I FUCKING HATE KAISER

Haven’t checked in since May 29th… Lemme tell you why.

After getting back from Oregon, I started making a lot of plans… all of which I still have, but don’t seem to be able to execute quickly. It has sucked. I feel real discouraged about it. I have been REAL depressed about it. I genuinely don’t even know how I’m supposed to accomplish anything.

On top of general demotivation and depression, Mothership has MFing Pneumonia!

Let’s recap.
In March, Mothership got sick. It went on for a while, and then she saw a very Kaiser doc (NP I think) who gave her some lil Z pack thing. It never went away and escalated to bronchitis. Pretty typical for Mothership. A very nice doc at an Urgent Care gave her some big antibiotics. It still never went away. She saw a very professional Nurse Practitioner, who had her get a chest xray, decided it was early-onset community obtained pneumonia (not to be confused with hospital obtained pneumonia) and gave her two shots in the butt of antibiotic and a course of Prednisone and Levaquin (which is an antibiotic they use for pneumonia and anthrax). After she stopped taking that, she spiraled down into terribleness. So we went back and saw a really abrupt, terrible at explaining anything, shitty bedside Mannering Kaiser MD name Deja Vandeloo, who gave her another course of the Levaquin. I mention her name, because she was rude to my mother, who is TERRIFIED because her brother DIED of pneumonia, which I fucking told that doctor, who did not give a shit. She was rude, short, didn’t care, and didn’t explain herself well. She essentially told us NOT to come back. Lemme be clear: We weren’t asking for more meds, we were concerned that my mother was spiraling after taking very LARGE meds, and her brother DIED of pneumonia, so it’s not something to play with. If this was normal for pneumonia recovery, she should have just FUCKING SAID SO, but she deemed it necessary to give out more meds, and thankfully they seem to have worked, but FUCK MAN. I DIDN’T GO TO MEDICAL SCHOOL. I AM NOT A DOCTOR. I DO NOT KNOW WHAT RECOVERY FROM PNEUMONIA LOOKS LIKE. Fucking explain yourself.

Also, she said that she would NOT have done the stuff that the previous NP did, which I thought was unprofessional as fuck, and rude, not just to the NP, but to the patient who is sitting there going, “AM I GOING TO DIE BECAUSE YOU PEOPLE ARE INCOMPETENT???” Also, getting an appointment with any of these people was fucking insane, because Kaiser does not have enough doctors to treat their patient base.

I fucking hate Kaiser.

RELATED:
A person I know recently had to have emergency surgery with Kaiser. They were sent home sans antibiotic, which I, someone who has had multiple surgeries, found immediately odd. The next day the were spiraling down, and Kaiser, UNABLE TO SEE THEM FOR ANY KIND OF APPOINTMENT told them to TAKE PICTURES OF THE SURGICAL SIGHT AND EMAIL THEM TO A DOCTOR. So, upon viewing them, they rushed this person BACK into the hospital where they opened them again to clean out the infection. I’m assuming sepsis. Fortunately, they’re keeping this person for observation and more cleaning out of the surgical sight, but I do not trust them at all.

KAISER DOES NOT CARE IF YOU DIE, AND HONESTLY THEY ACT LIKE THAT WOULD BE A LOT EASIER FOR EVERYONE.

I got sick Sunday night. Very sick. Monday morning I would have rather died than come to work… but we’re short and I’m a team player. Still got body aches and sinus probs and shit, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to go to Kaiser doc to treat it. Fuck that noise. I’d literally rather buy drugs off the street than try to see a Kaiser doctor for anything. If only I knew someone peddling basic prescriptions.

To add to my misery, I woke up this morning with a swollen eye. Not sure what that’s about… waiting to see if it clears up or gets worse… Least I know I can see an eye doctor that isn’t Kaiser…

I see a Kaiser shrink on July 10th.
I don’t even want to go. I made the appointment in MARCH and that was the SOONEST they could get me in. I’d cancel, but it’s so fucking hard to get an appointment, and I might spiral into suicide at any minute, that I figure I’ll just fucking go.

Everything is awful.
I hope every single Kaiser building in the nation catches fire at the same time and the whole company is bankrupted by the damages and forced out of existence by an act of god/nature. Because fuck Kaiser. Fuck Kaiser with every fucking fiber of my being.

And fuck my corporation for thinking Kaiser was EVER a good idea. You know the people at the corporate offices aren’t dealing with this shit. Fuck them.

