Good for Bad, Bad for Good ...

I have not had much to say ... Sometimes, it's better to just go silent and observe. Plus, life and the human body kind of have this way of sending you not-so-subtle messages that maybe it's time to change shit up. 

Being prone to kidney stones, kidney infections, and the like, this one didn't feel so great, and knew she needed to get some medical assistance. So, I went, got an antibiotic, and it was hellish and made me feel like I had the COVIDs. Breathing, let us just say, was a challenge I did not appreciate. So, I stopped taking it, and things seemed all clear. Then, it resurfaced, so I went back and got a different antibiotic. Little did I know that the same antibiotic, taken years apart, can have drastically different effects on the person. 

This one left me rather askew. It did do what it was supposed to do, but it also gave me many flu-esque symptoms, including weakness, lethargy, nausea, and it also reduced my appetite to about 0.55%. I haven't et so little in my life like ever. One day's meal included a small handful of cashews, and maybe half a serving size of almond-flour crackers. With the constant nausea, it made me not even want coffee! I KNOW!!! 

I was also then left with tastebuds that didn't work quite right. Some things taste completely off, whilst other things, like potatoes, just taste like where they came from - dirt. Then, there's the meat stuff. I can't eat it. I did have some deli Cajun turkey, which was less than appealing, and one bite of grilled chicken which was okay, but nearly unbearable because I ALSO have become mostly sensitive to salt, of ALL things, and my husband added a copious amount of seasoning to the bird before grilling, so that one bite was more than enough. 

Couple that with irregularity of the bathroom varietal, and you have one hot mess. As if THAT all weren't enough, though, then, when I did try eating (Greek yogurt, fruit, chia and hemp seeds, and some cinnamon), it was one of the worst eating experiences I ever did have. I was so miserably bloated that it took several hours, and several digestive enzymes to relieve the horrific feeling of near explosion. 

I was afraid to eat. Anything. I was doing the softest of soft foods - applesauce, peaches, cottage cheese, yogurt (the junk kind), and sugar-free gelatin with a magical metric fuckton of Redi-Whhhhhip. 

It's been a while, so I am not correctly recalling the timeline, but eventually, probably three weeks ago now, I ended up having to head to the ER because I had some horrendously painful stomach aching, and the nausea, which just hasn't gone away. I was never vomiting, or feverish, but that pain!!! It was like the pain after I had my gallbladder removed, in recovery - like WHAT the CAPITAL FUCK? 

It was determined that I had what I guess they thought was a mild bout of pancreatitis, and also, it was discerned that I have "several" 1-cm stones living in my left kidney. 

After a healthy round of gouging, blood removal, urine samples, a CT scan, and a less-than-spectacular dose of morphine, they sent me home, since I could keep the water down for half an hour. 

Yeah, so they sent me home with anti-nausea pills which I tried NOT to take because she warned that they cause severe constipation. Not something I need at this point in time. I'm pretty much on a backed up, or don't make any plans kind of daily regimen. I can either feel the discomfort of not going, or the discomfort of going too much, too often, and without much warning. Ugh. 

Last weekend, we went to look at the car we wanted to get (oh, and I forgot to mention that our Equinox was sacrificed at the body of a very large deer) ... Crunch. We went to Applebee's, and I had a side of mashed taters, and a cup of French onion soup. I decided, hey, maybe I can eat onion soup, so I got all the stuff, I made it at home, and something went awry when I added croutons and cheese - it was so salty, even though I did not add a profuse amount of salt during the cooking process, that I just couldn't. So, now, we have a plethora of homemade French onion soup in the freezer. 

The new car

Proof of Destruction

I bet you always wanted to know about my digestive adventures, didn't you? 

Frankly, I'm tired of the nausea, and the oft-present ache in the kidney, but since it's not blocking anything, or making me ill, there's no call for any surgical intervention just yet. I take my Chanca Piedra (called stone breakers) which do help alleviate the discomfort, but other than that, I'm just here, trying to exist. 

ANYWHOOOOOOOOOOO, I got this brilliant idea that since I've probably not had more than 4 ounces of meat in the past month, that maybe it's time to try some more plant-based living for a minute. I did this several years back, but I did it all wrong. I was eating ALL the carbs, all the pasta, the bread, the junk, and NOT focusing enough on the whole foods. 

So much has changed in the vegan world since last I visited it. I can't find the veggie snausages that we used to adore, which makes me sad. I will keep looking, though. We have a Trader Joe's in Fort Wayne, now, that I didn't even realize was open, so I am thinking that might be the best bet for finding it. 

I have partaken of some heavier fruits, like fresh pineapple and watermelon, but I don't believe they are as kind to me as I would like. Much gastric upset ensues. So, it was good to have them for a moment, but I'll just leave them be. I've got berries, grapefruit, and banans. That's good enough for the sweet department. 

I'll be trying to make some oven-roasted potatoes and hope they don't taste like what they grew in. Instant mashed potatoes seem to not be as harsh to the palate. 

I'm scared to eat too much by way of the gassier vegetation, like broccoli and cauliflower because if the watermelon and pineapple did a number on me, I don't know what would be in store. 

I'm also not going to be a True Believer type plant-based eater. I am going to eat what agrees with me, and leave the rest for everyone else. At least until this nausea subsides. I spend a lot of time chewing gum to keep it at bay. 

This is a whole new world to me. 

I've got some learning to do. 

I guess I should also divulge that since the ordeal began, I started at 203lbs, and now I'm in the 186-188lb range. Can't really complain about that. It was effortless. Gotta look for the silver linings, right? 

