with you”.

Friday night, however, didn’t happen.  He has a new job and has been working ridiculous hours and didn’t get off until late.  He still wanted to get together, but I offered a raincheck.  We decided we would have lunch on Sunday.

I ended up in the ER Sunday morning.

F M L.

He has continually checked on me…  I really want to see him.  But, not just for the sex that I sooooooooo badly need.  I want to kiss his dimples.  Is that fucked up? That is NOT me.  Maybe I had a stroke and I just don’t know it yet.

So that scares me… when I get scared, I end up running for the hills, screaming like a banshee, pulling my hair out and generally avoiding eye liner… all things bad for me and ridiculously unseductive.

I’m trying to be brave and I AM going to see him.

Someone that I love and respect madly told me that if I don’t at least try, he will be pissed at me… so, MG, I will try… I promise.

So, Friday night, I just hung around in my pjs, watched a few episodes of “The Dead Files” and felt kinda crappy, which came to an unexpected head Sunday morning.

Anyway, I get a text message from my EX sister-in-law that I’ve only spoken to a handful of times over the last 4 years.

I don’t dislike her, she and I always got along pretty well… but, with divorce and distance, those relationships fall to the wayside.  It’s ok.

The messages started out innocuously “Hey, how are you.”

Then progressed to “I wanted to talk to you about relationships”.

SAY WHAT?

I replied with “I’m not sure I’m the best person to discuss relationships with, you were witness to what a spectacular disaster my marriage was.”

But, just like every other person that wants to tell me things about their life that I don’t want to know, she is undeterred.

Her marriage is miserable, he ignores her, and she tries to think of excuses not to go home…

I suggest talking, counseling, trying to reconnect, etc…

Then she drops the mutherfucking atom bomb.

“There’s something else.”

“Okay.”

“I’m having an affair.”

Well slap my ass and call me Fanny… why in the holy hell would she feel compelled to tell me that?  That is the LAST thing that I wanted to know.

I AM THE GIRL THAT WAS CHEATED ON IN MY MARRIAGE.

I hate to judge people, I REALLY do and I try so goddamn hard not to… but sonofabitch!

THEN, she tells me who she’s fucking around with.  Thank the universe I don’t know him.

Did she want me to tell her that I think it’s ok?  I will not.  If you’re done with someone, grow some balls and end it… don’t be a fucking coward and sneak around like some common tramp.

I said that it is up to us to find our own happiness, but we shouldn’t destroy others in the process.  And in what reality am I the voice of reason??  I’m the screw-up, I’m the mess, I’m the fucking disaster on wheels….

AND… once you know something you can’t UN-know it.

Sonofa…

Now, fever, please vanquish ASAP!!

All Because of a Bunch of Nurses

Being inspired by a fellow blogger, I will endeavor to tell a couple of interesting stories from my life…

I’ve always kind of been a party girl.  In my high school days, wherever there was booze, weed and boys, I was there.  Yet, I still managed to graduate with honors, not get in trouble with the law or get pregnant.

But this was after I had grown up a little bit, graduated from nursing school and traveled to the largest city in my state to take my State Board examination.

There was a group of approximately 10 of us and we stayed at the most awesomely 70stastic hotel I had even been in (and it was long past the 70s) complete with orange shag carpet and green wall paper… it was glorious!!

We had decided to stay an extra night after our examinations were over, to celebrate.

We dressed up and headed down to the hotel bar, not wanting to have to worry about getting lost, cabs, etc not being too familiar with the area.

When we arrived at the bar it was pretty deserted and the vibe in the bar had just as strong of a 70s vibe as the rooms did, I loved it!  We pushed some tables together, sat down and ordered drinks.

At some point the cocktails turned into blow jobs (the shots, get your mind out of the gutter) and we were successfully doing them without hands.

After we were a few drinks in, The Carpenters came in to play for us.  Not really the Carpenters of course, but that’s what we called them, they were pretty terrible.  The waitress was dubbed Betty Sue, I’m sure she hated us and she had plenty of reason to.

As we were drinking and doing shots, we noticed the bar filling up with MEN, just MEN.  Man after man after man kept coming through the door.  And they were fucking good looking men and we were a table of 20-something nurses, already half lit.  So, of course they gravitated toward our table.

