"We can still be friends..."

... is like saying "The dog died, but we can still keep it."

I really should have foreseen this.

I finally caved and texted the ex. I had found some of his crap in my storage room months ago but never bothered to return it. I think I was trying to be 100% positive that talking to him wouldn't evoke any negative emotions. I said something generic along lines of "Hey, how's things? I found some stuff I don't want lying around my apartment - can I mail it to your work?" As soon as I hit send, I was overwhelmed with a pulse-racing, stomach-roiling anxiety attack. Like I was scared of something but couldn't figure out why... When he said "sure, you need the address?", I should have said yep and left it at that. But, as we have established, I am a masochist (or just an idiot) and responded with "Or if you feel like catching up, I don't mind meeting up with you..." which led to instant facepalm. 

I was feeling really stupid until he unloaded a gem of a text, turning my whole day around. 

"I'm not sure," he said, "I'll have to ask Ally if it's ok." 

It was so perfectly what I needed to hear, I almost couldn't believe it. Here I am, free as a bird doing whatever the fuck I want whenever the fuck I want, and my ex tells me he needs to ask his woman's permission to meet up for coffee. It was beautiful, and guys.... it only got better from there. 

See, one of the most annoying yet slightly endearing traits this poor boy possesses is rather a dull wit. Well, that's putting it mildly. He's actually kind of an idiot (see below for the best example of all time)* which means it's ridiculously easy to make scathing remarks without him realizing. This has the dual benefit of getting your point across in the bitchiest way possible while being amused at how little he understands. This is how the conversation went, verbatim:

K: Or if you feel like catching up, I don't mind meeting you somewhere.

D: As for meeting up. I'm not sure. I'll have to ask Ally if it's ok.

K: You have to ask permission to see people? Save yourself the bother. I"ll just mail your shit over. 

D: It's not that Ally. What kind of stuff do you have that you wanna send me

K: I know what you meant, I just thought it was funny/ironic, is all. It's mostly photos from your trip home and some other stuff I don't want taking up space. 

D: Right on, you can mail it for sure. What are you up to these days? 

K: Work and social activity, writing and traveling. All the things I didn't get to do much of when we were together. Best be careful, though - this may be a little too much like catching up :)

D: Lol

Then we got into how happy we both are. I mean, yes I am happy and I said so, but this guy was  just over-the-top about how he's SO HAPPY, EXTREMELY HAPPY, THE HAPPIEST HE'S EVER BEEN. He's gotten his shit together and it's all thanks to Ally. She's amazing, she's perfect, she's everything he ever wanted, and they're engaged. Yes, engaged. Allow me to do the math for you: In September, D came to me begging me to give us one more chance, to please take him back. So that means that he met some one and proposed within seven months of meeting her. To which I responded:

K: Lol, nice - didn't waste any time with this one, eh? She already knocked up or something? :P I'm happy you're finally getting what you always wanted. I'm exactly where I want to be, too. Can you imagine if I had taken you back? Urgh, it would be terrible!

D: She truly is amazing. She's everything I can imagine and more. No she isn't knocked up, lol. She's the one for me.... It's nice to hear you're doing good, as well. I can't imagine it either. It'd prolly be pretty bad, lol.

K:Well, all you ever wanted was a biddable wife no matter what the personality, and she was willing to get married to you after 6 months or less, so she must be perfect for you, lol.

Anyways, after having made some plans to chat and exchange goods, he texted me like the coward he is to cancel. He tells me he's really happy and he doesn't want to mar it with our troubled past. At this point, I'm fairly certain that it is, in fact, Ally texting me as D does not have the capacity to verbalize emotions. 

K: Listen, if you're still having issues with the breakup, that's on you. I buried the hatched long ago and have now tried to do what you said you wanted - to be amicable. I extended the hand of friendship, but it looks as though you'll never change. And I'm sorry for you. 

D:There's no hard feelings. But also no point in becoming friends when the friendship was gone so long ago. I'm happy that you've found happiness as well (Yeah, she's totally talking on his behalf)

K: Fair enough. I'll google your work address and send you your things (selling the diamond ring tho, hope you don't mind, lol). May you have a blissful shotgun wedding, and I'll see you (hopefully) never. Bye:)

Yes. And yes. 

