"Sometimes you don't realize the weight of something you've been carrying until you feel the weight of its release."

Ugh, where to start?

I went back to work April 23rd. Everybody was welcoming and nobody asked me a damn thing, which was good. My buyer was fantastic. The HR woman did everything right. But by Tuesday, the very goddamn next day, I was riding the struggle bus. I went to work but only because I knew I had Wednesday off. I had worked that out with the HR woman....to have Wednesday's off for a month to ease me back into it. Thursday rolled around and I was the same. Struggling to force myself to go. Friday was fine because, well, it was Friday. The next week wasn't good at all. I cried Monday for no fucking reason. Started in the a.m., continued through lunch. I don't know why. Who the fuck knows why. I did and it sucked. But I worked and that was good, right? I texted a friend to help boost me the next day because I knew I would need it. He did and it worked. Wednesday was a good day. Went to my CB AA meeting and ran errands.

Finally, after 5 years of living here, replaced the light above the kitchen sink, with Dad's help of course.

I love it and my dad is a rock star. It was not an easy task to accomplish, but he did it and it works and it's awesome and I love it.

So Wednesday was good. However, I woke up Thursday and called in. Said I was nauseous. I honestly have no recollection of whether or not I actually was. Maybe I was, but probably because I made myself that way by worrying myself to it. I don't know why. Why do I have this wall I can't break through when it comes to work? When did all this shit start? Why do I allow it to continue?

I fought with myself again Friday a.m. and finally came to "Fuck it. I fucking give up. I cannot fight this goddamn battle anymore." And I called HR and quit for good. She understood. I cried all damn day.

A friend of mine who has been around me the past couple of months said to me, "Amy, you haven't been right for 2 months. Your sleep is all jacked up. You're up one minute, down the next. Something isn't right." And it hit me. How did I not see it before? Because I get in my own head and just think I'm a worthless piece of shit who should just die and release everybody in my life from having to deal with this big fucking burden that I feel I am. But having someone say to me, "You're not okay" makes me realize I'm not. You're right. I'm not. I am not okay. This isn't okay. This isn't me.

This shirt didn't work. At all.

And so I finally got with my med check lady and said as much as I hate anti-psychotics, I would take anything she thought would help. Anti-psychotics fuck up my body and make me suicidal, but if they even me out, then so be it. It's a give & take. She found something that isn't an anti-psychotic but is simply a mood stabilizer and I've been taking it since this past Tuesday. I've also been on a high dose antibiotic which is fucking up my body. My mouth tastes like....sour milk. I don't know. It's disgusting. But today was my final day of it so from here on out, I should be able to tell how the new mood stabilizer is effecting me, good or bad. It has the potential to cause blisters around the mouth and nose (mucus membranes) so that's fun! *eye roll* It's unlikely, but why can't a side effect be spontaneous orgasms or something exciting like that? *sigh*

So I'm unemployed and feel like a loser and I'm still crying sporadically for various reasons, but I don't want to end my life and I see that as an improvement. Obviously.

This new drug....I knew I'd been on it before so I went back through my old journals and found when I was on it before and how it effected me. 03-04 and I didn't write anything bad about it, so there's that. However, I was drinking pretty heavily so I'm sure it didn't work as well as it could have. Hopefully this time is better.

It was hard reading those journals. I'm glad I keep them for the above reason because I've been on numerous medications throughout the past 20 years and need those journals as references. But damn. I wish I could burn every fucking one of them. And I may.

Here's what I realized.

I am no goddamn different than I was 17 years ago. I'm the same fucked up goddamn idiot I was then. The only difference is I'm not drinking.

Now, my therapist would remind me.... I am absolutely not the same person. I've grown in those 17 years. I have a greater understanding of myself and others in my life.

But....

My journals were a lot about my relationships with men. And with Mom. And my life today is a lot of the same. Men and Mom.

I feel free to write about Mom here because I'm pretty sure she doesn't read this shit ever. It's too goddamn depressing and I don't blame her one bit.

So here goes.

What I read in the journals was a lot of "Poor me. Why doesn't my family reach out to me? Why don't they check on me? Do they care at all? Hell, I could be dead and they wouldn't know for months because nobody checks in." I still feel that way today, lol. I live a block away from my parents and I'm pretty sure it'd be a good week before someone realized, "Hm, haven't seen or heard from Amy in awhile. Maybe we should check on her." And then it'd probably be another week before they actually did and by that time, Garfield would have eaten my bloated, gassy body and my neighbors would wonder what the smell is emanating from my house. Yep. That's how I envision it happening. I'll choke on some stupid food and lie here for weeks rotting before anybody noticed.

And isn't that sad & depressing? Yep, it sure is.

But here's what.... It would be my own goddamn fault.

That's what I realized reading those journals. It was all "Why don't THEY...." Hell, why don't I? ME. The phone works both ways. I hear my own mother say that all the time about her mother. Grandma complains no one calls her. Well, guess what? You have a telephone too. So here I am, perpetuating the cycle of "poor me", "you take care of me". And I'm sick of it. I'm sick of my behavior and my attitude and my part in relationships and, and, and.

Step Four anyone? "Made a searching and fearless inventory of ourselves." This is my start.

How am I responsible? How have my actions played a part in my relationships with others and myself?

Take men, for example. This is where the rubber hits the road for me. Fearless inventory. OK, here goes.

I use men to feel a semblance of love. While, yes, I enjoy sex, honestly, I use sex to feel close to another human being. I feel unlovable. I don't feel worthy of anyone's love. And so in order for me to feel some form of "love", I use sex. And then I dismiss them. Your services are no longer needed or wanted. You're getting too close for comfort. You may actually see the real Amy so I'm gonna kick you to the curb before you can kick me to the curb. I will hurt you before you can hurt me. Or if you hurt me first, that's it. My level of trust in you is gone and I may try, but our life will never be the same. I will always hold myself back and protect my being at all costs. Because it hurts too damn much to feel and I can't drink that shit away anymore so I've found another way to protect myself. Build a goddamn wall around me of defenses.

You have no idea how hard that is for me to admit. Because when I say I use men for sex, that's all you're gonna see. You're not going to see that I honestly do enjoy sex and my libido has been raging for 2 years. You're not going to see the real work I've done trying to be in 2 loving relationships in that time. All you're going to see is "She uses men for sex. I knew it." And that's where my fear comes in. People thinking less of me or interpreting my honest assessment as something other than what I mean it to be.

Just because I have and continue to use men for sex does not mean I haven't loved and been loved in the past. I have and I do to this day love. As much as I am capable of loving anyone, I have loved Chris and Ricky. And if I'm fucking honest with myself, I fucking love Phil and I hate him for it. *eye roll* There's obviously still work to be done, but reading those journals and realizing my apparent lack of growth was a very rude awakening for this almost 43 year old woman.

Jesus.

When I did Step Four before, it was pretty easy. It's easy, because as a woman, we're good at finding our faults. We feel guilty about everything. We feel (& are made to feel by society) shame for simply being female.

