Category Archives: Confused

We’ve Been Here Before. I Recognize That Tree…


I feel empty. And I don’t want to talk about it. Not because I think it wouldn’t help but because I’m not sure I know what is wrong and I don’t want to bug any of my friends. Any of the people I want to open up to.  I feel as though I have lost all my friends…no, scratch that, I know I have.  Once I fall down I push everyone away, distance myself, make it easy to fall apart without feeling like I will hurt anyone.  Anyone other than myself.

Once my desperate desires turned into fears of possible follow through I began to realize that I wasn’t the person I had worked so hard to become.  The person I was.  The person I am.  Somewhere along the way I let myself go.  I lost who I was again and suddenly, without knowing when or how or why, I found myself back at the bottom of the mountain I had climbed up so carefully and tediously.  And the thing is, clawing your way back to the top is much more difficult than the tumble down is.  I see where I once was.  I can even see my damn footprints in the ground but reaching even that first step seems impossible from this far away.

Fortunately for me I have done it before so I know I can do it again.  Unfortunately, it has once again become a task that seems impossible from this view.  I go through so many ups and downs through the day I am exhausted by the time I finally clock out at work thinking only of the comfort of my bed and dreaming of comfort food that I rarely crave let alone indulge in.  But right now I would like nothing more than to finish off a very large bag of Cheetos followed by a pint of strawberry ice cream not to be shown up by a bottle of white wine.

Sometimes you search for solace in a person you don’t even know; a person who needs you in that moment just as much as you need them.  A stranger who can take on all your troubles and you theirs because in the end you mean nothing more to each other than a fellow sufferer searching for any strand of a lifeline in this chaotic, unfeeling world of empty souls.  I used to be able to find those people in my times of need but this time…this time I know it won’t help.  I know exactly to whom I should be talking. To whom I need to talk, but it is more difficult than I ever imagined possible.

During my writing hiatus a lot has happened and I have wanted to share it with the world but every time I tried to sit down and write nothing came.  Sometimes I couldn’t even bring myself to sit in front of my computer because I knew my inability to put emotions and feelings into words, my inability to do what has always come so naturally to me, would lead to nothing more than a self loathing pity party that even I didn’t want to participate in.  I should know by now that once “writers block” sets in it means I have stopped connecting with myself; stopped taking time to do things I enjoy…basically stopped being myself.

So what happened?  How did I get here?  I was happy and making progress towards all my goals and trying new things and doing everything I had said I would do and then…what?  I met someone.  I met my future husband.  And things were wonderful.  At first.  After a few months I do what I always do; I stopped focusing on myself and focused solely on making him happy.  Why?  Why did I do this?  Because there is a very large part of me that believes I am not good enough and I have to make up for it somehow.  This very large part of me was a part I believed I had finally shut away for good…I believed incorrectly.

It came back with a vengeance and likes to remind me of all the hurt I have endured from other men and the nasty things they would blame me for regardless of the fact that I was not to blame.  I would like to believe that my devotion to making my man happy came from the fear of having him turn on me like the others in my past but that would be a lie.  The embarrassing truth is that I have always devoted myself to making my significant other happy while completely neglecting my own feelings.  It took me awhile to realize that my devotion was the exact thing that pushed the people I loved away and this time I was not going to let it happen.  This time was different.  This man was different.

And that, dear readers, is what finally hit me recently and knocked me out of my downward spiral.  I’m still down here, but I know what must be done.  I know that I need to talk to him.  I know that it will all be okay because, guess what?  This man loves me.  All of me.  For all the right reasons.  And I can claim that he doesn’t, I can try and convince myself that he is like the others, I can push and push and push against him, but in the end I know that I am just fooling myself.  In the end those wedding magazines are still sitting on my desk full of sticky notes marking desires and ideas.  In the end, he’s still the one.


So as not to completely deviate from my old ways I must end this post with a cyber smile since today is Texas’ “Icemaggeddon” and my company closed down their offices I have been having my own little version of a snow day and would like to wish you a day filled with spiked coffee, cozy blankets fully equipped with cuddle bitches, and naps where you dream of nothing but heat inducing activities with your partner…should you be so lucky to have one with you.

Sadly my man is over THERE and I am over HERE and the icy roads are screaming a resounding, “FUCK YOU!” to couples all throughout North Texas.  Thanks…we owe you.  And we ALWAYS repay our debts.


