lesbian for a night

so. i went out to the bar last thursday to see a band (well the bass player in a band).

i went alone, but ended up meeting some other people that were friends of the band and we all ended up at a table together. one of the gals was well toasted before the music even started and was...well...lets just say there's a stereotype about drunk white girls in the club for a reason.

at some point during the evening she happened to draw the attention of a guy across the dance floor who honed in on her inebriated state and decided it was a prime time to hit on her. i left to go to the bathroom and when i came back the guy was still hitting on her and one of the other people in the group leaned across the table and whispered: "we told him you're her girlfriend."

awesome. lesbian for a night.

now. i have a few problems with this.

#1: JUST SAY NO. if you don't like the guy hitting on you, tell him to fuck off. if he's persistent, find a bouncer or a bartender, or the other people at your table to back you up. just because someone, guy, girl, whomever starts hitting on you doesn't mean you have to put up with it.

#2: guy instantly piped up with the: "prove it" line when i sat down. my reply was the same as it would be gay or straight (or, as i happen to be, bi): I DON'T HAVE TO PROVE ANYTHING TO YOU. i'm sorry if you got your tiny little dick hurt by her not being interested, but that doesn't mean i have to put on a show for you to "prove" anything. I said this, not quietly, to the guy and he just stared at me. so i said it again, LOUDER: I DON'T EXPECT YOU TO MAKE OUT WITH A CHICK TO PROVE YOU'RE STRAIGHT, I DON'T HAVE TO PUT ON A FUCKING SHOW TO DEFEND MY SEXUALITY TO YOU." (may have been just a bit more colorful than this, but you get the idea). 

THIS IS AN ISSUE. guys think it's cool to get a free girl on girl show, or worse, that they deserve a girl on girl show to sooth their bruised small dick ego. NO. YOU DON'T DESERVE ANYTHING. she should have been able to say no without having to feel like she needed an excuse. i'm not going to play along with her excuse, but even if i was, making out with some random chick at a bar doesn't PROVE anything.

guy persisted even more, dropping the "well, you would be interested if you knew i killed people for a living." line. WAS THAT A THREAT? or meant to impress me? or just you attempting one more time to save your tiny dick from being totally crushed by my lack of fucks given about whether you approve of me or not?

me: oh, you do? where do you work?

asshole: department of defense.

now. i'm not a rocket surgeon, but i'm pretty sure if you work for department of defense "killing people" you shouldn't be drunkenly talking about it in a bar. MAYBE THAT'S JUST ME.

either way, i showed him my badge and he quickly exited stage left.

drunk girl went back to being drunk, and people across the table laughed at both how blunt i was with him and how quickly he left. after things calmed down a bit, i asked one of them: "so. does it make a difference that i actually AM bi?" they didn't particularly have an answer besides shock, but i wasn't asked to "be a lesbian" again the rest of the evening.

overall, it's just...THIS IS INSULTING TO ME. i'm not an out and open and all over the place bi-sexual. i have never marched for gay rights, i don't attend political rallies of any type. i've been to pride a few years running but more as a volunteer/ally than as a bi-sexual woman. this is actually as open and public as i've been about being bi. (surprise to those of you who may not have known). but, i DO know people that have FOUGHT for their rights. that were on the front lines for marriage equality. people that still have to hide their sexuality, people that still face risk and discrimination.

THE FACT THAT THIS IS STILL A BAR JOKE/TRICK IS INSULTING. you think it's ok to play gay for a few minutes? no, it isn't. it isn't ok to make light of something people still struggle daily with to make someone go away. conversely, it isn't ok to to use pretend gay to draw more attention (the "look, i'm gay, make me straight for a night" challenge). IT ISN'T OK IN ANY WAY.

there's also the whole assuming i would go along with it factor...presumptuous much?

it may not seem like a big issue in the overall scheme of things. it isn't the first time i've been asked to be someones girlfriend to make a guy go away. it also isn't the first time the guy asked me to "prove it" and i know it probably won't be the last.

it's just...it sucks. and it's wrong. and that's all i have to say about that.

careful what you wish for

**EDITORS NOTE: found this post from a year ago that was never published. still relevant (if a little outdated), so hitting the publish now.**

I’m not sure how i ended up at 35, where all the years went or how they went so fast. It almost feels like I’m stuck in tv sitcom time- you know how EVERYTHING happens in a season and you realize it supposedly covered only a year of time.