But this time.... this time is different. I still want to do it. I'm actually looking forward to it, in a way. I want to change. I want growth. I do not want to come out of this the same person I was yesterday. I want more. I deserve more. We all do. However, it makes me very anxious to fearlessly look at the deep down core shit that I've clung to for decades and it scares me to think of releasing those defenses. As shitty as they are, they've brought me to this point. Good or bad. They've made me who I am today. I thank them for that. But I don't want to be this person anymore. I want to be more. I want to be better.

And I can be.

"You fall in love with the people who make you love the person you are when you're around them."

YES! Exactly! If I'm dating someone and I constantly feel like a giant piece of shit around them or every time I'm with them, I struggle not to...ya know...throat punch them, then yah, I probably don't love you because I don't want to feel like that! I want to feel good when I'm with another person. Not like I might end up in jail.

And I've started telling men, "My solitary life is pretty damn good. I don't need a man. I want a companion. So you've gotta be pretty damn impressive for me to want to change my life. If you're not, or if you're just here for games, keep steppin'. I don't have time to waste on your sorry ass."

It's working well for me so far.


So, yah. I've been incommunicado for awhile, haven't I? It's been a struggle, but I think I've finally discovered the medication combination and time of day in which to swallow my copious drugs in order to feel like a somewhat sane person. I wasn't sleeping for quite awhile but I got a lot of shit decorated around the house.

Dining Room- Finally, an actual dining room

Dining Room wall

 A friend of mine from the church, ages ago, had gifted me a quilt she made with Maxine. I'm sure I've posted a picture of it here before. I had my desk against the newly decorated wall. I moved it upstairs awhile ago but needed to redecorate the wall for a more "dining room-like" feel instead of an office feel.

I got the window and shutters from Ben, repainted them, got the arrow & "&" sign from Target on clearance for $3.00 total and redecorated them for me, made the pineapple out of cardboard and fabric and made the "but first...coffee" sign.  Oh, and made the wreath to hang on one of the doors in the living room. Repurposed here. The dining room looks nice.

Redecorated doors & the accent chair arrived.

I redecorated the doors with a picture frame and a metal envelope hangy-thing I found at a thrift store. I didn't like the look of the 3 wreaths together so I moved one to my main entrance door and one to the dining room wall (mentioned above). The accent chair arrived.  My living room also feels like a lived-in room and also looks nice.  I did have to put industrial strength velcro on the bottom of the couch cushions to keep them from sliding out a bit and it's working great. The blanket's on the couch because Garfield's a shit and I'm not yet to the point where I don't care if she vomits on the new furniture.


My brother, Ben, sent me a picture of a sign he thought was funny and jokingly asked me if I'd make it for him. Of course I said yes. I also thought it was funny. He didn't think his fiance would go for it, but hey, I'm his sister. If I give him a gift, he (& she) would feel obligated to hang it.

One of the best signs I've made thus far!

I love it. I had a light piece of wood (don't ask me what kind of wood, no idea). I slapped on one coat of white, let it dry, slapped on a coat of a sage-green-kinda-color, let it dry and then slapped on a coat of an aqua color.  Then I lightly sanded the whole thing. Then added the decoration. I freaking love the color and how that turned out. I found the mandala's online, tweaked them to fit the board and went with it. Neat.


I had been wanting to find a couple of rocks to paint of god & goddess images and while a friend was putting steel mesh on 3 roof vents (to prevent bat intruders), I searched around my house for the perfect rocks and found them.

Me patting myself on the back, lol.

Who knew painting on rocks was so easy? Why haven't I been doing this the whole time? The only problem was, I had to free-hand sketch the images and I absolutely suck at drawing. However, these turned out pretty good for my lack of artistry skills, if I do say so myself!


I'm still working out at least 3 x's a week and I'm still doing the HIIT cardio & strength training and it's still kicking my ass. I love it. Tho, I now have to wear wraps on both knees to keep them from popping and locking and no, I'm not talking about the dance.

My ankles give out when I'm doing butt kickers, but once I'm through with those, they seem fine.

I'm just getting old and it sucks ass. But I've got the ass of a 20 year old.

Ok, maybe a 30 year old.

Alright, probably a 40 year old. But whatever. I've got an ass and I know I've got an ass because my clothes are fitting differently. I finally understand other women's complaint of finding jeans that are too big in the waist because they have to buy them big for their asses. Not that mine's large, by any means (at least I don't think it is), but it's certainly rounder than it has been. And I noticed the other day, formation of my trapezius muscles. I feel like I'm bulking up a bit without noticing the cut of muscle.  Because I have a layer of fat overlaying everything, lol. Put down the damn ice cream & peanut butter, Amy!


My AA meeting is progressing.  I asked the group last week what they thought about someone different volunteering to chair the meeting each week. They all agreed. It's uncommon for a chair of a meeting to relinquish control of that meeting, but I welcome it. I don't want it to be "my" meeting. I want it to be "our" meeting. I'll still be responsible for getting the key, opening the library, making coffee, etc, etc, etc....but someone else can take the reigns and lead the topic for the morning. This morning went well this way and I was more relaxed. I could just be "member Amy" instead of "leader Amy".

I'm not attending the local meetings as regularly as I had been. I realized what the difference between my city meetings and the small town meetings is.  At my city meetings, there's this expectation that "of course you're gonna make it! Of course you're gonna stay sober! No question about it!" but at the small town meetings, there's this "you're gonna die" mentality.  I don't need downers. I need uppers. I'm easily down enough on my own. I need to surround myself with people who make me love me, not who make me feel as if I'm going to die.  Yah. So I've been limiting my time around those sorts of people.

I've also been limiting my time around those who irritate the fucking hell out of me for whatever reason. It isn't healthy for me and it isn't healthy for them.  And why would I want to be around someone I don't like? Not everybody likes everybody, ya know? And that's okay! It's perfectly natural to connect with some people better than with others. Again, I want (& need) to be around people who make me feel good about myself, not like the giant piece of shit I think I am on a regular basis.

Speaking of, Mom & Dad have returned from their winter-long vacay South. They came back to cold, bitter winds, hail, rain, snow.  I'm sure they were thrilled. I wouldn't really know because I think we've seen each other two or three times since they returned 3 weeks ago, which I'm fine with. I tend to feel like I'm just an anchor around their necks so the less they have to see me to be reminded what a shit I am, the better for them and the better for me. I can pretend I'm a good person when I'm not around those who know better.

And on that note, I'm returning to work tomorrow. I'm just not thinking about it...but in preparation for an anxiety-filled week, I've done this:

My motivation wall

I decided I needed something I could see as soon as I wake up each morning that will remind me I'm a strong, kick-ass, do-anything, no fear, bad ass woman.

I've had the "Amy Dr" sign since my boyfriend stole it as a gift to me when I was 16. I've hauled it with me through 6 moves and 26 years of my life and it's mostly just sat around in odd places. It didn't even have holes in it to hang!  I bought the Stop sign at the Antique Walk a few years ago (as a rehab reminder to STOP thinking) and it has also sat around for those few years. The rest, I bought shitty frames at thrift stores for a few bucks, re-painted them and made the signs to insert.  Each sign makes me smile and reminds me why I started in the first place.

