thankful

i'm pretty sure 2018 has been 900 years long.

Last week was thanksgiving. I was fortunate enough again this year to have one of the best people on earth open her home to me AND she was kind enough to break with the traditional thanksgiving feast to teach me a few recipes I’ve been waiting years to figure out (Harvard beets are still as good as I remember them!)

But, in keeping with tradition, I’ve taken the last week to really try to find what I’m thankful for this year. In an especially chaotic and painful year, it’s been a challenge, but here we go:

This year I am thankful for my health. I have been so, so, so incredibly blessed in the health arena. I’ve given birth twice and had my gallbladder removed in my life. That’s NOTHING. Especially as a single mother. I have been so endlessly fortunate that I’ve never been sidelined with an illness. I’ve never had my health affect my job, cause financial stress, cause long-term anxiety. Even my mental health- the last few months I’ve really been realizing how deep and widespread my anxiety has been my whole life, but I’ve still managed to function around it. YES, I’m realizing the major impact it’s had, but I’m still functioning. I am so, so, so incredibly thankful for my health. I haven’t taken the best care of myself. I loathe working out. My attempts at dieting and exercising have been short lived and never with any regularity. I’m pushing 40 and still hit way too many drive-thru restaurants to be considered anything even remotely close to smart dietary decisions. And yet here I am. Insurance has been off and on over the years with job changes, but it’s always been there when I did need it. I have friends facing major medical problems- heart issues, surgeries, torn muscles, broken bones, dental issues, circulation issues…I can’t even imagine what some of them are dealing with physically AND financially. So THANK YOU. THANK YOU UNIVERSE. Thank you for my health. Thank you for keeping me running all these years and able to keep up with my kids and work and life. I am thankful for my physical health and thankful that I’ve found a great therapist helping me sort out my mental health.

I’m thankful for friends. Not just friends, but FRIENDS. The ones you call at 10:30pm when you’ve just finished dealing with the police and you can’t think straight and you can’t tell the difference between tears and snot. The friends you can call or snapchat or text at literally any time of day and they’ve got you. They may not respond right away, because, you know, life, but you KNOW they’re not ignoring you. You know they’ll get back to you as soon as they can. There’s such a security in that. There’s such a safety in having people that you can say literally ANYTHING to and they’ll respond “…giiiiiiirl…” and you know they get you. You know they’ll talk you down from the ledge, even if it’s the 10^th time this month. You know they’ll help you brainstorm, research, sort through. I’ve struggled my entire life trying to be what I thought people wanted me to be. Being careful of what I say, trying not to let too much of my freak flag out. I struggled to be socially appropriate, not embarrass anyone, be “proper” and fit in. this last year I’ve started just…existing. I let myself be myself. I’ve allowed myself the space to speak my mind, say the things that probably shouldn’t be said. And you know what? Not only did my friends stick around, it deepened my bond with them and more often than not they responded SAME. All my fear, my whole life, of chasing people away by being myself? Turns out when you find the GOOD PEOPLE that’s not an issue. They love you and accept you. That’s a beautiful, beautiful thing. I’m so glad for my friends. I’m so glad I found my people. I LOVE MY PEOPLE. I am so thankful for them. I’m so thankful they accept me and have helped allow me to become ME.

I’m thankful to whatever force in the universe has protected me this year. Things at home have been…it’s been bad. Things right now are hard and ugly and heartbreaking. I’m living alone for the first time ever, years before it was the plan. My kids…I can’t go there right now. Things are hard. BUT, they could be so much worse. I’m alive. I’m safe. There’s been moments when neither of those were a guarantee. I can’t explain the pure, heart wrenching terror of finding hidden weapons in your home and wondering why they were hidden and what their intended purpose was. Finding a hatchet hidden in the kitchen, finding an 8” hunting knife, 3 bb guns, an airsoft pistol and countless pocketknives/switchblades/throwing stars. Why were they hidden around the house? Why didn’t I know they were in my home? What was the purpose for them? Where did they come from? There have been so many times I was scared for my safety even without knowing there were things hidden in my house. How much worse could it have been? How close was I to…to harm? Additionally, there have been so many threats, challenges, visits from the police. There have been investigations, questions, visits and phone calls. And I’m safe. All the 911 calls for help, all the threats at school to teachers and other students, all the confrontations with police officers. we have somehow avoided being on the evening news or on the local scanner listeners radar. I’ve seen so many stories come across the local news pages- 911 calls, suicide threats, students threatening other students, teenagers in confrontations with the police…and somehow none of them were from my house. I am so, endlessly grateful for whatever bubble of protection kept us from that spotlight. I’m so grateful that, for the majority, all my interactions with responding police officers have been calm, logical, positive. They’ve listened, kept their cool, helped out with all the resources they had available. I’m thankful for case managers, cps workers, counselors that helped find a safe path and resources. I’m thankful for the safety and the protection and the protected bubble that has kept the worst of the worst case scenarios at bay. I’m so endlessly thankful for whatever, wherever that protection came from.

