RACING THOUGHTS & New Disclaimers ♨️

I’ve just lived a Month of Hell I don’t understand and for the first time recently, haven’t had the words to describe. But I want to try.

The last 3-6 weeks (I can’t remember) have been a Giant, Extended, Protracted Clusterfuck of Epic Proportions. On a Daily Basic. Comprised of the following Ingredients:

1. The Daily Trifecta of Physical Mental, and Emotional Anguish.
2. That Damn Oral Surgery: the additional pain, the inconvenience, the EXPENSE, CVS and other Mosquitoes, the recovery period, the healing period, the waiting for the next phase, the fact there IS a Next Phase,
3. Going from February to July, at least where I live, brought my favorite Wardrobe Season, Mild Winter, to a screeching halt with As-Yet-Unworn-But-Recently-Purchased clothing Making Eyes from my closet; who knows if they’ll Wink at me next year? Also, the abrupt and drastic change in temperature has been hell on ONE of my pains: an exceptionally rare and therefore un-researched disorder, Erythromelalgia, or “Man-on-Fire Disease.” Let’s leave it that for now; I don’t want to burn you.
4. THE COMPANY: Profound Loneliness, Static Aloneness, A Despairing Sense of Pointlessness, Pissed-Off Self Loathing, Absence of Invitations, Unwillingness to Extend Invitations, Inability to Accept or Extend Invitations, Unfounded but CONVINCED Ugliness, Too Much Time But Nothing To Do, Wouldn’t Do It Anyway, Profound Sorrow, Regret!, Ghosts from the Past, Abject Misery, Fear of My Future, Inability to Cope with the Present, Paralysis,, Growing Emptiness, Social Anxiety, Agoraphobia (home both caste and prison of my own making), and therefore:

ZERO KARAOKE.

I NEED a weekly fix of Karaoke to handle the Slings and Arrows of my Outraged Fortune.

The good news is I FINALLY sought self-care by Undergoing Transformation of both Upper AND Lower Nails on Wednesday. All 20 are now Bulleted and Shellacked in Deluxe, Upgraded Red Glitter and Reflecting in Top Coat. How’s THAT for “Spring Color?“

I’m still not feeling great. But at least the Racing Thoughts in My Head are
Lovingly Whispering:

Karaoke Tonight?

(Gracias for the photo, @thenixcreative)

♨️ Is My New Disclaimer for Very Foul Language and/or Sexually Explicit Talk

Proof Of Niceness & High Bars

Lately, I’ve felt the need to remind myself “I’m Still a Nice Person,” by counting the ways:

•In REAL time, as I REALize them.
•Lucky for You!!
•Close your eyes and pretend You’re reading one of The Bard’s sonnets.
•The Latest Example?
•THIS person so desperately wants to spare her close-proximity neighbors of her Own Filthy Noise SO OBSESSIVELY,
•She uses peanut-sized earbuds to listen to ALL TV, Music, and Other Noise-Generating Activities
•In her OWN apartment
•ALL THE TIME,
•Falling asleep with at least ONE earbud in at least ONE ear
•Every single night,
•A “consideration” resulting in
•Two trips to an Ear-Nose-Throat Doctor TWICE in 3 months
•To scalpel-excavate the wisps of rubber covering the earbud’s nano-speaker
•Dislodged deep within her Ear Canal, causing
•Infection, Tinnitus, Pressure, AND Hearing Loss, necessitating
•Professionally-administered Torture for 5-10 excruciatingly long minutes,
•A procedure both expensive and painful
•As well as so embarrassing,
•The ENT benefitting from her foolishness has Remarked on Said Foolishness
•At each and every revisit, though
•She doesn’t listen,
•Refusing to abandon her “Noise-Canceling” activities.

If this isn’t Proof of Niceness, WHAT IS??!!
And WHO set YOUR Bar so high?

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy 💩

It may be effective for some, but I think it’s a load of crap!

At least the way the FATHER of CBT [Albert Ellis, the old perv] describes it:

By changing what you CHOOSE to THINK, How You FEEL will naturally change in direct proportion. Think Happy Thoughts and You’ll Feel Happy!

See why I think it’s a load of bullshit?!

I don’t know about YOU, but I’ve never been IN CONTROL of what I think and feel!

In fact, I’d say the REVERSE is what THINKS and FEELS more like Truth, at least deep within MY heartmind!

TODAY! Again, 0 promises about ANYTHING >= 5 minutes from now.

Good thing I don’t have a Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy Appointment I have to run off to, because I’d definitely have to SKIP IT…

Straight into the Garbage Can!

Along with my all my other Discarded Old Lovers!