Like Grey’s Anatomy (I know, a million years late, but catching up now on Netflix) you’re three seasons in and you realize it’s been ONE YEAR in their lives.

Well, like that but in reverse. Or something.

TIME GOES FAST YA’LL.

A while ago I learned a different way to phrase the "Where do you see yourself in 5 years" question; ask instead “what do you want more of in the future and how do you get there.”

Well. Funny thing is, be careful what you wish for. And be careful how you word things.

I wanted my house to be more calm and peaceful. Well, it is, but at a HUGE cost with one of my kids moving across the state.

I wanted to experience a healthy relationship. I have my version of a health relationship- someone that I care deeply about that cares about me. he just also happens to be very in love with his wife. (go ahead and judge, it can’t be any worse than the things I’ve already said to myself).

I wanted a good stable career in a job I love. I have that, but I’m also remembering all the things you miss by working all the time- weekends spent catching up from the week, kiddo missing sports/activities because you can’t leave work early all the time to play taxi. Rushing home from work to make it to a meeting and realizing you only get 1 hour of awake time with your kiddo before you’re onto another day.

It’s funny when you read the fine print on some of those things you want. Like the pork-barrel spending attached to legislature.

Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.

Trick is now to learn to better phrase things. Really think through all angles and dial in what it is I really want before going after it.

jack-o-lantern smile

perhaps it's fitting that this week is halloween because i feel like a jack-o-lantern: hollow on the inside, missing most of my (metaphorical) teeth and waiting to either be forgotten and rot away or be smashed to bits by someone who either thinks its fun to destroy things or doesn't even really put any thought into what they're doing.

it's been a helluva few months.

this year started off with so much promise- writing, publishing, goals, THINGS. but life is what it is, time flies past before you even notice, and in the blink of an eye the universe has dumped you in a back alley at midnight, battered and bruised just waiting for the dawn of another year to start again fresh.

"if i can just make it through a few more months..."

then what? the mark of a new year doesn't signal a magic want to hit the refresh button. another few months are simply another few months leading to another few months.

i don't mean this to sound like a depressing spiral of time into nothingness. it's actually, twistedly, my attempt to remind myself that there is no magical restart button and i need to get my shit together NOW and quit waiting for...whatever. there is no sparkle glitter rainbow day on the calendar that makes adulting suddenly easy and manageable. there is no jackpot day that you land on that suddenly makes all your bills go away and your bank account never empty.

i'm not sure what adulting looks like right now besides barely managing to keep food in the house (really, grocery shopping is such a pain in the ass ordeal) and binge watching horrible shows on netflix (how the fuck did bones make it past the first season??)

i have a very limited social circle. i have a hard time spending money in bars to drink with strangers i have zero desire to interact with. i'm tired of going to events alone as talking to or mingling with strangers is just awkward at best, traumatizing (for them) at worst. i've survived several sports seasons now interacting with other parents only as necessary/required.

i'm heading into winter, aka depression season, felling the most damaged and alone as i have in a LONG time.

oddly though, i also feel fine. i've been (mostly) remembering to take my vitamins including a TON of vitamin D, i've been doing things for myself, allowing impulse buys as the budget allows, i'm doing ok. i'm just doing it alone.

a few months back i had someone ask if he could move in for a bit while he sorted things out after a break up. we were (i thought) good friends, knew each other well enough, and i had extra space, so why not? it quickly went downhill VERY fast for several reasons. i'm not used to living with anyone besides my kids. i've never had to have a roommate. for the very short time i was married he worked nights and i worked days and we barely saw each other. i knew it would be an adjustment, but i didn't know it would be so destructive and toxic. end of the day it turns out that i am...how did it go...uncommunicative, unwelcoming, and my house is unlivable/disgustingly dirty all the time. the overall experience ended up being costly- lost one of the very few people i counted as a friend and damaged a friendship with another who got caught in the crossfire of being my sounding board/his employee.

around the same time, the magazine i had been working for back at the beginning of the year contacted me again and asked me to write a few more pieces for them (apparently writers who work for free aren't as abundant as they thought). they wanted a few album/EP reviews. second verse, same as the first. last time they stopped asking me to contribute after i pushed back on a band they wanted to run as a cover story that i felt gave a horrible interview and took the whole process a bit too flippantly (including a separate on-air interview). this time around i apparently didn't make it known well enough that the reviews were my opinion, and came across as too harsh and negative in the reviews. my final assignment was for an artist interview that i was not comfortable doing as i knew it would end up almost exactly like the last interview. instead of wasting my time and the artists time and continue fighting a losing battle over my pieces, i instead tendered my resignation at the magazine. it was the only writing i had done in a while and the loss was not insignificant.

