Mind needs an off switch – Random words with meaning but a jumbled mess of understanding

A poetic attempt at my thoughts to be understood if just written down. Typed out. Out of my head and into the visual. My mind never shuts off9244712-md anymore. A constant changing of channels. A wave of emotions from happy to sad to anger to apathy. Not constant enough to be able to understand the reason I feel that way. Not enough time to comprehend. Not enough time to go through the full emotion of that emotion. Not enough time. No time.

Wanting to step outside of myself to look at myself. To see what people see. To see if they see me or if they see what I paint on. To see if they see the fake smile or the tears that run down my face but quickly wipe away. To see if I am as stoic and uncaring as I want to seem. Not let anyone in. Not let them see they hurt me. Not let them see what they don’t do still affects my mind because my mind is still racing. Still racing from a previous emotion. Still racing from not being able to complete a thought because someone somewhere needs me to do something.

I need this pause button. Is there a pause button?

I like being alone but I hate being alone. I want to be with someone, but they never want to be with me long enough to get me. I push them away. I know I do. I have to. I don’t want to get hurt anymore. But I want someone who will get me. Who will pull me closer to them even when I am swinging my fists in the air trying to fight to get away. It isn’t that I want to be away, it’s just that I see into my fake psychic eye and see that you will no longer be there to let me lay my head on your chest. No longer be there to try and make me laugh. No longer there.

You will realize that I am not worth it. Not worth your time to talk to. Not worth your time to make you smile. Your time has been grabbed by another woman. Someone worthy. Someone prettier. Someone funnier. Someone that isn’t me. Hell I would leave me if i could. I can’t so I am in solitude. So I push you away before you push me. I’m not worth it. No one has given me reason to believe I’m worth it. Why would they?

I walk on the sidewalk by myself. I run the streets alone to get some sort of freedom. Some time to clear my head. It lasts all of 25 seconds because the song I listen to help me run brings up a lyric that I relate to. I run with a multitude of thoughts. Thoughts that I wanted to be free of for those 45 minutes. But now those thoughts are with me for those 45 minutes of “freedom”. Those thoughts continue after my run. Into the door of my house. Into the hallway. Into my room.

Outside problems. Not mine directly. But I’m the fixer. I’m the go to. I’m the make it all better-er. I listen. I understand them. I give advice. I put a band-aid over their boo boo and make it all better. They smile. I smile. I helped. I feel good. I made someone happy. Not myself. But that’s ok. I’ll deal. I always deal. I don’t tell people my problems. They don’t need to hear it. They have their own. No need to burden. No need to lay it all out for them. I deal, by not dealing. I’ll shove it deep down into the pits of my stomach. I think there is still room there. If not, make room. There is always room.

Friends, I have those. They make me laugh. Bring up memories. Make new ones. I’m happy when I’m around them. I like being around them. But I want to be in my little shell of comforters. I love them but I love solitude. I love snuggling in my blankets with my dog. My dog loves me. We talk. She understands. I cry. She licks my face. She wants me happy. I smile for her. She proceeds to bite my hand to play. I play to make her happy. To make me feel happy if even for 10 minutes.

I’m not always sad. I am happy. But it’s fleeting. I feel the good, but underneath I sense the bad. It’s about to come. The good feels superficial.

I know in order for me to feel better, I need to change. I know that. You don’t think I do? I always tell people this when they ask for advice. But I fail at practicing what I preach. My situation is different, I say to myself. I am the care giver, my needs are put aside. Let me care for you. That is my purpose in life, right? Sure it is. I think. You think? I think? I’ll accept that. That is the only way I feel appreciated. Needed. Wanted. Take that away, what am I? I’m too old to try and rediscover myself. To reinvent myself. To be what I wanted to be when I grew up. A Ballerina. A Doctor. A Lawyer. A Journalist. A Photographer.

Dance beauty. Fix Beauty. Fight for Beauty. Write about Beauty. Capture Beauty. To do all those things, because people love beauty. I feel I have no beauty. No matter how many people tell me I am. I can’t believe it. I don’t see it. Bombarded with all the images of what people say is beautiful. To have a guys you like say, “it doesn’t matter the physical, it’s the inside that matters”. But go date the beauty you see you are not. The culmination of all these mixed signals. So I’m ugly inside as well as outside. Great. Thanks. Appreciated. Noted. Depression sets in. I change my hair. I diet. I do my make up different. I buy clothes I shouldn’t buy because of lack of funds. Nothing makes me feel pretty. I have no control. I eat. I eat a lot. I fill that void. I regret. A minute later, I get rid of that regret. Watch the regret swirl away in the water. Wash any remnants of regret left in my mouth out with water. Look at the mirror. Notice tears formed and are now running down my face. I now feel bad for what I just did. But if I didn’t I’d feel worse…I think. I know I would have. Yeah, I would have. For sure. I think?