I am thankful for my jobs. I have 2 great jobs with 2 great bosses and so many great coworkers. I haven’t been worried for a second letting my bosses know what’s been going on. They’ve graciously allowed me the space to make it to court, attend therapy, cry at my desk as needed. They’ve offered help in whatever way they could and made sure to let me know my job was never at risk. Having work, having a “normal” routine to keep me distracted/focused has been so immense. It has been my anchor. Whatever else has been happening, whatever news headlines, whatever personal headlines, work was there for me. I’m good at my job. i’m good at being able to compartmentalize and focus on getting things done. It’s been immeasurably helpful to have one steady constant. I know, Monday through Friday I have to get up and get out of bed. I have things that need done. Timesheets that need processed. Invoices that need paid. I make a difference where I work, at both places. I’m an important part of the team. I’m used and useful and my absence would be noted. That’s lovely. That’s…it’s the anchor I’ve needed.

It’s been a hard year. Fuck it. It’s been a hard 10 fucking years. There’s been pockets of goodness in there, but I just feel like life has been a slow burning dumpster fire since 2009. I’m ready for that to change. I’m working to make that change happen. My therapist homework assignment last week was to start planning for the future. REALLY planning for the future. Not just the “someday” bullshit that I’ve kept on a back burner. Actually planning and working toward specific things. Something I’ve never done. Since 7/1998 it’s been “raise my kids” without much thought beyond that. Now, suddenly, I’m beyond that and have no direction, no goals, no plan. So I’m working on it. And I’m thankful for the people guiding me through that process (my therapist is amazingly patient but firm and honest y’all).

I’m just. I’m thankful y’all. I know there’s so many things I could throw in here: music, books, movies, art, bartenders, beauty crew…all the little pieces and things that I appreciate. I’m thankful that I am able to plan finances and make adjustments as needed. I’m thankful that while I may not be able to COOK (I’m a box and can girl, not a from scratch girl) I’ve never gone hungry a day in my life. I’m thankful that I have a lovely apartment and managers that have been patient and kind. I’m thankful for SO MUCH.

It’s been a hard year. It’s been a sad year. It’s been a scary year. It’s been a heartbreaking year. But I’m still so thankful. I’m thankful for insight and awareness that allows me to process and experience.

I’m so thankful y’all for so much. I’m so thankful.

steadfast

i've spent my whole life hating myself.

there's these horrible, destructive voices stuck in my head that are so loud it's hard to hear anything else.

i've taken on blame and hate and negativity from other people for SO LONG, that it just...it became who i was. i believed them. in my journals, as far back as you look, there's been the common theme: "what's wrong with me?" and "why am i so broken?" i believed i deserved to be treated terribly. OF COURSE i was sexually assaulted as a teenager. OF COURSE i was raped as an adult. OF COURSE i was in a domestic violence marriage. OF COURSE i can't find a relationship. i deserved it all. i'm this horrible piece of trash, broken person. i was born a mistake and deserve every terrible thing since then.

BUT. HERE'S THE THING: THAT'S NOT TRUE.

i'm not a horrible person. i'm not a piece of trash. i'm not broken.

i AM a little weird. i'll own that one.

it's taken YEARS, to start to shift that conversation in my mind and stop listening to those voices. i'm still working on it EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. 

it's fucking hard work. really, really hard work.

but here's the bitch of it all: because i've thought of myself that way for so long, because i've believed the crap, because i believed all the HORRIBLE things, i kept allowing new people to treat me that way. why wouldn't they? and i've learned to distrust people that DON'T treat me that way. if anyone actually liked me, treated me kindly, maybe even loved me...there must be something wrong with them.

here's the really big bitch of all that: because i thought about myself that way, i let my kids think about me that way. I TAUGHT THEM to think of me that way. it's ok to make fun of mom being single. it's ok to say horrible things about mom. it's ok to yell insults and abuse. other people do, and she doesn't stop them. it's ok to just walk all over her, she won't stand up against it.