finally, the last few weeks have been a mess of doctors appointments and tests and major levels of panic. know how doctors warn women about breast cancer ALL THE TIME? and don't forget breast cancers ugly cousin, inflammatory breast cancer! so when i noticed itching, lactating, overnight increase in cup size, and general overall pain...cue panic. and doctors tests. and sleepless nights wondering who was going to take care of my kid if i had to be down any time at all. and stress about how i would afford medical bills when i can barely afford medical co-pays. and even a particularly depressing call to my mother to ask for family history since no one talks about ANYTHING. after blood work, a mammogram, and an ultrasound i was sent home with a resounding YOU'RE FINE but no actual answers aside from that. so yay, no cancer, but what the fuck?

none of these events are particularly traumatic. they're concerning. they're disheartening. they're panic inducing. they're hard. they messed with my self esteem, self image, sense of security and talent/ability. made me question myself at core levels. they've kicked me in the teeth and tipped my maslow's scale in all different directions and caused a general upheaval, but not a destructive hurricane.

but when you add them together they get bigger. and when they're in this giant lump and i'm staring at it, alone, with no one to talk to or help me pick it apart...it becomes hurricane potential.

my brain is this great and powerful beast. i'm smart. i can carry on intelligent conversations. i can remember details and facts with high accuracy. i can figure out problems and come up with solutions.

but: this beast never sleeps. it never turns off. it runs the same problems through over, and over and over again like a one of those fucking asshole DVD's that plays the start menu and the same crappy song on a continuous loop without ever shutting off but unlike the DVD there's not even a power button or an eject button to make all the noise go away (or even change to a different DVD). i think and rethink and dissect and analyze and review and consider and play out a million different options and endings. i retrace my steps and my processes looking for errors and way to improve or not fuck up again.

and when you're in that loop without a sounding board. when you're stuck with no one to talk to. when you just have your own never ending thoughts running full speed, all the time...it's lonely. and exhausting. it's destructive if you let it be, which, when you're exhausted happens all too easily. it's a bone weary exhaustion. there's no amount of sleep that can fix it because this stupid brain remembers exactly where it left off. you recharge or feel good for a few minutes but then it just all slips away and you don't even know what happened. i can leave work in a great mood, plenty of energy, but in my 15 minute drive home i think about grocery shopping, football practice, scraping together dinner after football practice without causing bed time to be too late, a call from the school, the chore chart that the kid has been ignoring, oh shit, school pictures are this week, i shouldn't have splurged on the manicure when school pictures are happening, oh fuck, did we remember to take the redbox movies back? oh wait, we didn't get red box movies, that was a few weeks ago. OH FUCK- did we take the ones back from a few weeks ago? i shouldn't be watching movies anyway. i should be reading books or writing. but my writing is shit anyway, so why bother writing at all? damn it, it's monday, i have a therapy appointment this afternoon and just missed the exit. why the fuck can i never remember where i'm going or when i have to be there? what am i even going to talk about at therapy this week? why am i even going to therapy if i don't know what i'm going to talk about? i'm probably just going to end up crying again over nothing and go home with a headache. i mean YEAH, it helps. and she helps me figure out what i need to talk about, but it's really just wasting her time. i'm sure there's people that need the appointment more than me. but, it's not like i would be doing anything at home anyway. might as well go. the next episode of greys anatomy can wait. i've already seen them all anyway. since i don't have a life. not like i have any pressing social engagements on my calendar...EVER. how lame are you that you NEVER have anything on your calendar besides kids doctors appointments and sports events? maybe if you weren't such a socially maladjusted freak you'd be able to make and keep a friend and then you would have somewhere to go and your therapist wouldn't be the one stuck listening to you all the time. that's right. the only person that listens to you is one you have to PAY to do it. maybe i should talk about that this week...

and so by the time i pull into my garage, in just 15 minutes, my energy is gone, my mood is crap, i just want to go to bed and stay there forever and ignore everyone and everything, but there's really nothing and no one to ignore which is even MORE depressing.