It has to be right. My mom says I should. I’ll get fat again. Dad makes jokes of my ass getting bigger. But they are jokes. I think he is joking. Let me check the mirror. Still looks the same. The same. Same. Exercises aren’t working. Must exercise more. Get rid of regret more. Get rid of regret I barely put into my body. Who cares if it may be damaging my body on the inside. I’m looking superficially better on the outside. Who cares that only 2 years ago I got rid of my regret so much I put myself in the hospital. Who cares that I was in so much pain that I gave myself a panic attack and my body locked up while driving.  Had surgery to repair the internal hernia I created. Vowed to myself I wouldn’t get rid of my regret that way ever again. My vow lasted a week, tops.

Two hours after surgery. I got up and out of the bed to leave the hospital. Worried about the cost of medical bills. After all, I could walk around just fine. A little sore. Fine. Had to be at work in a couple days. Need to make money. Need to support those that need me. Can’t be too behind at work. Can’t get fired. Sure, I’ll stay 2 hours past closing time to finish the reports. Finish the spreadsheets. Finish the letters…AND NOT GET PAID. Sure because I don’t want to get fired. Sure, because I am your doormat.

I still get rid of my regrets. I like that it is the only sense of control I have in my life. I don’t care that it may be hurting me physically. I should but I don’t. Even with my family history of certain diseases, like cancer. Does it scare me? Yes. Enough to stop? I don’t feel pretty yet.

Thoughts. Too many. Too jumbled. Too rapid. Fleeting. Only constant is a feeling a self worth. A very low feeling of self worth. It’s always underlying. Always there. Always making me question. Never giving me any sense of true happiness. Not sure what can make me feel like I am deserving. Like I am wanted. Like I am accomplished. It’s like I am existing to exist.

I’m tired of these thoughts. I want them one at a time. I want to know how to deal with them like a rational person. I’m irrational. I’m a jump to conclusions. I’m stubborn. I’m I’ll do the opposite because you told me to, even if it’s wrong girl. I know it’s a problem. But I don’t want to fix it because you are saying I should. I’m just a big ugly mess of erratic thoughts and feelings. Feelings I thought that would be better understood if I wrote them down.

Only thing I understand is #1 I don’t understand. #2. I am slowly hurting myself. #3 I don’t seem to care when I should.

I’m lost and it is always up to me to find my way out. I feel I am beyond repair to fix myself. I constantly push away the hands that try to help because I feel it isn’t genuine, just the “nice” thing to say because that’s what you say. What would you say if I said yes? Would you follow through or would you be like ever other person I entrusted with my emotions and just walk away? Grow tired of my complaining. Tired of my stubbornness.

Reader, if there are readers, don’t feel sorry for me. Don’t pity me. You aren’t supposed to. I don’t want you to. It isn’t your job or obligation to feel sorry for me. I am supposed to feel for you. Help you. Make you be the better person. Why write this then? I don’t know, I’m erratic. I’m irrational. I feel I need to. For now. Until I decide to delete this. If I delete this. I won’t delete this. It’s me now. At this moment. Might be different after I finish writing this, but as of this moment, Hello…it’s me. This is confusing I know. Now you peeked into this mind. I’m not linear. I cross over many lines and complicate the simple. It’s probably why I’m so messed up.  But it’s OK. It’s fine. I can deal with this. I can fake happy for a long time. I can be happy with people. Then I’ll be me when I’m with me. I got my big girl panties on. It’s cool. I’m fine. I’m good.




Going through the motions of trying to have no emotions

Everything is so mundane. Just when something seems like a great possibility it comes crashing down. I put so much faith in people handling my heart that I just get it handed back to me bruised and beaten. I grow ever more cynical of even trying to find someone worthy of giving my heart to that I find it ok to just completely close myself off to anyone. I fall head over heels for someone but they usually end up being a player or they get what they want and they just end up no longer talking to me or completely leaving me. So what do I do now or find myself doing more and more? I close myself off to people. I pull back. I no longer want to try. Sure I have my friends. I see them meet loves and have love. I sit here envious. I sit here glassy eyed. I sit here pushing down the hurt and the realization that with every day passing by and every birthday that goes by, I am still alone. No boyfriend. No husband. No family. No one to love me back.

I am alone. I am slowly accepting the fact that I will die alone. I mean I know we all die alone, but i will most likely die alone without every truly loving someone or having someone ever love me.

Eyes are glassy now with tears I’m fighting back. This is the first step in actually trying to numb myself. To just go on with life not truly being here, but just being a shell. I’m good at faking though. No one needs to see me like this. It is weakness when they see me like this. Someone crying out for someone just to love me if even for a day. But that won’t happen.

I am an empty shell.

The Skin I’m In

For the majority of my teenage years up until now, I have always had a hate/hate relationship with my body. I used to be real skinny and then one day BAM! ADIPOSE!!!!! Well it just seemed that way. I honestly don’t know why or when I started to gain weight, I just did. This didn’t really bother me until I was about 13 or so. Ya know the age where girls start to change and grow boobies and boys start noticing. I wasn’t into boys but I saw how girls got attention. I mean FUCK I had boobs! I started developing when I was 10. Like, what the actual fuck boys, LOOK AT ME!