I just would like to find whatever the right path is for me and my body, and get past the nausea. 

Oh, and it's been two months and one week since we stopped smoking in the house. All good. I suspect, with the introduction of the colder weathers, I'll be smoking way less, very soon. I just need to find things to do inside that keep me occupied, like writing really long-winded blog posts and working long hours when I don't have to. 

I think that's it for now. 

Just a trippy shot I captured during a storm one night. Not even digitally enhanced!

 

What This Fool Believed

I spent a lot of time yesterday and the day before coming to terms with my age now. What the capital FUCK? When did it get to this point? 

I don't even remember what was going on last I wrote, except all the familial BS. I am still banished, and just living my life. Life does move forward, regardless of the things that happen. I chose to NOT sit still and wait for that to change. 

The world is still worlding, and much to my delight, it keeps going even when I don't pay attention to it. 

As of August 2nd, it will be one month since we stopped smoking in the house. Woot. One month. 

I really thought that the Doobie Bros.' "What a Fool Believes" would have more practical application in today's discussion, but after reading the lyrics for the first time ever, and also realizing that there is no such word as "Nostalgictive," and instead, the words are "Nostalgic Tale," I have come to learn that really the only thing that applies is this line: "What a fool believes, he sees ..." 

So, in light of the fact that I'm probably on the back nine of this here life, I've sort of come to terns ... 

TERMS ... I've come to TERMS with the fact that time is limited, and moreso even than money, it's a resource with a definite scarcity factor. Doesn't so much seem that way when you're 20, 30, or hell, even 40, but now, at the spritely young age of 56, I am currently "What the Fucking?" all over the place. 

So, back to the not smoking indoors ... While the AMOUNT that I smoke has decreased significantly, and I expect will keep decreasing, the amount of TIME that I waste DOING said smoking outdoors (instead of whilst I am working) has exponentially INCREASED. Not good. 

No, I'm not going to go back to smoking inside. But here's where I have to divulge the very disgusting truth and call complete and utter bullshit on myself. 

On your phone (or most phones) there's a weekly report that shows how much time you used the phone, and which apps had the most usage. Get the fuck ready for this, because it's rather alarming. Can you fathom a guess as to how many hours I spent on my phone last week (alone) on ONE app? I had no clue. 

I had to reread that report at least four times before that sunk in. 

What the holy fuck? I had no idea. And also now have zero excuse ever again for "not having enough time." 

I don't spend any time, really, on socials - maybe 15 minutes tops. And since moving the bad habit outdoors, my YouTube usage has gone from all day, every day, to maybe once a day, if that. 

So, essentially, I have been frittering away my life outside on the deck or the bench, blissfully ignorant, playing my game, or making notes, and lists in my manual device (aka notebook and pen), or reading. 

I haven't been taking care of myself like I should or as I deserve. I have wasted a significant amount of time waiting on the world to get better, relationships to get better, etc. I hide in my office, doing work or just piddling around, bemoaning my current state of being. 

No fucking wonder. 

Something's gotta give. 

I had time yesterday to go for a lovely walk in that cemetery I mentioned last year. We had time to go to the city and explore a new place. I have time tomorrow to leave and go have lunch with my mom. I had time to drive across state and go meet my sister and niece in person. 

Why is it, then, that I have such a hard time, on the regular, finding PRODUCTIVE usage for my time here at home? 

There is so much I COULD be doing here, at home, inside, outside, all around. This report has really made me realize what a waste of space I've been. 

I think it stems from giving up on myself. 

When I went to Arizona earlier this year, I had a LOT of time to examine my brain, and learn a lot about how I want to be treated and what I am willing to put up with versus walking away. I think, now, in light of this bullshit, I need to walk away from this version of me, and get to the better me, and stop waiting around for some miracle to occur. 

I am so done waiting on others to be honest, loyal, faithful, understanding, etc. Done. They can do whatever it is that they will do, but I am choosing to stay as far away from it as I possibly can. The way I see it, if they are willing to discard me, there wasn't really ever anything there to begin with. Everything is fleeting. Everything is temporary. 

I haven't quite mapped out what I want to do, but there will be a lot of self improvement going on. It's been almost two years since the last time I had a proper hair cut. It's been longer than that since I had a manicure - like decades, really. I realized yesterday that I truly do not own anything of a nicer nature to wear during the warmer months. Fall and winter, I'm golden. Spring and summer? Not so much. 

No time like the now. 

A Little Less Action, A Little More Conversation

Lights through Glass and Rain - Me, circa 2024

So, it's been a minute. I was in a dark place. Had to claw back out of it. After the vertigo kicked in, in more-than-full force, mind you, I finally figured out that my vitamin D was significantly low, so I'm nearly a month in on taking 5000 to 10,000 whatever measurements they are per day, and things are SORT OF on the uptick, but I'm sure I could use a visit to the doc. I'll get there eventually, get all my levels of things checked out, make sure I haven't poisoned myself with near-daily infusions of tuna salad, etc. 

What weighs more heavily on my mind though is all the things. Stress and heartache abounds, and I'm clearly not capable of dealing with it in any sort of productive manner, so I just shut down. Ignore it and it'll go away mode, if you will. Why talk about things that will not change? 

However, in listening to someone talk about that all important self care, they mentioned what happens to people who hold everything inside, or who aren't allowed to express their feels. Makes perfect sense, because I watched it happen to my dad, and he's no longer here to say anything. I've spent decades being ignored, hung up on, gaslit, and made to feel less than. 

I can't do it anymore. 

I want all this crap out of my head, so it doesn't continue eating me alive. 

