It’s Been A Long While

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I was going back through my old posts because I finally downloaded the app on my new-ish phone. I’m sure that some people saw I wrote a locked post, and I’m not sure if it’s one I will ever share. It has alot of vulnerable Sass in there, and she is someone that I am just meeting. I’m trying to give her the space she needs to understand what has happened to her in her life, and that it’s all ok to feel what she feels. Yes, I know I am talking about myself in the third person. If you have lived with deep seeded trauma in your life and you understand why we do what we do, then you’ll know.

So, speaking of trauma….

I started another new job last year-completely different from everything I’ve ever done. No corrections, no healthcare. And it’s been a HUGE learning experience, in a good way. Not the BEST, but good, at least. There have been a LOT of changes company wide, and I have taken on many more responsibilities than I ever expected. Which is good and bad. Good, because I get experience. Bad, because it threw me into the “I can’t fail” mindset and I end up doing just that. And it all started because I got out of my much needed work routine.

Every day of the week is focused on a different task to be done. Which I don’t mind. Mondays are payroll, Tuesdays are billing, Wednesdays are setting up appointments, etc. When my role shifted to include more supervisory needs, my daily routine was rocked a little more than I bargained for. I tried to adapt and to make it work without having my mental health needs suffer…but that did not happen. In the past 2 weeks I’ve worked over 60 hours each week, and this past Friday into Saturday I worked 25 hours. Straight. I’m getting a deal out of it from my boss, and I’m making plans to go on a much needed road trip to some place I’ve never been-more on that later. If you know me, or anyone else that has any kind of trauma in their life or mental health issues, you know the importance of routine. And what happens when that routine is shifted, even the tiniest amount. I used to have a clean and tidy desk by Friday mid morning. Now, I’m lucky to see the wood grain once a week, if not longer.

Anyway, I thought I was at least treading water.. but this past week kind of showed me I have been slowing drowning. It’s not like I’ve been ignoring it, I’ve known I have not been doing well. But what happened that sent me over the proverbial edge wasn’t anything work related, but something emotionally related. Trauma related. See, most of you that know me from here for years have known I have been in intensive out patient programs and group hospital programs, all kinds of therapy with some less than useful therapists, and some even more detrimental medications. I know for myself that CBT-Cognitive Behavioral Therapy-does not work for me. Like, not at all. So I’ve had a VERY hard time finding a therapist in my area that specializes in DBT-Dialectal Behavioral Therapy, which is a trauma based therapy. And I’m learning that Trauma Response is a very real thing that will influence your life choices and behaviors. And boy howdy did it do that this past week.

See, a very dear, very old Internet friend popped back into my life, like they always do. We have been Internet friends for every bit of 18 years, so there’s a much established history. And this person is very dear to me, in the kind of way that you would become a sister-wife. Not saying I am, though some days the thought does dance through my head. Anyway, we both talked about some very traumatic experiences we both have had, and for me, personally, it was like the unlocking of a great door to this emotional fortress inside of me. This fortress is huge, has walls hundreds of feet thick, is very dark and cold, and is surrounded by an alligator and piranha filled moat with acid and the thickest drawbridge I have ever seen. I even have some pet dragons in here. {Scene set, right?} Now, this person, who has been nothing but supportive over the years, somehow managed to see this fortress and go, “Eh. Challenge accepted,” not intentionally knowing what they were doing. Or maybe they were, I don’t know. We haven’t really talked in depth lately, because I lost my ever loving shit. Why, you ask? Because of my honesty and being vulnerable and my past traumatic relationships, I took their exhaustion from work as an indication that I was not worthy for them. My issues, yes. So for almost 24 hours I stewed in my own insecurities and trauma, leading myself to my first ever panic attack-yay!-while at work-even better!-to the point I cried so hard I threw up. Never in my life have I done that. Ever. So when I finally reached out, instead of going, “Hey. Hope you’re ok. I was worried when you didn’t text me back that I did something wrong to upset you. If I did, I am sorry. Just want to know you’re ok and that we are ok.” You know, NOT jump to conclusions, right?? INSTEAD, I went to the exact OPPOSITE and pretty much told them that “I’m just going to walk away and delete everything because I know I did something to piss you off and this is your way of punishing me and I can’t handle that so it’s easier to run so bye.” NOT productive. They messaged back instantly letting me know they just had a long day a work and literally came home, ate, showered, and crashed. And that if I had been so worried I can message any time. And I tried to tell them it wasn’t that simple in my brain, but It was so jumbled in my brain I just said, “You’re right. I’ll remember that from now on.” And I have been, trying to, at least.