*Ok, and now for the funny little anecdote about how dumb this guy was. One day, while driving to meet some people for dinner, D and I got into some playful banter - as couples do, you know. After a few exchanges, I said "Yeah? Well, your face looks like feces!" The remark was greeted by silence and so I felt I had to ask: "You do know what feces is... right?"

"I'm not stupid, K," he said, evidently exasperated. "I know what a dead baby is."

Guys, I almost died that day. 

One of "those" days

This morning, I was having a bit of a confab with an old friend. I don't know how we got to this, but we started recounting awkward memories. 

"Oh, man - you remember when you biffed it outside of Swig's in from of every one? That was so fucking funny!" Said this old friend. And my first instinct, for virtually  no reason, was to counter with "Not as funny as how bad you're bombing life right now."

This is a clear indication that I should probably stay in bed today, because I've been awake for about 20 minutes and I already know it's going to be "one of those days". But my need to pay bills outweighs my desire to spare humanity my bitchiness. 

Never Mind the Battle of the Sexes.

We need to address the Battle of Body vs Mind.

I'll start by saying that, even though I haven't brought it up here yet, I'm very passionate about sex. It's one of my favorite topics to discuss because it's a universal exercise and yet uniquely experienced by each individual. While I'm not necessarily all about the recounting of my own experiences, I enjoy getting a feel for how others perceive sex. I like delving into the nature of peoples kinks and fetishes to get different  insights on their personalities. And I like to think I'm fairly well-versed on the subject (though there will always be more to learn). But there is one aspect of this matter that eludes me: The ongoing conflict between human sexuality and the ego.

I always thought that things were supposed to become clearer as we got older. Life would endow us with experiences and a richer understanding of the way the world works. I was, evidently, laboring under a delusion because as I get older, things get more and more confusing. And nothing baffles me more than the clash of the body and the mind.

Separated and picked apart, the two aspects that make up a human are perfect. On the one hand you have your ego, what makes you "you". All of your memories, education, emotions and personality traits combined to create a complex and unique consciousness - the part of you that loves. Your morals and values along with your preferences and plans dictate the choices you make in love and relationships. And while it may not always be rational, you have a certain level control over your "ethereal self".

On the other hand you have this equally complex collection of cells, one that governs itself - your body. Every aspect of this body correlates to another in order to form a vehicle that happens to be ideal for going about your day-to-day life on the physical plane. Keeping your vital organs working, realizing when you need to refuel and recharge, healing itself after injury or illness... It's nothing short of miraculous that the atoms of this form are held together in divine perfection. But don't be fooled. Just about every function of your being is working towards a single goal: Procreation. Even if you don't want kids, everything about sex, from hormones to orgasms, is designed to make you reproduce.

Looking at it from the outside, common sense would tell you that to put this higher consciousness inside a body of base needs could result in chaos. There's as much potential for anguish as there is for euphoria. You might have a love of your life, a match for your soul, and the sex will make you feel complete in every way. But your body could compromise everything when it sees a another body it feels unconsciously compelled to make a baby with. Your significant other could become mad with jealousy and make your life hell when you're caught eyeing up a particularly attractive person. You might have told yourself to have some dignity and stop sleeping around, but the warm-and-fuzzies brought on by a desirable new acquaintance coax you into one more tryst that will leave you feeling shameful.

And yet here we are, two aspects of a divided being, fighting for the upper hand. And judging by the number of times I've had my ego wrecked because I couldn't keep my pants on, I'd say my body's winning this battle.

At least the Universe has a sense of humor.

Wrong Side of the Bed

The insomnia is starting to have a reverse effect  on my emotional state. Whereas before, I was too tired to feel anything, now I'm going slightly insane.

It's actually quite astonishing to me that my mind, having only been awake for two and a half minutes, has the capability to go over every shitty detail of my life at light speed and render me immobilized. I knew this new-found positivity was precarious at best (at worst, an illusion) yet I am surprised that I'm having a nervous breakdown right now. I'm trying to hang on to that high of last night and focus only on what's going well - and there is lots to be happy about - but my brain has a mind of its own. 

