Lately I've felt a bit manic.
My emotions are all over the place, and I've fallen back on some old, unhealthy behavior patterns. I've written about my history of trich, and I've recently relapsed. I'm even pushing my sweet husband with my cray-cray mood swings.
I'm working hard to figure out the source of this latest episode, but I can't quite put my finger on it. Is it work stress? Is it my 36th birthday looming before me? Is it the epic fail that was Valentine's Day? I don't know.
I know I need to figure this out before my sweet husband runs out of patience.
C - please don't go blabbing about this to mom and dad.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
I Am What I Am
No mother fucker, you are who you choose to be. Who the hell do you think you are? Popeye!
I've met so many people who try to excuse their shitty behavior by trying to say they just can't help it. It's who they are. Assholes.
My dad is a gruff, rude, son-of-a-bitch who has rarely said an encouraging thing to me. He says he doesn't mean any harm, it's just who he is.
I work with a woman who is an attention whore that likes to throw shade. But you know, that's just the way she is.
Listen up people: YOU ARE WHO YOU CHOOSE TO BE.
I'm not perfect. There is shit I say and do that I'm not proud of, but I don't ask you to accept it because that's just who I am, and I'm not going to change. I work every day to make conscious decisions that affect my behavior. Being a bitch comes easily to me. Remarks that can cut you to your core are always geing formed in my head. But I'm an adult and I don't just come out and tell you, "Honey, I've known dozens of girls like you and you all think you're special. Your laugh is brash and your looks are flashy, but there is at least one of you at every trailer park. Get a ladder and use it to get over yourself."
I think these things, but I don't let myself be that heinous person because then I'd be Janice Dickinson.
I'm just so tired of this "I can't change" attitude.
It's bullshit.
I've met so many people who try to excuse their shitty behavior by trying to say they just can't help it. It's who they are. Assholes.
My dad is a gruff, rude, son-of-a-bitch who has rarely said an encouraging thing to me. He says he doesn't mean any harm, it's just who he is.
I work with a woman who is an attention whore that likes to throw shade. But you know, that's just the way she is.
Listen up people: YOU ARE WHO YOU CHOOSE TO BE.
I'm not perfect. There is shit I say and do that I'm not proud of, but I don't ask you to accept it because that's just who I am, and I'm not going to change. I work every day to make conscious decisions that affect my behavior. Being a bitch comes easily to me. Remarks that can cut you to your core are always geing formed in my head. But I'm an adult and I don't just come out and tell you, "Honey, I've known dozens of girls like you and you all think you're special. Your laugh is brash and your looks are flashy, but there is at least one of you at every trailer park. Get a ladder and use it to get over yourself."
I think these things, but I don't let myself be that heinous person because then I'd be Janice Dickinson.
I'm just so tired of this "I can't change" attitude.
It's bullshit.
Wednesday, February 09, 2011
We'll Have a Gay Old Time
I didn't intentionally set out to marry a closeted man, but I do have a long history with gay men. I have in fact been referred to as a f@g h@g. I hate that term.
I hate the word f@g, and I would definitely never refer to myself as a h@g.
Instead, I prefer to think of myself at the center of an amazing coterie of men.
I hate the word f@g, and I would definitely never refer to myself as a h@g.
Instead, I prefer to think of myself at the center of an amazing coterie of men.
Tuesday, February 01, 2011
It's My Life
If this blog were my child, I would have been reported to Child Protective Services a long time ago. The charge? Neglect.
When I started this blog I was a fucking mess. I had left my ex and I was falling in love with Steve.Oh, and yeah, I'd just quit my job and didn't have anything lined up. I had a lot going on, but things have calmed down considerably: thank god. However, I'm going to try to be a better momma and check in more often this year. So - every Tuesday evening I'll submit a new post.
I'm in a better place now. I'm married to my dreamboat husband, and I have a job that I absolutely adore. No really, I am thankful every day that on my drive to work I don't burst into tears. I've done that before and it's no fun.
I still deal with depression. It's something that I'll always have to fight. I don't just take meds. I try to get plenty of sleep, eat well and exercise. I still engage in bouts of trichotillomania. If I let things slide at work for too long I get anxious and I start to pull at my hair. I know my triggers at least so I'm managing my time better and lessening the frequency with which I feel behind at work.
When I'm not at work I'm kicking it at home. Steve is the best match for me. He appreciates laying in bed for hours on Sunday morning. We wake up, have breakfast and sometimes crawl back into bed with our coffee. He watches Headline News and I eventually fall back asleep with my head on his chest.
On Saturdays sometimes we go to estate sales - he looking for antique tools and me looking for vintage kitchenware. If the weather is nice we'll go to the Farmer's Market and take the dogs to the park. If we have a little extra in the account we take another step towards completing our kitchen remodel.
We live a quiet life, but it is our beautiful life.
When I started this blog I was a fucking mess. I had left my ex and I was falling in love with Steve.Oh, and yeah, I'd just quit my job and didn't have anything lined up. I had a lot going on, but things have calmed down considerably: thank god. However, I'm going to try to be a better momma and check in more often this year. So - every Tuesday evening I'll submit a new post.
I'm in a better place now. I'm married to my dreamboat husband, and I have a job that I absolutely adore. No really, I am thankful every day that on my drive to work I don't burst into tears. I've done that before and it's no fun.
I still deal with depression. It's something that I'll always have to fight. I don't just take meds. I try to get plenty of sleep, eat well and exercise. I still engage in bouts of trichotillomania. If I let things slide at work for too long I get anxious and I start to pull at my hair. I know my triggers at least so I'm managing my time better and lessening the frequency with which I feel behind at work.
When I'm not at work I'm kicking it at home. Steve is the best match for me. He appreciates laying in bed for hours on Sunday morning. We wake up, have breakfast and sometimes crawl back into bed with our coffee. He watches Headline News and I eventually fall back asleep with my head on his chest.
On Saturdays sometimes we go to estate sales - he looking for antique tools and me looking for vintage kitchenware. If the weather is nice we'll go to the Farmer's Market and take the dogs to the park. If we have a little extra in the account we take another step towards completing our kitchen remodel.
We live a quiet life, but it is our beautiful life.
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