and so i'm just here. in this limbo of i feel fine but i know things aren't exactly fine. and i just feel hollow and empty and alone. and some days it's overwhelming and profound. and other days i don't even notice it and i'm glad to be able to read for hours on end without a single interruption. and at some point it would be nice to try to make friends again. and at some point it would be nice to write without feeling wrong. and at some point it would be nice to have something to look forward to.

but i'll keep smiling. i'll keep going to work. i'll keep making polite talk at football practice. i'll keep grocery shopping and i'll keep making dinner. i'll keep going on. and maybe, eventually, it won't seem so empty any more. maybe, eventually it will be fun again and there will be things to do and people to do them with. but, for now, this is the way it is. it's not optimal, but it's ok. and that's ok.

well, fuck

*warning: medical junk to follow*

a while ago my right breast started itching. so i bought good old fashioned nursing cream and dismissed the issue (even though it didn't go away no matter how much cream i used).

last week while applying the cream i noticed that it seemed like i was lactating again. even through i haven't breast fed in twelve years. well. that's disconcerting.

around the same time i noticed my right breast. like. ALL THE TIME. spilling out of bras. hurting all the time. bumping against my arm whenever i moved. YUP. it's grown about a cup size in the last few weeks. GREAT.

so last friday i called in and made a doctors appointment for today. went in to the obgyn and she poked a bit and asked a few questions and sent me on my way to schedule a mammogram and some blood work.

i know the internet is a TERRIBLE place for medical stuff. knowing this, and having a LARGE grain of salt ready, i googled anyway. bad idea.

so. there's all that bullshit. whatever.

here's my response to all that bullshit:
YOU'RE A FUCKING IDIOT. why are you wasting your time and the doctors time and all the co-pay money? THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU. THERE NEVER IS. you have pain and you have issues and they go away if you ignore them long enough. i mean, look at your ankle. yeah, it hurt to walk on, and yeah, it was swollen and tender for 6 months, but now you barely notice it. and when you did go to the doctor they what, charged you $90 to tell you there was nothing wrong. SO WHY ARE YOU DOING IT AGAIN YOU FUCKING IDIOT? there's nothing wrong with you. so what if you boob hurts a little. and is lactating. and growing. GET OVER IT.

*but what if this time...*

ARE YOU FUCKING RETARDED AND DEAF? THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU. cancel the other appointments. don't bother with the mammogram. don't bother with the blood work. pay me (which is myself, i get it) the $100 instead and follow one simple prescriptions: *headdesk* as needed until you quit acting like an idiot.


let's just stop and consider that for a minute. whether or not there's something wrong with me, my instinctual response to self sooth and reassure myself IS TO INSULT MYSELF. instead of being like, it's ok, that's why doctors exist, to check things. i'm like: DESTROY, MAIM, CAUSE MORE PAIN AND TERROR.

score.

thanks self.

then comes the real fun part: this voice is just rattling around my head with no out. i don't have family to talk it over with. i don't have a significant other to cry on when shit goes sideways. i don't have a christina or a meredith to call. i don't have a person. i'm a cold, uncommunicative, unwelcoming bitch who can't keep friends. i shut out people on good days and cut them from my life completely when things get hard. no big shocker there- look how friendly i am to myself; no one else would want to tolerate that. add in the fact that i am hyper aware of how many people other people have and how rude it is to intrude on their per-scheduled time and interactions. i'm not just going to call someone up out of the blue and dump a load of shit of them when they have a life and other things going on.

so then it just rattles around in my head, these negative, mean voices both simultaneously trying to convince me that i'm dying and that i'm an idiot for thinking i'm dying. so then i find myself at 3:40 on a monday afternoon barely keeping my shit together at work with a fucking INSANE migraine venting to a blog on the internet.

GOOD TIMES.

so. maybe there's something wrong with me. more likely there isn't. i mean physically.

obviously there's a fuck ton wrong with me mentally.

anyway. that's monday.

Out of Doors

"...you're such a fucking pussy. you're too busy sucking your boyfriends dick to fight like a man."


is that sentence a bit shocking? it was to me, and i don't shock easily.

that sentences wasn't hurled at or by me. that sentence, in all it's ignorant, homophobic glory, was an insult hurled at my 12 year old son last night after he walked away from a group of kids that had surrounded him and sprayed him all over with silly string.

this all happened at a youth group meeting.

mere feet away from the "adults in charge" (most barely legal adults).