It goes like this:

1. Oh great, I'm "awake". 
2. Have fun working on three hours sleep again, self.
3. Fuck me, I forgot about my job. Way to be over-worked and under-paid.
4. Now I have to get there and smile so I have the semblance of being a pleasant human being.
5. ... even though the office is filled with people I would happily push into traffic.
6. After that ordeal, I get to come home and have a nice evening of solitude in my shoebox apartment.
7. I can then reflect on the joys of being single.
8. I've been over this: just quit the job and get the fuck out of this city for a while.
9. No, can't do that because I have to be respectful of my friends and think of my future.
10. Fuck it then, just hide in bed.

Once I've come full circle, I have two choices: I could have a temper tantrum, but since throwing shit and stomping my feet is unbecoming of an adult, I give into the overwhelming urge to give zero fucks. 

On lies and being lied to

The thing I am noticing most about these periods of happiness is that they are both a blessing and a torture. They are amazing because I feel back to my old self, and they're torture because, try as I may to remain constantly positive, eventually something will happen to bring me right back down to where I hate being.

I can remain undaunted by one emotional blow. Through a second blow, I can still look on the bright side. But there's only so many little things that can pile on before it becomes too much for me to handle and retaining that optimistic attitude becomes draining. I don't like to give up, and nothing frustrates me more than hearing some one say "Fuck it, I give up." But I'm kind of there, and it feels better than stress.

Any way, moving on. I actually had subject in mind when I started this post, so lets get to it.

Let me paint a picture for you...

 Let's say that you've met some one. They're attractive, interesting, and fun to be around and by some stroke of luck, they are displaying an interest in you. As any one would do, you spend time with that person to determine whether or not a relationship is an endeavour you should bother setting out on. You tell each other about your past, your background, your goals and dreams.

Eventually, the conversation will lead you to more unsavory topics. Let's face it: no one has had a perfect life, and every one makes mistakes. You have to take the bad if you decide to pursue the good. Say, for instance, the conversation leads to the subject of infidelity. You can relay your experiences with it, whether you've cheated or been cheated on. And when you ask person if they've ever cheated on a significant other, they adamantly tell you they've never done it.

Of course, you want to believe what they're telling you is true - you may be the type of person who has complete trust in some one until they've let you down. And of course, the more you become infatuated with this person, the more you want them to be perfect in your eyes so you can justify getting into a relationship with them.

But lets say a few months into knowing this person, they let it slip they had been unfaithful to an old lover or a spouse. What happens then?

On the one hand, it's good to know that this person has been honest in regards to a subject that is touchy with you... but on the other, that person straight-up lied to your face so they would continue to look good in your eyes.

So the million dollar question is: do you continue to trust this person, or is the trust shattered?

If it was me, I'd be very confused about the situation for various reasons, the first being that, while I understand every one's entitled to omit certain information, I cannot stand being lied to. When some one lies to me, I feel like they must think I'm stupid. But I almost always know when I'm being lied to, and I have no qualms with getting to the bottom of it (normally with mad Jedi mind tricks that stun people into telling the truth without realizing). To bring my intelligence into question by lying to me would only be a detriment to the other party, so why bother?

The second issue I take with the scenario is that I don't think I'd like the other party not letting me decide for myself if this was information to take into consideration when deciding how I feel about them. I rarely have an issue with laying everything bare - I know that I appreciate honesty, so I try to be honest in all my dealings - and I don't think it's too much to expect the same.

On the flip-side, I used to be in the habit of overlooking all of potential partners flaws in order for them to remain golden in my eyes. It was really bad habit that I picked up back when I thought being in relationship what paramount and I would do just about anything to make a relationship work. So, if I made the decision to overlook this one lie, would I be reverting to old desperate tendencies?

It's a toughy, right?

I'm Fine (and by "fine" I mean "faking it")

Sometimes I wonder just how many people out there might be going through a tough time when we've been conditioned to be "fine" all the time. A coworker or friend will ask "How's it going?" and automatically we say "Good!", even when we're not good at all. I know that the level of enthusiasm in my own voice is a tell as to just how shitty I really am. Like if I'm having a meh day and you ask, I'll say "Meh, you know how it is." But if I'm losing my shit, I'll shove "I'M FANTASTIC" down your throat so you can't tell otherwise. I can feel the crazy-eyes happening, but I hope no one can see it. 