Where they belong❣️

P.S. I don’t intend to STOP documenting This Incipient Madness until I’ve fulfilled ANY and ALL claims of INSANITY‼️

So long as long as they’re submitted within the next 5 minutes. After that, all Whiffs of Craziness must depart; I don’t want them around if/when Sanity comes back.

SECRETS GOOD FOR THE NEXT 30 MINUTES‼️

I want to share a secret I’ve only recently discovered to myself:

The reason I often need large Islands of time Inhabited Alone?

During those times:

I’m horrified by the possibility I’ll have to engage in two-way conversation and, God forbid, ACTIVELY LISTEN to ANY details about Another Person.

ANY OTHER PERSON.

And the reason I take my dates to Karaoke clubs? If the place is too noisy, I won’t have to hear A SINGLE WORD they’re saying!

Wait, I’m not done yet…

Guess My perennially-favorite Role?

Such an easy one. The VICTIM, of course!

Yep, I’m SELFISHLY and UTTERLY DESPICABLE in EVERY WAY and it is SUCH a relief.

I absolutely ADORE loathing myself❣️ It hurts so good.

#radicalvulnerability

NEW “SEGMENT”: IPHONE POSTS FROM OTHER PLACES

I’ll specify if it’s a text message, a YouTube comment, an Instagram Bio idea, a Facebook post [snooze], or the mother lode: a dating app comment made by ME!! Basically ANY comment made by me!

I won’t give any context other than those general categories. I’ll try to ensure my comments are holistic and self-explanatory. I will provide NO IDENTIFYING INFORMATION about ANY private individual, so NO FEARS ANYONE!!

I said: Your FEARS ARE UNFOUNDED!!

Anyway, I’ll use the same photo (for those of you who use photos) each time, and we will COMMENCE TONIGHT!!

TEXT

I don’t think we’re particularly compatible in a variety of ways I don’t intend to describe with my right thumb at the moment.

There is Virtue in Suffering

There is Virtue in Suffering

Pain Resides in Us and we can’t escape ourselves despite our noble and ignoble institutions, substances, activities, behaviors, distractions, and sundry other coping behaviors to help us do so.

All immersion in suffering-displacing techniques TEMPORARILY displaces Pain, but by displacing Pain, we’re also displacing Self-Acceptance, which I believe is the seed which grows into the Giant Redwood of Joyful Wholeness. I’m not OFFICIALLY sure because I’m not there yet!

I do want to clarify: when I talk about Pain I’m talking about Feeling Pain vs. Painful Events Occurring in a person’s life. If we survive both of them, we come out Overcomers or Victims, respectively.

I think I decided to allow Pain to have its way with me when I got sick and tired of being victimized by what felt like was Everybody, Everyone, and Everything. I was living my entire life in the Adult Biped Version or the Human Fetal Position. I don’t know that I’m NOT now.

But at least I KNOW IT, HAVE PROCESSED IT, AM WORKING ON IT, AM WRITING ABOUT IT, and AM SHARING IT.

By doing all of these things, I am bursting my bubbles, dashing my hopes, tarnishing my image, shattering my ego, losing my dreams, disappointing others instead of myself, burning my bridges, clearing my slates, starting at zero (zero is delicious), beginning again, growing into, becoming, expanding my options, opening doors, breaking ceilings, running deep, running low, running high, running new, and STARTING OVER.

At MY age!! And with all of my wretched disgusting awful brokenness, I STILL can’t believe how wonderful the person I’m turning into is becoming! I know it sounds corny, but when you’re not running away from yourself, you realize you’re not so bad. Maybe you’re even pretty amazing.

Thanks to Everyone [SO much] for going on this journey with me❣️ I honestly think it’s very brave of you.

Though Grace 🌞 has always been here, and she’s still alive to tell about it!! ♥️

ALSO: I know I’ve mentioned it before, BUT IN CASE ANYBODY MISSED IT, Everyone DOES realize I’ve written the ENTIRETY of this blog with my Right Thumb on the WordPress App on my IPhone 12 Mini, Right? I’m blind, dead, and dumb because of it [yes, I said “desd”], so hopefully you’ll excuse any typos.

MY FINAL SQUEAK TODAY, I Promise

You want to visit me in My Hellhole?

You’ll have to wade through oceans of trash, oceans of filth, and oceans of scum.

How are your swimming skills? I’m thinking only Michael Phelps could qualify.

Plus, I DO like that swimmers are so tall and sculpted, even though I meant every word I said earlier about height not mattering to me.

At least WHAT I SAID between the hours of 2:00pm and 2:09pm.

On… hold on… 4/27/22 ONLY!