"Let go of that which no longer serves you." One of my most important thoughts the past couple of months.
"Go with a happy heart."
"You are Glorious."  I forget this way more than I remember it.
"Just fucking do it." Yep. Sums up everything.
"Nothing is going to change unless you make different choices." TRUE DAT.
"You Can Do This!"  I can. I really can.
"The universe gave you this gift. Do no squander it."  The universe did give me this gift. I asked and I received. Don't look a fucking gift horse in the mouth, you damn bitch. Accept what has been given to you!
"One small positive thought in the morning can change your whole day."  I believe in the power of thought.
"Don't think. Just do."  Thinking is my problem. Larry, who chaired my Wednesday meeting & has since passed on, used to point at the AA "Think, think, think" sign and tell me, "Amy, see that sign? That one is not for you."  I'll always remember Larry for that...and many other things.

My employer's HR woman has been incredibly empathetic and understanding and compassionate and supportive.  She wants me in that position. Gods knows why, but, again, don't look a damn gift horse in the mouth.  Do it. Don't think about it. Just do. I did ask her what she thought about me being part-time for awhile until I get back in the groove of things. I honestly think it'll help me transition to this thing people call "work" and do on a daily basis for the rest of their lives, lol.  She spoke to the merchandising head and they agreed I could work Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday until 5/21/18 and then go to full-time. It'll allow me to have Wednesday's off smack-dab in the middle of my work week to break up the drudgery and I'll be able to go to CB for my weekly meeting and to run errands and to just be.

I'm hopeful. For the first time in a long time, I'm hopeful. 

Sweet dreams and happy trails,
Me.

"It is hard to leave something when you are told you will die as a consequence. I can see why some people call it a cult." https://www.recoveringfromrecovery.com/leaving-aa/

I've been trying to figure life out in my head and it's getting all jumbled up so I figured, why not blog about it? Write it out. See if the picture gets any clearer.

I've been struggling the last 2 weeks. Goddamn March. Fuck you and your Irish clover and the color green and that stupid leprechaun!

I really have nothing against leprechauns or rainbows or the color green or clovers & certainly not gold. But come on, March.... Work with me here!

I missed several days last week due to being physically unwell. I wrote about that in the previous post. Catch up if you choose. The weekend was better. Saturday, I went back to a different doctor because mine wasn't in and this doctor I'm not fond of at all, but she said "You're fine" and so I was. Right? Right?!? *eye roll*

Sooooo not right.

Tho folks in AA said I was very different from Saturday to Sunday. Saturday I was much more subdued and down. Sunday I was much more up and perky. Well, sure I was. I'd been on Rexulti for 4 days. I was feeling pretty damn good. Almost too good. Like, uh-oh, is this turning into mania? Um, yeah.

Let me tell you something. Mania feels fucking great. Best feeling in the goddamn world. I can conquer anything and anybody. To do list? Fuck. How about To-Done list?! Sleep? Who fucking needs sleep? Not me! There are too many things I want to do! What can I get done next? Should I build a new house? Write a novel in one night? Scrub every motherfucking floor in my house?

Jesus.

It is not great.

In fact, mania is a far more dangerous place for me to reside than depression.

I'm getting ahead of myself.

So Saturday to Sunday, I took a turn. But not necessarily a turn for the better. I went to bed Sunday with every intention of going to work Monday morning and being a good Stepford employee. However, I woke up Monday and the first thought in my head was, "I'm not going" and when I have even an inkling of that thought, it burrows into my goddamn brain and I am incapable of turning it around. I haven't figured out how yet, and not because I'm sitting around doing nothing. I'm trying to figure it out. Goddamn, am I ever.

So, yah, Monday morning. Do you know how I got to work Monday? Because I was going to quit. That is the only reason I made it to the office. I was going to walk in, not even clock in because how rude to expect to be paid for the 10 minutes it's going to take me to quit?  I walked in and had to search for the HR woman, eventually found her and said, "I don't know what to do". I explained what was going on with me (depression, anxiety, sick) and get this. She understood. She was empathetic. She wants to work with me to get through this. She said very complimentary things about me, like, "I see such potential in you as a buyer. We need somebody stable."  STABLE. Can you believe that? As I'm sitting in her office, crying, telling her I suck at being an adult, I don't know what to do, I think the best thing is for me to quit. (AVOIDANCE much?)  I laughed at her.

She allowed me to take this past week off (unpaid, of course) to work out the problem and she said even if I come back on Monday and tell her I still want to quit, then no hard feelings. That was a relief, to One, have someone understand and Two, not have the guilt, anxiety and fear of calling in, stressing about going or not going, etc, etc, etc.

I grabbed my shit and, after telling my boss I needed the week off to deal with a personal family issue and that HR approved it, I booked it the fuck out of there and went home...and crashed.

Now, I could have stayed in bed all week, not doing jack shit and just wallowing in my misery....but  Rexulti wouldn't allow that and I guess I should be thankful for that much. At this point, I had taken .5 mg Wed, Thurs, Friday and 1 mg Saturday and Sunday (evenings).  Monday, after I crashed, I went for a walk with a friend to get out into the sunshine and get some exercise. I went to Salvation Army and bought some stupid shit and then I went to a meeting, where another member said, "I got a real problem with atheists".  I could have sat there and not shared, but, come on. How could I allow that? So, I very lovingly, kindly, politely and with a smile on my face and a lot of laughter, said "I'm an agnostic atheist. I don't have any knowledge of gods and I lack a belief in gods. But this is what I love about AA. We can all be so very diverse and respectful of each other's beliefs, even if we totally disagree." 

Yah right. Dude wouldn't even look at me the rest of the night. Whatever. I guess you got it all figured out, huh?

But I digress.

(You could almost skip this entire section because I basically give you my agenda for each day, which you probably don't give 2 shits about, but I need to do this for my own record. So skip ahead if you like. I'll tell you when it's safe to read again. :)  ) 

Monday evening, I took .5 mg because I could feel myself ramping up. Tuesday, I tackled a bunch of shit at home, made phone calls to get in to the med-check lady and my therapist and was just busy all damn day. Didn't even nap. Nor did I sleep much Tuesday night... a few hours, at best.  My alarm went off at 4 Wednesday morning, I shut it off, but still woke up 20 minutes later. I needed to wake up and get ready to go to the CB AA meeting at 7AM. I went. It was good. I was rather perky and for the first time ever in that meeting, chose the reading. I'd never done that in that particular meeting before. Odd. Almost 7 years later and I did. Better late than never, right?

I then went to NFM with a friend and bought a new living room set. Because I'm practically jobless, so that seemed like a good idea. *eye roll* I bought a loveseat outright, so at least there's that. I put the rest on credit with 0% interest for 2 years so at least I'm not a total fucking idiot. But still. Come on, Amy! You have to have a job to pay off even 0% interest! So maybe I am a total fucking idiot. I was excited. I didn't stop moving. Ever. My body is so goddamn tired, I can't even explain it.