And now that I think about it, that isn't the only time I find myself pretending to be something I'm not. The biggest instance is when I get quiet. When I'm happy (or distracted, depends on the day) I am animated and chatty. I love interacting and laughing and being ridiculous normally. But sometimes I'll forget I'm not alone and spend a little too much time in silence. The other party will ask "Are you ok? You're so quiet!" and I'll tell them "I have a headache, weird!" or "I dunno, I guess I just lost my steam, LOL SORRY GUYS!"

If I'm having a bad go of it, why shouldn't I be able to say "Well, I ran out of clean socks today, but I unknowingly spent my last $10 on a pack of smokes so I had to do laundry in my bathtub because my coin card was empty." or "Well, I was feeling sad, but then I spoke to a friend about the passing away of her husband and now I just feel like a complete fucking douche."?

Well, of course, I know why: the first reason being that I'd make people sad or uncomfortable. How are you supposed to keep up the semblance of "fine" when some crazy woman is telling you her whole sad life story  and dragging you down?

And secondly, I don't want to worry my loved ones, and I certainly don't want anyone to think I am incapable to handling my life. Then, God forbid, some one might offer me help - and that just can't happen since, even though I'd love to take you up on the offer (because, in reality, I do need help), my conditioning and pride simply won't allow it.

C'est la vie, am I right?

I don't feel like faking it today.

Mood Swings & Losing My Fucking Mind

All day, I have gone between wanting to throwing a tantrum and just plopping down to sob. And it's killing me: why am I like this? I'm trying not to beat myself up over the way I feel, but this is getting ridiculous.  How do so many people just live their lives free of the insane roller coaster of emotions?

I hate this feeling of self-pity, but it just doesn't seem fair that this chemical imbalance is part of the hand I was dealt in life. It's bad enough that I am prone make thoroughly stupid decisions, it's bad enough that I struggle constantly to maintain a lifestyle that allows me to feed and shelter myself while still having some social activity, and it's bad enough I have to this all on my own. I don't need this affliction ruling over my emotions and making all the little things seems that much worse. 

I sit quietly in the file room of my office and ask myself: "What is different about today than yesterday?" The answer, of course, is nothing.  Yesterday, I was still in debt, I was still single, and I was still feeling way like I was in way over my head with the choices I've been making regarding the people surrounding me. Yesterday, I could laugh about it because I was at peace with all of these things, and today I simply am not.

Often, I feel as though I am two entirely different people. There's the me I loath to be, and the me I love and want to be all the time. I know they are essentially the same person, it's just that one of them reacts a little more sanely to outside stimuli. I am perfectly aware that every one has their ups and downs... I would just like to be one of those who handles them like normal person. 

Every now and again, I feel like I've almost got "it", that balance I that I need in order to feel sane. But then in a flash, it escapes me and the negativity comes washing over me again. With it comes the feeling of not being able to catch a break, accompanied by a hopeless which is in no way conducive to my well-being. 

I know in my heart that life is a journey of lessons and when it's all done, I will have become the "me" I was meant to be - my Higher Self, if you will. In my head, my Higher Self is already very much like me. She is loving, crazy, compassionate, extreme, generous, funny, jealous, wise. The main difference between her and I is that she is finally at peace with all of herself and her surroundings. I cling to the hope I will one day soon become this Higher and Best version of Me, all the good things and the not-so-good finally in harmony. 

But on days like today, even with that beacon of hope shining ahead, I wonder if I have the strength to ever get there.

Why, body chemistry? WHY??

Puddles of tears collected in my glasses. Drops of running mascara now stain my carpet...

No, it is not my lame attempt at poetry - this legit just happened to me. I made the huge of mistake of watching a heart-wrenching movie tonight because I am evidently an masochist on top of being clinically depressed and (despite all my efforts to overcome the  affliction) I have a set of fucking ovaries that screw me every month. 

I really should have thought a little harder before stumbling upon Seeking a Friend for the End of the World on TV. By the end of it, I was rocking back and forth on my floor blubbering "That's just so fucking beautiful! I remember when some one used to love me!" 