NO ONE DID A DAMN THING.

i got a call at work from a child in TEARS. he had left the church and walked home and called me.

this isn't the first time.

this isn't the second time.

this is TWO YEARS of bullying from the same kid.

i'm out of doors to knock on. i don't know what cage to rattle any more.

TWO YEARS of escalating bullying and not a damn thing has worked.

you may remember a rant a while ago about the school teaching my son "safe words" to use to get help when the bullying happened.

you may remember rants about me calling the school staff, the superintendent, the city police.

TWO YEARS. multiple school district complaint forms filed with the school superintendent. it spread from school to campus kids- a local college mentoring program my son participates in on thursdays on the college campus. it spread to the city park and involved SCRAPS (the local animal control) and a harassment report with the city police. it spread to a church youth group and ANOTHER harassment report with the city police.

my son doesn't want to go to school. i've told him to stay away from the park near our house. fortunately, the college mentor program realized what was happening and dis-invited the student doing the bullying so my son still has ONE safe place to go. but for fucks sake, even a church isn't sanctuary for him at this point.

the school principal is "working on it." the key phrase he kept saying this morning in his office as he leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed.

i *just* found out there's a city police officer assigned to the school as a safety/resource officer. why wasn't i informed of that two years ago?

i've had to teach my son to just take it. all the insults, the pushing, losing friends, being the narc because he did the right thing and told me. remember "...snitches get stitches..." from last school year?

he can't fight back or he gets in trouble. he can't verbally defend himself or they consider that bullying as well.

so he just has to listen to it and tell me about it in tears later.

he has to listen to "you're such a fag," "go suck your boyfriends dick," "no wonder your dad left," and a myriad of other juvenile insults. i don't know if he's gay. he doesn't know if he's gay. we've talked about it. he's questioning.

IT DOESN'T MATTER. 

the officer last night was the first one to get that. the first question from the reports has always been "...does the bullying bother him because he's gay?"

NO YOU FUCKING IMBECILES.

THE BULLYING BOTHERS HIM BECAUSE HE DOESN'T LIKE BEING BULLIED.

the officer last night was actually thrown off my me answering the question before he asked it.

me: "...and no, i don't know if he's gay or not. He's 12."
officer: "I wasn't going to even ask that. Why would that be an issue?"
me: "Well, it's the first thing everyone else has asked."
officer: "Doesn't matter if he is or isn't This shouldn't be happening."

FINALLY. someone gets it.

but now what? i have two case report numbers. i have multiple harassment complaints. i've talked to everyone i can think of. i've started down the path to see if there's any legal help i can get.

BUT MY KID IS STILL SCARED TO GO TO SCHOOL.

so what? what door do i knock on? what cage do i rattle? how can i get more than one police officer to take this serious? 

i'm at a loss. i'm frustrated. i'm sad. i'm angry. i'm insulted. i'm so incredibly hurt for my kid. i'm having flash backs to when i was in school. i know EXACTLY what he's feeling. i know EXACTLY what it's like to be the target and have no one listen or help. i know what it's like to be standing right next to an adult and have them walk away when something happens.

I DON'T WANT THAT FOR MY KID.

i'm going to keep fighting. i don't know what i'm fighting for or against or which direction i'm pointed, but i'm not giving up.

HOW?

i don’t love myself.

i know that’s odd to see in real words these days with the THOUSANDS of self love, body positive, acceptance articles floating all over.

i have good days when i don’t loathe myself as much. but for the most part all i hear in my head is a negative soundtrack that is a BITCH to turn off/drown out/ignore/get over.

i’ve tried for YEARS. i have people that love me the way i am. i have a partner that accepts my body as it is and has never once said anything bad about the way i look- quite the opposite actually.

but it’s still there. all those voices drilled in early on. all the years of school kids making fun of my glasses (when you have coke bottle glasses even with the “ultra thin” lenses it’s an issue). i had more than a few bad hair days due to my moms insistence of buying the cheapest by-the-gallon shampoo/conditioner (anyone else remember apple pectin shampoo?) and only the cheapest beauty products in our home (looking at you L.A. Style and aquanet). We had ONE curling iron, if you can call it that- an ancient curl/brush/feather all in one combo. My mom owned exactly one tube of mascara and one basic beige eye shadow and used jergens lotion for EVERYTHING (my acne prone skin cringes at the thought).