Let's preface to say that I'm a fully flawed and fucked up human. As a manner of coping with the things I could not control, I did things that made me feel in control, and things I'll never condone or be proud of. I was in a place of feeling like no matter how good a person I was, no matter how much I did for anyone, no matter how faithful or honest I was, it was never going to be enough, so I said fuquitol, and just did what I did. 

I don't know how to make up for the things I chose to do, but I'll figure it out eventually. 

Let's also preface to say that I own my own shit, but I'm not going into the gory details about it, or about anyone else. 

It's been a long and particularly fucked-up road I've traveled being what is commonly known as a parent. I allowed people to make me believe I wasn't good enough. Maybe I'm not good enough. I don't know. All I know is I have regrets, and I am powerless to reverse time, or any damage I did along the way. 

I also know that what I THOUGHT I knew I didn't really know at all. My firstborn has been really no more than a stranger, and now refuses to speak to me at all, and I don't know what to do about that, since there are thousands of miles between us, and I have essentially been deleted. I THOUGHT I raised someone with an open mind; someone who could listen to more than their own belief system, and maybe not agree with it, but not go full (*&$^%) and demand agreement. Anything other than what they wanted to hear was deemed bigoted, idiotic, phobic, ignorant, and selfish. 

Even talking about it in this manner would be deemed as making it all about myself, when none of it has to do with me. 

Cool. 

Their last words to me: "Have a nice life, Deb." 

Not mom, not "I need some time to think," just slammed that door shut, deleted me, blocked me, lost my number, etc. 

None of my feelings, none of my fears, none of my concerns matter. What else is new? 

People really lose their shit when you refuse to tolerate their disrespect. 

To that child: 

If you choose to believe what everyone else says about me, rather than get to know ME, that's your choice, and your loss. If you choose to believe what some internet cult tells you over the love of your parents, that's your choice and your loss. 

I'm well aware that you don't need me. I'm well aware that I'm an embarrassment to you. I'm well aware that you've been told that I'm an example of how NOT to be. I'm well aware that I've never measured up. 

I'm sorry you were so cursed to have me as your mother. I'm sorry I didn't give you everything you thought you needed while I was busy giving you the freedom to choose, the freedom to think for yourself, and not trying to shove my own agenda down your throat. 

I'm sorry that having my own thoughts and feelings is offensive to you. I am NOT sorry that I chose to speak my mind, that I chose NOT to walk on eggshells, or have you micromanage my every word. 

You do you, and by all means, have the nicest, best life ever. 

I'm done. I'm no longer a doormat for anyone. I take it as a life lesson when I see that someone doesn't care. I take it as a sign that I'm not in the right place, and I move on. 

The time has come to stop worrying about what anyone else is doing, and focus on being the best me I can. I have probably said that more times than I can count, but maybe now is the time that I mean it. I mean, if you say it enough, it will eventually be true, right? 

I'm not a witch, but if I said how I truly feel out loud, here on the internets, sure as shit, there'd be a witch hunt. I ain't doin' it. 

Everyone is free to make their own choices, and I'm free to make my own choices, and never the twain have to meet. 

In a world full of memes, be your own fucking billboard. 

(I still love memes, though)

I guess what I'm trying to say is I just want to live what life I have left to the fullest, and without worrying what anyone else thinks about it. I cannot control what anyone else thinks, does, or says. I can only control me, and going forward, that's what I am doing. 

xo 

I Don't Know

 After climbing out of a particularly deep, dark hole, I have come to this realization. I know nothing.

 Absolutely nothing. 

I don't know why I am here. 

I don't know why I am not here. 

I don't know what I thought I knew. 

I don't know what I don't know. 

I don't know what's truth. 

I don't know what's a lie. 

I don't know what I want. 

I don't know why I want what I do think I want. 

I don't know what's real. 

I don't know what's fake. 

Given this plethora of unknowing, I am left with a certain sense of freedom. 

Fuqitol, if you will. 

Apparently, this life is one big basket of playing it by ear, or whatever the expression is. 

Wing it. 

Fake it til I make it. 

I don't even know why I am not writing in complete paragraphs. 

Just seemed like the thing to do at the moment. 

I don't know if there's a divine being. 

If there is a divine being, who made THAT divine being? 

I feel like I'm stuck somewhere in the middle of The Matrix and Inception. 

Blue pill. Red pill. Dream. Reality. 

What is it? 

In this current reality, right here where I sit, with this newfound free-spiritedness, this is what I NOW know: 

I'm done with expectations. 

I am erasing whatever preconceived notions I had about much of what has come before. 

If reality is like one percent fact, and 99 percent our perception of it, then I can make this life be whatever I want to be, right? 

Shit will happen. 

Things will begin. 

Things will end. 

I don't need to know if you're telling the truth in order for me to listen to how I feel deep inside. If you choose to lie, that's on you. 

I may not know why I am here, but I also do not know why I am NOT here, therefore, I guess that adds up to I'm here for some reason yet unbeknownst to me. 

I have to move forward. 

I have to rebuild what's left of my brain and my heart. 

I'm done with how I have felt over the past few weeks. 

I'm done allowing anyone else to determine how I feel about myself. 

I'm not everyone's cup of [insert beverage of choice here]. 

I am me. 

The only person I am changing for is me. 

I'm not waiting around to be loved, appreciated, or even noticed. 

Come with me, or don't. That's up to you. 

I don't know what's next, but I do know I'm about to find out. 

Erasers, Lies, and Three-Lock Boxes

 This is how I feel about being erased. Have at it. 

