Back in the Sadness Again

Gosh it’s been a while since I have written in here. I’ll try and do a quick catch up.

The Smoker and I are still together living in the small town townhouse we rented. My small business has grown into 2 small businesses, plus I still do freelance work on the side. I am making ok money, but as always, want to be doing more. I have also joined a group of women from my hometown to open a cooperative shop a few towns over. I work there once or twice a week and have been making a little extra from that. The month of July has found me hitting a wall emotionally. I had started doing more in person events with my businesses, i.e. pop up shops and festivals. Recently I did an event in my local city where my partner and I were attacked by a mentally ill man. The following week the Smoker got into an accident with myself and my other business partner in the car. These two events triggered my agoraphobia like never before. I have been drinking and hiding out from social events and family ever since.

I had nightmares for two weeks straight after the attack. This guy stalked our tent at a large local festival. We didn’t have many customers due to rain. When we started packing up this guy went crazy and came after us. I went and got the police. Long story short, he was schizophrenic and thought we were terrorists. It was a very scary incident. It triggered me. BIG TIME. My biggest fear is of not being in control in a public place. This was exactly that. Luckily myself and female business partner were not hurt. She was fine. I was fine. One day later I stopped being able to function. I’m drunk as I’m typing this. I didn’t know how else I’d be able to discuss this.

The Smoker and I are struggling again. We were pretty solid in 2014. Even talked about getting married. This event pushed me into a dark place. I don’t get the support I need from him right now. Every now and then cheating enters my mind. I have not acted on it. I don’t think I will. Despite it all I have love for him. I resent him, but I have love for him. I also still have a rather large stomach hernia. No one wants someone that looks like me. But some how he still does. It’s worth something. Just not as much as it should.

I am imploding. I fear I will destroy everything I have built due to this little trigger I have pulled. Who cares. Who reads this? I am sure my readers are long gone. It’s ok. I just need to get it out. I loathe myself and how I feel. I ask God constantly, why didn’t you just take me when I was dying? Why don’t you speak to me anymore. In the grips of Cancer, God’s voice was so clear to me. Now, the silence is deafening.

I know I need help. I am just to fucked to reach out for it. Drinking and drugs are what I do. Furhter over the edge because there is no marijauna anywhere. Just scrapings.Metaphor for my life.

Calling All Angels

As the case may be, another boss / client of mine has nicknamed me ‘Angel’. One of the designers on a project of ours has also taken to calling me that. My boss / client always suggest to me that I should embrace this persona more. I tend to use wings a lot in my work. Something that comes out of me constantly since the Cancer 3 years ago. I always kind of fought it. You know me and my God shit. The ultimate love / hate relationship in my life.

This same boss / client, we’ll call her Madame Painterly, always refers to the work she thinks is important as my “angel duties.” She is also the one trying to help me get this studio space. The landlord loves my winged work as well, she talked me up quite a bit. He thinks they could use angel wings in the building.

Shy was here today. He’s been assisting me with my easier business stuff. Like today he was stamping tags for me onto scrapbook paper. I have known Shy for about a decade. We use to work together. At some point he got fired from that job and never fully recovered from that. His anxiety has been slowly getting worse over the years. I think one of the reasons why we’re still friends is because I understand his level of fear and anxiety.  He has hit a point in his life where things have to get better for him. He has succumb to starting therapy this past week. He also just started a new job at a thrift store last week. I also try and give him little bit of work when I can afford to pay him. Today he was here and talking about a sick relative he was very close to. He started to cry and just crumbled. I’ve never ever seen him like this. I literally tripped over my tray table and knocked the stamping stuff to the floor. I was so shocked I knocked over everything trying to get to him fast enough to hug him. He was just so broken.

Shy poured his heart out. He didn’t know what to do. He was afraid his relative would pass soon. His Mom showed up at his new job today at the thrift store and told him this relative had taken a turn for the worst. He was really scared. He talked more then I’d ever seen and just let it all out. When he was done The Smoker and The Ex were there. They were meeting us for dinner. We all went out. I pulled The Smoker aside and told him what had happened. That I felt like this was going to happen now.