Grieve & Get Ready

You can listen to this entry by clicking here.

Yesterday, I was pessimistic, but hopeful.
This morning I woke up to devastation.
I, like many others, am terrified.

Come inauguration day, January 20th, we will be living in Trump’s America.This is a version of reality that I never actually gave credence to until right now. I was prepared for four years of Hillary, as flawed as she was, but in no way am I mentally prepared for whatever is to come under the rule of Donald Trump: loud-mouthed, hate-spewing businessman with a long line of failure and a longer list of offenses.

People have already said it, but I will say it again: Donald Trump has proved what is great and what is terrible about America, and that is that ANYONE can become president.

A lot of people are speculating whether the Trump Inauguration will, in fact, happen come January. To those thinking he’ll back out and realize that he’s in over his head, I’d like to remind you what kind of narcissist we are dealing with. To those thinking that his upcoming court cases can save us with an impeachment, I’d like to remind you that Trump supporters did not seem to care what happened to land him in that courtroom. No, America, I’m afraid that against all hopes we will be facing an orange president, and we’re just going to have to deal with it.

I am not suggesting that we take this lying down. Mourn today. Mourn for the next 70 days if you must, but do not despair, for this is not over. I know a lot of people are grieving America right now: LGBTQIA+ people, People of Color, Women, white people who thought that other white people had maybe just cooled the fuck down for a god damn minute… and it is completely expected for you all to be angry, sad, scared, and lost. Please take care of yourselves and each other. But when you have cried until there is nothing wet left in you, and you have screamed all of your rage to heavens with throats made hoarse with ferocity, I urge you to meditate on your pain and your fear. Find the source and know it’s there, and then take that energy and fight. The fight for us, for you, for the people you care about, your nation, and your future, is not over until we are dead, my friends; and while we have taken a hard blow to what we have fought so hard for, we are not yet in the ground.

This election is historic, not because Hillary Clinton was almost the President of the United States, but because never before has half the country been so fearful of a potential leader. Even my mother, who has seen eleven presidents come and go, has never been SCARED of the president elect before. We, as a country need to use that fear.

A scared animal is the most dangerous. A scared nation is one rash move away from chaos. That is why we, as a country, need to harness all that fear and anger and make plans. We need to be involved. We need to TALK to each other. We have to stand up for each other and fight for each other. When Trump comes for one group, and he will, the rest of us need to be there to keep him from taking them, otherwise, who will be there when he comes for you and yours?

I’m not traditionally a political person, but Donald Trump is a danger to us all, and I’m not about to sit back and watch him strip away everything my friends, family, and my nation have fought so hard for. If that means I have to go out of my way to campaign, protest, learn, and change, then I will. I will do what I have to in order to protect my people. All of my people.

I don’t know who will hear this podcast or read this blog, but if you can hear me, I urge you to do what you can to make Trump’s reign a single term, and to make that term a struggle for him every step of the way. We have 1454 days to ensure that something this catastrophic, this embarrassing, and this terrifying NEVER happens again.

I’ve done the math… and I am fucked.

Firstly, I took this position without really knowing the details. I didn’t want to take the position without knowing the details, but my boss man isn’t great at knowing the details. I took the chance based on the idea that this was a great opportunity for me…. So I took it and hoped for the best. At least it was different. At least it was something besides titles.

Secondly, I bought a car for two reasons. One, because I drive myself to work everyday now. Two, I thought I’d be making enough to cover that. I love my car. I named her Gaz, the Rav4. I still love Topo, the Jeep. We kept her, because has no trade in value, but she’s definitely not worthless. She’s now the designated dog-transport vehicle, and I try to drive her on the weekends.

I just got paid today. I have exactly $94 to get me through to the 20th. That’s for gasoline, entertainment, groceries…
Fortunately, I use mid-grade fuel and so it gets me farther than unleaded, but it’s not cheap and I’d estimate I need like $50 for that… fortunately I have no social life, but I’m supposed to buy something when I go to a friend’s for dinner on Friday (but he’s sober so at least it’s not booze)… fortunately I can live on the contents of my house for a while and that I have a strange affection for ramen (I have a propensity not to really eat real food at this point, anyways)…
Unfortunately, I have four dogs and a cat… and Bdo gets special dental food so I don’t have to have his teeth ripped out… so that’s a good $17, and a bag of reg food for everyone else is like $14… So I’ve spent $81 metaphorically in my head already…

Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure I can make this budget work… but it’s going to be tight and terrible. It would be better if I didn’t have so much credit card debt, but I do. I cant’ tell my mom about that, of course, because I don’t want a lecture on my poor financial skills. I’m aware of them… but I don’t get the luxury of them anymore or we are going to starve. Ain’t that nice? Kinda. Maybe I will finally get out of debt.