So I go into work on Friday, thinking I’ll finally get the chance to do my actual job and get caught up on all the things. Oh, how wrong I was. There was no supervisor, no clerk, no management period. Ok, it’s cool. I know my boss said he would be in, no big deal. The clerk is on her way, well, “on her way”, so I wouldn’t need to be out there very long. So I’m trying to just get the desk cleaned off, paperwork in order, emails updated. Then the text messages start to come in, the drivers and floor staff asking me questions that I have no clue how to answer. And it just hits me like a fuck-ton of bricks: I can’t do this. I can’t do anything, I am inadequate and I shouldn’t be in this position. I’m going to lose my job because I can’t even do this one “simple” thing. Over and over I just repeated, “I can’t do this.” I ran outside, threw down my phone, gave a my glasses to my driver, kicked off my shoes and proceeded to have another panic attack. It wasn’t like the first one where I was immobile. This one had me restless, pacing, gasping for air, trying to sit, kneel, stand, bend-anything to rid myself of the panicky energy built up inside me. I paced, and I screamed-not paying attention to the other drivers in the yard-how I just wanted to be a peon. I’m not a supervisor, I’m not management. I can’t even do my job because I’m too busy doing every-fucking-one else’s jobs and I can’t do it anymore. To the point I almost went back inside and grabbed my stuff to leave and never go back. And I’ve never done that before, left a job during my actual working hours and never went back. Friday, man, that was almost the day. Somehow I was able to gather my marbles and just get back inside enough to settle things down. I was able to go back and kind of do my job, but, there’s always something. I was almost settled down and the panic rose again. And I’ve had anxiety attacks before and this wasn’t like that. This was close to mind numbing fear of being inadequate. Not the catastrophising I’ve had before from my anxiety. So I just went outside and walked in the grass barefoot, trying to calm and ground myself. Now, where I work at is a logistics company, surrounded by other warehouses in the area. The grass isn’t super nice-normal Indiana crab grass that hurts your feet walking barefoot, and a concrete yard for drivers and trailers. My nerve endings were so numb from all of the cortisol coursing through my system I couldn’t feel either under my feet. I knew I was walking on SOMETHING, but I couldn’t have told you what. I just knew my feet where making contact to some sort of surfaces. I was finally able to curb the cortisol and head back inside, and my driver bought me lunch after witnessing my epic meltdown. I also made a deal with my boss: I’ll work until 3 am, if I can have a Friday off for a three day weekend. He countered with: if you stay all night, even when the next person comes in, I’ll give you Thursday AND Friday off, both paid. I know I looked at him like he was out of his mind, and I really did think about it-do I really need a four day weekend??

*Smashes buzzer* “Deal!” Handshake to seal it.

So I worked 25 hours, had been awake since 4 am that Friday morning {because I woke up in a panic immediately going over what hadn’t happened in my head and thinking I fucked up a really good friendship when in reality I haven’t}, and didn’t go to bed until about 430 Saturday afternoon. I went to the rock shop and bought myself this beautiful Opalite necklace, a beautiful smoky quartz to help with all of my depression and negative feelings, white candles and a stick of Palo Santo-that reminds me of my Daddy during the summer when we would go camping when we were younger. I visited my sister and had her smudge me with the Palo Santo, and cried to her about how I felt like I fucked things up with my friend and I don’t want to lose that friendship over my stupid miscommunication and my very real trauma response. And she told me that if they are truly a good friend my trauma response wouldn’t hinder them. That I am worthy. I told her I don’t feel it, but I’m too exhausted to really pick it all apart. So home I went, into bed I crawled, and I woke up to a couple of pictures of my friend with their cat all comfy on them. I showed them to my sister and she told me, “See. You ARE worthy.” And it made me smile and cry. So my friend and I chatted a little bit, but I’ve pulled back a bit to not be so…much. To not be so, well, Sass. And maybe I’m reading it wrong that they’ve pulled back, but I’m trying not too. I have to keep reminding myself every day we both have very different lives in very different places-geographically, emotionally, mentally, and physically. That we have withstood 18 years of whatever shit life has thrown at us, and we always find a way to communicate when we can. And that’s ok. That’s more than I’ve had with alot of people that I considered really good and close friends in my life-even recently. That it’s the kind of friendship that really does stand the test of time, and of my complete fear based responses.

I hope my friend knows how much they really mean to me. I apologized about what I had done and told them not to tell me it was ok, because it’s not ok. That talking with my sister and knowing this person unknowingly knocked on the front door of my trauma fortress bringing cookies and a warm blanket-even thought they can be the blast furnace in there too warm me up, haha!-and acknowledging trauma response is a very real thing and has very much been a catalyst in my foundation as a person. But that doesn’t mean I have to keep doing those things, that I am worthy of deep and meaningful relationships-friendships included-based on trust and respect and honesty. That I really am a good person who has just been dealt a very shitty hand of cards in life, and that I don’t need to just survive anymore. That I deserve to live, to love and be loved, and to be brought back into the light that I have been trying so hard to find. I think my Daddy would be proud of his two daughters, and I think he would be proud of me even more.

