Reawakening.

So, it's been awhile.  Lots has transpired since last time I updated.  Obviously.  The way of the universe is, life goes on, whether you're ready for it or you want it to or not.  The shop is doing well.  I took a 2 1/2 week trip to California to visit friends, which did wonders for body and soul.  I didn't get to see everyone I wanted to see, but I guess that just means I have to go back next year.  I kept a (paper!) journal through the whole trip, and I plan on writing some posts based on those journal entries, very soon.  And you all know that for me, "very soon" can mean tomorrow or next month.

Yesterday, I made amends with a friend I'd been fighting with for the better part of two months.  We got the yuck out of our systems, talked about things like grown-ups, then spent the evening hanging out like no time had passed.  That's the mark of a good friend, dears.  You get the hell over it.  Forgiveness is hard, and forgetting?  Well, forget it.  But moving on is truly where grace lies.

So it's that time of year where enough of it has passed to look back and make broad, sweeping judgments about it.  This was a bad year for friendship, sadly.  A good year for personal growth, but a horrific year for friendship.  I can't hold myself blameless.  My fault mostly lies in the "not just saying what you feel, when you feel it" department, vis a vis my proclivity to befriend people, then help them, and not speak up when the first signs of my good nature being shat upon appear.

That's what it always boils down to in my life, folks taking enormous dumps on my good nature.  It's always the people I try to give a hand up that suddenly decide I'm a heinous bitch for whatever reason.  I don't think I want anyone besides my husband to live with me ever again.  Those are the worst slaps in the face.  I've got two rooms in my home trashed right now because clearly, asking for rent after MONTHS of saying we're having financial issues is just rude, and expecting to use one's own living room before midnight when there's no less than 3 other places in the house to sleep and clearly, headphones do not exist is downright unreasonable. The really shitty thing is, I don't merit talking to about these things.  Nope.  Let's just leave our shit all willy-nilly and fuck off and shit talk the only person who was willing to help in your hour of need.

I'm done with shitty people, y'all.  Just done.  I'm up to something like 6? 8? people that crested the top of my shit list and rolled off the other side in 2011.  Folks I thought were good friends and good people.  Is it just me?  Does this happen to anyone else when you lend someone a hand?  Maybe it's just misdirected stress and anger.  I'm here, and thus, an easy target.  Makes sense, but it doesn't make it right.  I'm kind, and thus, a mark.  THAT is fucked up.

And, to make up for all the shittyness of this post, here is Scotti-cat in a hoodie.

Onwards and upwards. Bigger and better. Good things are coming to me. I can already feel it.

On yelling.

Contrary to popular belief, I hate yelling.  More specifically, I hate being the one that has to do the yelling.  I used to be a big fan of yelling, back when I drank like a fish and couldn't see what a fucking train wreck I was turning into.  But now, thanks to quitting drinking, therapy, and medication, I just...don't yell.

But goddammit if two people haven't pushed me to the point of yelling this month.  And not even a shouted sentence or two, a full-on, lung-bending, blood-boiling, black-out RANT.  I don't even know what the fuck is going on with the universe right now.  This month alone, I've had to cut four people out of my life.  I'm not as into astrology as I used to be.  Are we under the star of douchebaggery or something right now?

Only one of these losses truly makes me sad.  That would be my surrogate mother-in-law, who reacted to my olive branch by alienating me in cliche form.  Yeah, the same one I wrote a love letter about a couple weeks ago.  Chosen family is only family until you're under the influence of a lie, then they're disposable family.  Oh well.  A new alpha fag has been chosen, and a new surrogate mother-in-law will come in time.

I hate that I feel such a strong need to have that sort of a relationship with someone in my life at all times.  At 30, I still don't feel like much of a grown-up.  Adult matters make me feel like Bambi on wobbly legs.  I don't need someone to baby me or to do things for me, I just want someone who's been doing this grown-up thing for awhile to be my friend and well...I guess a mentor, of sorts.

But back to yelling.  It sucks.  It makes my head hurt.  The adrenaline rush usually renders me useless for 5-10 minutes, then once it dies down, thus begins the withdrawal migraine.  I yelled last night and actually woke up with a sore throat today.  WTF?  But physical shit aside, it's just so unseemly.  It shouldn't be necessary, ever, but sadly, it is. 

I guess I should just be grateful that I've ceased being a doormat, and that I'll actually stand up for myself now.  That's major progress.  I suppose this is the inevitable backlash, though--after spending so many years of running from conflict or just trying to smooth things over, I suppose it's only natural that upon waking up, I come out roaring.



p.s.  I have a new fatkini!  Springs trip tomorrow--hopefully I'll have some pics then!

Self-care of a different sort.

This is still not my OMG SQUEE AWESOME WEEKEND post, but bear with me.  I'd rather go ahead and purge the negativity so I can be in an appropriately pleasant mindset to describe what was one of the best "reunions" I've ever had.

As everyone learns throughout the years, some friendships and some people are toxic.  You love them dearly, and you try to help them see and understand their issues.  Where they're going wrong.  Why they're offending you and others.  You tolerate and forgive because you see the person's heart and know it's good.  You explain until you're blue in the face.  You forgive and forgive because it's hard to imagine your life without the person in question.  Personally, I've wound up staying in too many toxic situations just because I believe so firmly in the goodness of the person in question.  My persistence has been both punished and rewarded.  Such is life.

But at what point do you decide you're done?  Empathy and forgiveness are components of any successful relationship, friendship or otherwise.  But there have to be limits.  Everyone has a breaking point.  There's only so much aggression and negativity that can be accepted and forgiven before the whole situation becomes hideously codependent and unhealthy.  The longer the timeline, the more difficult it becomes to cut ties and to know where that invisible line between "good friend with problems" and "sociopath" lies.