We came back from dinner and just as we were finishing up Shy checked his phone and saw his mother had called. It happened. Poor Shy went into a nervous frenzy followed by more tears and just shock. I sat with him and cried with him. I got him water. I tried to feed him. I knew we just ate. The emotional eater in me was just like – oh right, food, he needs food. No food. He kept saying I don’t know what to do. The Smoker and The Ex went outside for a while. I guess they were shocked too. They hadn’t been there for the first part of this. They took a moment to deal before coming back in. The Ex had just lost is grandfather last month, so he was relating on a different level.

This is Shy’s first death. I had experienced my own first, last year with Pop, my step grandfather passing away. I took care of my sister during that time. The second she left my house I couldn’t dig myself out of that weird somber feeling where nothing feels right. Like living in a colorized film. You can cover it in color – but it’s still just black and white with shit all over it. I drank for 2 months straight and cried. The guilt of why didn’t I do more with them, the realization of they will never be there again, the frightening feeling of facing mortality and knowing one day you will die. Poor Shy.

This feels like my angel duties this week. I told him I’d leave my phone on for the next few days. As someone who’s sense of fear is already pretty heightened, I can’t imagine how much scarier this experience must be for him.

Every time I hear that someone has succumb to Cancer, I always have this heart sinking reaction. How? How is it that I am still here in this world and another soul is gone. Why did I live and they die?

When I was in the hospital getting treated, I use to see things. Things I could never explain. In my room, in the hallways. All around my floor for gynological Cancer. It always looked like children bathed in bright light. It use to make me cry.  When I tell people this story, I chalk it up to the different meds I was on at the time. I still think about it…

Something New

I have had it with my personal fucking pity party. Night after night, day after disgusting day. I sit here barely working, barely creating, barely getting by. Just sad and wasting precious moments. Too sick to deal with day to day life and living in fear. I cancel everything and when I do show I pretend that everything is fine. I am sick and tired of being alone and afraid 99% of my life. What is the fucking point. And I know I have said this before but again – I didn’t beat the shit out of Cancer to live like this.

I have had an exceptionally bad few days.  I’m not even going to discuss it because it’s so fucking lame. More blah blah I’m sad and white and no one loves me crap. Boo effin hoo. 

Today I did nothing but lay around my apartment covered in blankets and feel sorry for myself. What I should have been doing is finding other ways to get myself and my business out there to make some money. January has been terrible, and I need some funds like… now. Or my rent won’t be paid this month.

SO, I had pizza because I felt like shit, which made me feel so much worse. Then I dragged my pizza pussy down to the main street to do some errands, got a protein shake and smoked way too much pot. I came home while The Smoker ran to do some work shit and I just got mad at myself. Stop being so fat and stupid! I have such stupid American problems. Like I’m not living in some dirty third world country dying, starving and eating out of a trash can or getting raped because I’m female or something equally awful. I am a white girl, with a nice place to live and for the most part self sustaining. No baby daddy’s, no drama. I don’t have a car, but I do pretty ok otherwise. I need to get over myself.

So I did some searching around and sent some messages out to friends. I entered my work into a juried show for the first time ever. I mainly make vintage inspired jewelry. (I am an accessory designer and freelance assistant to small buisness and artists by trade.) But I have found some success this year with making handmade angel wings. Like a costume or photo prop. I found a wing themed show and entered. Then I sent a message to a friend who owns a shop and said I’d like to bring some of my stuff down to sell. We set a date for Saturday. THEN I called my friend Shy and scheduled him to come and do some work with me tomorrow. I have a little online shop aside from my accessories, where I sell my destash jewelry and craft supplies for some extra money. Shy has been helping me with that so I can focus on my main biz of creating. I have a box full of things waiting to be listed and sold that I have been too busy to deal with. Those supplies could be generating income for me. 

Then I followed all of that up by having a much needed chat with the mural artist client I have been working for that has been a bit distracted in our work together. I am glad I finally said something. That clearly needed to happen. She apologized to me and we are back on track for the most part. We also set a date for my next payment from her. I feel much better about that whole thing now.