Thank you, my friend, for the cookies. Do you want to come inside and play with me and my dragons? 🐉 🏰 I have wine! 🍷🍷🍷. And, you know, a sister-wife doesn’t sound too bad right now 😉 Just kidding!

Life Update

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So, it’s been a year since I posted. The last 20 months have been a shit show of epic proportions-including the dumpster fire of 2020.

Dad died March 2019. I started a new job on Dad’s birthday. I turned 40 last November. I went to Chicago by myself to see Nigel and Earlonne from Ear Hustle. I visited locations from my Dresden Files books. My mom moved us. The holidays were stupid. I had a senior in high school that made varsity mixed show choir. We got Dad’s ashes 11 months to the day we lost him. I got VERY sick in January and February before Covid in the US was a “thing”. My NSLM turned 18 in March, and we went to Florida as a family when Covid was ramping up here. THAT trip turned into an absolute shit show-that’ll be a different post. We went to Universal and The Hard Rock Cafe, Cocoa Beach and Anna Maria, and both kids got to fly for the first time. We scattered some of my Dad’s ashes on both coasts of Florida. Monkey stayed with us for 5 months. I flew to Florida at the end of June to buy my dream car. I actually bought a car with no help from anyone but myself and I’m fucking proud for doing it.

I started a new job this past July and I really enjoy it. My hair stopped falling out! It’s probably the longest my hair has been since high school. NSLM graduated! He almost didn’t, but Covid actually assisted him. Monkey is in 8th grade and has stated they’re trans. I don’t care, I just want them happy and healthy. I’ve actually been diagnosed with Covid. I watched 18 of the 23 Avengers movies in chronological order. I was sick over Halloween, my birthday AND election day. Fucking Covid. 3 people that I know have been in the hospital recently with Covid. Gawd I HOPE I don’t have to go in myself…

Last night Florida and I mutually and civilly broke up, while Tropical Storm Eta barrelled through the area. That’ll be another post as well. It’s weird. Marion county here in indiana is making schools go virtual by November 30-not sooner because football is still going on. Glad to know where our priorities are, INDIANA. I wouldn’t doubt the entire state goes virtual again. Which sucks because my niece is going to cosmetology classes for college credit and she’s really good and now she’s gonna be at home not doing hair and I’m allowed to have a pity party for her. JUST WEAR A FUCKING MASK, WASH YOUR DAMN HANDS, STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM PEOPLE OR DON’T LEAVE THE FUCKING HOUSE!

ALL OF THE HURRICANES

I’m still not medicated, but I’m trying to find a Dr/therapist. And a new lady part dr as well. It’s frustrating, because insurance.

Everything is starting to hit me from my break up and the changes and losses and gains over the past year and a half.

I hope that the dumpster fire that is 2020 gets extinguished soon. I don’t know how much more ANY of us can take…

Enjoy this picture of Hogwarts Castle. My Heathens and I enjoyed this time together so much, even with the shit show that was going on.

Mediocre 40th

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Last weekend was my 40th birthday, and while most people have lots of friends and family mage a big to-do about it, mine was not. I’m-mostly-ok with that 6.5 days out of 7. I went to Chicago, by myself, and stayed in an Airbnb-which I’ve done before…only instead of having an entire place to myself I stayed in a house with other guests. It wasn’t a bad experience. The house was big and beautiful, easy to find and I didn’t $90 for the entire weekend. I went to the Studebaker Theater and watched Nigel Poor and Earlonne Woods from Ear Hustle-one of my FAVORITE podcasts-and got to do a meet and greet. I totally fangirled and totally did not talk about what I planned on taking about, but rather something that was “old news”. Demmit! But they have me happy birthday wishes and told me to enjoy my time and not feel guilty because everyone needs that time.

Saturday was my actual birthday and what I had PLANNED on doing VS what ACTUALLY happened came down to the fucking weather. It was gloomy and cold and windy. BUT! I forced myself to do 2 things: I went to Wrigley Field for my Daddy-plus the fact the Cubs win the 2016 World Series on my birthday made it even more bittersweet. And I went to Gino’s East, which is the TINY pizza place by Wrigley and OMG it was fucking worth the money.

BTW-Chicago is expensive! Like I spent more for parking than I did for gas there and back. Lesson learned.

Sunday I woke “early” considering DST ended so time “fell back’, but I was already an hour behind Indy time so my internal clock was all fucked up. I was out the door by 8 am and MADE myself do one of the many things I wanted to do in Chicago: visit the locations from one of my favorite book series based there. The Dresden Files is set in modern day Chicago, and it told from the POV of Harry Dresden, Chicago’s only known practicing wizard. I can’t wait for the next book to come out! In the Facebook group I’m in, sunshine posted a map with pin drops and locations of places from the series. I visited 15 of the 28 listed, and just realized I could have gotten 2 more of I had looked at the map closer on Sunday, and I could have seen the other 9 when I was downtown Friday. But now that means I can really plan a better trip up there, knowing how much more expensive everything is there. 15 out of 28 isn’t bad. I spent almost 10 hours in the truck just going from location to location, hopping out to take pictures, then getting back behind the wheel.

