Conversations with my father stressing the fact that life is a test “One day you’ll understand”

Own up to your own shit. 

I’m not perfect. I own up to the fact that I’m not perfect. 

I make mistakes. Sometimes I’m careless and I hurt people, physically or emotionally. 

But when I make a commitment to something, I do everything in my power to see it through, and if it turns out that I can’t live up to my commitment, I own up to that too, and I do the best I can for those affected.

Roommates on the other hand…. they seem to think that they can take advantage and take you for granted, and then short you on the rent.

I have decided that from here on out, I am only going to live in places I can afford on my own. Or with Amanda. No roommates. No roommate drama. 

The place I live now, I couldn’t afford, and AP didn’t have a job and didn’t help with any of the bills or anything. I still can’t afford it on what I make now, not if I want to eat anyways.

So when Amanda and I look for places for us both to live once our leases are up, we’re looking for something that is WELL within our price range. And she’ll actually be contributing to bills! Its a novel idea I know, but since I’ve had a freeloading (now)ex girlfriend, scumbag white trash roommate and his bumblefuck girlfriend, and now mr I’ll take you for granted and short you… I’m ready for someone who actually understands responsibility and how to manage money. Not that those are the only reasons why I want to move in with Amanda of course. 

We haven’t spent a night apart in almost two months. But I know that we have at least one night coming up next week where she’ll stay in Illinois to set up for the event she’s working, and I’ll go home and sleep at home because I have to be at work in the morning. 

But I know that after I get done at work, it’ll be just a longish drive to Collinsville before I get to spend the weekend with hundreds of my kinky brethren doing all sorts of prurient things that you bastards still don’t get to hear about.

(But in other news, I put up a blog post on that one page with the one thing and the people. You should check it out.)

Went to a party on Saturday night. Had a blast. Worked a scene. My arms and shoulders are tired. But Amanda says that sadists are whiney. I still bruised my knuckles, as per usual…

Bottom line…. responsibility. 

When you actually look at it, you’re not only responsible for yourself, but you’re responsible for how your actions affect the people around you. 

My responsibility extends beyond just me and encompasses Amanda as well. For a while, it encompassed my roommate, but no longer now. 

My responsibilities to myself: (in the vaguest most generalist of terms)

Make sure I eat and drink plenty of water

Make sure I get enough sleep

Make sure that I perform admirably at work to keep my job

Make sure that Amanda is all right

Make sure that Amanda knows I love her

My responsibilities to Amanda: (In the vaguest most general of terms)

Make sure she drinks enough water and eats enough (we both have bad habits of not doing either)

Make sure she gets enough sleep.

Make sure she doesn’t just consume red bull and coffee

Do what I can to help lessen her stress level.

Do what I can to help her be happy.

Love her. Always love her.

Keep her best interests in mind. Always.


Responsibility. It’s a heavy thing, but with the burden, comes the amazing rewards as well. Because with doing what I can to make Amanda happy, comes letting her do things to make me happy, and things of that nature. It’s a reciprocal deal. 

And being there for her, being that person that she goes to when everything goes pear shaped and she needs someone to hold her and tell her that everything’s going to be okay? That’s pretty damned awesome. Being the person she calls when everything’s going right and she needs a hug to squeeze out the excitement? That’s pretty damned awesome. Being the person she calls when she just needs a hug? That’s pretty damned awesome. 

On the site with the people and the stuff I told her that I wanted to be with her through any type of emotional weather. And that’s the truth. 

Because, just as much as she is mine, I am hers. And I can’t expect her to take care of herself at my insistance, if I don’t take care of myself. 

I take my responsibilities seriously. I don’t undertake more without understanding what it means and what will be expected of me. 


Shakespeare Monkey

Sung to the Tune of Johnathan Coulton’s “Code Monkey” – with lyrics adapted from “Code Monkey” – I basically had nothing to with the lyrics other than making them more suitable to me. See Glee, this is how you borrow someone’s work. Give them fucking credit!


Shakespeare Monkey – 


Shakespeare Monkey Get up get Coffee

Shakespeare Monkey go to job.