It turned out that there was a convention at the hotel of FIREFIGHTERS AND PARAMEDICS.  Oh yes my friends, you read that right.  There were firefighters and paramedics there from all over the world, with cameras and video cameras.  I distinctly recall one convention attendee videotaping the festivities and we all simultaneously shouting “WE’RE NURSES”… he was from Norway or someplace, I’m sure he seriously hoped he wouldn’t end up in an American hospital.

When I drink, I get ridiculous.  Ridiculously friendly and gregarious, I’m a happy drunk.

I became bored with the musical selections of the Carpenters, so I began singing a rousing, hillbilly-esque version of “You Shook Me All Night Long”.

Here’s something that I didn’t know about “You Shook Me All Night Long”, EVERYONE knows the lyrics!! So once I started, the hot guys took it up and soon we drowned out the Carpenters, I shot them a cheeky smile as they threw imaginary daggers at me.  IT WAS AWESOME.

Copious shots flowed over our table, the more we did, the more aggressive we became with the shot glasses, and several may have been broken, along with a few ashtrays…

I may have kissed a few boys that night; I wish I could remember their faces.

At the end of the evening, one of the girls in our group had only had one or two drinks (that was so not me) and she took our bar tab, did the calculations and gathered our money.  Now remember, I from a rural area, some people are very sheltered from the realities of the world, this light drinker was one… but I didn’t know how naïve (or stupid she truly was).

After the bar closed and nearly threw us out we made the long walk back to our rooms, accompanied by some hot guys…  There were some hot kisses in the hallway before we retired to our rooms.

Once we were alone in our rooms, still giggling about the events of the evening, Ms. Naïve says “Don’t worry about that waitress, I took care of her”.

I replied “That’s good, she deserved it.”

Ms. Naïve says “Yea, I tipped her $5”.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK???

Suddenly sober from the massive shame I felt, I jumped into my shoes, grabbed my purse and sprinted back to the bar, which I discovered was locked up tighter than Ft.Knox.

I felt like such an asshole.  Nurses probably do not have a good reputation in that hotel, all because of us.

Fuck Feelings

I hate insomnia, I really do.
You’d think that I’d get used to it, since I’ve had it my entire life, but no, it never gets any easier.
But what I hate having, infinitely more than insomnia… Are feelings.
Fuck feelings, they are assholes.
They’re just running around like a thousand little fuckweasels ruining lives and days. I swear on everything that’s holy if I ever catch one I’m grinding it into the sole of my shoe.
I’m really mad at myself.
I took my heart out of its little box, where it was completely safe and sound, and I pinned it right to my sleeve, like a huge dumbass.
Then what happened?
It got poked. And not poked in a good way.
So while my heart was out running around like it had just escaped Alcatraz, it grew… Or it simply got fat, but for the sake of my ego, I’ll say grew.
Now, no matter how hard I try I can’t stuff it back into it’s box.
Fucking awesome.
I have no choice now but to let it roam free, out there in the big ugly world getting poked, prodded, kicked, stepped on and getting gum stuck to it’s little heart shoes.
Each time it suffers an insult I get this hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach, tears well up behind my eyes and I find myself swallowing hard, mumbling about the allergies in the Ohio Valley, and biting the inside of my jaw to replace the pain.

Toss Out a Lifeline

Suicide prevention.

I came across a blog post that said October was National Suicide Prevention Month, then another one that said it was September.  I didn’t do a lot of research on the subject, because every day should be National Suicide Prevention Day.

I’m a suicide survivor.  Four years ago, I died… but my timing was off and I became a successful recipient of CPR.  It’s long ugly story that I’ve chronicled on another anonymous blog.  Maybe some day I’ll feel secure enough to share it, out in the open, I don’t know.

I’ve gone through periods of depression since the suicide, it’s part of my DNA now and I never responded favorably to medications, so I deal with it.

The thing that I’d like others to take away from my suicide is to PAY ATTENTION.  Pay attention to the people that you love.  If they are becoming withdrawn, if their appearance is changing and not for the better, if they seem to have no joy, if they are struggling with chronic headaches or GI issues, if something JUST DOESN’T SEEM RIGHT.

TALK TO THEM.  LET THEM KNOW YOU CARE.