I met with my med-check lady after NFM and she said, "Whoa. I was expecting crying, sobbing, catatonic Amy. But this isn't good...." At least she got it. I couldn't shut up. I just talk, talk, talk. How annoying am I? So, even though I was high, presumably because of the Rexulti, she thinks we just need to find the balance. The right combination. Maybe every other day. Maybe every 2 days. Maybe .5 one night and 1 mg the next and so on and so forth. It's just finding the right combination.

My insurance won't cover it. Of course not. And it's $1200.00.  Luckily, my provider has a plethora of samples which they're giving me. They're my dealer.

After med-check, I went back to Salvation Army and bought more shit I don't need  (at least I'm shopping thrift stores and not Kohl's). I got home around 4. I did not nap. I went to bed that night after 9 and was awake at 11. Wide awake. I painted. Until 4AM. I slept for a couple more hours and then back at it.

Thursday, I got a massage (I love this masseuse and the massages she gives), went to therapy where Tausha pointed out my behavior pattern of AVOIDANCE. No shit, Sherlock. How do I fucking stop it is the question!!  So she suggested doing yoga, meditating (I already do every morning, work or not...hasn't helped, tho); Going for a walk with a friend. Um, yah, who exactly is going to get up at 5AM to go walking with me? I don't have a good enough friend who would do that for me, nor am I ballsy enough to even ask. Tausha suggested making a PRO's list. I don't needs a CONS list. I've got that down pat. I need a PRO's list to remind me of why I wanted this job in the first place.

And that was pretty much it. All very good suggestions.

New furniture. Accent chair is on backorder.

After therapy, I borrowed Dad's truck and drove to NFM to get my new furniture because I was too antsy to wait 2 weeks for it to be delivered. I hauled it home, a friend & I unloaded it. I hauled my old couch to a friend and almost died carrying it up his stairs, so after that, I wasn't in the mood to be around him any longer....without throat punching him.

It boggles my mind how few people know how to pack and move shit. Like, obviously your father was nothing like mine because mine taught me the proper way to pack the bed of a truck, tie shit down and carry stuff up stairs and how to properly get it through the doorway. Thank you Dad! But it so irritated me that I knew if I hung around, I'd do, if not physical harm, certainly verbal harm. So I left.

And I went to bed at 9 and finally slept. Jesus I slept hard. I woke up at 6 this morning feeling like I could sleep another 9 hours....but I didn't. I got up. I meditated. I yoga'd. I bathed. I went to lunch with Shan, tho didn't really get to talk about what's going on. *sigh* Stopped by the library, got the key, got some movies and ran errands downtown. I came home, in a food coma, and napped on my new loveseat. I got up and intended to write this post then, but got distracted by going through family pictures on my computer and moving them to my phone and I got sad and cried and then I saw a picture of Chris (the ex, not the brother) & I and felt like I was going to vomit. Goddamn, I loved that fucking asshole and even now, I want to message him. What the fuck is wrong with me? I just turned my phone off to make it more difficult to do so. I don't trust myself.

(You can resume reading now, if you took the break you so richly deserve from reading this crazy fucking madness.) 

Then a guy friend came over and he was his typical self which just annoys the fuck out of me and I'm just not in the mood to cater to anyone's needs right now, nor is he helpful at all, so I reached out to my sponsor....who I had not spoken to since last weekend.

I forget I have one! I really do. It's odd. I'm not really the type of person to call on people when I'm in need, unless it's my mom & dad, and even then, I'm less likely at this age to call them for talk-therapy because that's just not who they are and I know that so rather than expecting something different from them and then being disappointed because I didn't receive what I needed in that moment, I just don't expect that from them. They support me in so many other ways....let's give them a break from crazy Amy, shall we?

I'm just not one to call people when I need. Am I? Maybe I am. I don't know. Right now, I'm not. I try. I do! I tried to get with Shan all damn week but it never worked out because of life and then today it did work out, and I tried to share with her my struggle, but it wasn't really being received (distractions), so.... yah. One person. I reached out to one person. Tho I did go to med-check lady and I did go to therapy. I'm doing what I'm supposed to do....but I guess it's not enough.

I should've called my sponsor much earlier than this evening.

And here's my problem with AA.

After sharing with her everything....literally everything.... she did what a sponsor does. She asked how we can work the steps through this problem...and that I should think of the steps in terms of alcoholism, not alcohol, because it seems to her that my problems are alcoholism.

Hm.

So my depression and anxiety and mania and craziness are alcoholism? They're all a result of my alcoholism? They're not stand-alone? Or maybe, just maybe, they're what brought on or caused the alcoholism. How about that? Because that's what I think. I don't think the depression, etc are a result of alcoholism. I think alcoholism is a result of those things. But what I took away from her was that, I clearly have issues with my mood, but that alcoholism is the core.

Is it? Am I just too stubborn to see that? Or is this just shit?

I do just fine with AA as long as I don't delve too deeply into it. Do you understand what I mean? If I don't look too closely at it, if I only look at it peripherally, then it's fine. I can make do. But when I start to go deeper into AA, I see such religious, AA-righteous, "do this or you'll die", ambiguous teachings, antiquated teachings, Steps that aren't effective (3%, folks. 3-fucking-% success rate). I see gossip and hurtful things. I've read the Big Book much  more recently because of the meeting I started and think, "How have I stayed in AA so fucking long? This is really a religious program." I read the Daily Reflections every morning. It's 95% of the time about God and God with a capital "G". They don't even try to pretend it isn't about GOD. If they did, they wouldn't capitalize G. If it wasn't religious, why do we say the Serenity Prayer and the Lord's Prayer? Why do I need a higher power to pray to? I don't believe in prayer. I believe in the power of thought. Is that all they mean? I think not. I believe in nature. Does that mean I should pray to it?

*sigh* It's all so frustrating to me.

My sponsor is funny and smart and lovely and I would love to be her friend in real life (outside of AA), but this is my problem. She wants me to look at AA a little too closely and ya know what? I wanted to work the fucking steps. I did. And maybe I still can....just in a different way. Hm. That's a new realization. Maybe I can rewrite the steps. Keep the basis the same, but remove all religiousness. I think I shall at least try. I know there are secular AA meetings that have probably already gone though the process. I can pilfer from them.

Back to my sponsor phone call. She also questioned my med check lady and how my Rexulti is dispensed and the terms in which I take them. My med-check lady basically left it up to me. "As needed". She just said to call her when I need her. I'm capable of that. Clearly. Yet, my sponsor said that's a dangerous place for an addict to be.

I've never abused drugs, except to try to harm myself, lol, so I guess I have. But not in an addict-sort-of-way. Never. It just doesn't appeal to me. I don't enjoy the effect of drugs. Hell, I don't even enjoy the effects of alcohol at this point. I honestly think if I were to go to a bar or buy alcohol at the store, it'd be shocking for me to do so without having a major catastrophic crisis of conscience. But say I did. Say I went to a bar. Imagine that glass of beer (or whatever) sitting in front of me. Do you think I would be able to pick it up and drink it?