Things I wish I had done:

1) More research on the cost of EVERYTHING there

2) Had sometime to share in my fandom and geek out with, and discuss what was going on in the book(s) at each location

3) Not let the weather control my mood Saturday

4) Some of my Daddy’s ashes to sprinkle at Wrigley Field

It’s my first birthday without him and it fucking sucked. He was the one who was supposed to make fun of my turning 40 and then tell me it doesn’t get better until right before you retire. And honestly, seeing Wrigley was kind of anti-climactic without him.

I got a handful of birthday wishes on Facebook, a couple text messages and phone calls. I started a fundraiser for the Indiana Donor Network in honor of my Dad, and I guess since it’s not animals or some research it’s not getting alot of hits, and it’s disappointing and disheartening. So if anyone wants, you can donate via my FB (Shannon Rae) and the money goes volunteering and helping donor families, and supporting events thought3 the year all over the state of Indiana. And you don’t have to donate to my state. Look up you local donor network and see how you can donate monetarily or by becoming a volunteer. Organ donation is selfless.

Another nail in the coffin is that I am officially single and it fucking sucks. I don’t hate him not am I angry. I understand, and I want him to be able to grow and be happy, but it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt any less. 2019 officially sucks a big bag of dicks and I’m ready for the roaring 20s.

And there’s nothing like coming back to work and not having a voice…especially in an environment where loud talking and telling are daily ways of communicating. Only rudementary sign language at best helps me with my coworkers.

At least in 2 weeks my girlfriends Ashley & Amber are doing a surprise for me. Those 2 bitches…if it hadn’t have been for them these last 7 months, I would have would up in the hospital, or worse. Those 2 have been angels with horns holding up their halos.

Each day is a TINY but less awful than the last, and I think it has to do with my new therapist and working on the DBT therapy to address ALL OF THE TRAUMA in my life. I have homework each week, so that deadline had me becoming now self aware again. Life still sucks, and the sucky parts come in waves…but at least they are manageable.

Love you Daddy ❤️

The 7th inning stretch with Harry Caray was my favorite part when Dad would watch the Cubs when I was a little girl. I still remember the sounds of Harry’s voice when he’d commentate ⚾

Spirals & Fractures

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I’m struggling so bad emotionally. I can feel myself slipping down the slope. This is probably the first time in 2 or 3 years that I’ve c cycled into my November depression, and it’s scary. I can feel myself becoming more chaotic in my thinking and actions. My usual filter no longer exists when it comes to conversations with people-in person or in my head. I can feel myself splitting, cracking, hear that sounds of glass as it cracks before it shatters. My thoughts have become reckless in what they are trying to tell my body what to do. I usually spend my money on lots of silly things, things that I can’t really account spending money on. Or my body wants to lay in bed and do absolutely fuck all, because my mind has been all over the place and had physically exhausted me, but it won’t show down though to really rest. I’m awake between 5:30 & 6:00 almost every day-including weekends. I go into work early, and all I do is run around like a crazy woman there. And all I can think about it leaving when I get there and when can I come back when I leave. Fucked up, I know.

My fucked up brain is telling me to be as reckless as possible, to just say fuck all the shit that’s happened and go even bat shit crazier, “because I’m grieving” like it’s an excuse. I want to lash out and hurt the people who have hurt me and then cut then from my life like so many cancerous tumors.

I saw a new therapist last week, and I’ve decided that I want to do DBT therapy: 1) because I need too grieve, 2) because I want to heal and let go, 3) because I need something different in my life. The therapist was very impressed that I am so self aware, and was quite shocked at all of the meds and types of therapies I’ve attempted over the years. And he agrees that DBT is best for me-right now. Because I’ve had alot of trauma in my life, and that had led to ALL of the emotional responses I’ve had for as long as I can remember. So I have homework to do by Wednesday, and I’ve been putting it off for various reasons. Mostly because I don’t know if I can PHYSICALLY handle the emotions when I give them life-again. And I can’t concentrate most of the time. I feel so fractured…

I feel like I’ve been on this endless loop trying to get down a spiral staircase that is constantly moving in the opposite direction I’m going in. But I don’t fight it and I don’t turn around and go down to find another way up. It’s like I’ve told myself “It is what it is, and I’ll get there someday.”. What kind of shit has my brain accepted now?! This. All. Of. This. Like it’s the best my life will ever be anymore and not to fight it. But I can’t put the shattered pieces of my life back together because they’ll never fit. And I don’t want to look at my life as what it could have been in it’s former “glory” because that’s not living, hell it’s not even functioning. It’s taking up space, air, food, and time to only be a weight chained to my ankle keeping me from going outside my circular path I’ve now worn into the ground.