My Added Benefits

I’m so transparent, the only thing dazzling is my Pancreas.

I come with the added benefit of 1) hating on myself half of the time and 2) thinking I’m irresistibly adorable the other half.

The whole combination is exhausting for EVERYONE, particularly ME.

Bed Calling

I think I shall return to sleep,
Depleted of all Energy
From hours and hours of Focusing
On all this goddam Poetry!

[But I make no promises to thee].


(Thanks to tracts4free.Wordpress.com for the great photo)

Scared of the Dark

I’m a big blusterer.
I pretend I’m willing to GO DARK.
But the truth is:
The Only Darkness in which I can See
Is a Darkness
Where I’m the only Victim.
To Imagine
A Darkness that
Devours the Weak
Shatters my heart,
Already quashed and tattered,
And thoroughly disgusts me.

No Great Talent

I may never be a force,
a great talent,
“somewhat” of a talent,
a flare,
or even a flash in the pan.

But at least I’m a spark.

[And we all have to start somewhere]




(Thanks to @wflwong for the photo)

The Freedom of Divorce

My burning “like” [it was never love] for you has frozen over; misery my only companion in the awfulness that Life by Your Side has become.

How and why did we make this colossal mistake?
I don’t think I’ll ever know, and I’m not sure that I want to.

I ONLY know I’m ready to trade:
Your “love” and “partnership” for aloneness.
Certainty for uncertainty.
Shouting for silence.
Constant conflict for calm.
Walking on eggshells for mental relaxation.
Being a disappointment for being enough.
The prison this marriage has always been for the freedom a divorce might provide.

Yes, I will fail after you.
After “us.”
I will fall and fail until I die.

But…
Should I be blessed to have another 20 years,
I won’t be wasting them on you.

I Was Wrong (Once)!

I need to apologize to my father because I thought there were no photos of just the two of us. There are many, but my ex-husband had them for the last 13 years.

It turns out he has had, in his possession, the only set of our wedding photos (that I paid for at the time!) for the last 13 years.

Why didn’t I badger him about them? I was just trying to get by, brothers and sisters. Those were “one foot in front of the other” days. Surely you’ve experienced those?

Also, to be fair, I somehow forgot about them. Forgot about the complete and utter existence of these photos. Or possibly even thought I had forgotten them. It happens. A 9-year-marriage full of heartache followed by a 250-mile move, 13 years of silence between us, and a bunch of new heartache will leave gaps in a person’s memory (thank goodness).

Anyway, said ex-husband was decent enough to scan and copy a set of the photos for me. I could make lots of snarky little comments here, but honestly, I’m so grateful for the photos, my “higher self” is taking over.

It makes me tear up a little to see the images of my father and me, smiling and happy that day. They actually make me miss him and the way he almost used to be.

You can’t deny he was handsome. I can’t say “he was so nice,” “he loved me so much,” or “we shared such great times.” But I can definitively say “he was a nice-looking man!”

So, maybe that’s where I got it? Only partially, if I’m honest. The photos of my Mom prove it was definitely a team effort.

I think these images also demonstrate what a “normal”, outwardly-together, seemingly-privileged person I used to be.

I don’t know whether to celebrate or not, but those days have definitely passed.

My Dad & Me
DNA all over my face
My mother and father
Bride and siblings, stepmother
The bride and her Grandaddy

Actually, I’m thankful. Now is better than Then, even though it doesn’t always feel like it. Now has to be better than Then, or else how would we keep going?

It Makes Me Mad my Bride Price has Dropped…

I get mad when people mistake self-deprecating humor and vulnerability for weakness instead strength.

What kind of insecurity places a bullseye on itself? Projection is the preferred ego defense of the “unexamined mind.”

When I make fun of myself or “tell on myself” (as some say in the South), I’m usually doing it to put my companion[s] at ease. It comes out of a desire to magnify the other; to make them feel confident about themselves. I’m an empath, and I pick up on a lot of what others are saying and showing, even if I don’t directly mention it.

Instead, I try to take what stressors I perceive they’re feeling and try to make them “un feel” them by communicating my understanding of their suffering.

I confess that I used to have to be the smartest person in the room. I wouldn’t stop until everybody knew it (or, one time at a business conference in Switzerland, until one fellow British VP thought I was a complete asshole!).

This behavior is from my striving, highly “successful” period – when my “bride price” was probably much higher than it is now.

I think I’ve finally learned, grown, and realized I prefer underpromising and overdelivering to showing off.

Sadly, despite all the work (mental, interpersonal, emotional) I had to do to get to this, my wisest and strongest place in life, I sense I’m perceived as the Chauncey Gardner/Peter Sellers character in Being There. Without the incorrect recognition of “his genius.”