Writing that, as I was writing it, I thought, "Oh god, yes I would. I would guzzle that beer so fucking fast, I can almost taste it."  I would. And god, I can taste it.

(pause)

I took a 1.5 hour break from this post. After I wrote that last bit, I freaked out and immediately texted Shan and got my ass down to her house and cried and laughed and talked and listened. And now I'm finally hungry and tired so rather than finish all of my thoughts on this tonight or even wait to finish it tomorrow, I'm going to post what I have and hope to get back to it tomorrow. But if I don't.... I was going to say "Don't worry" but that's ridiculous. My sponsor said one good thing tonight that I'll take with me: There's good selfish and bad selfish. Right now, I'm in need so being selfish is good. Think of the stewardesses speech at the beginning of each flight. Put the mask on yourself first and then help the person next to you....because if you're dead, you can't help a damn soul.

"Someone asked me 'Would you be friends with people who spoke to you the way you speak to yourself?' and I was fucked up for 30 minutes."

WORK

It's been a (relatively) good week. I missed 2 days because of the weather and thank the gods today is Saturday because if it was a work day, I most definitely would not have ventured outside my house. I love winter. You know I do. But man, I am terrified of driving in it. When did I become such a wuss? I watch way too much weather. As soon as I wake up, I'm watching Ryan McPike on Channel 3 and flipping to the other two stations plus the Weather Channel to try to figure out which one is right. I pull up the weather radar on my phone. I look at Iowa 511 to see how the roads are and where the plow trucks are....and if there are cameras on them, I look at the pictures.

It's too damn much.

I spoke to someone the other night and she said, "I'm a weather denier" because it doesn't do her any good so she just doesn't watch.

I can't go to that extreme. I mean, I like to know how to dress, at least.

Work was surprisingly understanding. It's such a different atmosphere as compared to my last employer. Sure, there's still gossip but I'm not a part of it nor will I be. Sure, everyone feigns the "get along" attitude but I hear so & so bitching about so & so. But there's also laughter and a lot of hard work and I just keep my head down and plug away at my work. Which I enjoy. So there's that.

But to be honest, my anxiety is out of control most mornings, my stomach has been a wreck since even before I got the job offer and hasn't gotten any better....but once I start my morning routine, I'm good to go. Tho I wish I had a dose of Xanax to ease the transition.

AA

I went to my first AA meeting in about a month in the next town over Saturday morning (before the freezing drizzle started to get bad). I haven't missed it, really. It was getting so dramatic and gossipy and judgmental which isn't helpful at all. But, I'm not able to get to my City meetings since I'm working, and running a meeting is a different feeling than attending a meeting so my meeting is more leading than sharing, and the meetings in the town I'm working in aren't until 8PM so that isn't happening. 

I needed the Saturday morning meeting. Not because I fear I'm going to drink but because it's like a check-up, a reminder. It's good to be around people who've lived my life and understand better than anyone else and can laugh when I say "In the beginning Lois said she was grateful to be sober and I would just stare at her & think 'you're so full of shit because this fucking sucks'".  And everybody laughs because they understand or they felt exactly the same way....and today I can say honestly I am truly grateful to be sober and it no longer sucks and it's no longer torment. I can say that in the beginning I had to go through a mourning phase. It was as if I had lost my best friend. I was losing this thing that had been with me for 23 years. I was losing my crutch. I was losing my escape. I had to mourn & grieve....and then see how shitty a best friend alcohol always was, and be okay to let it go. It was a good meeting, all around, and I'm looking forward to leading tomorrow's.

And some momentous news..... I got a sponsor.

Funny

She's attended meetings in the next town over and when she's free, attends the Sunday morning meeting. Her husband is almost always there. She has a lot of years in, she's funny and I just walked up to her last Sunday and asked if she'd help me walk through the steps. Because I've only done through Step 4 with the sponsor I had the first 3 months of sobriety (& then dumped) and haven't worked them since. It's been 6 1/2 years. I'm in a much better place now than I was in early sobriety. I was a gigantic mess. I'm still a mess, just not a gigantic one. I'm hopeful.... & reticent at the same time. I'm confident in my beliefs so if anyone says I "have" to believe this or I "have" to do that in order to stay sober, I'm going to take what they said into consideration, either incorporate it into my life or, more likely, thank them for their time and move on. 

Reading through the AA literature more lately because of my meeting has reminded me why I'm not an AA traditionalist. I don't believe that AA is the only way to stay sober. I don't believe that AA is the only way to become a better person. I'm not a hardcore AA person. I don't believe in God and my higher power isn't a deity. One of the readings today basically said that atheists are "unmoral" (isn't the word "immoral?) and material.  I strongly disagree. Strongly. A person doesn't need God or religion to be moral or compassionate or selfless or forgiving. 

We are not born with a belief in God. It's taught to us. 

A lot of AA is about faith and God...or a Higher Power (tho what Bill W. and Dr. Bob originally meant was, in fact, religion and God).  But if my higher power isn't the same as anyone else's higher power, then guess what? Mine is wrong and I should believe what they believe or I'm going to drink. 

I haven't drank in this long and I have no intention to drink and the tools I use to counteract any thought of drinking work for me. And that's the point. Take what works for you and leave the rest. 

Ugh. See? I'm already combative. I'm going to stop looking for trouble where there is none...yet. 

LOW CARB & LOVIN' IT

Visit if you haven't already!  I'm enjoying writing it so far and love thinking of "What's next?" or what I should write about long-term. I needed something fresh to write about.  It's helpful to me and hopefully helpful to just one other person.  I'm looking forward to writing about my workouts and the one I'm doing now & have been the past 3 weeks - HIIT Total Body Strength & Cardio workout. HIIT is High Intensity Interval Training. It kicks my ass. Literally. I do butt kickers for warm up. But seriously, I'm sore. My ass hurts. My thighs hurt. My triceps hurt. My stomach even hurts. 

Yep

I worked out 4 days last week. I'm aiming for 3 this week and 4 the next.  I have yet to break the 120 lb barrier on my scale but I tell myself "It's because you're building muscle and muscle weighs more!" *eye roll* I'd really like to see 119 lbs....if only to make sure my scale is capable of dropping below 120. 

And now I'm hungry and tired and want some really shitty food for lunch followed by reading (I'm on "Wolves of Calla" the fifth book in Stephen King's "The Dark Tower" series....so good!), and a nap. 

Life is good. It really, really is. 

Love you more,

Me

"It's what's inside that makes you beautiful. *the demon inside me blushes* "

Ugh, there's so much, I'm just gonna start....

WORK
I started my new job Monday. I had therapy already scheduled that morning at 8:00 a.m. (forethought) so didn't get to the new office until 10. Which was fine. All we did all morning and most of the afternoon was HR stuff and I almost fell asleep. I was the only new office person; the other 3 were warehouse guys. A lot of the training videos (how to use a ladder....hate to tell ya this Dad, but we're doing it wrong) didn't apply to me so much. At around 3:00, the HR woman dismissed the guys and took me around to everyone in the office and introduced me. It was nice but there were some who really just didn't give a shit. And then I sat with the woman who would be training me for the last 1.5 hours.