You can belittle me, degrade me, disrespect me, and attempt to erase me, but you will never be able to destroy my memories. Only time and nature have that kind of power. 

You can't make me feel the same disgust you feel about your "past," and all that was in it. Because my memories and a magical metric fuckton of images tell a much different story. No, things were not always easy. No, we didn't have a lot. No, I was definitely not perfect, ever, and many people didn't hesitate to let me know how imperfect I was. But I remember from how I felt. I remember what I felt. And you don't get to take that away. 

Never take for granted those little moments, no matter who you turn out to be. You never know when it's the last time you'll get to have any more of those times. 

Like the clouds up there in the sky that look so solid, as if you could just lay on them and recline in billowy comfort, it all just turns to vapor. It's gone the second you try to hold on to it. 

I also feel the same about lies. 

Do not look me straight in the eye and lie, fumble, make excuses, play dumb, etc. Just don't. It's not a good look. 

For fuck's sake, own your shit. If you want something, SAY you want something. If you no longer want something, SAY you no longer want something. It's very simple. 

What is left of my heart and soul is now stashed away in my own three-lock box. Sorry, that song popped into my head the other day, and wouldn't leave ... 

Suckers walk, money talks

But it can't touch my three lock box

This week, every day has been a struggle. The more I learn, the less I wanna know. Can I not just have peace? Can I not just have rest? Can I not just have the simplest amount of happiness once in a while? What happens when there's nothing left of my heart to break? 

Your guess is as good as mine. 

Sucker Punch Soufflé (aka When Life Hands You Lemons ...)

 

Photo by me at Full Cover - Total Eclipse 2024 (I don't know what blue/green streak is) 

I’m so sick of me. I know that’s not the manifestationally correct thing to say, but what else is there to say. I have allowed people and situations to control my emotions, and my lack of actions, and I am so very tired of not taking back that control.

I cannot control what any other motherfucker on this planet does. Only me.

We got a very horrendous Chinese take-out meal last night, and the only healthy and beneficial thing to come from it were my two fortunes, pull from the guts of the two fortune cookies I consumed, one last night, and one today.

Fortune #1: Sever the ignorant doubt in your heart with the sword of self-knowledge.

Fortune #2: Bring something up from the back burner.

Oh, and I discovered that you cannot, and MUST NOT eat tuna salad every day, sometimes twice a day, for months on end. I’m pretty sure I have given myself a healthy round of mercury poisoning which has made itself known by headaches, and an assortment of bumps, aka a rash that not only itches, but bleeds when you scratch it. Yay.

I’m kinda sad about that because my tuna salad was the bomb, and it was one of the few things I could eat for lunch that did not make me groggy and ready to just go back to bed. Damn it. May have to go back to Factor meals for a while, and no, they are not sponsoring this blog post, because I am not a professional blogger, or “influencer.” But Factor meals are simple, and if you have a discount code for $2.99 a meal, you could get a magical metric fuqueton of meals for a pretty good price. Cheaper than frozen meals from the store, cheaper than meal planning and cooking, not to mention faster.

Annnnnnywhooooooooo, back to the aforementioned fortunes. Yeah. There’s been a lot of doubt, and a lot of pain. I’m not going to give you the details because that’s not who I am. It’s a private matter, and just suffice to say that I have been erased from a person’s life who was my world. I have been eradicated, blocked, silenced, and completely eliminated and prevented from communicating with them. Why? Because even though I support their freedom to choose what works best for them, I chose to tell them my honest opinions, and concerns. I kept their secrets, I lied by omission, and when I dared to share what was in my heart with them, I was met with “Have a nice life, Deb.”

(Note, I am not talking about my Beloved, either. He is my rock. Let’s just clear that up now. Without him, I surely would not be here to write this.)

When I discovered this message, and that I had been banished, I doubted my need to continue breathing. I felt like someone in a horror movie that just had their heart ripped out of their chest, said heart pureed in a Vitamix, and force-fed back to me through a cocktail straw. In that moment, and THAT moment alone, I didn’t want to continue existing. I had to step away from the door because a fleeting thought that passed through my brain was “Just smash your face in the glass as hard as you can. What does it matter anymore?” That was new. It was a very dark few moments.

I don’t tell you that for pity or sympathy or dramatic effect. I tell you that because it’s as real as I can get. You don’t need the gory details to know the pain of losing someone you thought would be in your world forever. Many of you who read this have had your own losses that are definitively deeper and more painful than this, I know this, and to each of you, you have my undying love and understanding.

I tell you this, because, as the fortune mandated, I need to sever the doubt with self-knowledge. The self-knowledge I have is this:

I am worthy of more respect than this person ever showed me.

I did everything in my power to make sure this person had the best life they could have, given they were stuck with me. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to earn their respect. It wasn’t enough to make them understand that I love them so much I would risk losing them.

Their decisions are not my cross to bear. Their decisions will ultimately only affect them.

I will never again keep secrets for anyone. Secrets are a form of manipulation that I will no longer entertain. If you talk to me, make sure it’s something that anyone can hear. If there’s anything I loathe, it’s game-playing, and toying with people’s emotions. Own your shit, or don’t tell me about it.

I will speak my mind if I feel it is important. Otherwise, I don’t have much to say. I’m more of an observer. If you don’t want to hear what I have to say, don’t listen. Simple as that.

So, I know these things and, as such, I move forward, knowing that I’m not for everyone including those for whom I thought I was. Blood is definitely not thicker, apparently.

Which brings us to Fortune #2 – bringing something (me) up from the back burner. I put myself there. Not necessarily on purpose, but I did anyway. For decades.