I TAUGHT MY KIDS TO HATE ME.

because i hated myself for so long.

that's a hard fucking pill to swallow.

and i'm not saying this out of self pity. i'm not saying this as yet another way to hate and blame myself. i'm saying this because if you want to change where you are, you have to acknowledge how you got there.

and i want to change. i NEED to change. 

especially when i'm staring at the results of all the hate every. single. day.

last year when i quit my job i started working on myself.

i left that job because i was tired of listening to people talk trash about me. i was tired of being groped while i sat at my desk. i was tired of listening to people openly bash everything about me: single parents, LGBT, tattoos, educated, nothing was off limits.

i started realizing i'm worth something. i'm worth standing up for. i'm worth liking.

in a strange way, i realized how insulting it was to people that i love and trust that i INSISTED on hating myself. how little do i think of my friends? do i really think they would keep a piece of trash friend around? a few of them even said as much to me: "it's really insulting that you believe i have such poor taste in people."

yes, i know that's a backwards way of looking at things, but hey, it got my attention.

and so i started changing. i started working on it. i started allowing myself a little more space to be MYSELF. to LIKE myself. i started just BEING. and, oddly, no one really seemed to care. they didn't leave in droves. i wasn't burned at the stake. if anything, the more real i allow myself to be with other people, the more real they become with me, and the deeper and truer the connections.

it's pretty sad that it took me 38 years to really, truly grasp this concept. BUT I'M WORKING ON IT. i've tried over the years. i've flirted with the idea of changing my mindset. i've worked on it over and over. i've taken classes, i've read countless books, i've tried so many different things. but when you're just dealing with symptoms instead of getting to the CORE of the issue, it never sticks.

here's the core: I'M A GOOD PERSON. i finally believe that.

i like me. i help others as much as i can. i will do everything in my power to help a friend that asks. i want to leave this world a better place than i came into it. i'm self aware. i'm intelligent. i'm thoughtful. i'm learning to ask for help. i have a decent sense of humor, maybe a little dark at times, but there it is. i have a lovely, comfortable home that's open to anyone. i've always been able to make home wherever we were. i'm a hard worker. i'm a good employee. i'm good at my jobs. i'm analytical and thorough. i'm willing to admit when i'm wrong and always looking for ways to be better. i'm careful and intentional about the choices i make. i'm dependable. i'm responsible. i'm honest, maybe a little too much.

BUT.

that's all new. being able to write that paragraph AND BELIEVE IT is completely new to me.

it still feels like bragging. it still feels like pride. it still feels conceited and wrong.

and it's still hard to believe it all the time.

so.

as hard as it is for me to change and believe it...as a person that ACTIVELY, PASSIONATELY wants to believe it and change...

how much harder is it for a fifteen year old kid that just wants things to be the way they've always been?

i'm sure there's other things going on- hormones, self discovery, struggle to become an adult, friends, girls, school, peer pressure...all the teenage things.

but at the core, at the true core of this issue is a fifteen year old kid that learned hate. he learned abuse. he learned to be mean and insulting and bully and take what he wants. I TAUGHT HIM THAT. and now i'm trying to change it and he has no stake or interest in that change.

so it's HARD.

suddenly mom isn't a push over any more.

no one wants to hear no. especially a teenager.

he's been saying for months: "i just want things back the way they were," and "it's so toxic around here and i hate it."

he doesn't realize the toxic atmosphere is because i've stopped absorbing all the toxicity. i've stopped taking on all the insults and the hate, so they just....hang there. they've run into a wall of: YOU CAN'T TALK TO ME THAT WAY.

that's new. that's different. so. YEAH, it feels crappy around the house when what always worked doesn't work anymore.

and then you have to try something bigger.

oh, just being mean and saying horrible things doesn't work anymore. let's try getting in her face and pushing. ok. that didn't work. let's try threats. oh, that didn't work, let's try skipping school. oh, that didn't work, let's try self harm and accusations. oh, that didn't work, let's try drugs and alcohol. that didn't work. let's try calling the cops...

and on and on it's gone. the escalation just keeps jumping and jumping because he's not getting his way. i'm not giving in. i'm not letting him walk all over me any more. and it's turned into a MASSIVE crisis. it's ugly and hard and scary and i don't know what's going to happen. i don't know where he slept last night. i don't know if he's safe or has clean underwear. i don't know if he's scared or hurt.

but i DO know he's still angry. i DO know he still thinks he can bully everyone into getting his way.

he thinks he can snap his fingers and the police will do as he commands. he thinks he can lie and get away with things. he thinks he can push around commissioners, lawyers, teachers, counselors. he thinks he can do what he wants, all day, every day, with no consequences. if anyone stands up to him, he will hurl all the abuse and hate at them he can. he will threaten others and even himself.

but if you want to live in my house, you need to treat people with respect. you need to contribute to the house. you need to contribute to your future. go to school. come home at the end of the day. be respectful of friends, ESPECIALLY GIRLS. don't steal. don't lie. don't threaten.