The more and more I started to think about it, I realized it wasn’t so much about the boobs. I mean it played a huge part, but a lot of the girls were also thin and pretty…..and white. OH YEAH, I threw the race card out there. I’ll get to that in a bit but for now I am just going to talk about the weight issue.

I think I started my first diet when I was about 13. I was on Dexitrim. My mom was totally supportive because as she always said “You have such a pretty face BUT if you just lost weight you could be so much prettier”. Ya, that shit right there. That was said pretty much my whole life. It is one thing to hear it from people that don’t like you because, hell they want to hurt you. However, to hear it from family, especially from a person that gave birth to you? FUCKING HELL!

I would yo-yo diet most of my life. I did the grapefruit, the vinegar, Dexitrim, Vegetarian, Slim-fast, only green food, South Beach,cut calories, Atkins, etc… You name I’ve probably tried it. I never lost more than 20lbs. And I always gained it back. You can pretty much see how my self confidence just fell during these years. I didn’t have a boyfriend in high school. I didn’t have my first boy friend until I was 19. He liked me for the way I was. Which is exactly what every girl/guy needs, to have someone to care for them the way they are; all their faults, imperfections, idiosyncrasies.

Besides the weight issue in school, I do think it was also because no one knew exactly what nationality I was. I never fit it. I didn’t fit in with the white kids cause I was too brown. I didn’t really fit in with the black kids cause I was too light. I didn’t fit in with the Asians because my eyes weren’t slanted enough and I wasn’t a “mainlander”. I didn’t fit in with the Hispanics, cause I just wasn’t Puerto Rican or Dominican or WHATEVERICAN enough. So for me to even identify with anyone was difficult. I would act all different ways just to “try” and fit in. I never really knew who I was unless I was on the track field. I was an athlete. But off the field a “fat what the hell are you anyway” person. I wasn’t at all experience with guys until my 20’s. and at that time I was just searching for anyone to really care for me. Guy or girl.

I don’t consider myself bi-sexual because I am mostly attracted to men. There are some women that I have been attracted to but not to the level of wanting to have a full on relationship. But in my 20’s I just ballooned up bigger and bigger. Financial and family drama made me eat more. LIKE SO MUCH MORE. I remember I used to be able to eat 4 double cheeseburgers from McDonald’s. Fo’ Real people. I was that FAT. But all this emotional trauma just made me more confused about relationships and how to forge anything substantial. I just wanted someone to love me and I wanted to love them back. But I was so scared about what they would eventually think of me that I ended up pushing them away or just had a quick fling and that was it. Not the healthiest way to make serious long lasting relationships.

I still to this day haven’t ever told anyone I loved them. I mean, like love them in that way. Sure I love people as a person and a friend, but I think the day I actually tell that person I love them, it will either be the end or start of me. I don’t know. I’m scared if they know I love them, they will take advantage of my feelings. But in some ways, I am willing to risk it. Love is going all in right? After all, we all deserve to have the person we love, love us back as much as we love them. The quest is finding that person.

To be honest, I am fucking tired of it right now. That is why I am just learning to love me first. I think that is the important thing. Finding self respect in yourself. Loving yourself. Knowing what you want for yourself. Is it hard? Of course it is. There are times I feel like calling up such and such a dude to a quickie to feel loved or wanted. Or just going to a bar with a friend and trying to pick up someone there. But I’m not. To me that is not respecting myself. I just didn’t realize it until I hit my epiphany. That moment of clarity that literally made me stop, think, and have that OMFG moment. From that moment on, I’ve been happier. A clearer mind.

Do I think this moment will stay? No. But I hope it stays. But I know, I and everyone is a constant work in progress. We will all have our ups and downs, the highs and lows, the polar opposite emotional coin. It is what it is. The whole idea is recognizing it and trying not to give in to what makes you upset or sad or cause you to drink or eat too much or whatever you didn’t like about yourself.

Now that I have come to terms with that, I had this epiphany about my own body image. Like I said I
used to be EXTREMELY overweight.. It got so bad I had to have weight loss surgery. It was painful, emotional, physically exhausting and I developed some other unhealthy habits post surgery. Even after I lost the weight I was still beating up myself because I still had the fat person mentality. I still thought I wasn’t good enough for anyone. Even when my dress size went down, I still thought I was a size 26. I’m now a 12/14. I just kept saying, I need to get smaller. I need to be IN A SIZE 8!! I became obsessed. I am cutting my calories, taking diet pills, drinking caffeine shots, exercising and at times I am vomiting. Forcing myself to throw up cause of stress or cause I feel “fat” or I ate too much. This is extremely unhealthy I know. I’m not condoning this. All I am saying is that everyone has their own way they want to lose weight, people will do what they will do. Healthy or not. I told myself that when I lost another 20lbs (which I have) I would start eating healthier. I am still cutting the calories, but I have increased them to about 1300-1500 a day. I am running at least 4 days a week. 2-3 miles a day. I am still on diet pills to cut my cravings but this is a lot healthier for me than what I was doing. I am battling everyday not to throw up, but I will have my moments. At least it isn’t everyday like last year. I vomited so much I put myself in the hospital with a hernia.