I know my flaws, and my weaknesses. I know that something has got to give before I completely run out of fucks and do something I can’t ever take back. Which has been heavily on my mind this week. It’s not been a good week. Thankfully, I have had distractions to keep it from being the only thing I could think about.

I don’t know why I am here. All I know is I won’t spend the rest of my time on this planet being a useless lump addicted to distraction and putting everything off.

The only way to NOT do and be the things I despise about myself is to NOT do or be those things. Again, no pity or sympathy. I don’t really share the ugliest parts of me here, so trust me when I tell you there is a laundry list of things on which I need to focus.

I’m tired of saying “Fuck it.” I’m tired of being depressed. I’m tired of my brain. The incessant nagging thoughts of not being worth the effort need to go. Who I am is not dictated by those who refuse to value me, including me. Giving up is no longer an option. Just sitting here waiting ... feeling washed up, used up, and heartbroken is no longer an option. Saying that I’m going to do something, and then making a zillion excuses why I don’t do it is not on the table anymore.

I cannot stomach this kind of pain and agony and just maintain status quo. The only way around this is right through the middle of it. Forward, not backwards. I fully realize this is Sunday, and I’m starting things on a Monday again, but not really ... It starts now. I don’t know precisely what IT is, but now is the beginning.

As Raymond Reddington so brilliantly put it: “I wanna stand on the summit, and (probably not me) smoke Cubans, and feel the sun on my face for as long as I can.”

I don’t have a summit here – maybe the deck out back – and I don’t smoke Cubans, but I still smoke, and we still have sunlight. Lemonade anyone? 

Stay tuned.

 

 

 

 

 

Plan to Plan, Fail to Fail

 I thought I would write out my thoughts here first, but this may very well become the first episode of Opinion Piece (working title, because it's probably already taken), my podcast in the works. 

A shot of failure

I put that new mic and boom arm to work yesterday, and recorded myself reading a blog post from January. It wasn't too bad. Ended up being about a 15-minute listen, including all pauses for stupidity, ums, ahs, etc. 

I believe I am best at getting my thoughts out in a succinct manner when I first write them. Just "riffing" as the kids probably don't even say anymore, I sit here frozen. Nothing to say. Like that brain-dump, Morning Papers writing. Not a good thing. 

So, it's Monday morning, and I did FAIL to plan out my workweek last night. Instead I just did some work, then played some Solitaire, and other mindless riff-raffy games (what's with the word "riff" today?) Is it an acronym for Right Inside Fail, or Right in First, or Ready in Five ...? This all remains to be seen. 

I have my sexy Notion board all mapped out, and broken into Daily to-dos, Daily always-dos, Weekly, and even Monthly dos. Takes about 2 minutes to get it set up for the next day, if that. Keeps me in line because allow me to tell you, there is a magical metric FUCKTON of stuff I do and have to remember at any given moment. If I didn't have this page, I would surely be lost, and out of a job by now. 

I don't know how anyone else keeps their shit straight, as I appear to be the only one really using it for work planning, etc. We use it for assorted web pages, and wikis, and whatnot, but other than that, it's crickets when I am there. And to think, that's what we used when the company first started, and EVERY thing was home-based there. 

I can't really share it because privacy and all, but it's a very aesthetically pleasing page to my eyeballs, like Odin. 

Look at dat face. Just LOOK at it ... 

ANYWAYS, I listen to random shit throughout the day. Saturday, I listend to the audio version of The Compound Effect: 

I'm sure the author is right, but I'm also sure that motivational speaking never motivated me to do anything. I'm more of a Van Down by the RIVER kind of girl. 

I have a lot of things I want to accomplish: 

• Continue to lose weight
• Quit the nicotine
• Start that podcast
• Do art 
• Etc. 

I also have very little mental capacity with which to make all this shit happen. I have learned that you should not plan to quit smoking on the day there are 10 people running in and out of your house replacing your plumbing, all while trying to contain dog-beasts, a cat, and also attempting to accomplish work-related tasks. That was stupid. Also not good to think I could accomplish it in the midst of adjusting to his new work schedule. I haven't quite figured out if it will be a good thing or a not good thing, when it comes to quitting. One the one hand, it might be easier, since I have a LOT of alone time, and therefore, no temptation from him smoking. On the other hand, I have a LOT of alone time, which means, a lot of loneliness, boredom, and chances for breaking down, driving to town, and buying more. 

The common denominator there, though, is ME. It's ME that has to do this, no matter what else is going on. And while it's never going to be the "right" time to quit, it has to be some time. 

This is NOT a post about that, though, so off we go on planning, which is the real topic du jour. I don't have a plan. I don't have a routine to speak of. I just mostly exist to breathe, smoke, and work. 

I was listening to some stuff from Jordan Peterson last night. I can't listen to him a lot because most of the time, he sounds so sad, and like he's about to burst into uncontrollable sobbing, but he does say some things that make sense. (nevermind what I said about motivational speakers) ... 

Among the thoughts: 

• People who don't have enough order in their life tend to get overwhelmed. 
• Specify your damned goals because how are you gonna hit something if you don't know what it is? 
• If you keep yourself all vague and foggy, then you don't know when you fail
• ... I'll keep myself blind when I fail. That's fine, you just won't know it until you've failed so badly that you're done
• Make a damned schedule and stick to it. It's not a bloody prison ... Set the damned schedule up so that you have the day you WANT

And here we are some five days later and I have progressed no further. I have no schedule. I have no plan. I listen to goal-setting content, and all I can think is what is the fucking point, and what do I really want? I don't even know what I want on a grand scale. 