Shakespeare Monkey have boring meeting

With evil douchebag Jeff

Jeff say Shakespeare Monkey very lesbian

But her output suck.
Her writing not “persuasive” or “fast enough”

What do Shakespeare Monkey think?

Shakespeare Monkey think Maybe Douchebag want to write god damned dating profile himself.

Shakespeare Monkey not say it out loud.

Shakespeare Monkey not crazy, just proud.

Shakespeare Monkey like Blue Cheese.

Shakespeare Monkey like cigars and Fin Du Monde

Shakespeare Monkey very simple girl

With big warm fuzzy secret heart:

Shakespeare Monkey Like you.

Shakespeare Monkey like you.

Shakespeare Monkey hang around at POS

Tell you boobies look nice.

Shakespeare Monkey offer buy you Cider

Bring you cup, but no ice.

You say no thank you for the cider cause

You working right now.

Anyway you busy with a customer

No time for that.

Shakespeare Monkey have long walk back to table, she sit down pretends not to stare.

Shakespeare Monkey not thinking so straight

Shakespeare Monkey not feeling so great.

Shakespeare Monkey like Blue Cheese

Shakespeare Monkey Like Cigars and Fin Du Monde

Shakespeare Monkey very simple girl
With big warm fuzzy secret heart:
Shakespeare Monkey like you
Shakespeare Monkey like you a lot

Shakespeare Monkey have every reason
To get out this place
Shakespeare Monkey just keep on working
See your soft pretty face
Much rather wake up, eat eggs benedict
Take bath, take nap
This job “fulfilling in creative way”
Such a load of shit
Shakespeare Monkey think someday she have everything with pretty girl like you
Shakespeare Monkey just waiting for now
Shakespeare Monkey say someday, somehow

Shakespeare Monkey like Blue Cheese.

Shakespeare Monkey like cigars and Fin Du Monde

Shakespeare Monkey very simple girl

With big warm fuzzy secret heart:

Shakespeare Monkey love you.

Shakespeare Monkey love you.

….is my bread, butter, and bourbon

Life has gotten increasingly busy for me as of late.

Work is shit. But I only have to deal with misogynistic boss for one more week and then if necessary I can work for his mother instead.

My list of things on my plate that need to get accomplished is getting increasingly longer. Let me bullet point it out for you.

  • Work (Stupid Stupid Job and need for money to live life)
  • Read, write review for Anthology (been on my list since November)
  • Read, write critiques for a short story for a friend of mine (this is just added as of yesterday, but should be accomplished soonish)
  • Write my contest piece for NYC Midnight Short Story Contest (Got the prompt today, deadline is next Saturday)
  • New Relationship Fun Stuff (stuff you prurient bastards still don’t get to hear about)
  • Trying to put aside money for both taxes and deposit for new apartment with Amanda come June.
  • Amanda and I have an event coming up the weekend of St. Patricks’ day that is going to keep us both extremely busy
  • Social Life (actually having one is kind of time consuming. Fun, but time consuming)

I’m just feeling wrung out a lot of the time. It’s overwhelming, and I can’t really see a way around any of it. 

Good things that make most of the stuff on the list worthwhile:

  • My girlfriend buys me yummy bourbon. 
  • Awesome new cigars that I got with my friend Scott
  • New Relationship fun stuff that you prurient bastards don’t get to hear about
  • Social Life
  • Event St. Patrick’s day weekend
  • Feeling like I can actually WRITE things again. Even if I’m reviewing someone else’s stuff, or working on a prompt for a contest that makes my head hurt.
  • Finally feeling FREE from AP. -This story will be elucidated on further here in a minute.
  • A bunch of new friends that I can share the awesomeness in my life with
  • An awesome girlfriend who I love more and more every day.

So overall, even though I’m feeling overwhelmed a lot of the time, its overwhelming things of a decent nature. 