I've had a good run feeling great about being single, you know? Getting to rediscover my self as a solo unit, doing what I want to do rather than what we want to do, not feeling bad about shameless flirting. Besides the overwhelming frustration caused by the lack of sex that has left me feeling pretty "I-want-to-punch-someone-y", it's all very magical and liberating and blah blah blah sisters with no misters unite.

But what about the companionship, always having some one who cares who'll drop everything to be there for you when you need them, and vise versa? What about never being bored and having great sex with your best friend whenever you want it? Waking up next to some you love every morning and seeing them brightens your whole day because you know you get to see them as you fall asleep? I want that again. 

I feel like a little kid with kick-ass toy made of moonbeams and fairy dust, the greatest toy she could have hoped for, and she is having so much fun. But then she sees some one else on the playground with an even more kick-ass toy. It's shiny and new, made of T-Rexs and unicorn farts. She stares agog at this glorious new plaything and thinks to herself "I want thaaaaaat..." as she wipes the drool from her chin.

So the kid in me looks down at her own toy and wonders if she should just keep the one she already has. It's not a bad toy, and after all moonbeams are friggin rad... BUT NOT AS FUCKING RAD AS A T-REX  PLUS UNICORN FARTS! So does she stick to what she's had all along and have the same old fun? Or does she  bribe the other kid with Tamagotchis and Orbitz and take what she wants? Sounds like a fair trade it ask me...

Well that's enough of that metaphore now, I think. On to another amusing conversation with Buddy which, despite the mild blow to my self-confidence, I found pretty damn funny:

 "... so basically the name every ball used in sports is the 'sports name' plus 'ball.'" Buddy told me was we were on a smoke break. (Don't ask how we got to ball talk... I have no idea)

"Yeah, except for Quidditch. None of them are called Quidditch balls," I nerdily pointed out. "Do you beat the Bludger?"

"Oh, I'd say I'm a fair beater," he said roguishly.

"I'd have to say I'm great chaser, if you catch my drift." 

"But how," Buddy asked me in mock innocence, "can you be a 'great' Chaser if you never catch the Snitch?" 

"Ow... I don't think I like that one." 

I chase boys and they constantly elude me, is what my dear friend is (needlessly) trying to remind me. 

Even though he got the players jobs mixed up. Seekers catch the golden snitch and Chasers chase the quaffles... some "nerd" he turned out to be. Seriously. Get your shit together, man.

Back on Track... ish

Pretty amazing what a slumber party can do for your mood. I love my Cuppy-Cake and her Hubby-Boo, and I feel fucking fantastic.

Now, when I feel slightly more alert, I will be sure to write an actual post...

Ok, I am feeling much more alert, and not nearly so high as I was before. This shitty feeling is caused by two things and, on top of being a little crazy, I am apparently also a masochist.

At the risk of sounding really hoakey, I have a serious problem with empathy - meaning that peoples emotions affect me on a very visceral level. It's something I've always been aware of but up until recently I had no idea how negative an impact it could have. Don't get me wrong, having compassion can be an amazing thing. Being able to put yourself in someone else's shoes can lend great perspective. And getting a sense of another's happiness can lift your own spirits. But on the other hand, feeling someone's despair and grief so clearly that you can't tell if it's your own emotions you're feeling can be unbearable.

So when someone I care about very deeply is in pain, it can hit me like a ton of bricks. I know that I can't carry burdens for them, but I wish with all my heart I could.

On a completely different note, I tend to let myself get confused in my feelings towards people. I wish I could say after ten years I've learned a thing or two, but I have had no such luck. And now I'm in a weird place where it kills me to be see a loved one in distress - almost as much as it kills me that I can't be enough for them. It's a helplessness coming in from two sides, and I stand the chance of being completely consumed if I can't be strong.

So, here's an epiphany: it's my turn to be strong for no one but myself. It's time to care about me as much, if not more, than every body else. 

Today can go to hell.

This past week, I've been feeling fantastic: I kept myself well occupied, thought positive things, had a lot of fun and a lot of laughs. The only thing that could have been better was more sleep. Roomie has gone back home, but still sleep is evading me...