It's a miracle I went back.

Really. Honestly.

That 1.5 hours with her had my scared shitless. As in, "I am never going to be able to do this. I'm too stupid. I'll never get it. This is too hard."

But for some reason, I woke up Tuesday morning and went. And guess what? I am able to do it. I'm not too stupid. I did get it. It wasn't that hard. It was a good week. And what's even more amazing....I didn't nap for 5 days straight, nor did I fall asleep at any point at my desk, nor did I even feel tired until Thursday morning, 5AM. AND I did not go directly to bed after a full day's work. Almost every night I was up until 9PM. It's a good schedule and while I don't think there are enough hours (or energy) in the day to get everything done I want to get done, somehow I'll manage.


DIY
I forgot to share some things with you earlier this month.  My brother texted me one night with a picture of a sign he wanted me to make. Guess what it said? "Loved you then, love you still, always have, always will". Um, you just want mine? Thankfully mine did work for his needs (whatever they were, I have no idea) because I had 2 other projects going and didn't want to add a third.

I had hung mine above my bed (not pictured) and now had a giant gaping blank space again. So I filled it with this:

DIY Dreamcatchers!

WICCA

Lemon Tassie

I spent Groundhog's Day (February 2) celebrating Imbolc, a time of renewal and cleansing and marking the recovery of the Goddess after giving birth to the God. It's the transition of the three-fold Goddess from Crone to Maiden. 

I basically did some protective charms for the house and myself, smudged my whole house and at sunset, turned on a light in every room to signify the emergence of the Sun. I made lemon tassies (delicious) as a gift to the God & Goddess (of which they didn't eat any so guess who did). It was a beautiful day and I was glad to celebrate it on my own. 

I don't believe in deities. I don't believe there's an actual God and/or Goddess that exists. I do, however, believe in expressing my gratitude for the many blessings in my life, spending time focusing and centering my energy to send out into the world in thought, communing with the energy of the Universe, getting outside myself and learning something new in the process. I'm really enjoying the whole thing. 

A NEW BLOG

I had lunch a week ago with a couple of the girls from my previous job. One of them asked me how I do it... How do I stay fit and slim? (On a sidenote here, I have a hard time seeing myself as fit and/or slim because I am my own worst critic. I see what needs improvement and forget how far I've come.) So I told her a bit about low carb eating and what I did when I first started working out and where I am now and she said, "I know you write a blog about alcoholism, so why don't you write one for this?" I'm not gonna lie....that felt good. To be asked about how I did something and then told someone wanted to read about it. Why does it feel so good when someone truly has an interest in me and something I do? 

So since then, I've been pondering a new blog open to the public on fitness & eating low carb. Now, I realize I am not the epitome of fitness nor do I know all there is about eating low carb, but, just as in AA, I can tell my story and anybody can take it or leave it. It's just my opinion and what I did for myself. It isn't an endorsement for anything nor should anybody follow my direct path.

I'm still pondering the idea, getting all my ducks in a row, thinking of names - Any ideas? So far, I have Low Carb & Lovin' It or Maybe She Just Needs Carbs, depending on what's available...so seriously, post some ideas in the comments section!

I'm wondering when I'll have the time to dedicate to it, but as with anything else, if it's a priority, I'll make it happen. And it's something I'm passionate about (relatively so) and maybe if I'm writing about it, it'll help me, too. I've been slacking off on the low-carb thing for awhile and yah, I notice. My body isn't right. I'm bloated. I'm gassy. I feel fat. And while I know I'm not fat....I'm just not fat YET. I fluctuate between 120 on good days to 125 on bad ones. I cannot get under 120. It's like this brick wall I can't break through. And my goal is to knock that shit down and get to 115 so when I fluctuate, I do so between 115 and 120 instead of higher. I don't like to see the scale creep up because I watched it creep up for a long time and I don't want to see that happen again. A pound here, a pound there adds up to 146lbs and I don't ever want to see the other side of 125 again.

Not that it's about what the scale says, tho. It's about how I feel and how I feel isn't great. I mean, I feel pretty damn good today because I started a new HIIT (High Intensity Interval Training) workout 2 or 3 weeks ago and it kicks my ass but I'm getting better and stronger and can do more cardio than I could when I started and how awesome is that??? I am eating better (still can't put down the goddamn sugar, tho) and am finding new recipes to try. Right now I'm cooking chicken thighs in my crockpot for the week. I'm making them generic so I can do something different every night if I want to.

When I do good for myself, I feel good. When I eat well, when I workout, when I get enough sleep, when I accomplish my to-do list, I feel fucking great. When I eat crappy, I feel crappy. When I eat crappy, my workout suffers and when my workout suffers.... Aw, who am I kidding? Any workout feels great. I have never regretted a workout. But some days are better than others. Taking care of myself feels good and when I feel good, I become good and when I become good, the whole world rejoices because let's face it.... Bitchy Amy is a scary Amy to be around.
Update: I went ahead with a new blog: Low Carb & Lovin' It. 

VALENTINE'S DAY
I did celebrate V-Day. No, I did not get any roses :( but a friend got me this:

A new altar cloth representing the three-fold Goddess (Maiden, Mother, Crone) and Louise from Bob's Burgers "If you keep talking, I'm gonna gut punch you!", which is entirely accurate. More people need to stfu. And Bob's Burgers is the best goddamn cartoon on t.v. today....or any day, for that matter. It should live on in infamy. 

Oh! And this:

The plant - not the rest of the stuff there.  It's a 6" Hyacinth that smells just like lilacs. Every time I walk past it, I get a whiff of Spring. It's delightful. 

Whew!

Lots to write about.  I thank you, always, for reading. 

Love you more,

Me

"Sometimes things go from bad to worse back to bad then awful, rotten, pure shit to pathetic & back to bad which feels ok."

I've been living in a denial bubble for about a week now.  Maybe longer.  It's time, tho, for me to face the truth.

I lost my shit.  Do you know where it went?

I not only lost my shit, I lost my job because I couldn't keep my shit together.  I tried.  I did.  I did everything fucking right.  I did everything I was supposed to do to prevent this shit from happening and you know what? It. Did. Not. Work. I still fell apart.  I don't know how it happened.

I worked out.  I ate right.  I focused on the positive.  I took my pills like a good little girl.  I went to talk therapy and worked at it.  I did homework!  I reached out to people.  I did not isolate (except from work).  I didn't dwell on negative shit or thoughts.  I did not drink.  I slept like I should...Except for 2 weeks when I slept, literally, all day every day...but that was as I fell apart.  Before that, I slept like I should.  Not too much and not too little. I did it all.  Right.

My therapist says not to think that way.  To think, instead, that if I hadn't done all of those things "right" that maybe my fall would have been worse.

Really?