This has to stop. 

This being nothing, doing nothing, sitting here taking up space - it just has to stop. 

It starts with what I did last night. Went to dinner with a friend. Got out the damned house. Did something other than work or go to the store. Just went out and be-ed. 

Sometimes, I feel like I have dumbed myself down to the point of being a blithering idiot full of soundless fury with much nothing about ado. If all the world is truly a stage, then what the fuck am I? A dust mite up in the rafters? 

I have forgotten how to dream. I've been too long stuck in reality. Ask me to define myself, I would fail to be able to do so. 

Being full of useless quips and quotes today, I'll leave it with this: There's no time like the present, right? 

Let's see what happens. 

 

The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Me

 

I no longer know what to do with myself. Really. I'm at a loss. Even writing that sentence made me get up and leave the room. Maybe that book has some answers. Would probably help if I actually read it. I started to read it, but then got distracted by wasting my free time doing absolutely nothing. 

I tried watching the Barbie movie. Based on clips that I saw here and there, and that beautiful Billie Eilish song, which is also fitting for my current mindset, I thought there was some deeper meaning that I wanted to see. There wasn't. Well over half way through, I just could not. It was such a color headache the likes of which I have not seen since Once Upon a Time in Mexico ... 

Where was I. I got distracted trying to find a clip from the movie for demonstration purposes, but then started watching said clips. 

Anyway, I'm not depressed. I'm tired. I'm worn out. I'm burned out, as The Theys call it. I'm frustrated. I'm just a heap of nothingness at the moment. The ONLY part in Barbie that I related to was when she flopped down on the fake grass on her face, like a discarded doll. THAT, I felt hard. 

Credit: Google Search for "Barbie falls on her face on the lawn"

You know, with the exception of one or two days, since I returned from Arizona, I have ate the same thing for lunch, and sometimes dinner, every single day. I am without urge to cook. I am without urge to plan to cook. I find it taxing to just take care of myself in the most basic manner. Until I went to town yesterday, I couldn't tell you the last time I left the house at all. 

All of these people that I see on my socials, how do you have friends? How do DO activities? How do you go out in the world and want to be there? Maybe if I traveled at least monthly, I'd be able to fake it more, but just constantly being here, doing the same thing over and over and over has left me urgeless to even attempt to do anything else. 

I am not living. I am just existing. I don't have relationships with anyone else but my husband, and to those of you reading this, it's NOT YOU, it's ME ... I lack the ability to maintain contact with anyone, unless I have to, or they are my child. I love all of my siblings all over the place, and I know I have failed as a sister, grotesquely, even. I guess I just feel that all my issues are at the level of "First-World problems," and I don't wish to burden anyone else with such trivialities. (<----That's an actual word!?!) 

I feel that I have zero purpose. I do not DO anything of real import that couldn't be replaced by another human or a machine. I know I am smart, but I am NOT intelligent. If I were, I would have accomplished so much more by now. I can't even stand to watch others who have ideas, like on YouTube, because all I can think of is I would try and fail, so why even exert the energy? Good for them, but I am not they, and they are not me. 

There's no mommy issues here (well, maybe ...) but I was raised to be "less than." I was raised to settle for whatever I could get because I wasn't ever going to amount to a "hill of beans." Did they ever expressly utter those exact words? No. Did they show it via their actions, or trying to sweep me under the rug, so they could save face with their adoring public? Yes. 

I have been cancelled by my son because I chose to say what I truly felt about something that's ongoing, and instead of listening to me, or asking me what I meant, or even wanting to speak to me on the phone, he has chosen to forget I exist. Cool. 

My mom only calls when she needs something, like being driven to Walmart. I don't even rate taking her to doctor appointments. Just the errand girl. I have been treated, by her, like the hired help on most all occasions. Slipped some cash, as if I needed PAID to do this, even. What the fuck? Why be around someone who is so embarrassed to be seen with you that they don't even introduce you, let alone let people know that you are their daughter? It's kind of nauseating. 

I'm not the world's best wife, no matter how much he may argue that opinion. I'm not. I am not affectionate. I am not overly emotive. I work too much. I do too little else. I just don't know how to change me to be the wife I think I should be. 

The only place where I feel the least bit worthy is my work. I don't even consider it a job because I have a pretty ideal situation. I did work hard to get to where I am now. I won't try to pretend I didn't, but I still don't feel like I measure up on most days, even with repeated praise from my boss. 

I'm just depleted. Probably could use therapy, but I don't want to talk to anybody. I want to be able to fix this, fix me, myself. 

I don't even begin to know where to start. So I just sit here prone, struggling to even move from my seat. Frozen. (Literally, today, and figuratively.) That sketchbook in the photo above? I took that picture weeks ago. It's still sitting there. I got the TV stand put together, so I can set up the home gynauseum properly, but do you know where it sits? Right by the door where I moved it after I built the damned thing, waiting on a bunch of other things to happen. 

About the only thing I'm doing really good at is my eating. I cut out the Crystal Light, as of the last time I posted here. I also stopped eating those damnable French Fried Onions (the Meijer brand) because I know they are lower in carbs on their face, but not if you polish off a bag of them in one or two days. I actually took a moment to ingest some serious carbs and sugar last night, but it wasn't worth the five bucks paid. I find that the more this way of eating goes on, the less I can tolerate any manner of restaurant food. 

See, my brain is all over the place. I have plenty of things I could be doing right now, but instead, I'm sitting here digitally whining about nothing. That's how I feel about myself. What the fuck is the point? Why am here? What purpose do I serve? Before you assume anything, I am NOT suicidal. I am just utterly confused, and mostly lost. 