So my question is this:

Am I full of bullshit, still desperately needing to be the smartest person in the room by complaining I feel misunderstood since no one realizes I’m the smartest person in the room anymore (even though I know I still clearly am)?

#isthisnarcissism?

🤦🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️

What I’d Tell My 7-Year-Old Self

You are beautiful and worthy and perfect just as you are. Follow your heart and don’t lose your passion.
ALWAYS choose feeling over numbing, no matter how terrifying.

Don’t let your tears frighten you, Little One. They are a gift from God Himself.

These efforts will require more bravery than you can imagine or even comprehend right now.

SO LET’S MAKE A PACT:

YOU promise ME you’ll never give up, and I can promise YOU we’re going to be okay.

I’ve seen and lived our future: we survive, but it doesn’t turn out the way we planned.
I’m sorry about that.
I tried very hard, but I just wasn’t strong enough.
It’s called Failure.
Failure” happens when, as a Big Girl, you realize all of those happy, hopeful movies you made in your mind are never going to happen.
In that moment of Despair, when you notice your Dreams are slipping away,
LET THEM GO!!
Unfulfilled Dreams don’t hurt as much once you’ve learned to forget them.

Lastly, and this is what the dictionary calls a “cliché,”:

Life is SO short, Little One.

Every moment feels forever when you’re young.
Somewhere along the line, the pace picks up and Life starts playing in fast-forward.
Time attempts to escape our grasp, and we never have enough of it.
People often behave strangely when they recognize this truth.
I know us well enough by now that I can assure you we don’t deliberately treat others badly.
Instead, we’re more haunted by the risks and chances we DIDN’T take than by the poor choices we DID.

So please, I beg you:
STOP worrying about all the things you should, shouldn’t, could, couldn’t, can, can’t, will, won’t, or might do and…
JUST DO
❣️


PS. You’ll be DOing us both a huge existential favor
(try to remember to “Google” ‘existential” one day; I know you’ll find the topic interesting)

REPOST

A Freak in the Sheets and a Lady in the Streets

Oh, I may look like a Republican senator’s wife. I’ll grant you that.

But appearances can be deceiving, can’t they?

Yes, it’s true: I’m a tall, skinny white chick.

But I’m a FREAK. In the absolute Best Way Possible.

Most men are intimidated and terrified by a Sexually Adventurous Woman. Well, I’m the version of that woman who will send you running for your life, in a raining puddle of little boy tears, frantically searching for your mama.

I can even BE your mama if you want or need me to.

I can be your teacher. I can be your student. I can be the blonde cheerleader you never got to sleep with but used to jerk off thinking about. I can be the fucking blue-haired organist at your Southern Baptist church.

I’ll call you Daddy and let you call me by the name of your teenaged daughter’s best friend.

(Tammy, am I right?)

And we haven’t even started on my bucket list of fantasies yet.

I Don’t Think I Believe You

Journal, 11/07/21

You just couldn’t stick around, could you? You really expect me to believe that YOU hurt after WE left? After going on your own vacation and cheating on us? After I’d just been born?

Well I don’t. I don’t believe you.

I’m surprised you even bothered to take the picture in the first place since you didn’t keep a copy for yourself. Come to think of it, I don’t remember ever seeing a photo of me in your home or office.

What’s that? You say you never felt seen as child, either? You felt misunderstood, even though you were an ‘only child’? I don’t imagine you’d much like being lost in a shuffle.

So once again, I’m not sure I believe you.

But who am I to say?

Only your daughter. Your second child of four. The only one you never wanted in the first place [second place, third place, last place]; the “fix it baby” who didn’t fix a goddamned thing.

(I’m sorry I couldn’t make the font smaller… I know you don’t like it when I’m too “here.”)

A Matter of Intent

Journal, 11/07/21

People who say “The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions” are flat wrong in my opinion.

The intention behind one’s actions matters.

It would never bring your loved one back, but wouldn’t you be more inclined to forgive someone who accidentally killed your loved one in a freak car crash that you yourself could have easily gotten into than someone who ruthlessly schemed and then executed his or her murder?

And though it would be equally horrific and tragic, would it be different to lose a population because nuclear bombs were accidentally dropped instead of being deliberately targeted and exterminated by evil in everyday clothes?

I don’t know the answer to the second question.

I only know good intentions are important.

At a minimum, they’re a starting point: a ship from which to launch concern instead of neglect; love instead of hate.

And without good intentions, isn’t the good we’re being given a tool of manipulation?

Just a thought.