I guess she could be right.  I'm not suicidal.  Those thoughts are just fleeting...there and gone just as fast.  So, yah, that's a positive.  Though, wouldn't everyone be better off if I just didn't exist anymore?  Hard not to go down that road, but like my therapist says, I have to stop the negative thoughts.  So, I'm trying.  I'm really fucking trying.

And that's why I haven't talked about any of this with anyone...except Mom & Dad, who responded so lovingly and I think, "I don't deserve them.  They deserve better than me.  Everyone deserves better than me."  But even my parents only know a little bit...

I've sidestepped discussing this with everyone.  My coworkers want to know what's going on.  My friends want to know what's going on.  My brother doesn't even have a fucking clue.  This will be the first time I've faced what's happening head on.  Admitting it is the first step, right?  Well, I admit it.  I. Am. Fucked. Up.

It scares the shit out of me to talk about it because then my bubble disappears.  I have to face facts instead of floating around in this pink, glittery, falsely happy, comfortable bubble.  I am unemployed.  I have no money.  I have no income.  I have bills to pay.  I'm at a loss. I am lost.

And I fucking hate feeling this way.  I hate that I am not normal.  I hate that I have such god-awful anxiety, I feel like I'm going to throw up every minute of every day.  I hate that I talk like shit to myself, that I think I am shit, that I'm not worthy of anything good, and that I'll never be "good enough".  I hate that I cry.  I cry so damn much.  I hate that I don't love myself.  I hate that even when I try my hardest, it still isn't enough. I hate that I am such a fucked up human being.

So, now that I've admitted it and sobbed it out, I am going to attempt to....what?  Get my shit together? My poop in a group?  Jesus, I've become one of those people I look at with pity and think, "They just can't get it together."  I am them.  They are me.

What's the point?  What's the point of it all if I'm just going to keep hitting this depressing brick wall and getting knocked down and fighting my way back up?  I'm tired.  Of course I'm tired.  Wouldn't you be? Fighting this damn fight every damn day?

I want my goddamn bubble back.

"I was told to be more aware of rolling my eyes "because some people might take it the wrong way". To be clear, it means "you are an asshole"."

I never matured past the teenager perfection of eye rolling.  I try really, really hard not to do it.  I succeed most of the time.  Of course, I've traded eye rolling for a "WTF" look with the crease between my eyebrows so deep, it looks like the Grand Canyon, or I widen my eyes so largely that they look like they're going to pop out of my head. I did that a lot this past week.

I call it the Mondayest week ever.

I stayed home, sick, Monday.  I didn't ever really get better.  I'm still not better.  It's different from my usual "cold".  Usually I'm stuffed up so bad, I can't breathe.  This one, I can at least breathe, but I bet I blow a pound of snot out my dry, bloody nose every damn day.  And the cough! Oooh, boy, if it isn't cancer, it's a really bad cold.

I powered through the rest of the week at work because what else does a person do?  And I'm glad I did because had I not been in the office, I can just imagine how much work would have piled up.  Ugh.  Every damn day was as crazy as the day before.  Is it because there's a holiday coming up?  I don't know.  People are nuts. I'm ready for a 4-day-weekend.  Yes please.

Work also brought back a previous employee for tax season.  She retired a couple of years ago and of course she's one of the "old guard", so it's just constant snide remarks, whisper, whisper, whisper, cattiness and psychotic bitches every day.  Wonderful!

On top of that, (being sick & work being work) I do believe my sores have migrated from my groin to my armpits.  I have 2 in one and 1 in the other.  It's fantastic.  I mean, it isn't, but I'd rather have them in my armpits than my groin, I can tell you that.  They don't really get like the ones previously, but they linger long, they hurt like someone has constantly punched me in the armpit for a week, and they do get pretty big.  It's a bit bizarre, really.  I should probably get that looked at.....however, who has $40.00 to spend on the doctor every damn time?  Not me.  I don't have $40.00 to spare. To see the doctor. I live in America. I have a decent job.  I can't scrounge up 40 damn dollars to see a damn doctor?  Ridiculous.

I had my second session with my new therapist.  We still haven't gotten around to going through my background, which I'm just fine with, by the way.  You have my file, which looks like Stephen King may have written it, so enjoy a little light reading before bedtime.  I'm not there to rehash the last 40 years of my life.  I'm there to learn, talk through, vent, about the relationship I'm in.  Mostly, I want an objective person who doesn't know me and doesn't know him to help me work through shit I don't know how to handle.

Um, yeah.....Nooooooooooo

I had a thought very very early this morning, though.  Chris usually (I've been to therapy twice now, so, yeah, two times) how it went, if I spoke nicely about him, if she "likes" him, (insecure much?) and while I don't share everything, I have shared some things.  My response from now on is going to be, "Maybe you should join me if you want to know, otherwise, what's said in the therapist's office, stays at the therapist's office", because sharing last night sure as hell didn't do me any good.

I felt like he forgot who he was with.  Does that sound weird?  Probably, but that's how I felt.  I kept thinking, "Who do you think you're with? Hi, I'm Amy, this is what I like, this is who I am, why are you not giving me what you usually give me?"  It was the first evening I was annoyed with him.  Not pissed off. Not irritated.  Not furious.  Not angry.  Annoyed.  Truly annoyed.

And then I slept like shit (I was awake at Midnight, slept on the couch for an hour or so, woke up, slept another hour or so, woke up...it was a great night).  One of the times I was awake (3AM), his cell alerted him to a text message.  Who the fuck is texting you at 3AM? *eye roll*  And why am I so suspicious?  Because last night he treated me differently than he usually does and I had the thought, "Do you realize you're with Amy and not Tina?" (or whoever the fuck she is because I'm sure there's a "she" somewhere that I don't know about).

See? God, I'm the psychotic one.  How did that happen? Why am I so suspicious?  Insecure much?

Oh, riiiiiiiight. 

“A lot of people are afraid to say what they want. That’s why they don’t get what they want.” – Madonna; AND "I don't sugarcoat shit. I'm not Willy Wonka." -Who Knows

That's right folks. It's a two-quote-title day because they both apply equally well and I couldn't choose one over the other.

I am not under any misguided impression that my relationship with Chris is going to be rainbows, lollipops and sunshine all the time.

Relationships are work.  Constant work.  There are ridiculously fantastic happy times and then there are confusing, annoyed, scared times.  

Guess which one this is? 

I can never seem to say the right thing.  Or, sometimes I say the right thing at the right time, but then other times, such as today, I say what I think is the right thing and turns out it's the wrong thing.  

You know, we've spent all weekend together and it's been perfect and I haven't been annoyed once.  Do you know how rare that is? How special? 

I've never had someone in my life who was as sensitive as Chris is and it's one of the things I love about him.  I wouldn't have it any other way.  Honestly. Really.  Makes me feel like an insensitive idiot, but that's not such a bad thing, is it? To realize there's something about yourself that needs to change in order to help the person you love dearly feel better, feel safer, feel good about themselves, about their decision to change their entire life to spend the rest of it with ME?  

I am bossy.  I am outspoken.  I am not good at sugarcoating shit.  I'm direct. I say what I mean. I mean what I say. I don't play games. I don't mindfuck anybody. I don't manipulate (or if I do, I don't know that I do).  If I never say anything that's bothering me (& vice versa, him to me) then how is anything ever going to change? Resentment will build. 