You'd think by now, at this no-longer-young age, I'd have some things figured out. 

I just don't. 

I don't know how to feel. 

But someday, I might ... 

On Living, Dying, Building Furniture, and Faux Sugar

 

Everything is not always as it appears. 

There is no blue in this room.

I've not been in the most stellar of moods. It's been a week. A busy week. I can't believe this is already Thursday night. I don't know where the time has gone. Things are about to change again. That's the only real constant, right? 

Some people are dying. Others are dying to forget their entire past including their name. Some are trying to move forward despite what anyone else thinks. Some have found what they want. Some have not. Me, I feel like the post in the middle of a merry-go-round, watching it all spin out of control around me. 

Some houses are old. Some are new. Some are worn. Some are through. 

I'm just making up groups of words until I figure out how to say what I have to say without saying too much or not enough. 

Meanwhile, let's move on to the mundane. 

I fucked up. 

I decided it'd be a good idea to consume Crystal Lite again. Peach Tea to be exact. I was mistaken. Not only is it wreaking havoc on my blood sugar levels, it's not been all that kind to my skin either. 

Time for a change. I had the last of it this morning, and then switched back to water with fresh lemon juice and a bit of stevia. 

I've also been hitting the fried onions, and my latest micro-addiction, Korean BBQ almonds, a bit too hard, too, so that, as well, is about to change. 

I'm NOT on any kind of concerted effort of a diet. NOW would not be the time, and I don't know that any time ever will be the time. I just know that I am no longer enjoying how the majority of junk and processed foods are making me feel. The very, very, very short-term satisfaction is not enough of a payoff for the resulting shit feelings afterward. Some days, it'd be easier to live on coffee, water and cigs than to ingest anything of that nature. 

As for smoking, I'll never again talk about it, or the fact that I want to quit. Anytime I "make a plan," or follow the roughshod advice of a bunch of nonsmokers who decided their plans would work best. Believe you me, I know ALL the benefits, and I know ALL the problems I cause with my habit, but it's going to be a very personal, very private endeavor when the time comes that I do quit. I also won't talk about it AFTER the act of quitting has occurred because that just keeps it top of mind, and I am thinking the best approach will be to keep my laser focus away from the topic altogether. 

I looked back over the beginnings of this blog, and how I was nearly daily updating on metrics, and blahbity blah, but then I would disappear for months on end because I gave up. Zero effectiveness. I have realized that talk does not replace action, and action does NOT need to be talked about. Just do the thing and move forward. 

As for current states, I'm still on the tuna salad and hard-boiled egg kick for lunches, or whenever I don't feel like eating anything else. The weight, she's hovering around the 196-lb mark. I'll take it. Measurements are fairly useless, as even if you have one waist measurement, there are 52,000 different waist sizes in pants, and NOBODY accounts for boobage, unless you buy a 3x or larger. Life continues on. 

Updates on the ongoing renovations: 

We got a TV stand for the living room, but said stand was NOT the same color as displayed in the product description. It more matches what I have in the office. Therefore, It's going to be used out here in the gymnauseum area of the room. I like it. Plenty of storage for the free weights, the DVD player, and any DVDs I want to bring out here. 

Meanwhile, my husband found another stand that is MUCH better suited to what we're going for in the living room, so we got that. 

Both require assemblage. I put together stand #1 over the weekend. My husband started on stand #2 when it arrived, and we engaged in teamwork to finish it up and move it into the living room, and move the old beast out. 

Things are coming together. 

New plumbing is going to start happening next week. That'll be a fun bill. 

I think that covers all current updates for the homestead. 

Back to the inner turmoil ... 

Let me just say I am beyond fed up with the gaslighting that has, thus far, put me in a place where I feel like if I talk about how I feel about anything going on with anyone, I'm just being selfish, self absorbed, making it all about me, etc. I feel like anytime I have something to say, all it takes is one sentence or less to trigger all manner of rage and vitriol aimed in my general direction. People do not stop to consider that what you said was NOT meant in the way they are misconstruing it. 

I am not a perfect specimen of humanity. I CAN be mean. I can give as good as I get. I'm just tired of being put in a position to keep other people's secrets, or be a pawn in their game to make themselves feel better, or to just shut up and let everyone do whatever it is they're going to do, no matter if it hurts them or anyone else. 

So, rather than try to tell them, I'll just say it here: 

What you do is solely up to you. There is nothing I can say or do that will ever change that. If I DO have something to say it is out of love, or concern. My digital, typed delivery might suck, but it does not require anyone to take my words and twist them to mean something entirely different. My words also do not warrant being disrespected to the level that I would rather never talk to you again than to feel the sting of your words and rage. 

Don't ever try to manipulate people with selective honesty and expect me NOT to speak up. Don't ever talk shit about me to my face and expect me not to react. I am loyal to a fault, and for the time being, I'll keep those secrets (and you should hope everyone else does, as well), and I'll live with the MORE THAN AWKWARD situation you've decided that those of us privvy to your selective honesty should live in, but I can't control what anyone else does. 

If you want to erase 30-plus years of memories, right down to your name, go for it. I can't stop you, but I'll not stay silent about how your own words and actions make me feel. It does not make me bigoted. It does not make me ignorant, uneducated, or stupid. It makes me hurt more than I can properly express. And no matter how much you say I'm just being shallow and making it all about me, it's taking a toll on my mental and physical well being. 

But, you do you. The rest will either fall into your way of thinking, or fall away completely. 

Those are words I never thought I would say about anyone that I love so dearly, but backed into a corner, I'll come out swinging. 