I am 25lbs lighter now. I am loving the way I look. Do I want to look better? Yes of course. But I am happy that I look this way now. I dress to show the positives of my body. I’m a thick girl, but I like it..for now. There are many products that will hold in all those extra extras. No one looks perfect. Hell, even when I save up money will I get plastic surgery? YES! It isn’t because of society, it is because I want to feel better. I want to have nice breasts again. I want to have a flat stomach. I am working on it and if this is one way to have it, then I will have it for myself. Not because society says you should look like that. I WANT TO LOOK THAT WAY, but I’m ok right now. I will get to my goal vision of my perfect body. But right now, nobody should tell anyone to just accept the way they look. If they are unhappy change whatever you need to change, mental or physical, about yourself to make yourself feel better.

I am happy with myself right now. I will continue to work at bettering myself. But right now, I am not going to fret. No need to. Just gotta keep working.

Comfortably Numb

Yesterday I was walking with my friend after work. We decided to get in a little workout with our chit-chat about my weekend in NYC. I told her all about the fun times and the drama that occurred. I even told her about the incredibly “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING” moment. I still replay that moment in my head and I am so incredibly disappointed in myself. NO, I will not mention what happened that night in this blog so stop trying to read ahead if I mention it, I’m not. All I will say, is that is it so out of character of me to even do something like that. What I will say is the massive amount of alcohol that was ingested with the yearning to have some affection played a huge part.

This combination is a HUGE “no-no”. It can only get you in trouble, hurt other people, or just leave you feeling like a regretful slut with no self respect. If not, well that is on you. This is how I felt. After all, this blog post is about me and the crap I am trying to work out but just writing it. You know, self therapy.

I realized since my grandmother died, that I have never really been happy. I was just basically living. Going to work. Paying Bills. Sleeping. Eating. No real drive in my life but to just go through the motions of just existing.  I looked at her life and realized how much life she lived in 94 years. She has seen so much. Advancement in technology, medicine, civil rights, birth of her children, her grandchildren, her great grandchildren. She traveled. Traveled in the sense of just taking car rides with the family to anywhere and everywhere. When she was diagnosed last October, she called up and talked to my dad and was like “I’m not going to seek treatment. I lived 93 years and seen, experienced a lot in my life. I’m going out on my terms”. She was a strong woman. She was a traditional woman that stood by her man and family regardless. When my grandfather got his 2nd stroke she took care of him when all of his friends left him. She was there. Like a wife should be.

Let me give you a little story about how awesome my grandparents were. How great of human beings they were. My grandparents lived just outside of Pittsburgh in a small steel town called Kittanning. My grandpop worked in steel, pretty much everyone did there. He lost his leg when he got caught between two trains. But he was a strong man, survived and had a wooden leg that I remember I used to knock knock on it. Anyway, I digress a bit. My grandparents lived in a 1 bedroom house and had 4 children. The kids slept in the attic. They were considered middle class, I suppose. They were comfortable. They were the first to have a TV on the block. All the kids would come over to watch. They were willing to help out any friend in need. If they needed money, they’d give it to them with no expectation of being paid back. If you paid them back fine, if you didn’t they didn’t think any less of you. During the summers, homeless people with horses would make their travels through the area and would offer up pictures with the children for money or food. My grandparents would happily oblige. This picture is of my Daddy on the horse. My grandparents helped anyone, anytime. They were good, honest, stern, loving people and I wish more people were like them today.

We thought that they had kept the same company. We figured the people they helped, the friends they helped would be more than willing to help them when they needed it. However, that was not the case.  My grandfather had a stroke. He lost some mobility but was actually OK. However, on his 2nd stroke he was rendered immobile and unable to talk.  My grandpop was a broad man. A steel worker. My grandmom was a tiny woman. 5’1 maybe 100lbs.  Well after he got his 2nd stroke, all the people they help with money, food, whatever…ran. They left my grandmom alone to take care of this man. They were heartbroken. The family was shocked. In a time of crisis you really do know who your true friends are by those that stand by you know matter what. Apparently, they didn’t have any real friends. My grandmom’s words, “To hell with them“. She stayed by her husband in this time. Never wavered. Took care of him, bathed him, fed him, cleaned him. He suffered quite a few more strokes until he was in the hospital.  He refused to eat and accepted his fate. Strong til the end. The only thing he wanted was to die with family near him. He didn’t get that. My grandmom left to go home and get something, and in that time he passed. She regretted that. She never got over that fact. So when she accepted her fate, all she wanted was us to be there.