Okay… so finally free of AP. Here we go. I got a text message from her number (I deleted her contact from my phone after the LAST time she texted me and pissed me off) saying ‘My grandma died.’ Me, being the sadistic bitch I am, and not going to put up with anymore of her shit, I said, ‘Who is this?’ To which she replied, ‘Fuck off. Six years of dating and you don’t even know my phone number? Way to be a bitch.’ To which I replied ‘You don’t get to treat me like shit and then expect me to be there for you when something bad happens.’ To which she replied ‘Treat you like shit? I haven’t talked to you in months.’ To which I replied, ‘Bullshit. Three weeks ago you jerked me around about the dog and calling me a bad dog parent and refusing to ever let me see her again. The death of any person is something to be mourned, but I can’t and won’t be there for you.’ After that, I gave my phone to Amanda, told her that I didn’t want to see anything else from her, so AP texted again, Amanda read it, deleted it, and that has been that. I told Amanda that if AP called, she should answer and be as nice or as mean as she would want. I kind of wish that AP HAD called so that Amanda could have had a chance to give her a piece of her mind, or whatever it is that she would have said. But, Amanda pointed it out to me, anything AP was going to say after my last text to her (probably the last thing I’ll ever say to her), was just going to be her trying to get my temper riled up and get me to fight with her. By giving my phone to Amanda and refusing to play AP’s game, I feel like I come out ahead. I’ve cut myself free of any ties to her. I don’t envision any more contact from her, and I just feel like I can finally completely move on, I don’t have any more encumbrances from her and her shit. And yes, I know that was kind of redundant. This is my blog. If you don’t like it, read something else.


Another revelation about my emotional state. I didn’t realize how many issues I have with my parents. (Sorry Mom, Dad. I love you guys, this is mostly all old shit that I didn’t know was an issue and is now coming up for me.)

I know that my parents love me. I’ve always known that. But until AP left me, I didn’t always FEEL that they loved me. 

I have a hard time reconciling the man my dad was when I was a little kid – he used to brush my hair every morning while I watched Scooby Doo. He could do it the best, he didn’t pull the tangles out. And the man who he became when he was drinking (including one incident when I was in either fourth or fifth grade that NO ONE else remembers).

I know that he’s done his best to make amends, and when he was first working the steps, I didn’t really accept his amends because they didn’t feel genuine. But since then, he’s continued making the effort, and I know I didn’t really give him the chance to make things better. AP encouraged the distance between me and my dad, always saying something like, ‘wasn’t X your dad said awkward?’ ‘your dad is so weird I don’t know how your mom can stand it.’ and my all time favorite ‘you’re just like your dad sometimes. I don’t know how I stand it.’ I guess as long as I was ‘like dad’ she could control me. And as long as I viewed my dad as someone that I didn’t want to be like, she could make the changes that she wanted.

Wow, that was really insightful of me.

After AP and I split up, I’ve been talking to my dad more, and while I don’t feel like we have the kind of relationship that I wish we did, I think that things can be moving more in that direction, but they just aren’t. But I give him credit, even when I was dodging his calls, and trying so hard to keep him at a distance, he kept trying to connect. 

My mom has always been a sounding board for me, but when I was a kid she was also always working all the time and it was sometimes hard to actually spend time with her. And I know that part of my distancing myself from her and my sister had more to do with hiding from my dad when he was drinking than anything else, but while I re-established or rather established a friendship/relationship with my sister after I moved out, I don’t think I really tried as hard with my mom as I could have. 

I never really did any therapy or anything about my dad’s drinking and how it affected me. I did AL-Anon like once, but it seemed hokey and stupid to me and I didn’t see the point in staying. But the more I think about it, the healthier my mental state gets, the more I see how many aspects of my life his drinking touched. It wasn’t just dealing with him when he was drunk, hiding in my room to avoid getting yelled at, or sneaking downstairs to my room trying to avoid him hearing me. Those were the obvious things, but really it just soured basically everything I thought about him, and I haven’t really gotten over it. I also seemed to have been blaming him and his drinking for my lack of relationship with my mom and sister. I know that really it’s not his fault, but once I realized that I felt so angry with him for that, I was able to let it go.