I still play Devil’s Advocate trying to help others see both sides of the story for the betterment of everyone. However, I have zero qualms telling you that you are being *insert descriptive cussing here* and not feel bad for keeping it 💯 as the kids say these days.

I think the thing that hurts as bad as losing my Daddy….

Losing my partner. Because I know I’m at one of my worst points in my almost 40-year-old-life. And if you can’t stand with me at my worst, you surely do not deserve me when I get to my best. And I get it, that everyone has their shit to go through, but when I have given so much of myself and I ask for help and all I’ve gotten is argument after argument after argument most because I’m not there when you need me… But you can’t let me go for your own selfish reasons only hurts me more in the end. I have been broken in ways I never knew were possible and I have given so much of myself for people who consciously took from me…. Those people don’t get to be mad or angry when I say “You don’t get the right.” I have no longer have a problem walking away and not turning back and feeling guilty.

Now if I could just get off this rotating spiral staircase…because I deserve better than this for myself.

It’s Been A Year, Almost

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It’s almost been a year since I posted, and there have been various reasons why I never did, mostly because my mental health and job security have been so fucking unstable. I THOUGHT this year would be a wind up to doing good things before my 40th birthday in 20 days, but it turned into one of the worst. Even worse than when my marriage ended and I struggled for years to crawl out of THAT good forsaken shit hole.

This past year started off with struggling to have consistent work with my job. I was put into a pilot program and I was really looking forward to trying it out! I had such high expectations. I started to have trouble with the internet with my work laptop, then the damn thing locked up. I went a week without it, and then fell behind in “training”, only to not have the proper programs installed on the newly issued laptop to even TRY to work. In March, my Dad died very suddenly and very unexpectedly from a massive heart attack, and our family had been reeling almost every day since then. It’s been almost 7 months and I’ve just really come out of the grief fog. And now I’m angry. I’m not angry at my Dad for leaving us-because he always said that he would die doing the things he enjoyed, and he did. I’m angry that people keep making excuses for the behavior of my mom because she’s grieving, and for my lack of grieving. I haven’t been able to really grieve because I’ve been taking care of her, and my kids. I’m not nice because I’m trying to be the rational one in all of this, and it’s so very unfair to me. My mom couldn’t stand being in the house so we moved. No one asked me or Deacon or Dayton how we felt, because that was our home too. I was left to clean out the house with my aunt. And at every turn I’ve been told no on how to handle things, but then told I need to grieve.

My relationship with Nathaniel has faded away into nothing more than a few text messages every day, nothing more than superficial bullshit. I have come to realize that I don’t think either one of us really knew each other at all, and that we both have prolonged the inevitable by hoping we could get through it, eventually.

Grief is weird. Grief is ugly. Grief is hard and draining and it is physically painful.

There is a void in my soul from the loss of my Dad, and I know it will never go away. I have seen the true colors of people in my life whom I thought were forever friends show just how selfish they are. I have seen people that I did not expect to step up and really hold me up through this shitty time in my life. I can never express the amount of gratitude and thankfulness I have for them every day. I have watched people let so much shit slide and not be held accountable and be fucking forgiven for their non-action and excuses, and I am frankly livid at it all.

I’m angry at the reaction and non-action of people since my Dad died. Family and life long friends included. And I’m fucking tired-physically, mentally, emotionally exhausted.

I have thrown myself into my newest job-that I started on my Dad’s birthday, and today I talked with my coworkers, who are my work family, about what my life has come to. I told them last night I was thinking about my life, and my birthday and how I wanted to make a Bucket List of things to do in a year for my 40th birthday. I need time to heal and take care of me, and to really live my life now. So there are things I know I won’t be able to do in a year, but there are things I know I could do, and things I will not ever do. I want to make my Dad proud in everything I’ve ever done and will ever do. So I think this is the best way to do it.

My Dad donated is body to the IU School of Medicine so that he could teach students going through medical school about a body that was a life long smoker, a functioning alcoholic with a cardiac history with no real warning signs. They were able to donate his corneas, and some of his skin for a baby burn victim, and I know that my Dad would be happy knowing he’s helping people now. So, if you’ve ever wondered about becoming an orange and tissue donor, let me tell you this:

You can save the lives of up to 8 people with your kidneys, liver, lungs, heart, and corneas. BUT! Did you know that you can help as many as 75 (SEVENTY FIVE!) through tissue, bone and tendon donation?? ME EITHER! So it’s not just the inside vital organs you donate, it’s the smaller things we don’t even think about that can help others too! Become an organ and tissue donor to help the lives of those you didn’t even know you could. Each state and country has their own donor network, and here in the states when you register at the BMV you can become an organ donor right there, and you’ll get a ❤️ on your ID that will let first responders know you are a donor. 1 person is added to the transplant list every 10 minutes. 22 people die each day while waiting for an organ transplant. 8,000 people die each year while waiting for life saving transplant. Talk to your family and friends about becoming an organ donor.