I was never perfect. I was definitely the furthest thing from a good mother. I was definitely also the furthest thing from a perfect child. I'm not even that outstanding of a person now, and I continue to pay for my imperfections. 

So, I find this fitting: 

I just want peace. I just want rest. 

I want to live in this speech for the rest of my days: 

Piece by Piece by Motherf**cking Piece

Disclaimer: If real emotions make you uncomfortable, don't read this

The difference between yesterday and today ... 

I'm pretty much left with doing nothing but holding an empty stare on my face. For someone who never leaves the house outside of a trip to a store for provisions occasionally, I guess my emotions are just too intense, be it in person, in writing, or on the phone. 

When you put some time in betwixt you and a problem, pain lessens and logic enters the scene.

I kind of feel like I've been dissected into pieces like that ^^^

I do still feel this, but not at the level of intensity I did yesterday. 

Context and self talk:  

As a child, I was TOO emotional, such that the only way I could earn getting my ears pierced was to not cry for a week, complete with a poster-board chart hung in the kitchen for all to see. Bury those feels in food, damn it. Don't let anyone know you feel a fucking thing, especially as a pre-teen, especially when all those female hormones are starting to circle and whirl and boil to the surface. Just don't. 

For the most of the next two or three decades, I had ALL the feels, but mostly didn't express them without alcohol. Then, I was a dribbling idiot, by my own definition. Not a good look on anyone. I think my 30th birthday was the turning point when I stopped drinking excessively. 

I've only been truly shitfaced once since then, New Year's Eve 2018. I do not remember this. But hey, at least the hat was cute, right? 

Then, I started writing. I filled notebooks with my feelings when I figured out it was the only way to get things out of my brain. That went on for many years, until I finally got sick of hearing myself write, and figured out that it does nothing by way of productivity. That was probably 14 years ago. I burned what was left, and never did that whole "journaling" thing again. 

I also used to write long letters to people because I could not properly express myself out loud to make sure I got things said that I needed to say. Those fell on deaf ears and blind eyes. Ignore her. She'll shut up eventually. 

That's also probably about the time when I really began using foods to bury the feels. Just eat your way through it. What else is there to do? Nobody really wants to hear what you have to say because they're too busy trying micromanage HOW you say it. 

Storms are very, very silent. Until they're not. 

This is true any day of the week. 

This is mostly what I feel like at present moment, after a few months of assorted bullshit coming in from all directions. There's no shortage of names and descriptions for how others perceive me to be, after they have taken anything I say and twisted it around to mean something completely different than I meant or intended. 

I did feel fairly leveled yesterday and the day before. There has been a shitstorm of epic proportions looming overhead, kind of like the picture above. Any one of these shitstorm components, in and of itself, happening separately, fine. I could manage. When they all happen within a few minutes, days, or weeks of each other. Nah. 

Side note: Indeed - good for her: Original Quote Author

Some days, I can feel those vultures casually soaring and circling up above, just watching and waiting. 

I'm tired. I am worn down. I am emotionally drained. It doesn't pay to have feelings. It doesn't pay to trust someone to hold what you talk about in confidence or in any kind of high regard when instead, it's just stored for later use as things to throw back in my face. 

I'm not allowed to be frustrated. I'm not allowed to express said frustration. I don't have any right to grieve. I don't have any right to be insulted when someone shows me how very little they care. I don't have a right to be hurt when someone else decides to erase a significant portion of their and my history, nor do I have the right to ask them to not say one thing, one phrase. How dare I. How very dare I. 

I am overwhelmed. I am not a pillar of strength. Time and bullshit are taking their toll on my psyche, and my body, and I'm not sure how to get out, around, or through any of it. Do I handle it with grace and dignity? Absofuckinglutely not. Do I panic? Do I freeze? Do I cease to be able to think? Do I yell? Do I get upset? Do I get frustrated? ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY. 

There just doesn't seem to be any happy medium when it comes to my ability to have relationships with many people (not everyone, but a large majority). I tend to attract those who would respond to simple statements of my own feelings with disgust, impunity, and a whirlwind of hatred that does not equal the statement made. OR, those who choose to be cold, calculating, unfeeling, obsessed with "The Lord Jesus Christ," and wouldn't know a hug or affection if it slapped them upside the face with a 2x4. 

If life is a pinball machine, I am the pinball. The balanced middle ground is very narrow. One side = hellfire and brimstone; Other side = frozen tundra. 

So, instead of focusing on the collective bullshite over which I have zero control, this is what I want and what I am doing for me: 

1. Art. I have the stuff, now I will use it. 

2. Yarn. I have the stuff, now I will use it. 

3. Exercise. I don't care what anyone else does, this is what I need for me. 

4. Self maintenance. Self care is a misnomer. I can't necessarily say I care what happens to me, but at least I can maintain what's left of me while I am here, right? 

5. Decluttering and engaging in some format of minimalism. 

6. Solving my own problems. Nobody is coming to save me, so it's up to me. 

As often as it enters my braincell, I don't want to take my leave of the planet. I'm far too much a coward to do anything like that anyway. I used to not be able to understand those that did, but I do, now, get it. I just don't live in that camp. However, I also realize that no matter how many times, or how many different ways I say I need help, the only one hearing me is me, and therefore, it's up to me, and only me, to get to a place where those thoughts cannot penetrate. 

I cannot control what anyone else says, thinks, believes, or chooses to do. I can only control me. I am a flawed soul, and I make mistakes daily, if not hourly, but I am trying, and I will know when I hit the mark. For now, that's all I can do.