Don’t just watch them circle the drain.  Don’t say “I’ll call her tomorrow”.  Don’t think “Everyone has blue days”.

If someone is serious about suicide, they will not reach out, they can’t, their mind is filled every single day with the thoughts that they should die.  I’m sure that it crosses everyone’s mind at some point; I believe that’s part of being human.  But for the suicidal, it’s an all consuming thought, permeating everything that they think and do.

I do remember, at one point, my thoughts frightened me, so I called a psychiatrist to make an appointment, I had to leave a voice mail and no one ever called me back.  In my mind that was some sort of a sick sign that I heeded.  Do I blame them for not calling me back? No, but they really should be more diligent.

I won’t write a diatribe about how I think mental health is the biggest crisis that our country is facing right now, but I’d like for everyone to think about it…

I still have issues with my own family and the subject of my suicide.  They’d prefer not to talk about it, act like it didn’t happen and they seem resentful when I mention my Rebirthday… it makes it harder to deal with… don’t do that to anyone.

What is the point of this post?

Don’t wait until it’s too late… if you see someone struggling, throw them a lifeline.

I’ve Discovered My Price…

Early this morning I received and email from The Boy That Broke My Heart (TBTBMH).  It was just a link to a song http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QuzDghzyVjk.

Nothing else, no other words, just the link.

I cried, I listened to it a couple of times, then went back to sleep.

What is this? Sincerity? An apology? A mind fuck?

I sent a very brief reply.  I cannot pursue him… but truth be told I want him, I want him back, I want him back right fucking now.

I honestly don’t know which of us is more fucked up… he is distant and introverted, I am obsessive and extroverted.

But, I swear, the way I felt when I was with him made it all worth it.

What do I do now?

FIRST, stop obsessing… HA!  I am not going to contact him; the ball is completely in his court.

DON’T LET ME CONTACT HIM.

SECOND, I’m not getting my hopes up.  He could have been having a moment.

THIRD, I’m taking a dating break.  Not because of TBTBMH, but because the more I date, the more I think that I’m dead inside… and I don’t want to feel that way.

Saturday, I drove over 200 miles for some photographic opportunities that were promised me by a man that I know.

TWO HUNDRED FUCKING MILES.

And guess what??  He did not deliver.  BUT, wanted me to spend the night…

I was mad and went home, even though I had enough driving to do me for the weekend.

Speaking of photography, I’ve sold a couple of prints and am booking a senior portrait photo session…

AND I’ve been offered some ridiculous money to shoot an… ummmm… well… an orgy.

I’m a single girl and I could seriously use the $$.  I know the couple that has initiated this, I know the things that they are into but I’m not completely sure that I know what I could be getting myself into.  If nothing else, it could make for a crazy interesting blog post, right???

And, apparently, I can be bought!!  Or rented anyway.

The Miserable Case of the Bipolar Bear

Guys who call themselves HOTT.

In my opinion they fall into one of two categories.

1. NOT HOtt at all.
2. Looks good on the outside, but , in actuality, a total sack of shit.

Guys that look good and call themselves HOTT are like an éclair… Looks so delicious until you bite into it and it’s filled with gag inducing cream.

I turned a guy down last night… a guy who was only too happy to talk about his career as an attorney, his “lifestyle” that I’d LOVE and the fact that he was too HOTT to be on a dating site.

First of all… HE WAS NOT HOTT… Not even a little bit… and he was a smarmy, creepy, douchey, asshat.

After I bid him goodbye, he sent me over 50 text messages… that ran the gamut between begging me to come back, telling me that I’m ugly, to saying that he was calling an Asian hooker and he was going to send me video of their activities (this was the point when I blocked him, thank you iOS 7).

Here’s an example of a text:

This was followed by texts stating that my tattoos were ugly, followed by pleading to come “snuggle” with him…

This guy was not only a fuckweasel, but also a bipolar bear…

I’M SO DONE…

I’m Charging Your HMO

Why are my feelings hurt because I feel rejected by someone that I didn’t even want in the first place??

How fucked up is that?

I met the doctor the other day, we went for a walk in the park, I took photos and he basically told me his entire life story… well, minus the part that occurred before middle school.

So the entire time, I’m doing the math in my head.