On Jan 27th, 2012, my dad called her to wish her an early happy birthday. They would normally talk for hours on the phone but 20 minutes into the call she felt tired. Said her goodbye. That was the last time she was able to speak. We found out the next day something happened and her health deteriorated so fast. My aunt told us we needed to be there. We didn’t have the money to really drive down to South Carolina, but me being me, I got it. We left Thursday, Feb 2, 2012 at about 11pm. I drove first. I drove for about 5 hours until I passed Alexandria, Va. During that time we just reminisced about her, not really talking about the inevitable death that we would probably witness. We got to Rock Hill, SC  at about 9am. Walked in saw my other brother and his family, my Aunt Susan with tired eyes filled with tears. I felt an uneasiness already. My brother hasn’t seen my grandmother in years because he was unable to travel for so long because of his kidney disease. My Dad walked into the room first. I stood about 10 feet from the door looking in, and seeing this sight broke my heart. I saw this weak, gaunt, inept woman in front of me. Not the former strong willed lady I once knew. She was unable to speak. You weren’t sure if she was in pain or just trying to talk. My dad walked out of the room. My brother walked in. 10 seconds later he ran out. I have NEVER seen my brother cry. That scared me. I walked in. Looked at her. Held as much tears of I could in. I knelt beside her hospital bed. Held her frail, cold hand. Brushed her white hair back with my hand and whispered that we came to her. We were there. We were not leaving. We loved her. I heard some gurgling. I told her I loved her again. My brother Tim came in and we just talked. Me and Tim are alike when it comes to situations like that. We are stoic. We try our best to be strong for others and not let our emotions get in the way. We knew she wasn’t going to last very long. Throughout the day we kept checking in on her. My dad and I even had a conversation about giving her the rest of the morphine so she can pass without pain. We never said it to anyone else, but I even offered to do it myself. I was willing to help end the pain and not let my dad have that on his conscious. We obviously didn’t do it. We all slept there that night. My grandma was still with us. We had a Jehovah witness Elder come to discuss the arrangements for my grandmom. At about 9am, Feb 4th, 2012, my cousin ran out of the room crying. At that moment I knew she passed. Instead of running into the room, I ran out of the apartment and down the street. I called my mom. Letting her know that she passed. That was the only time that I released every emotion. But it was just on the phone. Not in front of my Dad or other family members. I still remember my dad, at a weak point, standing next to my grandmom’s lifeless body sobbing and leaning over to me saying “I can really use a shoulder.” Sure I had tears, but I did not cry. Strength. Needed to be Strong. After that, I went numb. We waited for the coroner to come and make it official. And as the funeral home came to take the body, they said for us to turn away if we wanted. I didn’t. I stayed still. Looking at her now in the black plastic body bag. being wheeled out. No life. Nothing. I felt, nothing at that moment. Just respect and kept my head high for her. Later that night, we went over to my Aunt’s house and just talked about everything. The past. The present. What’s to come. After we left we went back to my grandmom’s apartment to sleep a bit. And at that point I realized I needed to change my life. I wanted to be like my grandmom. At that point my Dad, brother Tim, and myself all agreed a move for me down south would benefit me. So I am doing it. I am moving to make my life. I want to live my life the way she did, with just full of life and no regret.

Well, that was some sort of insight to my grandparents and what they meant to me. So you can understand that even though I haven’t dealt with her death, my already un-diagnosed depression got worse. I started drinking a lot more. I started being more irritable. Crying more. Taking things out of context. Throwing up more. The straw that broke the camels back was pretty much me crying uncontrollably at work. I was hysterical. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t know why I was crying. I just was. I called my doctor and he told me I was. I sat in his office as he talked to me about it and how it was common. It made me feel better. It made me feel normal. It made me realize I can help myself get back to normal emotional field. However, only medication can go so far. Yes I was talking to friends about it. Trying to let them know about my past issues. But in terms, I still shut them out. Afraid for some reason.

The tipping point was NYC. I drank so much. Did some regretful things. One thing I will talk about is I actually laid a hand on a friend. I slapped someone I cared about because I took something that was said out of context. I thought I playfully slapped that person but apparently everyone else said I did a full on slap. I hate violence. I do not like it at all. I saw how things were when I was younger with my parents when my mom drank and I never wanted to be like that. And in my moment of clarity after NYC, I realized I was that person. I was my mom when she used to drink. I remember how scared I was. I remember stuff that happened. And when I looked back I became that person that was violent. Other things occurred that weekend. Yes it was fun, but I know I could have fun without alcohol. I’m a crazy person in general anyway. But when you add strong liquor to the equation it heavily impairs my ability to judge situations. I will get myself in trouble. I will have regretful nights. I will have blackouts that is dangerous to myself.

So because of this, I’m done drinking. I don’t need alcohol to numb my feelings. I don’t need to forget my problems. I need to deal with them with a clear mind. A sober mind. Only then will I be able to make myself a stronger person. A person I know that will deserve all the good that has to come to her.  I know there will be hard moments, but I can’t mask, run, or hide the problems. I certainly shouldn’t drink them away.

Tit for Tat, I do that.