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I’ll honor my Dad by becoming a Donate Life member and reach out to those who have been affected my donating and receiving organs. I hope to one day meet the people my Dad helped-both by his donation of his skin and corneas and by the soon to be doctors that will graduate from IU School of Medicine. Those are on my 40 Bucket List.

Guess Who’s Back, Back Again

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It’s been a long time, y’all. A REALLY long time.

I’ve finally come out of a 3 year long depression-mostly without meds or therapy not of my own choice. My divorce was FINALLY finalized last summer, but due to work and the copious amounts of shit my mental health was going through I only just got my maiden name back in April. FUCKING APRIL y’all. If that doesn’t describe the shit show my life has been, then y’all are living under rocks, in a canyon on fucking Mars.

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Florida moved up here for almost 2 years, but he’s back down there. Again, life. Shit show. Fuck. I’m not at the prison anymore, and I really do miss it. Because it was the one constant routine that I had for over 2 years. There ended up being A LOT of bullshit that happened, but the deciding factor was when my own bosses accused me of trafficking or fucking offenders I just hadn’t been caught. Bitch, WHAT?! I may only be a CNA (as I was FREQUENTLY told) but that license is my ONLY way to support me and my heathens. I would NEVER do anything to lose custody of my heathens. And I do NOT look good in orange. And they said this because I’m friendly. Because I say hi to everyone-medical staff, custody staff, offender. Because whatever those offenders were in for had ZERO bearing on my ability to provide care. If anything, as I child who was molested, the child molesters I did give care to should have been treated like ass trash, lowest of the low. But my grandparents raised me to treat EVERYONE with compassion. No matter what they did, I was still there at the end of their lives as they died in prison, giving them and their families when they were allowed to come a little bit of comfort as they leave their earthly bodies. I’m still pissed about that accusation. Fucking bitches. I hope karma bites them in the ass.

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Monkey is now living with her dad. I forced that one on him, and he deserved it. She’s mostly happy, and shes not as hateful as she was becoming living with me, her brother, Florida and my parents. Man, she’s a fucking handful as a tween…always busy, wanting to go somewhere. She loves Hot Topic-both the heathens do. She’s very much into things that aren’t “popular”. As long as she’s happy.

Not So Little Man has joined the men’s show choir in school and he really enjoys it. And he’s so good! He wants to go to Purdue just to be in the men’s glee club. I had to explain to him that when yo go to college you go to get a degree to get a job after school. The look on his face that he couldn’t go to Purdue JUST for glee club! I’m proud of him though. Very proud

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The job I left the prison for has turned into a shit show-imagine that! It took 3 months before I actually STARTED working for this company, and it’s so not what they made it out to be. I’m actively looking for a job. Again. And I hope that I can find something decent and soon. I had to move back in with my parents, I lost my truck and I’ve barely been able to make the monthly payment on my storage unit. Seriously, karma has had me on the list for some reason…

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On the plus side, I get to see May every day. And my mom’s cat-who looks like a seriously pissed off old Asian lady.

I’m going to Florida in less than 2 weeks. It’s a much needed vacation. 5 days. All paid for. On my own. By myself. Car. Hotel. Tickets. I need the beach. I need time way from this shitty state. From all the shit that I’ve had to go through mentally.

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I shared something on Facebook today. Serena Williams is working with Purple Purse and Allstate to help those who have suffered form financial abuse. And I totally called my ex-husband out on it. So, if you’re FB friends with me or follow me on IG you can see it. Y’all know I’ve come here and bitched and moaned and groaned and cried my story about that bastard of a human. I kept it honest, succinct, simple. Proud of me for that. It took a lot to write it without really having verbal vomit and stuff.

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It’s been 3 years since Shawna left. I visited her parents on what should have been her 40th birthday. I needed my own closure. I can’t explain it to Florida. He won’t ever understand. It’s been 2 years since our beloved tribal leader Blah, Ulla, left us after all her fight, and PainKills2, Johanna. It’s been a rough time for all of us who have lost the people we care about by suicide. Chester Bennington of Linkin Park, Robin Williams, Chris Cornell of Audioslave and Soundgarden. We’ve all been battling our own demons for as long as we can remember, and there’s only a few of us that really check in on each other. There’s been this stupid suicide hashtag bullshit that was floating around on FB and it pissed me off, y’all. Like I wanted to rage quit all my social media over it. Suicide awareness check in bullshit. Like for real, if they really did believe in that shit then they would actually check in with those of us that struggle. Fucking bitches.