when i was young i was fortunately unaware of the bulk of people making fun of me. i lived in a world of books and didn’t particularly get along with 3D characters. i didn’t know until years later that my brother had to beg my mom to teach me to shave my legs because the kids on swim team were making fun of me. i didn’t realize until well after high school that the guy who asked me to tutor him did so because he thought that maybe being seen with him would get other people to leave me alone.

i know it’s been an absurd amount of years ago, but i still hear my moms voice in my head every time i try on a red shirt telling me how much it makes my blotchy skin and acne stand out. Guess how many red shirts I own? even though i have NO IDEA what it means, i still hear her voice in my head telling me i have a “shelf butt” and have to be careful what i wear. i hear her, after my second kiddo, telling me how nice i look and how well i take care of myself for “someone my size.” there was a lady at my mom’s church that i adored. she was GORGEOUS and always looked amazingly put together (plus she would sing occasionally and had the most beautiful voice i had ever heard). i remember my mom saying how lovely she looked and how impressive it was she looked that way for being a dairy farmer’s wife. WHAT? the kicker is, i think my mom honestly thought she was saying something nice. it never occurred to her that quantifying things by saying “for your size” or “for a farmer’s wife” were HUGELY insulting.

i still hear the girls in high school making fun of me for wearing too much blue eyeshadow (before i even owned ANY make up. pale/translucent skin is a bitch). i remember the horror of leaving foundation marks on people i hugged before learning about blending/setting your makeup. i remember my dads second wife not very politely pointing out that i was wearing the wrong color foundation and hadn’t learned how to avoid “make up mask” yet.

as a bonus, i have an older brother who was horrified by everything i did in high school (and still doesn’t get me now). he HATED that i was in drama, thought i only had weird friends, didn’t like that i wasn’t athletic or in sports (even though i did try volleyball and softball in jr high to very, very little success). now he still laments every tattoo on my skin and makes all sorts of off comments about my hair color. he’s glad that i’m finally “back to a natural color of hair” even though i’ve reminded him anything that comes with a formula and has to be mixed/applied every 8 weeks isn’t quite “natural”.

for a VERY short time i had a husband that HATED me. all my clothes were trashy and not fit to be seen out in public. i was a mortifying embarrassment to him if i left the house without make up. i was destroying his public image when we went grocery shopping because i carried my purse on my shoulder versus putting it in the cart.

I know ALL the things i just lamented about are total bullshit. they’re other peoples issues projected on me. it’s my mom’s own body issues and lack of knowledge. it’s my brother’s own security and image issues. it’s my ex-husbands way of controlling and abusing. NONE OF IT WAS ME.

i did the best i could with what i had. i still do. i still make sure my clothes are the right size and i’m not trying to fit 10 pounds of butter in a 5 pound tub. i can *occasionally* leave the house without make-up but it’s a conscious effort. i spend ungodly amounts of money getting my hair cut and colored. i LOATHE myself for not spending MORE time getting ready in the morning. i *should* (worst word in the english language) get up every morning and curl/style my hair. i *should* spend more time and effort trying to get rid of the acne that still plagues me. i *should* spend more time shopping and finding clothes that aren’t tee-shirts and jeans. i *should* shave my legs and wear dresses more often. i *should* a million things. those *should* statements are why i only own one hooded sweatshirt now (they look sloppy. you *should* have more pride in yourself).

all i see in the mirror is a vain but still hideous monster. i hate how much i look like my brother without make up on. i hate that my hair does this half frizz half curl half straight all a mess if i don’t spend hours on it with products and potions and power tools. i HATE the way my body looks, but i hate even more the thought of people seeing me sweating and with frizzy hair and without make up more. no, seriously, who has the time to work out when it takes 20 minutes before hand to remove your makeup, make sure you’re properly fitted into clothes that aren’t too offensive, revealing, and properly lock down all the wobbly bits, WORK OUT (complete with boob sweat and frizzy hair horror) and then repair all the damage done so you’re presentable to the world again? i will never, EVER understand how people work out on their lunch hour.