Tit for tat is an English saying meaning “equivalent retaliation”. When it comes to relationships, this type of strategy is not really effective unless you just want to keep hurting the other person because they hurt you. But if you want the relationship to bloom, one needs to not do that. I for one am one that tends to do this Tit for Tat shit. I just find it easier that if someone hurts me, I return a jab in their direction or not even acknowledge what they said bothers me. I’ve always tried to mask my emotions or hide them. Counter productive I know, but I felt if they hurt me I need to hurt them back. But I want to be able to look at any person I am with or attracted to and not feel hurt. Not feel like I have to hurt them. Not feel like we have to hurt each other. Cause there are times after I realize what I do, I feel like the lowest person ever. I’m not enjoying myself when I do this nor when I feel like I’ve been slighted.

I NEED to stop giving into the urge to counter attack. One day at a time I suppose. Reflecting at the end of the day. Make sure I start the next on a good note and try to be a good person without hurting anyone. Because that isn’t me. I don’t want to be that person. Ever. I want to smile more and  not cry. However, in order to do this, I know I need to let people in more. But that is another fear I have because I feel if they know more about me they will run, change their view on me, or just use it against me to hurt me. I’ve had to build up this wall because for so long I have been unhappy with myself physically and anytime I would date a guy it wouldn’t be that long because I feel it was never for something more than just some fun. Then leave me for someone prettier, more in shape.

I maybe had a chance to have 2 serious relationships but I ended those after about 3 months. Both of which were when I was heavier than I am now. All of my superficial relationships or flings have been after I lost all my weight. I think I know why it has been just a lot of superficial. It just hurts to say. I can say I’m not slutty, but obviously my actions have said otherwise. I can say I want something more, but obviously I build a wall up that I refuse to let anyone I truly care about, in. I suppose when I do this, they really don’t want to know anything more about me. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never asked them. I’ve only talked to one ex about what went wrong and he just basically said I wasn’t confident. I am a “sweet girl but I was so unsure about myself”.  Well after years of being beat down emotionally it does take time to build yourself back up, especially when you have your own family members make constant jokes. But what do I do in return????? Yup I take jabs back at them. Tit for Tat. Not the greatest thing to do, but at the time it seemed legit.

I want my wall to come down. But my fear is when it does not a single person will be there when all the bricks are finally broken. I’ll be there alone, crying.

Mysterious Skin

I’ve always thought I had a pretty good grasp on who I was as a person. I’ve always thought I knew what I wanted in life. I was sure on my goals and my feelings. I was absolute in what type of life I wanted and deserved. However, in the last few months a lot of my absolutes, my sureness, my grasp on my personal self has been questioned. Not really by others, but by myself. This isn’t something that I ever thought I would have to deal with because I was so firm in myself. But here I am, pretty much standing on this edge of a cliff wanting to just jump off into the abyss. However, there is something left from my old self that makes me want to step back and not jump off and give in to giving up.

I was brought up in a military family. The way our feelings were dealt with is we basically don’t. We keep it to ourselves. We fix ourselves. Letting others know we are at a weak moment proves we can be hurt.  I don’t like people seeing me hurt. I don’t like them to know I am. I still don’t. I hate the fact people have seen or heard me cry. To me it is a sign of weakness and people know how to attack. I try to hold it in as long as I can and be strong but I realize in doing this I am not only hurting myself because I am depressed but I am numbing myself and making it ok for people continue to step on me. To continue to say the things that bother me. To continue to add salt to an already open wound that only I know is there.

The problem here is that I don’t know how to convey my feelings. I’ve always had to put my feelings aside for others. I don’t mind. I really don’t. I like trying to help those that need it. I’ve always been that caregiver; to my brother when he almost died 3 years ago.  I had to be strong for my parents because they almost lost their son. I had to hold my tears in when my mother broke down and cried. I had to hold my hysterical mother in the hospital room.  I had to see my dad have tears roll down him face. I had to see the fear in his eyes at the thought of losing his son. I had to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder to let him know it would be ok. This man has never cried in front of me, ever. This is a stone cold retired Navy Master Chief.  But at this moment I saw fear and it cut me so deep that I knew I had to be the rock of this family at this moment.  When no one looked, when I was alone in my room or driving in my car to work, I released. I would do this only when I was alone.  No one needed to see me fall apart.

I’ve always done this in some aspect in my life. Always being the strong, rational one. The one that can have the level head in times of crisis. When it came to losing our house, not once but twice, I had to be calm and organize the situation. I had to reaffirm everything would be alright. Again, I don’t mind. I don’t. I will go out of my way to help anyone. I just hope one day I can find someone that will do that for me or I let my guard down enough to let someone. Doing this gives me a sense of control. A control I like because with all the chaos I have, this is something that I am good at, controlling external chaos. Internal chaos is a whole other thing. That is a battle I seem to be losing.