A large part of who I am today, the sci fi geeky person who reads anything and everything I can get my hands on, is an information sponge, who’s first word was ‘Azerbaijan’ , who’s got a smart ass sarcastic comment for everything or a pun or something cringe worthy funny…That’s all my dad’s influence. His temper is also my temper. And I am aware that his problem with alcohol could become mine. 

 I am the perfect amalgam of my parents – I look EXACTLY like my mother did at my age, and my personality is that of my father. And I know that despite the fact that they weren’t perfect, and nobody’s parents are, they did the best they could, and I think I turned out all right. 

So now I embrace the things about me that make me my father’s daughter.

I am a proud sci fi nerd.

I am a proud history nerd.

I am a proud English geek.

I am proud to have a quick wit and retort.

I am proud to be a smart ass.

I am proud to be fiercely loyal to the people I love.

I am proud to strive every day to be the best ME I can be.

I am proud to try to protect the things and the people that are mine, even if that means protecting them from myself.

I am proud to be of high intelligence. I will not hide this fact any more.

I am proud to be a strong person who will not be bulldozed by someone else, or made to bend to their will.

I am proud to be slightly awkward in social situations but make fun of myself for it, thereby breaking the ice with new people.

I hate sounding like a spoiled rich kid with tons of angst over ‘my mommy and daddy didn’t love me enough’ because I know that they do love me. But I think I’ve been so fucked up emotionally for long enough that I can’t remember feeling it, and I wish I could see them more often than I do, because I think that we could actually have a decent relationship now that I’m getting my head straightened out. 

Parent Angst. Ex Drama. 

Life goes on.

Life barrels forward whether you feel like you’re ready for it to or not. You just have to hold on for the ride and hope you don’t get left behind. 


Why ya wanna do me like ya do

Please excuse the grammatical inaccuracies in my title… they are lyrics and are written as such.


I haven’t written anything here in a while. I wrote another blog post elsewhere, but unless you already know about it, I’m not telling.

I’m aware of the fact that I have a problem with my temper.

Before it has always manifested itself in explosions of anger, often resulting in walls being punched, arms being grabbed, extremely loud shouting, ear buds being ripped out of ears… and often ended up with me feeling worse.  That feeling of worse-ness lasted for days. I’ve written before about having walls that I’ve thrown up around my emotions… they’ve been down for a while now… and I’ve been wondering where my temper is.

It’s still there, it’s just manifesting itself differently. Instead of violent outbursts and shouting, its frustration more than anger. A sort of tired exhaustion brought about by a misogynistic boss who thinks its all right to call me ‘pumpkin’ and ‘babe’ and more often than not says he is trying to ‘pray away my gay’ or (most recently) tells me not to be ‘gay’. He’s got asbergers, and I’m sure he thinks he’s funny, but its not. I’m sure I’m not helping his confusion about the lack of funny by not saying anything, and even going along with his jokes about my sexual orientation. But it makes it not as hard to hear, in that minute anyways. Later it still sucks and I still hate him for it, but in that moment, it doesn’t hurt as bad. 

My roommate and I are best friends, but as of recently I’ve been feeling like I’m his personal assistant / chauffer as well as his roommate. I did mention this to him today, but as he doesn’t have a car, there’s not much we can do differently. But I do hope he will stop trying to hook me up with the gay strippers where he works. I love Amanda very much, and while if I wanted to explore a relationship with another woman (at a later date after our relationship wasn’t quite so new), we would have that discussion, but right now, I’m perfectly happy with Amanda alone. So thanks SK, but I don’t need or want your help hooking me up with one of your stripper friends. 

So I am so very tired, and apparently this is my temper. I don’t need it to be a huge blaring thing like it used to be, so it is just being a large wet blanket weighing me down and sapping my energy. I’m not sure which is worse. One is violent and scary for those around me as well as for myself, this is just exhausting and I’m not sure its so emotionally healthy either. 