A Pile of Lies Hidden by a Blanket of Truth

An excerpt from one of my novels:

There was a party that night.  There was a party almost every night, but this one was different.  Everybody we knew was at this party, gathered together in an intimately large crowd of faces and names that few cared to remember but all knew.  We passed by each other throughout the night – a light brush of the hand here, an exchanged glance there, a shiver of longing stretching across the space – never stopping to say hello.  Words fell out of people’s mouths falling onto the ground in a cacophonous thunder – twenty six letters collecting on the floor in a strange new menagerie of words that none of us understood.

As the raucous party grew to an unbearable din it ended suddenly, a collective nod to the silently agreed upon expulsion of a raucous affair that never had a purpose but always came to fruition at the end of what some face or another would proclaim was “one hell of a day.”  The after effects of liquor leaving piles of bodies haphazardly strewn around the apartment – the unexplainable fallout of a night that would be remembered only upon waking eyes blinking into focus a room that was not theirs; a partner they had no recollection of acquainting themselves with; a memory they will forever be searching for.

We united in the hall, our unspoken words screaming out, echoing through the apartment.  Falling onto the bed we tore at each others clothes, desperate for a feeling we both knew we would not find.  His eyes searched my face as hungrily as mine searched his finding solace in our shared emptiness.  We were all each other had.  All each other wanted.  Our passion grew in immensity as the sun pounded its unforgiving rays through our curtains, spotlighting our deception.

The sound of my heartbeat threatened to burst my eardrums as we stared at each other in a state of mental and physical exhaustion.  I saw his mouth open as three words spilled out and fell upon the space in the bed between us, forming a pool of empty desire.  My mind screamed, “what is love?”  My lips parted, but the words got stuck in my throat.  What came out startled both of us.  “I love you, too.”  An unnoticed inflection at the end trailing off into the dark chasm of misunderstanding that would live between us forever.  There is no question in love.

He moved his calloused hand over the curves of my body, laced his fingers through mine, and pulled me close.  Our legs intertwined, our souls met in the middle.  Nothing between us but naked lies etched upon our scared hearts.  A beautiful duality of lies and truths created the world around us.  Created our lives.  Created our love.

I’m fine. Really.

I write because...

Having writers block is about as much fun as stubbing your toe repeatedly.  Lately, each attempt at putting pen to paper (both figuratively and literally) has resulted in both a lack of imagination as well as a lack of vocabulary.  My entire curse word patois came into full force and I felt as though I could have put a few sailors to shame yet not one iota of what I wrote was usable which made for a confused, frustrated, and rather bitchy me.  It is quite similar to PMS…just, you know, without the cramps and cravings.  And finally today during my eleven hour work day my thoughts ran rampant and suddenly the ability to write came back to me in full force.  But that’s how it happens, isn’t it?  When you want to do it, you can’t.  When you are busy doing something else and are completely consumed in your work, BAM!, inspiration hits and has a good laugh at it’s perfectly inconvenient timing.  So, as well as adding to one of my scripts I decided it was time to try writing another blog and see how it will work out.  Fingers crossed that I can finish this and not leave in in draft-land where so many other reside.

Head Up

I could spout out several reasons for why I have not been blogging lately but the long and short of it is that I haven’t been okay.  There was a buildup of sadness and near depression for several weeks leading up to my second psychotic episode ever.  This one happened to be a few days after the anniversary of my first one last year that landed me in the E.R. with a terrifyingly insufficient recollection of what exactly had happened.  Luckily this episode wasn’t as severe but the next morning my memories felt like a movie I had watched.  They weren’t my own.  It was like I was in another person’s head watching their memories and remembering their thoughts and feelings.  That is the best way I can describe it other than scary as fuck.

There has been such a buildup of negativity that it has left me exhausted.  I sleep like I’m depressed, I have to force myself to eat because I have no energy to do it, I have no appetite, and get a little nauseous every time I smell food cooking.  I rarely want to go out and do anything anymore because just the idea of doing something makes me tired.  I think about telling someone that I want to talk but I don’t even know what I would say so I just don’t.  I pretend like everything is okay; I’m doing just fine thankyouverymuch!  I take it when someone yells at me for being sad or in a mood when they think it is because of them since I don’t even have the energy or words to explain to them what may be going on. I can’t even really place the emotion.  I’m not sad or depressed or upset or angry or indifferent or unhappy…I’m just slightly empty.  Good things happen to me and it doesn’t even occur to me to share the good news with anybody.  I keep most of it to myself and the person that I do tell doesn’t really care because….well, because.  So here I am.  Empty, and unsure why.  I can come up with a few reasons as to why I may feel this way but it will all be mostly conjecture.  I mean, can you always explain why you feel a certain way when there is so much traffic in your brain that you no longer know which way is left?