I fear resentment. 

He's changing his entire fucking life. He's leaving the safety, comfort and security of his life and all that he knows and he'll be making his life more difficult now driving 2 hours round trip for work AND he may even be changing his hours & duties to accommodate this relationship even more.  

What have I done? What have I given? Other than myself, what have I given?

See what an unfair exchange that is?  

Even though I've told him all along - especially about changing his job- "Do not do this for me. Do it for you. I am not asking you to do this.  I want you to do whatever makes you happy."  

It doesn't matter.  He reminds me - often - what he's done, changed, given up, etc. to be with me.  

I'm always amazed by how much credit people give me....how much power they put into my hands.  *eye roll*  Trust me, if he didn't want to do this, he wouldn't be doing it.  

And that's as far as I can go tonight, dear readers.  I'm processing a lot; too much for my wee brain.  Know this:  I love this man. I see my future with him.  I see a life with him.  I'm willing to....improve. Not necessarily to change, but certainly to improve.  I'm a problem solver and a pretty darn good one at that, so you can bet your ass I'm going to solve this one. Somehow, some way...and come out better and stronger.  

"Almost 7 billion people on the planet and I can tolerate 5 at most."

The madness has begun....

Front of house

South side of house looking East

Ah hell, I'm not ready for this.  I've decided you almost have to be an exhibitionist this entire weekend, if only to keep an eye on your house.  Or, probably, be normal.  It makes me feel like an exhibitionist to even sit on my porch, so, ya know, maybe that's not the best word.  

My house looks great. My yard looks as good as it ever has (mostly because we haven't had any rain in two weeks so it's not growing....yeah!).  I'm in as good a mood as I'm going to ever be in when 30,000 people invade my little hamlet for 3 days.  And even if I have to yell at someone, I'll try to do it cheerfully.  

I did have a "I've had enough of this shit" moment at work this week.  Tuesday, in fact.  I was helping a client at the front, calling another attorney who was supposed to be meeting him at our office to find out where the hell he was (an hour late), and overheard two co-workers making snide remarks about me.  Can you imagine anyone ever making a snide remark about me?  I can't.  I really can't.  I mean, saying I'm a bitch; that's ok.  But just being snarky about me seems so petty and little and I can't wrap my head around it.  

So there I am, being happy and helpful with this client because I'd be damned if I was going to let him know their stupid shit bothered me, but as soon as he left.......Oh man.  

I didn't yell, but I was firm.  I said, "Ya know, it's really, really hard to stay positive and happy and cheerful with a client when all I hear is you two back here whispering (not subtly either) about me.  This shit needs to stop.  I've had enough of it and I won't tolerate any more of it."  To which one of them tried putting it back on me with, "Well, that's how I felt when it was you & _____", to which I responded, "THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID SOMETHING THEN!!!"  And then I said something about 3 strikes, 'cause, ya know, that's my rule.  I give you 3 times to fuck up and then I'm done.  Done!  

Lol, 'cause I'm so damn tough.  What am I going to do? Never speak to this person again?  *head shake*  Nah, but next time, I will go directly to an attorney and I won't say a damn word to her.  

That place is the most toxic workplace I've ever been in.  

"Small businesses can less afford to have coworker complaints, negative offhand remarks and other fear-based behavior because those remarks have a bigger impact than at large companies."

This all happened right before lunch....minutes before....so I went on my merry way (shaking from that adrenaline rush) and didn't even eat my lunch.  I texted a friend.  Who made me laugh....which was just what I needed.  And when I got back to my office, I laughed some more because the dickhead was there and wasn't supposed to be and that just made my damn day (sarcasm).  Not only that, he was a dick not 10 minutes later. To me. Over the phone. I flipped off my phone.  Two fingered.  Such. A. Dick.

Then the retired attorney, who everybody loves, stopped in and asked me how things were going and I just looked at him.  I always wonder....do people really want to know or do they just expect a "Everything's perfect!" response?  I just said, "I'm trying to stay happy & smiley!"

Not 10 minutes after the retired attorney left, I got a call from dickhead (because god forbid he do it face-to-face, though I suppose this was a step forward)....apologizing.  He said he was going to email me but that was cowardly and he rambled on for awhile about apologizing.  Jesus.  How about just don't be a dick?  How about you try that? For one day!  Just ONE DAMN DAY!

*sigh*

I was so glad I took off Thursday-Sunday.  By Monday I should be in a better frame of mind....or I'll want to kill someone because the Walk will have driven me insane.  I could go either way.  

"Yes I was in love. But that was yesterday."

Finally! My period started today and I'm all like, "It's about damn time, bitch! I've been a raging bitch for the last week! Where have you been?"  Women's menstrual cycles do come in handy every once in a while.  "I'm not a bitch.  My period's coming...."

Ok, ok, I'm just a bitch.

I swear, work makes me into something/someone I do not want to be.  I don't want to be bitchy, pissy, angry, frustrated, rude, rolling my eyes so hard I can see my brain, muttering "fuckin' shut up" under my breath every two seconds, ready to smash someone over the head with a keyboard type of employee.

Where did my happy go?

Oh yeah, down the street to the new, fun, cool law firm.  Dammit.

However, I do think I might see some light at the end of this dark, dreary tunnel.  Maybe....just maybe.

And as for my dating situation, *sigh*.  Everything was fine until he got all ga-ga and then I'm like, "Whoa, there, slow down buddy.  I'm not your girlfriend. You're definitely not my boyfriend.  You're barely my friend. Just shut your mouth and kiss me.  No need to speak. At all. Ever. Again."

*eye roll*  Is it any wonder I'm forever-single? 'Cause I wanna be.

Saturday I baked? Cooked? a breakfast casserole (only one of many others) for the fire department who were roofing one of their own's house because he has MS and it's sad. He lives 20 steps from my house.  Anyway, Shan asked me to bake? cook? a breakfast casserole and after I asked her if she was sure she wanted to subject them to my cooking and she said yes, they're men, they'll eat anything, I obliged.  I have to say....while I didn't eat one single bite of it (I probably should have just to make sure it was actually edible), it looked and smelled damn good.  I told Shan not to tell me if they all hated it and dumped it all in the garbage.  I didn't want to know.  She brought my pan back...empty...so either it was good or some dog got a really tasty meal.  Whatever. That's not the point of this.  That same morning, I was over watering my neighbor's plants because they're in Louisiana having fun (while I'm not) and I thought....."Look at me being all helpful and neighborly. When the fuck did that happen?"

Oh and while I was doing my neighborly duty Friday night, the ex passed by on his motorcycle.  I waved before I saw who it was. I like to think, had I known it was him, I would have given him a middle finger salute.  Instead, I waved....like an idiot...because it made him think it was ok to stop to chat.  It wasn't. I didn't outright tell him to go fuck himself (I wish I had) but I was short with him because I don't have anything to say to him.  His face makes me want to punch it.