Amanda and I went hiking in St. Francois state park down by Farmington, MO yesterday. We did a 3 mile hike with some significant (for Missouri anyways) elevation changes. I feel like my legs went through a rock tumbler today. This morning I was kind of pathetic looking as I tried to put my pants on, and when it came to my shoes and socks, I was incapable of bending appropriately to be able to do that. So Amanda knelt down and put on my shoes and socks. It was incredibly sweet and once again I marvel at how much she loves me, and how much I love her. 

But back to the hike. It was a great hike. I haven’t gone hiking in so long. And while I went ‘hiking’ with AP plenty of times, I can literally count on one hand the number of hikes we actually completed. We were notorious for not finishing the hike but just giving up and going home, or going to get something to eat. So it was awesome to actually finish the hike as we planned, and I was able to keep up not too terribly badly, I know I slowed Amanda down, but again, not too badly. We got confused about the trail we originally intended to do, we thought that there were two loops that you could do individually, but it turned out that to do the short loop, you had to complete the longer loop first, which made the entire hike almost 12 miles. So that didn’t happen. But it’s a goal. It’ll actually have to be a backpack hike, where we camp overnight and finish up, but the trail is set up for people to do just that, so that’s not a problem. Amanda was almost glowing with excitement when I told her that I would be all right with building up our endurance so that eventually we can do that 12 mile hike with the overnight. 

We’re moving in together, or at least planning on when our leases are up that we’ll move in together. So we’re compiling a list of the things that we would like in our new place. In order of importance-

South City location

Not terrible neighborhood

Decent sized bedroom

Good kitchen (Amanda gets to pick what makes a kitchen good or bad)

Central Air and Heat

Preferably wood floors

Preferably with two bedrooms (or with storage space because we have two sets of furniture to smush together into one apartment).

A yard would be nice.

A place in the basement  / somewhere for me to hang my heavy bag would be nice (but I understand that this might be incredibly difficult to obtain).


But I’m so excited to move in with her, it doesn’t feel like we’re rushing anything, and I’m sure that once we get moved in, its going to feel like a home, not just a place where I’m living. The apartment I’m living in now isn’t one I picked out. It’s not too bad, but it’s really not where I want to be. I don’t really like my neighborhood, its overpriced for what I’m getting… and it’s far away from basically everything I want to do now. I can’t wait to sleep next to her every night…. wait… I think I’m already doing that… well it’ll be different when it’s our bed, no roommates… etc. 

So… Valentines Day. Yes, it’s a holiday created by a greeting card company. But I’ve never celebrated it before. And it was FUCKING AWESOME!

Amanda made me french toast in bed, packed me a lunch… proceeded to take all day keeping me wired and wound up (well that was mutual), asked my mom how to make my favorite dinner (which endeared her tremendously to my mother), and surprised me at my apartment when I got off work dressed AWESOMELY, we had dinner… and she had brought me a good bottle of bourbon, and a cigar which I got to smoke after dinner. And yes, there was other stuff about which you prurient bastards get no details. All in all a fucking awesome evening. Amanda loved her necklace and earrings. And her Valentines letter that I wrote. Yes, I don’t mean a card, I mean a letter. I’ve never written a love letter before, definitely not one that made the recipient cry in happiness. But it was pretty fucking awesome. 

All in all, my life is pretty fucking awesome. I’m so lucky to have an incredible girlfriend who knows me so well and loves me despite the fact that she knows me so well. I’m lucky that I love her so much that I still can’t fully comprehend or explain it in words. And my future’s so bright, I should be wearing shades. 


Trying to figure out a way to tell you what I’m feeling / But I just can’t get the words off my chest

I think in emotions and images for thoughts that haven’t become solid and firm and once I’ve decided on something, there are words involved. This is all in my subconscious, but once I realized how it worked, I also figured out that my subconscious was smarter than I am and knows better. It knew that I needed to get out and away from AP, it knew that B wasn’t a real relationship or any good for me, and it knew that MW (my fuck buddy) was fucking nuts and again not good for me. I’ve learned to trust my subconscious. So once my thoughts start having words, I know that its what’s right and best for me. (I also tend to call my subconscious my brain hamsters in the sense that they can run around in the background doing all the work for me and making me sound like I’ve just had these awesome revelations out of the blue when in reality I’ve been working on them for a while.)