The strangest part about all of this is something that I realized today.  Through all of this I have kept my hope and faith.  I still love life.  I have a childlike wonder about everything and I love making new memories every day.  Because that’s all we have, really.  You can’t live in the past, you have to leave that behind you because if you don’t you will miss out on what is happening in the present.  And you can’t live in the future because you never really know what will happen and if you focus on what you may or may not have you could miss out on what is currently happening.  I have faith in people and I still I have hope that everything will end up okay.  I wish I could hand this hope and faith over to my friends who are going through difficult times and have neither, but I can’t.  Instead I will continue to hold on to it for them until they are ready to accept it again.  I don’t think there is any reason not to have faith or hope because they make everything better.  The only reason you shouldn’t have them is if you like being miserable.  And I would know this because being miserable used to be my thing but for the first time in my life I am not letting the misery get to me.  I will not let it take over.  I refuse.  I accept that I will have bad times in my life, that I may not always be the overly peppy girl that I have become, but I will never let depression take over my life again.

We are all broken

So, while I am really, very not okay, I do still have certain days that are fantastic….

A perfect example of this would be Saturday – even though the week had sucked so much I cried at work three days in a row due to a few choice words from a friend who apparently knows me so well that they know exactly what to say that will hurt me the most (let’s ignore the fact that I shouldn’t let words effect me, okay?) – I woke up hyper, happy, and high on life.  Maybe it was because I had cried myself to sleep at eight the night before and spent 12 restless hours in bed or maybe it was because I realized that I was not at fault for what I had been blamed for, but for some reason everything seemed like it was going to be okay.  And it was, for the most part.  I attended a wedding with Mr. Perfect before we headed to the Rangers vs. Red Sox game and everything was fine until the vows were exchanged.  The word “forever” was thrown around and my stomach lurched.  I’m sure I have said it before but I will say it again:  I don’t think I could ever get married, and it isn’t because I don’t think I could be with someone forever, it’s because I don’t trust that anybody would keep their word and stick around forever.  People always leave.  They just do.  But I deserve better than that.  I don’t ever want to feel the same kind of pain and betrayal as I have felt from every person I have been in a relationship with.  If you are special enough for me to want to give my everything to, then I deserve the same from you.  Loving a person is the easy part, it’s caring enough to stay that is difficult, apparently.  So, until I find someone who realizes that I’m worth sticking around for, I will continue to hold back my trust.

*cough cough* Back to Saturday…

After the 5:30 vows were exchanged and congratulations were attempted to be given Mr. Perfect and I beelined to the parking lot to change in the car before heading to our much anticipated 7:05 baseball game.  I had so much going on in my head at this point that I was afraid I had lost my hyper-ness and, for most of the drive, I had.  But, true to myself, it appeared out of nowhere once again and as we were walking into the park Mr. Perfect informed me that I was special.  Not the hey-you-are-an-amazing-person-and-I’m-so-glad-to-have-you-in-my-life! kind of special, but the damn-they-had-a-designated-short-bus-for-you-didn’t-they? kind of special.  Yeah…because apparently people don’t skip around, break into song and dance, or name their bobby pins.  This is something “special” people do.  I’m special like V.I.P. damnit!  And my bobby pins agree.  Mostly Rosencrantz but that’s only because he thinks quite highly of himself and claims that he wouldn’t fraternize with anybody beneath him.  But, I mean, he’s a bobby pin…I probably shouldn’t consider his opinion.

Baseball, beer, ginormous nachos with your best friend when you are super hyper makes for a pretty good Saturday night, even if everything else in your world seems to be crumbling down around you.  After years of always being in a dark place I was pretty proud of myself for not letting the darkness consume me when it was trying so hard to do just that.

Stay Positive

This blog seriously meandered…if you made it all the way through I thank you for sticking with me.  I’m not even sure if it all makes sense but I just had to write something.

It’s been a bad day. But don’t worry, it always gets better…IT HAS TO!!

I’m pretty messed up.  Some days I feel like I am completely falling apart and I can’t figure out how to put myself back together because I swear some of the pieces are missing.  During the week I mostly feel lost and disconnected from reality unless I am talking to either my soulmate or – more recently – Mr. Perfect (because he has become one of my closest friends – seriously, people should break up more often!) since they don’t need me to explain myself, they just get me!  Today was strange.  Really strange.  Especially after this weekend.