DON'T ABUSE.

i'm standing up and saying _I_ don't deserve to be treated this way. NO ONE does. and that's a fucking HARD, HARD change.

but it's necessary.

a friend just posted an article about a man that killed his wife and then took his own life just days after being arrested for assaulting a female taxi driver.

he thought he could just take what he wanted. when someone stood up to him, when someone called him on his terrible behavior, it escalated.

i don't know the full story, i didn't live his life. but i can bet that this wasn't the first time he treated someone this way. i can bet that if he was bold enough to treat a perfect stranger the way he did, his wife was getting 100 times worse at home. i can bet that there's a LIST of people that saw his behavior. i can bet that there's old girlfriends that aren't shocked by this news.

because i've been there.

i'm there now.

it has to change.

 

since this all started with the teenager, several months ago, there's been one word that comes to mind over and over and over and over: steadfast.

it's a calm word. it's a fierce word. determined. strong.



it's not an active word. i'm not flying into battle. i'm not raging.

i'm standing my ground. calmly. patiently.

i'm saying THIS NEEDS TO CHANGE.

i'm saying THIS IS NO LONGER THE WAY IT WILL BE.

i have to stand my ground.

i have to teach my son.

i have to teach him that he can't bully and hate his way into what he wants. i have to teach him behaviors and actions have consequences. if i let him treat me this way, the cycle will continue. there will be another person out there thinking about themselves the way i've been thinking about myself, and i wouldn't wish that on ANYONE. my heart breaks at the idea of another young woman facing YEARS of thinking she deserves to be treated this way. i know the dark, destructive, terrible self hate. i know it well. i don't want anyone else to feel this. ever. it absolutely guts me to think of him being mean and hurtful to a partner, a spouse, maybe his own children in the future. it crushes me to think he'll treat a boss, a roommate, a coworker the way he's been treating people now. i hate seeing how hard it is on his friends, his grandparents, all the people trying to help him now.

I HAVE TO BREAK THE CYCLE.

i have to.

i can't let this continue for generations to come.

I HAVE TO STOP THE HATE.

i have to.

i didn't teach him hate in a day.

it may take a long time to teach him a new way.

but i am to the task.

i will break this cycle. i will stop the hate. i will stop the hurt. i will teach him a better way.

long story short

it's been a rough several months at home.
back in May things started getting difficult with my 15 year old son.

it hasn't improved.

lying, stealing, running away, draining $2k from a bank account, picking fights, skipping school, confrontations with teachers and police officers, court hearing, contempt of court hearing, suicide threats, drug use, alcohol use, tobacco use, abuse accusations, verbal and emotional attacks, self-harm to attempt to seek placement outside the house...the list grows almost daily.

the police have been to our home countless times. i have been investigated by the courts, CPS, questioned by police, commissioners, advocates, counselors.

we are utilizing the juvenile court systems, court appointed counseling programs, community resources, school resources, friends, family.

i have knocked on every door and called every phone number provided.

things are bad.

things are really bad.

on october 19th i removed my son from the house for both of our safety. he's staying with relatives while i try to figure out what comes next.

it's been an adjustment. the learning curve is HUGE. there's so many parts and pieces and contributing factors. there's work and cooperation necessary for improvement that don't seem like they'll happen any time soon.

i'm lost. i'm bewildered. i'm sad. i'm worried. i'm grieving. i'm...i'm a hot mess express most days. my apartment has been stress cleaned *almost* to white glove inspection standards.