I never really had the chance…no, a reason to look at myself.  Like really look at myself. If I was unhappy with the way I looked, I dieted. If I was unhappy with a relationship, I ended it. If I was sad, I would self medicate until I forgot. If people asked me if I was alright, “Yeah. I’m good. don’t worry”. However, this feeling has gotten worse over the last few months. Ever since my grandmother died, something happened. I don’t know what. Something switched in me. I’ve never had to deal with death.  But ever since she passed, things were said to me that made me realize how much I’ve given up in my life for others. I feel shafted. But I have no one to blame but myself. I let people use me to a point that it has become a natural occurrence.

Around this time, I became part of a small group on Facebook. This group came together out of just mutual fun, love, humor, tolerance, & craziness. It was a home where I could be myself.  I became friends with a few people. I felt at ease to talk to them when I had some personal problems that I couldn’t tell my real life close friends.  They helped me.  I’ve also met a few people on there that know more about me than I wish they did. There are times I regret letting them in that much because now I know I am an open book because regardless of what they know about me, I still seem to get hurt regardless of how they know I feel. I want to pull back, but it’s too late. So I just deal. It is the only thing I can do. I can’t force people to change. I can only change myself and the feelings I have. Even though I know what I must do, it still stings when I can’t stop myself from feeling that way. The feeling will pass. I’ve realized that I must work on myself first. I must realize that I need to push this feeling aside because it is making me feel this way, making me lose control.

These past 3 months of being on this site, I have become more emotional. Diagnosed with depression because of all my family,work, relationship drama. Which is a good thing, don’t get me wrong. It made me realize I need to deal with my feelings and my inner demons. I need to work out my issues on trying to reach physical perfection, emotional perfection, relationship perfection, & inner perfection. It made me realize I’ve been drinking far too much. I’ve been trying to use alcohol as an excuse to act stupid and push down whatever demons I had and say “I’m sorry for the way I acted I was drunk”. It made me realize that my mother’s constant blessing and encouragement to purge my food to get skinny is wrong. Have I stopped? No. I still feel it is a sense of control in stressed moments. I don’t do it everyday. But I purged so much last year that I’ve cause my body to get a hernia and I had to be hospitalized and have surgery to repair it. Has it stopped me? No. I only do it sparingly. But I have done it recently. I’m not proud. But I have. I’ve done it as recently as 4 days ago. Am I proud? No. But I felt better, more controlled. I know this is wrong. It is a battle I fight everyday on doing this. Every hour. Every minute. Every second. Every time I put food in my mouth, I decide if I want to keep it or get rid of it.

Has being in this group heightened my problems? I don’t think so. Not really. Maybe it has highlighted my problems. Bring them to my attention. I really don’t know. Is it a good thing I was in this group? I suppose because now I can’t run from myself anymore. And I say was because I left. It was just to massive and I felt all claustrophobic. I was pretty much afraid to say anything real. Anything that had substance. Anything that would let people know me. I would just say snarky comments, but saying snark get’s tired. It’s become superficial and I wanted more. So I left. I’m not sure if it is for good, but it is for now.

Then last night happened. It was fine. But then something so small turned into a bigger discussion.  I posted on facebook that I hated the feeling of wanting to talk to someone but not wanting to talk. I just wanted to be held. Then out of the blue, someone I really haven’t talked to ever asked me to message him. I debated about doing this, but I did. It started out with a simple thing about watching my dog of 15 years slowly die. It’s true. I see her just lying there barely eating, just sleeping. Seeing a shell of what she used to be. Even now writing that I have tears in my eyes. Again, death I don’t deal with. But we talked about it, then he kinda knew there was something more. He just knew. And we talked about it. We talked about how we have the facade of saying we are fine when we aren’t. We smile when we are sad. We look for certain things but we haven’t found it. We talked about love and how we yearn for it. We talked about how we need to just love ourselves and we aren’t perfect and there will never be perfection in ourselves. But we must work to make ourselves happy first before anyone else. Then we talked about the Greeks 3 words for love; Agape, Eros, Philia (we only talked about 3 I know there are 4 on there). When we talked about those, i lost it. I was hysterical. I don’t know why, I mean I do. We all want love, but for me I guess I’ve wanted it so much more because of all my relationships I’ve ever had were short, nothing of substance. I get scared. I run. I don’t think I deserve it because of how I used to look. How I still think I look.

But then he said one thing that resonated,“What has anyone done to deserve your love?” That one statement has made me question EVERY RELATIONSHIP I’ve ever been in and will ever be in. Because honestly, nothing. Not one person has done anything for me that deserves me to love them in the way I think they deserve to be love. But this statement made me look at myself and realized, “What the fuck am I doing? Why am I just willing to sleep with someone because I feel lonely?” This realization made me look at myself in disgust because I don’t want to use anyone just for pleasure. I want to be with someone that will love me and I will love back. I now know what I have to do with this guy I am seeing or won’t be seeing anymore. At least not for sex.

I realize, I must love myself first. I must make myself happy in whatever respects makes me happy. The first step to this is just stepping back and breathing. Focus on my health. Focus on my relationships with my family. Relationships with my friends. Relationship with myself. Then and only then will I even put effort into a relationship.