So when my conscious mind starts worrying about something, I try not to give it too much attention because my brain hamsters have already been on the job trying to give me the right answer. Easier said than done most of the time. But I know that my brain hamsters have already been working on the problem (if there is a problem at all) and will give me any answers I need.

But that being said, I ALWAYS get anxious before going into a situation that I have never been in before. A good example of this is when I was interviewing for colleges in Chicago my senior year in high school. My entire collegiate experience rested on me doing well in at least one of these interviews so that I could go to a program that I wanted and study what I wanted. The morning of my first of four interviews, I was an emotional wreck. I couldn’t decide anything for myself, I couldn’t decide what I wanted to eat, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to eat in the room or go down to the restaurant for breakfast. So my mom decided that for me. And once I was down in the hallways on the floor where the interviews were being conducted… I was completely fine. My brain hamsters (though I didn’t call them that at the time) had given me the answers I needed and I was fine. So I’m hoping the same thing happens for dinner on Tuesday. Tuesday’s dinner is a long story that I’m not going to share online with everyone and their crazy uncle Bob to read about. It’s nothing I’m hiding, its just not for everyone to know, plus the actual nature of what might happen Tuesday isn’t confirmed yet and I don’t want to jump the gun. But don’t worry, I will tell you if anything actually comes up, and if my brain hamsters actually calm down my anxiety. 

And yes, Amanda tells me there’s nothing to worry about. 🙂


Starting to spend a lot of time at Shameless Grounds (the coffee shop where Amanda works). I was here Saturday during the day, Saturday night for the drag show, and now Amanda is working tonight to cover for one of her coworkers. And then I’ll be here tomorrow night when she’s working for Trivia night. 

One thing my brain hamsters and I agree on is that we prefer to be here at night when Amanda works. I know she can take care of herself and doesn’t need me to protect her, but I’m going to anyways, at least in this one instance. Plus, I get to see her when things aren’t too busy, the food is good, the company is good, and it’s just a good place to hang out. But I’m sorry, it’s in a not fantastic part of town, and at night I just feel better being here to make sure that everything is okay, especially when she’s closing up mostly alone. 

So tonight I play kinky bingo. Tomorrow I play trivia. And I enjoy lots of coffee and sandwiches and potato salad. I also write many blog posts. So you gentle readers get to enjoy my many hours at Shameless Grounds as well. 

Make sure you tip your wait staff.

I saw a picture on Facebook that was of an angry cat and it said, “Why tip 18% to your waitress when you give God 10%? Because your waitress exists.” True enough anyways. Even if God does exist, and I’m not here to get into a religious debate (You’re not going to change my mind about my platonic existentialism, so don’t even try.) I would like to believe that the God my parents worship would WANT you to tip that individual who brings you your food and who works for a living, and would want you to give that person, one of his/her/its/whatever’s creations more money than you give to an institution that encourages charity and kindness to your fellow humans… since that was what the institution should do anyways. 


So, Sarah’s 

advice of the post – Tip your waitstaff. They handle your food.

Now I’m of consenting age to be forgetting you in a cabaret …

What a turn my life has taken over the past six months. 

Exactly 6 months ago this Wednesday, AP and I split up. And while the end of any relationship should be something to mourn even if just a little bit, I felt relief. The day all of her stuff was out of our apartment, I finally felt like I could breathe again.

For almost 2 months I had to learn how to live by myself. I’ve never lived alone except for those two months. In October, my current roommate (SK) moved in (I had another one for awhile, but he was horrid and not worth mentioning), and I wasn’t alone anymore. He’s a bit younger than me, but one of my absolute best friends. He and I got drunk together, went out to bars together, hit on girls together, went to strip clubs together, played large amounts of Magic the Gathering together, played video games together… did virtually everything together until we both got jobs. In those two months where SK and I were out and about catting around, I felt like I was finally living the life that I had been denied. I never really partied all that much in college, well in my life with AP anyways. Before that, I have distinct fuzzy recollections of drunken spin the bottle, drinking games, making out with strangers, getting groped by my friend’s girlfriend, having a gay boy vampire give me a hickey and drink my blood (there were fangs involved)…. having a great time in other words! And then I met AP and that had all stopped. 