As for me, I have my own problems, mental and physical, both of which I'm taking an active role in understanding and treating.  Frankly, it's exhausting, because I'm not the sort of person to just kick back and let the pills do the work.  Thinking that medication is a panacea, especially for mental issues, is the acme of foolishness.  There has to be actual real-life work done to succeed.  For me, this includes making myself actually talk to people (or the internets.  Hai, Internets!)  rather than stewing in my own juices, confronting my phobias, being aware of my mood, being mindful (and honest with myself) about what may have triggered my current state, and eliminating as many triggers as possible.  Toxic people and the drama and stress they bring are most definitely triggers.

So this begs the question, exactly how much should a person tolerate in hopes that the person they once had faith in will get it together, stop projecting their issues, stop creating drama, and deal with conflict in a mature way?  There's no easy answer, and every situation is going to be a case-by-case basis.  Whereas one friend may have committed such morally despicable actions that you decide, without speaking to them, to simply cut off contact (did this with a confirmed sociopath on my wedding day--happy marriage to me!), another may deserve a warning.  And another warning.  And another chance.  Enter the slippery slope of faith and false promises.  Faith that no, really, there's a good person under there somewhere, and maybe this was one last outburst, one slip into lashing out at you when they're really angry with someone or something else.  But how long do you operate under that mindset?  How long do you tolerate the abuse, not to mention live with the constant specter of this person's eventual explosion into unjustified rage?  I don't feel it's possible to have a functional, healthy friendship if you're just waiting for the next time your "friend" is going to take a (figurative) swing at you when you've done little to nothing wrong.  And woe be unto you if your false friend loves to make a spectacle of personal drama on the internet.  Please, someone tell me why in the hell anyone should accept treatment like that from anyone.  At some point, you have to make good on your word.  You have to drop the hammer and be DONE.

Do it for your health.

Foolishness.

I had a fantastic weekend, which I'll post about later when I'm in a better headspace.

I got home without being jinxed or cursed or murdered by my car, so that was cool.  Then today, a steaming pile of drama hit, completely undoing my weekend zen.  RUDE.

After so many abuses of my good nature, though, all I can do is cut ties and walk away, for now at least.  I sincerely hope this isn't a permanent thing, but I'm not holding my breath.

Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, and never, ever mistake kindness for weakness.

Ugh.  I'm cried out.  I need sleep.

Well, I should be in bed...

I'm supposed to be on the road to Tallahassee by 10am with Jenny, Jeff, and Brandell.  I'm definitely better than yesterday, but I still feel like I was beaten by a bag full of hammers.  TJ left to go back to Denver today.  I spent a good chunk of my afternoon speed-crocheting a dice bag for him.  Steve came over for a few minutes.  The day was pretty chill, but I have no idea where it went and I don't feel rested at all.

So why the hell am I even considering this trip to Tallahassee?  New Leaf Market, my dears.  It's literally the closest thing, both in distance and in concept, that we have to a Whole Foods around here.  And while B and I aren't afraid of trans fats and yellow #5, we dig the meat selection there (all the normal critters, plus lamb, goat, bison, venison, rabbit...the list goes on) and all the fancy cheese.  Food snobbery and being a fatty tend to go hand in hand.  We've made the agreement that we're going to choose things that don't take long to prep or cook.  We spend way too much money eating out, and hope to rectify that.

I also want to pick up a few home remedies for fever blisters.  I was born a carrier because my mom has 'em.  I had my first one at 16, and this, my darlings, marks #2.  Yes.  Less than a week until my 30th birthday.  I'm going to turn 30 with some shit on my lip that's got some shit on its lip.  RUDE.  I've been running damage control with medicated Chap-Stick, and so far, that's kept it at bay.  Thankfully, I have propolis on hand, which is a natural, bee-produced anti-viral, anti-bacterial, anti-fungal WONDER SUBSTANCE.  Seriously, that shit took care of an abscessed tooth at one point.  Lysine and licorice powder are also on my to-buy list.  FULL ON ASSAULT.

So I'm going to just...shut up and go.  I have a Monster Java in the fridge, and Brandell's word that he'll drive on the way back, so I can totally do this.  It's making me rethink other things I've committed to over the next week or so and wonder--is this really the best use of my spoons?  Well, what the fuck else would I use them for?  But that?  Really?  Sigh.  I'll strike a balance one day.  Until then, I'll do my damnedest not to over commit myself, and drive that lesson home by making myself keep the commitments I make when humanly possible.

I guess the fever blister really drives home the point of my current stress levels.  The last time I got one, it was one of those worst case scenario times...for a 16 year old, at least.  I guess I'm a bit more frazzled than I'd like to admit.  Lately, I haven't even wanted to bother calling bullshit on scenarios when it's greatly deserved, which is highly out of character for me.  I've forgiven when I probably should have stuck to the promise I made to myself.  I've taken a deep breath and let some dumb shit go.  These are all probably things I should have been doing all along.  The only problem is, when I don't speak up, I internalize shit and stew about it.  I have an incredibly hard time truly just letting shit go.  It burns a fucking hole in my gut until enough time has passed for me to lose some of my give-a-damn.  It can be hours, it can be years.  And don't tell me to journal that shit, because it would all go right here (pen and paper writing, at least in the quantity that would take for me to purge this foolishness, is hell on my hands) and I would lose friends and alienate people.  The fucking quandary of the thinking woman, I suppose.  It's a shame people don't respond well when you grab them by the face, stare into their eyes, and say "YOU ARE BEING STUPID".

Aaaand cue my back hurting like hell again.  O hai, PMS.  Joyyyyy.

/Negative Nancy