I know we all have issues and our issues will never go away when we meet that one person. But I want that one person to be with me with my issues and not run. I will do the same for them. Until then, I’m just me. Alone. Working. Bettering. Loving myself, family, friends, & life. I’m not jumping into that abyss. I’m turning around and facing whatever is in front of me full force cause I’m a fucking bus.

Best Movie People Are NOT Seeing

With the inundation of movie remakes and lack of fresh movie ideas, I was pleasantly surprised when I went I saw a trailer back in early January of this year for Warrior. Yes, one can see this as just another sports movie. However, it is more than that. The movie uses the sport of MMA (Mixed Martial Arts) and the city of Pittsburgh & Atlantic City as characters in this dysfunctional family drama.

The movie takes place in is about two estranged brothers. One brother, Tommy, (played by Tom Hardy) comes back from the Middle East. We initially see him sitting on the steps of his recovering alcoholic father’s (played by Nick Nolte) step.  There is tension, disgust, hatred from Tommy towards his dad, but his dad decides to take Tommy into his home because he hopes to start new. We do not know of Tommy’s storyline until about halfway into the movie and that is just only half of his backstory we learn. We finally get the full story (I will not spoil it here) with about 30 minutes left in the film. When we find out Tommy’s whole story it is not only noble & gut-wrenching, but we feel sorry for him & want him to win.

 However, his brother Brendan has his own family drama. Brendan at the age of 16 decided not to go with his brother and mother after she left his father. Their father used to be an abusive alcoholic, but is now recovering and living on the straighten arrow. Tommy has pretty much disowned Brendan as his brother because he felt abandoned by him. Now that Brendan is older, he is now a teacher that has a family of his own that he adores and loves. But this is not the perfect family picture. Sure he loves them, but they are finding themselves with a huge financial problem. We first see Brendan sitting in front of a loan officer getting the new that he is “upside down” on his mortgage and faces losing his house if he can’t come up with the money. This is not an uncommon problem today in America so we instantly feel sorry for this hardworking man, who lies to his wife about his 2nd job.  He tells his wife he is a bouncer at a club/bar to earn extra money. However, he has returned to the ring to fight. He hopes to win $500 a fight to bring in some cash flow. When she finds out that this is the only way to try and save their home she reluctantly agrees to him fighting. She refuses to watch because he was nearly killed from an MMA fight in the past.

 Their dad, Paddy Conlon (Nick Nolte) is a recovering alcoholic who used to abuse their mother. Both sons despise him, but Tommy needs him to train him because Paddy was his high school wrestling coach. “It was the one thing you were good at,” Tommy says. Brendan despises his dad for not only hurting his mom and the drinking, but he also feels his dad favored Tommy. He never felt that his dad loved him or saw potential. So Brendan was always trying to prove he can be good. He looked for acknowledgement as a good son when he was younger and as an adult. We can see from just this that there is so much animosity between the brothers feeling like they abandoned each other, their dad being an abusive drunk, and sibling favoritism that this movie will be one big DRAMZ!!!!

The city backdrops also play a character. Pittsburgh and Philadelphia (Brendan lives there) aren’t the glamorous urban lifestyle that is Manhattan. They are the working man cities. This shows that people are the blue collared “get ‘em done” type of people. When they go to Atlantic City, you can see the Glam & Glitz of the show. This adds to the great story line.

There isn’t a lot of fighting in the beginning of the movie, but when it moves to Atlantic City for the big showdown, the fighting is intense and I evenfound myself jumping out of my seat like some spectator at an old Roman gladiator event. Just from that intensity, I can see how MMA was used as a character. The sport is not some brutal bloodbath, but it’s an intense yet serene thinking man sport.

This movie opened up on September 9, 2011 in America. I saw this movie on my birthday and was pleasantly surprised on how emotional it was. There was so much emotional pull and tugs at the heart between Brendan’s story, Tommy’s story, Paddy’s story, individually but when they interact that story is even more heartbreaking. You can see the hurt that was caused from years before. Since it’s opening, the movie has only brought in over $10 million. I don’t know if it was lack of marketing, but this is a movie that will be up for major awards; acting, directing, script,  cinematography. Tom Hardy proves he is not just the hot guy from Inception, but he is a great method actor. His next films include The Dark Knight Rises and Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (please watch the trailer for this). Nick Nolte redeems his career with this role. Joel Edgerton (virtually unknown) will star in the Thing prequel, Killing of Osama Bin Laden and Baz Lurhmann’s The Great Gatsby.

So do yourself a HUGE favor, go out and see this movie. This is not just a movie for guys but women will love it too. Not just because of the greatstory and pretty sexy action, but for a superficial sexiness of the hard bodies. Tom Hardy has now come onto my radar as one of the Sexys in my book. He now joins Joel Edgerton, Jason Clarke, Michael Rooker, Norman Reedus, and Jason Isaacs.