But this post isn’t about dwelling on the things I was denied, this post is about celebrating the new life I have been creating for myself.

Now, I’ve made a bunch of new friends who are really all awesome people, I’ve spent a lot more times with the friends I had from before, I’ve gone out dancing at gay bars, had a lot of fun experimenting with different things that I hadn’t tried before (like smoking a hookah, and cigars) and just figuring out what kinds of things I like to do! 

In the past month, I have barely watched any television. I used to watch HOURS every day, every week. I had shows I kept up with regularly… that I would count the hours until a new episode would be available online… and not only have I been so busy that I haven’t had time to watch tv, I haven’t really wanted to at all.

The other day when Amanda was at her working interview at one of the best fine dining restaurants here in St. Louis, and I was home by myself without a car (SK had it) for the first time in weeks, I had time to watch tv. So I procured an episode of one of my shows and began to watch it… it was an episode that I had missed because of being busy, and as I watched it, I found myself getting angry, like viscerally angry with the characters for being so stupid. I had to stop watching it. 

Now this has never happened to me before. I’ve been watching a lot of tv for as long as I can remember. I’ve always loved being able to get sucked into a story and lose myself in the characters and just veg. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t shut off my brain and just enjoy the fluffy stupidness of the show. 

So apparently beyond wanting to dress up more and fit the part of my job more… I also now don’t really enjoy watching tv. I guess I really am growing up. Which is a thought that scares me a lot.  I’ve enjoyed always feeling like an overgrown teenager once I reached ‘adulthood’ and while I still go out, have fun, spend time with my friends, and even do crazy shit every once in a while, I’m feeling more and more like an adult. 

Okay lets run the ‘real adult’ check list shall we? 

– Real job 

– adult relationship

– adult wardrobe

-pays bills like an adult

-thinking about the future in a serious way


HOLY SHIT. I’m an adult. 

When did that happen?

Apparently it’s possible to live life and yet be an adult. I guess I had always sort of associated being an ‘adult’ with living a boring life. But that’s not the case, well my case anyways. 

(So do you guys like how kind of stream of consciousness my blog posts are usually? Or is this one just more Faulkner-ish than usual?)



I think my brain needs a jump start.

Anyone got any brain cables?





I am an arms dealer / fitting you with weapons in the form of words

My inner robot is back. Or is at least making appearances.

When my emotions get too painful, my instinct is to shut it down. Sometimes the pain is more than I can handle, and feeling nothing at all is preferable. Except that it’s not. I can’t get better without feeling the pain. I also can’t feel the amazing things that I feel when I’m with Amanda. Its like I’m perceiving everything through a layer of diffusing gel. A nice Rosco 3027 probably. I can tell that it’s there, but its all fuzzy and not distinct at all.

She does this thing where she runs her hand over my cheek, a way of showing her love in a non sexual yet still tactile way. Normally I can feel the emotion that she is pouring into this little action, but yesterday, all I felt was her hand on my face. And while that felt nice, it wasn’t her intended effect. Most of yesterday evening I felt really off. I had put up my walls, I had hidden from the pain I was feeling. As soon as I felt it coming on, I had shut it down instinctively.

It is so easy to hide and not feel anything. It is so much harder to let that wall back down and let the pain in. Before I started consciously bringing it down, I would just leave it up until I didn’t feel the pain any more and it would come down on it’s own. But when I was trying to take it down last night, it took a long time, it took much encouragement from Amanda, it took focus and pain to actually get myself to feel a different level of pain. It HURT to try to get it down. But I am finding something that is helping, when I feel like I need to cry but I’ve shut myself off, thinking about my grandpa helps bring the tears. It might be completely unrelated to whatever it is that hurting me, but if I think about him too long, I can cry, no matter what. Shit. Just writing this is making me cry.