BUT.

silver lining, i guess, if that's a thing: i'm learning a LOT about myself through this process. i'm learning how to stand up for myself. i'm setting personal boundaries and sticking to them. i'm learning to listen. i'm learning to give trust and to ask for trust. i'm learning that if you ask for help, there's people ready and waiting who WANT to help. i'm learning to utilize people with better resources and experience. i'm learning to stay calm, be steadfast. i'm learning not to take things personally, even when they're meant to be EXTREMELY, intentionally, targeted personal attacks. i'm growing and opening up. finally. now that i'm almost 40 i'm learning some really basic stuff. I'M NOT SHAMING MYSELF. i'm acknowledging that, while behind the times, i'm finally catching up. i'm finally dealing with some really, really old trauma that still has claws. i'm learning to set aside old useless weights, change my thinking, my inner monologue. i'm learning to be kind to myself and maybe even like myself a little.

growth and change is never easy or fun. it's messy and usually painful. it's like cleaning out my house: it gets worse before it gets better, it's easy to get overwhelmed by how much there is to do, but in the end, it's worth the work.

flashback

on december 13, 2003 i loaded up a uhaul truck and moved into apartment 13.

it was the first step in leaving a domestic violence marriage. 

it's been a lot of years and work and recovery since then.

remembering that i'm not required to wear make up to leave the house.

remembering that i'm not a piece of trash if i carry/wear my purse in a grocery store instead of putting it in the cart.

knowing that i'm not a stuck up whore for being proud that i graduated from college.

not being ashamed for having sexual desires.

not always being afraid of saying the wrong thing.

not trying to keep everything as perfect and smooth as possible because anything less would cause trouble.

not being on edge every time the phone rings and panicking if you don't answer fast enough because accusations will follow.

i've learned that i can talk about things that bother me in a relationship with out being berated and verbally descimated.

i've learned that i can stand up for myself without being threatened.

i was lucky in some ways. i was never hit. i was never put in the hospital. i never had to hide bruises or marks.

in other ways...bruises heal faster than the words in your head go away.

it's been nearly 15 years.

i've worked so hard to not let fear be my first instinct when things go wrong.

i've worked so hard to unlearn the words. to unlearn the reactions. to unlearn the cycle.

i've worked so hard to break the cycle. to not let myself get caught in it again.

i've stopped texting guys because the language and the tone was too familiar. i've broken off relationships because i heard phrases that triggered me. i've refused to shack up with anyone over the years to keep my family safe and keep my boys away from that lifestyle.

i didn't want them to learn abuse.

and yet, here we are.

things have been bad lately. they've actually been bad for a while. they've been really bad for the last few months.

i have a court appointment in the morning with juvenile court to try to get help for my son before things completely get out of control.

there's been lying, stealing, drug abuse, alcohol.

there's been run away reports and more calls to the local police department than i ever thought i'd have to make.

there's been threats, accusations, demands and verbal abuse.

at the lowest point, so far, my own son screamed at me as he was leaving that he was going to try to intentionally overdose that night as a final fuck you to me.

and then, a few days later, things are seemingly back to normal.

he came home, we went back to school shopping, did chores around the house, we even went to the theaters and watched a movie together.

but it's not normal.

and i know this feeling. it's been 15 years since i've felt this feeling, but i knew it instantly, intimately.

things are not normal. there is a storm back building. i'm not walking on egg shells, i'm walking on a field of land mines littered with razor blades and broken glass.

i know this part of the cycle.

it's the hardest part for me.

it's where the questioning comes in.

you're making too big of a deal of things. look how "normal" it is right now.

you're just being too sensitive.

you're reading into things too much.

they didn't really mean it, they were just mad.

you're just borrowing trouble.

you're going to make another blow up happen by expecting it.

you're just making things worse.

if you weren't so crazy this wouldn't be a problem.

why can't you just learn to not be so offended and stop taking everything so seriously?

it's scary how quickly the feelings take root. right back to where i was.

but how did my son learn this? he was 9 months old when we left.

is nature winning over nurture?

can i still correct this behavior?

i can't correct anything. can i show him a better way and help give him tools to make better choices?

i remember this feeling.

knowing that things aren't fine but not being able to put words to it so other people can understand.

you can feel the pressure of the storm coming but there's not a cloud in the sky.

it's looking at the calendar and trying to guess when/what will cause the next blow up.

is there a holiday coming up? an appointment? plans with people that you know will trigger resistance? things that need money? things that...

you try to become a fortune teller and a bomb diffusion expert at the same time.

i know we have court tomorrow. so maybe if i do this tonight...

maybe if...

what about...

you try to plan for all the contingencies. you try to prepare yourself. steel up your nerves and your resolve. try to stay calm even though all you want to do is throw up and cry and hide in a corner.

i have experience in my corner this time. i have survival. i have age and hard earned wisdom. i have friends. i have help.