I feel like I did something. I need to accomplish things before I snap and blow my brains out like some psycho. I know I can be better then this. I beat fucking Cancer. I can beat this too. I refuse to accept the diagnosis of bipolar or agoraphobic anymore. I know there is more to me then this.

Tomorrow’s goal – get more things made, work with Shy, and start my diabetic juice cleanse for a week to 10 days and see how I do. My goal is to continue to bring down my blood sugar and maybe lose some weight while I’m at it. The Smoker brought me a Vita Mixer and Juicer this week and his Mom sent me some vegetables to get started. I have to admit I was shocked by her gesture of support and good faith. Maybe she has some personal goals for 2014 too.

Fuck this depression shit. Tomorrow here I come!

The Hardest Hurt

Mr. Wonderful…

He’s such a fucking paradox. And he’s ripping my heart out of my chest. Here is this man who is so crazy about me, and so into me… that he can’t touch me.

Tonight I hit the ground so hard it’s not even funny. He hadn’t been feeling well. He said something to me about how he was sorry it wasn’t the night it should have been. I said it was fine and I hadn’t really expected anything.  That I know not to expect things. I think this came out of me wrong. I have been going to see Mr. W and kind of training myself not to expect sex so I wouldn’t feel let down if nothing physical happened between us. I know his sex drive is kind of low and that he’s kind of getting back into the swing of things in that department. But I think he heard I know you aren’t going to fuck me, so why bother.

This started some real hurt feelings between the both of us and things escalated. I didn’t cry, I stayed in control of my emotions and I thought things out as I was saying them, instead of just flying off the handle from a place of pain.

The last time we’d fooled around, it was incredible. It was last Thursday and we were very caught up in one another. He even said to me wait, I thought the last time we did something it was pretty great. I agreed. Yes! It was, but that was a week ago. We’ve been together for ONE MONTH and we’re down to fooling around once a week? Once a fucking week? Why am I starting to feel like I have to beg for it? This is the honeymoon stage where we’re suppose to go crazy and be wild and crazy in love. What happened!

I think the part that got to me is when Mr. Wonderful scared the shit out of me by saying he doesn’t really think about sex. Something to the effect of having to build the need for it. I sit here and think about touching him and being with him all of the time. He doesn’t think about that?  And my heart just snapped. I’m actually starting to cry just thinking about it. Am I that awful that he has to rev himself up to try and fool around with me. He has to think and focus his energy to WANT to touch me? I can’t take it. I can’t believe it. I just can’t fathom how he could be so in love with me and not want to have the intimacy that comes with it.

He makes these promises that kill me inside. Last time I saw him he said I promise the next time I see you, we’ll fool around. I was fine with that. When I heard it again tonight – not so fine. Tonight he said I promise I won’t sit in my arm chair anymore when you’re here – I only cuddle up in bed with you. But the thing is, he completely forgot that he made this promise to me once before. He’d said it one late night to me when we were having the same type of talk. I think it hurts so much because he is the one person in the world I want so badly to believe and trust.  Ugh, more tears, my heart hurts.

I wish he had this need that I have for him. I crave this man. I don’t think he gets that it is his intelligence and personality that makes me want to sleep with him, it’s him, all of him. He says he wants to show me how much he loves me, but he’s not sure how.

I spend my life living with 3 guys. Two of which are walking hard ons that have spent the last few years trying to find ways to get into my pants. I had no interest. I hated sex. I hated my Ex, who in the last 2 years started to slowly physically turn me off completely. I turned him down constantly begging him to stop asking for it. This relationship with Mr. Wonderful is starting to feel like my karma.

I’m going to be spending tomorrow with my very best friend Claudia. I think this is exactly what I need. I’m sure spending time with her will help tremendously. I need to not feel this heart ache now. It’s paralyzing, and I need to maintain the balance in my life. Oh Mr. Wonderful – if you are out there, please learn to show me love before you push me away.