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My concentration, ADD/ADHD, OCD have been so bad that my attention span is shit. I can’t focus enough to read, so my sister turned me on to OverDrive. It’s an app for audio and eBooks from my local library. My new job is so boring and repetitive BUT I’m able to listen to my audio-books on my phone. The plus side of having my phone at work. I’ve listened to 9 books in the last 2 weeks. And it’s been so nice. I can’t really listen to music either. The hive had been super angry and irritated for so long, but finally breaking the surface of the heavy depression helped to quiet the hive. And like pulling cotton out of my ears.

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So, I’ve just been taking it one day at a time-and if that’s too much, I break it down into manageable time increments. I’ve been trying to forgive myself for being hard on myself through this shit storm that is my life. And after everything that’s been going on, and the fact I can’t use the laptop or work computer for ANYTHING other than “company business”. They block EVERYTHING. Sons a bitches.

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Mental State

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Gawd, it’s been so long since I blogged. So much has gone on in my life, and I don’t know if I can really write it all down and make sense. I’ll just start and see where it goes.

I’ve been struggling financially. Who doesn’t these days? I’ve been at my job 2 treats now, and I’ve only had to call in a handful of times. But the stress from my job… It’s now effecting my health and mental health more. I’ve been unmedicated for almost 18 months now-not by choice, and having death with our Tribal Leader’s passing, my best friend’s passing as well, another Tribal members too in a relatively short time span hasn’t helped. My divorce took its toll on me mentally as well. Florida spontaneously moving here, moving out, struggling with money, getting evicted, finding a new place that comes with an elderly landlord that had no clue how bad this place really is, my truck payment behind….

Y’all… I’m gonna lose my ever loving shit. I can’t concentrate on anything. I can read maybe half of a blog post before I move on. I can’t read-one of my go-to methods to ground myself when I’m depressed-or pay attention to music or movies or my game… Mostly because it feels like there’s cotton in my ears and the Hive is pissed so it’s all angry buzzing in my head. I can’t do my job at work because my anxiety makes my OCD take over and everything has to be in place before I can do my job. And it’s not even things that have to do with my job that have to be in place. I spent an hour and a half organizing supplies because they didn’t make sense. Why am I going to 3 or 4 different shelves for 1 specific supply need?? GAH. Papers, pens, markers, my fucking emails…

I’m exhausted but can’t sleep longer than 5 hours solid. I have headache and migraines and my eyes twitch daily and I take Tylenol, Advil, and Excedrin like candy. My ears hurt, my eyes hurt, my sinuses hurt, my vision is blurry, my neck hurts, my feet hurt to the point of not being able to walk. My body-my whole being-just hurts. It’s that ache you have when you want relief, but you don’t know if you want a sleep induced coma, a stay at a treatment facility, or the piece of death. Some days, that kind of peace is very near the surface-those dates seen to be growing in number. Most days, I just want to be able to relax and enjoy a simple meal. You don’t realize what you miss-like eating chicken noodle soup in a little brown crock instead of the 2 cup Pyrex measuring cup out of the microwave. Or warm chocolate chip cookies with ice cream. The thought of break and bake cookies exhausts me. But I was able to rehang 2 curtain rods the other day and wash the curtains… But hung up 2 out of the 7 I bought.

My anxiety is so bad I feel like I’m choking again. I feel it all the time. At work is the worst. I went to the store and walked around running my throat because I swore I had on a true neck, not a bikini top under my low cut tank top. I feel like I’m constantly being watched at work by my supervisors and coworkers because they’re waiting to catch me fucking up and I’ll get fired and gate locked and I won’t ever get another job and my kids are better off without me. I’m constantly frozen requiring winner fuzzy socks, long pants, shirt, hoodie AND the most amazing warm and fuzzy blanket ever found at Goodwill. I literally look like a little kid wrapped up in my blankie wherever I go in the house. I was sleeping under 3 blankets to stay warm and to have the extra weight on me.. But I can’t have my feet covered up and Florida kept taking all the blankets and is always be cold anyway. He’s been told that I will cut him if he even attempts to use my new blankie.

I can’t find the time to bathe, but I logged 130+hours on my Horizon: Zero Dawn game and beat it today (over a 2 month time frame, not consecutively) and started another game on the hardest difficulty (which I NEVER do).

Yes, I KNOW it’s irrational. Yes, I KNOW it’s my fucked up brain distorting everything for me. Y’all, I can’t say that I’m scared because it’s been a rough 2 ½ years and I know this is my longest depression bout, but I’m worried because my body and my head can’t hear each other to let me know that I’m in the danger zone. You wanna know what did? My fucking game. Because I finished it, watched ALL the credits-including the production babies that get credits now-the WTF moment at the end, and the last 30 secure that made me back my fucking eyes out. Because I know what it’s like to be an outcast and STILL help all those others in the end and still be alone.