i never expected myself to be here again.

and this time is different. this time i can't leave. this time i can't get a uhaul and a new apartment.

this time there is more at stake. this is my kid. this is his whole life ahead of him. this is every future relationship with a partner, with a boss, with a roommate. this is how he learns to interact with people for the rest of his life.

this is a hard battle. this is a continuing, learning, changing, shifting battle.

i'm terrified. i'm hurt. i'm worried.

but i'm not 23 this time. i have a lot of hard learned lessons under my belt. i'm stronger.

i can do this. there is no other option.

this is my kid.

i'll never quit fighting for him.

scratch the surface

i've been doing a LOT of processing and working through things lately.

i've been digging deep into my past, why things are the way they are, why i am the way i am. i'm finally resolving (or working on) trauma and weird shit from the last 37 (fuck, almost 38) years on this planet.

i've delved really fucking deep into recurring nightmares, grief, choices, all the different paths life has taken.

i've gone DEEP y'all.

and it's been (mostly) good and healing. 

but, oddly, it's the super shallow stuff that's made a really big difference for me.

because people are shallow y'all.

and i mean this in the best way possible.

see, i've been single for basically my entire life. i've dated here and there. i was married for a whopping 23 months. most "relationships" don't make it past the 2 month mark. i've been on countless horrible first dates. i've been on plenty "meh" first dates. i've been stood up for an embarrassing number of never-happened dates.

and i took it all so, incredibly, painfully personal.

every rejection, every ghost, every failed attempt it was because of ME. like, ME. the deep me.

i don't have success dating because I'M A TERRIBLE PERSON. my very core self if like if every serial killer and political dictator and perpetrator of ethnic cleansing and generally horrible person on earth merged into one horrible, disgusting, repulsive, intolerable sample of humanity packaged into a chubby brunette body.

imagine packing this image of yourself around year after year.

except...

maybe not?

because here's the thing. most of those people never even got to know me beyond a few text messages and phone calls.

hell, most of them didn't even bother to show up to try to get to know me.

so...maybe people are just shallow.

ya think?

maybe people didn't like me because i'm brunette instead of blonde. cool. i have been blonde(ish), red, blue, pink, purple, black, and for a very short time, a horrid forest green after an attempt at color correction went very wrong.

maybe people don't like me because i'm fat. i've been heavier. i've been lighter. ive been a bigger size, i've been a smaller size. in high school i weighed 140 and had a 28" waist. now i'm almost 40 and have a 28" thigh.

maybe people don't like me because i have kids. i'm hesitant myself to date other people with kids because it's a HUGE responsibility to be in a child's life, for a short time or a long time. even a one time memory can have a lasting effect.

maybe people don't like me because i have tattoos and piercings.

maybe people don't like me because i pronounce words wrong/different.

maybe people don't like my views on politics or religion or which grocery store is the best.

maybe people don't like me because i still own dvd's and refuse to make a digital library. I LIKE THE ACTUAL DVD'S. LEAVE ME ALONE.

maybe it's because i don't like the right music.
 
maybe i talk too much about weird topics (how many people do you know with a book of drawings done by a guard at the gulag?).

maybe it's because i like pineapple on pizza.

maybe it's because they found someone else they have a better connection with.

maybe it's because no one is required to like everyone else on the planet.

maybe i have man hands and don't own a pirate blouse and those are the only two Seinfeld references i know. 

not every rejection is a meat cleaver to the chest. sometimes it's a papercut on your pinkie. sometimes it doesn't even leave a scratch.

people are shallow ya'll.

and that's actually a good thing.

it means maybe i can give myself a break. maybe i'm not actually a terrible monster of a person. i'm just a weird little duck. even weird little ducks can have a great life. 

not everyone hates me as much as i hate myself.

which is actually helping me hate myself less.

funny thing how less hate leads to less hate.


but you know, all those shallow people? it's a time saver. if they think i'm not a match because i don't eat anything purple? how the fuck are they going to handle me when i'm in full PMS rage ranting about who keeps putting the milk back in the fridge on the wrong damn shelf?

sure, it would have been nice if a few had stuck around a little longer.

there's a lot of things that would be nice if they happened.

accidentally becoming uuber famous with endless money to help people out and travel with friends, but without any of the paparazzi or internet trolls? that would be SUPER nice if it happened.

but in the mean time, i'll take a little shallowness and a whole lot less self hate.

that seems like a pretty damn good place to start.