Cute +1

Employed +1

4 Kids -4

Needs therapy -1

Can’t picture myself doing the boom-boom -10

TOTAL -13

After that meeting I only heard from him one time.  But we had a fun texting relationship prior to meeting.

Once I got back to work today and had time to think about it, I felt that pang of rejection in my tummy… that feeling that I’ll never be good enough, that no one will ever want me, yada yada yada…

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME??

So, I texted him this morning about something we had discussed and asked if he didn’t want me to contact him again.  He says he does want to but he didn’t know how to “approach” it.

I responded with “I could tell there wasn’t any chemistry; I know that I’m not for everyone.”

He told me that I was cute, funny but that he was looking to feel a “tingle”.  So he obviously couldn’t picture himself doing the boom-boom with me. For the record, I’m damn good at the boom-boom!

Do I want to be wanted just for the sake of being wanted??  What kind of mental disorder is that?  I’m not a narcissist or an egomaniac; I’m actually pretty damn self-deprecating.

I met one other guy at a coffee shop during my days off… who also told me his entire life story, including, but not limited to, his totally insane ex.

Fuck me.

I stayed longer than I wanted to, only because he drove 90 minutes to see me, even after I tried really hard to discourage him.

Before I left, I took his hand in mine and said “Let me give you a little advice, the next time you meet a girl, do not tell her all about your ex in the first hour, ease her into it, if you must.  It’s really overwhelming.”

Then I departed, but not before finding a Nazi knife in the coffee shop parking lot.

I told a friend that I felt like a therapist and I was going to start charging their insurance for the visits.  This friend is a friend that I spoon with on occasion.  He said “Did you tell them you already have a client in Fairfield?”

That’s me, therapist to every man that doesn’t want me…

I actually have come up with the term that describes one off the afflictions that I’m saddled with… PTDS.  You might say “Don’t you mean PTSD?”

NO, it’s PTDS, post traumatic dating syndrome… it’s a thing.

Gimme Some Guilt

Guilt.

I have a lot of guilt over things in my life… bad decisions, disappointments, etc…

But, when someone TRIES to make me feel guilty, all it does is piss me off.

I once took kick boxing lessons.  They were one-on-one with a male instructor.  A cute, ripped male instructor.

He kept trying to get me to go out, which would have been ok, save for the fact that he was in a relationship, an “open relationship”.  Uh huh.

I just said that I’d prefer to remain friends and we did.  Then he moved out of town.  We would chat once in a while on Facebook or I’d get a random text from him.  He asked if I’d see him if he was back in town, I said “sure we could get a drink sometime.”

This past July 4^th weekend, he was back in town… and I was busy, it was fucking July 4^th weekend.  He was pissy about it, I was the only person he really wanted to see, etc etc…  I just said that I’m sorry he felt that way, I wasn’t changing my plans, maybe we could see each other the next time.

Then I don’t hear from him in months.

Until Saturday.  He was unexpectedly back in town and wanted to see me.  I was partially busy and partially feeling evil, so I declined.  All was well.

Until this morning.

He texted me and said today was his last day in town and he wanted to see me.  I declined (for a few reasons I won’t enumerate, that have nothing to do with him).

Now I’m getting a barrage of texts, saying that I make him feel like he’s “nothing, worthless” that I “make empty promises”, my words mean nothing and on and on and on…

I reply “Don’t play that card.”

It continues.

My final text “I’m done here, I’m not arguing.”

I swear I can’t take this drama!!! The men I want do not want me and the men that want me are fucking insane.  Is there a message here that I’m not getting?

I’m having a serious DM flare which could be making me more evil today, I don’t know… but fuck me…

Ex Sex… In my Dreams

I had dreams all night last night.

Dreams of sex with my most recent ex, we were doing it all over this abandoned building (combining my 2 favorite activities).

98% of the time my dreams are about someone trying to murder me, chasing me or abducting me.  This dream was a nice departure from that.  I’m still a little mad at my brain though, I want him to be dead to me.  I suppose he is, except in my dreams.

I lay the blame for this dream at the heels of Heels Not Needed (http://wordpress.com/read/blog/id/54936358/) and her post about sexy dreams last night.

The funny thing about his dream was after every time we did it he said you’ve been ____-ked (a variation of his last name).   Oh and certain bodily fluids that are normally white-ish were purple.  Bizarre.