To give you a short and succinct recap of this weekend that will make absolutely no sense to you I shall make a list:

  1. I popped someone’s Freebirds cherry.
  2. Greasy guy throwing fire and creepy girls.
  3. Dracula.
  4. Ferd F-teenthousand.
  5. Not being allowed to fight someone.
  6. UG and a leprechaun on a bender.
  7. Dancing like a fool.
  8. Strip club and vomit (not mine, mind you).
  9. Pig.
  10. BBQ.
  11. Afghanie mating call and uncontrollable giggling.
  12. Dancing.
  13. Ass biting.
  14. Archer.
  15. Traffic Control Tower.

Things that are on reserve for another weekend: Super Blow Pop, Capes, Supermarket Fun, and the Grim Reaper and Cupid.

This might have been the best weekend ever!  Mr. Perfect and I have completely way too much fun together; even though we were hanging out with his friends, I think we were still having more fun by ourselves.  But his friends are pretty awesome too…damn him for being awesome AND having awesome friends.  It makes my life way too boring when I’m not enjoying their company.

Like today…being jolted back into reality this morning was much like being dropped into a pool of ice water.  I was discombobulated and unhappy.  After a weekend of feeling completely like myself I felt like I was suddenly transported back into time to a place of sadness and despair – a place I thought I had gotten away from.  I feel stuck in the past right now and I want to make it back to the present but I’m not sure how to get there.  I am doing everything I can to be able to move back out on my own but of course saving up money is not easy, it takes time.  But I am impatient.  And messed up.

One of the main things I really love about Mr. Perfect is that he calls me out on my shit when I am being stupid.  I generally resist and tell him he is wrong, but probably about half the time I soon realize that he is right (BUT DON’T TELL HIM THAT!!!).  Like this weekend, I was reminded once again about how much HE ruined my self esteem and self worth.  Well, I suppose HE didn’t do it, I let him – but he contributed to it.  I still feel unattractive, unworthy, useless, unlovable, and pretty much a pointless person.  I have little mantras that I use to combat those thoughts daily but when they don’t work, I feel like shit.  But I have no reason to.  I have friends, people like me, everybody is worthwhile, and I suppose I’m not that unattractive.  Unfortunately I still hold on to the belief that I can make one bad move, say or do one wrong thing, make one bad decision and everyone I love will leave me and all my friends will abandon me.  I feel like I am constantly one step away from being left or unfriended or unloved.  I just feel like everybody is better than me.  Like all girls are more interesting and beautiful than I am.  I somehow always end up in friend zone or the fuckable but not datable zone.  There is more to me though.  I’m not just a toy.  I am actually kind of cool.  Some may even say awesome.  But never awesome enough.  Or so I think from time to time….well, most times.

I just have to keep reminding myself that the best thing about me (about everyone, really) I am me.  Through and through.  I’m crazy and strange and awkward and intelligent and caring and funny and…ridiculous.  I have flaws.  Lots of them.  I’m perfectly imperfect.  I am worth something because I care.  I care deep and love true.  I am loyal and trustworthy and would drop everything for a friend.  But one thing I am not, is two people.  I get quite lonely.  I love having people around that make me feel whole and like I have a place in this world.  And when I’m not around them I feel lost and unsure and confused.  Because, for some reason, I am scared to death that when I am not around they will forget about me, or decide they are done with me.  Every time I leave I am afraid it will be the last time I will see them.  Every time I end a conversation I’m scared it will be the last.

I’m sure I will get over this because I know, deep down, it isn’t true.  But I am tired of battling it.  I am tired of having to remind myself that I am worth something.  What gives me hope is that I have been far worse than this before.  Back then I wasn’t even capable of saying I was worth something.  I wouldn’t let myself.  I know everything will be okay eventually.  On my good days (which are becoming much more frequent) I don’t constantly have to battle negative thoughts.  I even have confidence on those days.  And those are the best days!

Like, Really?

As I sit here watching The Women on my television, watching football on my phone, and switching between reading and writing I wonder what it would be like to focus on one thing at a time.  When I was driving home from work this afternoon I got bored (bored!) while driving and thought it would be a brilliant idea to pick up my phone and check Facebook…I don’t…I can’t even…there are no words for that.  No excuse.  Driving.  I LOVE driving.  It is the only time I feel sane.  I get my best thinking done while driving.  And I can’t even give myself that anymore.  I have to ruin it with fucking Facebook.