i guess this is all the really long, pathetic way of saying HOW DO YOU QUIT BEING SO VAIN? how do you not worry about your blotchy/acne skin when you’re wearing a red shirt (or just in general)? how do you work out without worrying about looking like the creature from the black lagoon? how do you go to the grocery store in the morning without being in full war paint? how do you turn off the negative track in your head? how do you *REALLY* believe the positive things people say about you? how do you love yourself? like, really, truly, honestly, not afraid to stand in front of the mirror naked, love yourself? i really, 100% don’t get it. i read the self love articles. i talk to friends that have a great body image. and all i can think is “...yeah, but…”

i’m confident in other things; that bolsters the “fake it til you make it” portion of the vanity. i know i can hold a decent conversation. i have a passable sense of humor (even if not always entirely appropriate). i can sling sentences together fairly well. i’m damn good at my job. i have a fucking amazing house (finally). i have good kids and an adorable bastard dog that distract people fairly well. i love the people around me exactly the way they are, but HOW DO I DO THAT FOR MYSELF?

loosen your grip

the google machine has failed me. i can see the image in my head but can't find it to share (and me drawing would be just plain terrible).

but you know that moment in a cartoon where the character falls and is CLINGING to the end of the rope and there is perilous danger and a certain plummet to the death if they let go? then it pans down three inches and there's solid ground RIGHT THERE and the character lets go and sheepishly walks off like they really weren't just completely terrified for their life three seconds ago?

or when someone is flailing in the pool certain they're going to drown and then they stand up and it's barely knee deep?

THAT.

THAT is the feeling i have right now.

i feel like i've been in crisis mode for so many years, clinging to the end of my rope, so terrified of the fall that i didn't even bother to look below me and notice the completely stable landing pad RIGHT THERE.

2015 is odd.  a great odd. but odd. my budget has loosened up across the board without any specific conscious effort- like my comfort level electric billing being adjusted lower without me making any specific effort to conserve energy. or like my cellphone bill being cut almost in half after removing one line (even with adding a tablet). the raise at work helped too.

speaking of work, i love where i'm at. even with the occasional stupid comment (one of the guys comparing a lesbian couple being able to have a baby to the woman marrying her biological father because they're both gross. *headdesk*). with the raise, my boss asked me to take on additional responsibilities in regard to the company financials but was also willing to put me through classes to learn how to do it right. AWESOME.

home has been boring lately for the most part which is GOOD. i miss my teenager like crazy. it's been a year since i've seen him and he still barely texts or talks to me, BUT, i don't miss all the drama and chaos and anger we were stuck in. it's NICE not having to constantly referee and defend and be prepared for battle. there are still battles with the the almost teenager. we're slogging through sorting out negative and positive behaviors. it's exhausting as well but not nearly the continuous fight to the death i'd grown accustomed to.

and then there's the random AWESOME that's been happening- getting an article published on a well known web site. being asked to come on as a writer/interviewer for an entertainment magazine. realizing that i have been seriously putting myself down for YEARS and not believing my friends when they encouraged me (sorry everyone).

being published via submission is a big shift- it's people that aren't required/obligated to like my writing accepting it and publishing it and wanting more. it's such a...fuck...words...it's a MOMENT. an epicenter. an axis shifter..it's fucking HUGE that a magazine wants me on staff to represent them to their readership base. that a popular web site trusts that my article would resonate with their readers.

i've also been working on home again- getting things fixed, updated, decorated. tax return season has shifted over the years from TATTOO TIME! to electrical repairs, paint, art OH MY! i've been collecting pieces that make me happy and doing projects that make things feel more completed than falling apart. home is becoming HOME. after stripping it down during the attempts to sell, it's been blank and depressing for a while. now it's becoming HOME again. i like pulling up and seeing a freshly painted front door and new exterior chandelier (orb). i like sitting in my livingroom looking at art pieces that i've been waiting to adopt for a while. i like a dining room full of plants and terrariums (i can't even begin to describe how excited i am to make a trailer park terrarium, flamingos and all) . i'm stupidly excited to have ALL the lights in my bathroom finally working.

the biggest shift is that i'm HAPPY. the last several years have been rough. the end of last year took a few really harsh shots. but i finally took the time to look below the end of the rope and find that there's been a place to land just waiting.

i made it through and i didn't just survive, i'm thriving. i've finally broken the shell on the depression that's been lingering and i feel my creativity and energy and happiness coming back. i know this isn't forever. i'm well aware that it will take work and self care to maintain this spot. i know to watch for being overloaded or negative drains. i need to make sure i'm eating properly, sleeping, exercise...you know all those things a million and twelve people say that...well, work. i'm cautiously optimistic. i find myself looking at all the good happening and being majority excited and minority worried about the other shoe dropping. yes, the worry is still there, i'm still ME. but it's shifting. i've landed and gained footing. so far standing up is much better than hanging on.