I think I’m in another mixed episode. I wanna cook and clean and scrub the floor and cry while I do it. My brain is going too far for my body but I get find the energy to give a fuck what my brain wants to tell me. Y’all, it’s a precarious and fragile place to be, right before the beginning of summer for my heathens-which Thing 2 is REALLY testing my sanity and strength at the moment. And poor Florida, he’s trying more than my ex husband did try to help and support me.. But he doesn’t quite understand that even right now I don’t understand what’s going on with me. Plus I can’t give him support when I can’t support myself emotionally and mentally. Going to the store was once a favorite thing to do because I can wander the aisles and not have to rush because it was my time alone. Now, I wanted the aisles because I can’t remember what I wanted to get as I walked into the store so it turns into a small anxiety attack and I wish through and forget half the shit I went in there to get in the first damn place.

So, I called in for tomorrow and I have a Dr appointment Tuesday that I’ve had scheduled for about 6 weeks. Hopefully she can help because sorry of finding a hospital that I don’t owe money to that will let me stay in partial, I’ll probably have a psychotic episode that will require a reservation a the Rubber Ramada. At least there I’ll get room service without an attitude. And if they want a tip, I’ll tell em this: “Don’t be an asshole.”

I’m on the struggle bus and on the Highway To Hell…

A Letter To My Badass Friend

Dear Morgue,

You sent me a text asking to remind you why you are such a badass, and I couldn’t just send a text back. I had to do one better.

You struggled for years wrongly dismissed and diagnosed trying to do everything you were fed to “get better” (aka “normal”). You were given all the wrong medications and therapies and had a near death because of one of those medications and you still persisted on getting better.

You have a beautiful-albeit emotionally draining for you-daughter that you have fought tooth and nail to provide for. You have given up so much for yourself to see that Spook has food and clothes and a roof over y’all’s head-despite the slumlord taking advantage of everyone in the park.

You went to court and fought to get what she deserves despite your severe anxiety of the donor (aka Albatross) and his constant web of lies.

You were dealt a shit mental health hand in life, along with a shit family. You selflessly created a GoFundMe and gathered funds for the momster and her merry band of idjits when there was a fire in their home-even donating when you don’t have the extra money to spare. Your family used your mental health against you because you are stronger then they are by making sure Spook has what she needs first not what she wants, by making sure your bills are paid, food on the table and gas in the shitty car you were cornered into getting.

You have constantly and consistently shown others how hard it is for you as a single parent-with multiple mental health disorders/illnesses!-with no real support financially or from family, who does not all for help unless absolutely necessary.

I am so amazed and impressed at how you fight every damn day to not fall completely down the rabbit hole, to recognize the days the rabbit hole is inevitable, and to still fight enough to give Spook what she needs.

We have had rides down the streets with Camelaffes and I.V. drips of our favorite booze, smacked people in the face with fish and shoved barbed wire dildos with ghost pepper sauce lube in unmentionable places. We have dined on orgasmic chocolate hand rolled on the legs on lesbians while huddling in Fort Blankie coloring, listening to Wednesday, and seeing if we can really commit the perfect crime from Investigation Discovery. Clown shoes.

You, my dear friend, are a Badass.

Lurve- Your Friendly Neighborhood Sass

Ps-If you can’t find a place there, you can always move here where you’ll have support in so many ways 💖💖

New Home Here!

Letting Go

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These past months have been so very hard on me, and for me.  Today, I watched as someone I truly care for in ways I never knew I could, pack up and leave on a journey that is much needed for them.  And it fucking sucked to do it.  I helped finish the packing by labeling cords and putting them in Ziploc baggies, then arranged the electronics in a box so that they would all fit.  The time came for them to leave, and with sweaty kisses and hugs, bid farewell until we meet again.

I imposed a 2 week no-contact order, not because I need time for myself, but because they need to know that the path they chose means to come face to face with the demons and decions of the past.  And that can’t happen while talking to me, because it means delaying the inevitable.  That was even harder to do.  Because I wish someone had done that with me, to me, and I honestly don’t think I would have done 3/4 of the shit I did had that conversation took place.  Hindsight.

So now while they are taking a much needed spiritual, emotional and mental journey in their life to move forward in a positive way, I am here alone.  Don’t take it the wrong way, I am okay being alone.  I am in the quiet of these living quarters that aren’t really home, and I have the chance to finally hear my thoughts…which may be a bad thing once or twice this upcoming week alone.  At least I can make peace with them in silence that had been needed…but at the cost of something that means the world to me.  Letting go is always hard thing to do…but letting go of someone because they need to travel a path in order to grow is harder-especially when they say the grass is dead on the other side.