The other night, when driving home from Fort Worth at eleven at night I had a conversation with myself (hand gestures added) that went a little something like this:

Me #1:  If I say “like” one more time I am going to fucking kill myself.  It makes me want to gauge my eyes out with blunt pencils!  I mean, I won’t really kill myself but, it’s like…


Me #2:  Really?  Jesus…

#1:  I can’t talk for shit but I can write like a motherfucker!

#2:  Seriously?   That’s your rebuttal?  Nice.

#1:  I used to have a great vocabulary.  I think the copious amounts of rap I have been listening to at work is affecting my store of adjectives.

#2:  Really bad rap.

#1: I like it!  I sit around old mortgage people talking about shit I know nothing about and I sit quietly and listen to my music. It’s like my escapism.

Shit!  Fuck! God….damnit.

I give up.  I’m just going to stop talking.  This is just embarrassing.  Like, really?!?


#2:  Good job.

This conversation went on for a good half an hour and then I would pick it back up every once in awhile when “like” slipped out again, which happened way more often than I would like to admit.  Not only can I not sound like a ditz, but now I also apparently act like one.  I mean really, FACEBOOK?!?!?  I am smarter than that.  Or at least I thought I was.

To top it off let’s add the whole being old thing on top of it.  Maybe it has more to the with the ADD than being old but when I woke up this morning my hair looked like it hadn’t been washed.  At.  All.  I took a shower last night but APPARENTLY I didn’t take the time to fully wash the conditioner out of my hair.  Okay, that may be a lie.  There is no apparently.  I definitely didn’t.  I was bored.  I wanted to get back to reading.  And I felt I had already taken too long in the shower.  In all honesty I hate showers.  I think they take up perfectly good time that you could be spending doing something else.  Like…um…eating.  Or exercising.  Or adding to my already profuse library.  Don’t get me wrong, I very much like being clean, I just don’t like the process.  Most days.  Every once in awhile, usually when I have nothing else to do, all I want to do is spend an hour under the hot water luxuriating in the feeling.  Pretending that I deserve to be pampered.

Anyway, after I put Facebook down and concentrated on driving my mind began to wander.  As it usually does…you know…every five minutes…and I thought about myself.  Who I am.  Who I want to be.  Who I am trying to be.  I have been trying to convince myself that I am different.  That in reality I am mean, and haughty, and selfish.  But, much to my dismay, I am not.  I am sweet natured, loyal, caring, compassionate, friendly, helpful, and always try to look on the bright side (even though I find it quite difficult most days).  I care.  And it sucks.  I care about my friends, my ex’s, and the people who hurt me.  I care so much that I want to help everyone.  I am always willing to lend a helping hand.  Always there at the drop of a hat when I can be.  That’s just who I am.  I can try and change, but I will always return to who I am.  Sometimes I really hate it though because people know I will stick by them even after they betray or hurt me.  I am very usable and, unfortunately, it is my own damn fault.

And there I was, slowly talking myself into a pit of despair when BAM!  This blasts from my speakers:

Shit got real.  Dance party in the car!  Ya’ll this came out in 2004.  Do you realize how old that makes me??  Very.  I don’t want to talk about it.  But I can’t listen to this song without dancing.  I mean really!!  “Want a lady in the street but a freak in the bed.”  Yup.  I learned from this song.  Just.  Sayin.  It helped remind me that it is okay to be a sweetheart…it’s what goes on in the bedroom that really matters!!  (I may or may not be joking about that…I’ll let you decide.)

I went from about to hate myself to having way too much fun to genuinely curious what other drivers thought when they saw me.  Dance parties in my car happen often (and by party I mean party of one – I don’t need anyone else to be amused.  Obviously.) and I am never shy about it.  I go all out.  I am always safe but…I get into it.  It may or may not look like I am trying to please myself.  I really wouldn’t know, but I can imagine that it is probably quite amusing.  Reason #749 that I think I would be a great subject for show.  Or a really poor excuse for one.  It’s one or the other.

These are what my days are like.  Up, down, up, down, up, up, way down, moderate, up, whatever.  And I cried again today for no reason that I can think of.  I would be upset about it but, who am I kidding? It is quintessentially me.

…and then you see a picture of an ex and almost throw up.

Fuck this.  I hate men.  I hate not being good enough.  And I hate always being nice.  I want tacos, a fire, and a cuddle.  BUT I WON’T GET IT!  Why?  Because there is ALWAYS SOMEONE BETTER!  Screw everyone.  Except you.  You’re cool.

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