So apparently in addition to having to deal with all of the shit from my relationship with AP, I have to deal with the fact that I don’t think I properly grieved his death. I was right smack dab in the middle of robot mode because of AP, so I shut down the grief I felt after his funeral. Don’t get me wrong, I felt his death, I felt his loss. I think it was so intense that even my robot mode and my toughest walls couldn’t hold back all of the pain. I remember biting my tongue until it bled to keep from sobbing during his funeral. I know my voice cracked and broke during my eulogy. I know I walked into that church with tears streaming down my face. I know I sobbed at the graveside. I KNOW I felt his death and loss. But then I seemed to bounce back. I still got sad, but nothing like what I felt at the funeral and when he died.

And that just hijacked this post.

I know that Amanda doesn’t think I’m broken, but I can only believe that when she tells me it. I can’t feel it for myself. Not when I’m consciously keeping my walls down so I can feel. With my walls down I feel broken. Not to the point that I can’t fix myself, but broken none the less.

I don’t like feeling like I’m broken, even if Amanda insists I’m not. I don’t like feeling so emotionally raw constantly. I don’t like the battle I’m constantly having to fight to keep my walls from clamping back down on my emotions. Hiding my emotions is so dishonest, not only to me, but to Amanda as well. And we’ve promised that we would be honest with each other. As much as she is mine, I am hers, and therefore the emotions I feel are just as much hers to share as they are mine. So I’m fighting with myself, fighting my instinct to hide my pain, to remain strong for her. Because it is dishonest, and being dishonest is more hurtful than feeling the hurt myself, because I’m hurting her with my dishonesty. And as she reminds me constantly, it’s not weak to cry, it’s not weak to show emotion, it is one of the strongest things I can do. But I’m not doing all of this just for her. I’m doing it because there is absolutely no way for me to heal myself if I keep hiding from what I’m feeling.

One of the hardest things I’m having accepting is the idea that AP isn’t a good person who did horrible things to me repeatedly; she can’t be a good person if she abused me like she did. So rectifying the vision I have in my head of her as a good person with the things she did to me is really hard, and part of the problem I’m having moving on. I still sometimes find myself craving her approval. As much as I know I don’t need her approval, I sometimes still find myself wanting it. And then when I realize what it is I want, I want to flash my happiness and my new relationship and my new job and my new and improved life in her face. And then I realize that none of that will actually help me feel better. In those moments, I understand why Amanda gets so incredibly mad at AP.

Last night even after I shut down my walls on my emotions, they were so strong that I could feel them shoving, pushing, hitting, doing whatever they could to make me feel like I was. going to burst open from the inside out. In moments like that (in retrospect anyways), I know I’m not broken, I know I’m just fighting myself on this. I know AP can’t hurt me anymore. I know that I am safe with Amanda. I know that the people in my life love me. I know that they all have my back and most of them would fight an army of Uruk-hai with me, or help me hide a dead body if I needed it. I know I have people in my corner who want me to get better. I know I have cheerleaders rooting me on as I fight with myself and tackle the shit that AP left behind.

Actus Me Invito Factus Non Est Meus Actus – a latin phrase with the literal meaning of ‘the act done by me against my will is not my act’ – it has some legal implications, but in my sense, it means that the things I did to make AP happy, the things I did to survive her abuse, as distasteful as I find most of them now, aren’t me. They aren’t anything I (as I am now) would do, so I have no need to feel ashamed or embarrassed or disgusted with myself about performing them. I can’t hold myself accountable for things I did under her control, so making myself feel guilty about them does me no good and is unnecessary. Nobody would blame me for them, so I shouldn’t blame myself.

I am thankful that my parents can help me pay for my therapy. I couldn’t see my therapist as much as I clearly need to if they weren’t helping. So I thank the universe for generous parents who are in a situation where they can help. I thank the universe for a girlfriend who loves me even when I’m not at my best. And I thank the universe for the strength I am finding that I have to fight my way through this shit so that I can be the happy and healthy person that I deserve to be.