Last November, I fell into a major depressive episode at the worst possible time. Obviously, "D" can't be blamed for the way I handled things, but the break up threw me right over the edge. Also, he picked my first day at a new job to tell me he was leaving. Life felt pretty bad for a long time, but some how I got myself out of bed every morning and into work. I don't believe that I ever missed a day because the episode was getting to me (short of doctors appointments) . It was, however, taking a serious toll on me and I'm still struggling with changing the bad habits I developed during that time.

When we broke up, I had no apatite and suffered from insomnia - which I'm told often happens when one goes through a break-up, but probably not to this extreme. I couldn't stomach anything, and even looking at food made me feel sick. I think I went roughly ten days on no food before I had to see a doctor  as my hands were going numb caused by vitamin B deficiency. And sleep, no matter how exhausted I felt, came late and was rarely peaceful. 

Eventually I got into a routine that, while not ideal, allowed me to be a relatively well-functioning human. I lived off of coffee and vitamin water to help me stay focused at work and forced myself to eat something every evening. I lost 30 lbs in roughly six weeks. And I learned to work with getting 3-4 of sleep a night. People are pros at adapting, I guess. 

Anyway, this went on for roughly a year, even when I was feeling mentally back to normal - although I did train myself to eat little more throughout the day to keep headaches at bay. So when this winter started getting tough and I caved and got prescriptions drugs, we found something that could help me get a full nights sleep on top of anti-depressants. And let me tell you, it was fucking glorious. How the hell had I managed to get anything done or stay sane without more than seven hours of sweet, sweet sleep every night? I had energy, pep in my step, and I was happy.

That was, however, to be short-lived: About a month ago, while having a session with Elle, my tongue seized up. Weird, right? I just couldn't finish the word I was in the middle of saying. I had to stop and sort of stretch out my tongue before I could continue. (Thank god I have my appointments with Elle over the phone, or that would have been mortifying) But then it happened again and again, for days, every time I'd have to stop for a second and wait for my face to relax. It felt like was developing a stutter, and it was really scaring me. 

Thinking it might have been stress-related, I sought my doctors help. She promptly took me off of the magic sleep aid, saying that it has been known to cause tremors or twitches, though they should be isolated to the limbs. Now I am back to being lucky to scrape three hours disjointed sleep and it's killing me. 

I had, up until yesterday, what I think was a reserve of energy/good mood that kept me going. So long as I didn't stop talking or moving, I could stay focused, energized and efficient. I seemed to have reached my limit, though. And what happens when widdle babies don't get enough sleep? They get cranky as fuck, which does nothing to help me in my path to normalizing my mood. 

This cycle of ups and downs is driving me bonkers. It's really hard to go over all these positive mantras when all I want to do is stomp my feet and scream. 

I'm sure it's probably up to me to do it for myself, but I wish some one would come here and save me.

YAY WORK!

Yesterday, I told the roomie that I needed sleep badly - work is crazy at the end of the month, and my paperwork was about to bend me over my desk and screw me. If I didn't get any sleep again, I would be fucked, so please be quiet...

At the time, I was exaggerating. Today, work actually bent me over and screwed me. If it was at all enjoyable, it would have been an orgasmic marathon. But it was not enjoyable. I turned my mountain of paperwork into a fortress of files on my desk to (unsuccessfully) hide behind. I got frazzled fast - I was putting my pens into my coffee mug full of coffee and got all droppy-handsish. At one point, I thought I knew what it must feel like to be autistic. There were six voices around me all going at once and something shiny on my desk distracting me. It all got so overwhelming, I just shook my head crazily and walked away without a word. 

I thought I looked like a spaz, but one of my co-workers came up to me and asked "How do you stay so calm??"

"I'm on meds, " I responded, deadpan.

"Well, so am I, " she said, looking exasperated, "but they're not working like yours."

"I'm actually crying on the inside," I confided.

"Oh, ok - that's better. I knew it wasn't just me."

The kicker is it's still not quite the end of the month, and I have to do it all over again tomorrow.

*(I should clarify that I actually do love my job: the end-of-month madness makes me appreciate the next three weeks so much more.)

**(And wine. Wine is so much better when you work that hard for it.)