This position is also terrible. I mean, no, it’s not terrible, but it’s not what I thought it would be. It’s been very stressful. I’ve often cried all the way home from work, and I’ve stopped eating lunches all together, which is a combination that’s lead to lots of binge eating. We all know how I feel after binge eating!

I’m just tired of crying… and this thing where I’m incredibly broke now is NOT GOOD.

And… I’m Out

SHIT THAT CROSSES THE LINE:
Not taking shit I say seriously.
Withholding important information.

Last night I went to a movie with SupaNerd. The last entry toyed with the idea that I wasn’t sure that I liked him, so much as I wanted to like him. That thought hadn’t left my mind, but he asked and I like having plans. So we went to see Zootopia. I actually saw it yesterday morning with mothership, but it’s a really good movie. It’s a really good movie about discrimination, and equality, and I was really impressed with the whole thing. I hadn’t heard any reviews, and no one I knew was excited to see it, so I was just going because I like having breakfast with the mothership and watching a movie. Anyways, SupaNerd didn’t get off work till 8, so by the time he swung by to pick me up we had limited viewing options. Fortunately it’s a good movie.

Now, I know that I have a lot of pet peeves. Too many: I’ll throw it out there that I have too many pet peeves, but if I tell you that I have pet peeve that’s not a playful invitation to irritate me until I want to bash your teeth out with a brick. In fact, I would not recommend that. I have been known to enact physical violence on people that poke at a pet peeve. I don’t have a good tolerance for it.

That being said, when SupaNerd first tried to touch my curly hair, I told him I don’t play that. I also let him know that I smacked a bitch at work for touching my hair. It’s a thing. I like space. Stay the fuck away from my face and/or hair. I was nice about it. I didn’t snap at him. I didn’t swat his hand away. I didn’t punch him in the throat. I later decided that I should have prolly punched him in the throat, cuz all he did was proceed to poke at my face and hair. I hate that shit. I hate it so much…

I kind of hate people touching me at all. For whatever reason, he feels the need to do it constantly. My mom says my dad was like that, too. Just had to touch her ALL THE TIME. Why? Why can’t you just be a human being over there in your own human being bubble? There’s a time and place, motherfucker. You don’t need to touch me all the time. Since he was a such a fuckwad about my face and hair pet peeve, I allowed him to touch my thigh, instead. I still didn’t like it. I still hated it. I still wanted to beat his face in with something hard and sandpapery. Still, it was better than him trying to fuck with my face.

Another pet peeve is being OVERLY cheap. You wanna use a coupon on our date? Great. Whip that shit out. What else you got a coupon for? You wanna argue with a waitress about the DOLLAR that it costs to sub out french fries for sweet potato fries? Too cheap. He managed to con her into sending out a refill on my coke cray-early so he could have a free coke, since he was ordering water. Really? REALLY? 

Now, if he was cray broke and counting every penny, I could understand being cheap, but I still think it’s some rude ass shit to argue with a powerless waitress about the price of Coca-Cola and fries… Thing is, though, he’s not broke. He’s got a really good job. We discussed this previously because he eats shrimp and scallops all the damn time. I can’t afford shrimp and scallops on the daily, but he can. Can he afford that because he’s arguing with waitresses over a dollar? No. I don’t think so. It’s unnecessarily cheap, and it’s motherfucking rude. That waitress didn’t make the prices. I wanted to curl up and die… 

So, then we were watching previews. There’s this movie coming out called Storks. Looks cute, but makes me cringe cuz it’s about babies. Out of nowhere, SupaNerd says: “That’s how I’m going to teach Johnny about where babies come from.” Who’s Johnny? I, too, was curious. Nephew? I know his sister has a kid. Little brother? Cousin, perhaps?

NOPE. HE HAS A KID.

Now, don’t misread me. I don’t mind people with kids. I’ve dated a number of guys that had kids. I love other people’s kids. I could totally be a step-mom. What pissed me off is that it’s been too fucking long to have not mentioned this previously. His defense was simply that he forgot to mention it. Whoops.

Fuck that noise.

If you can forget to mention that you have procreated… what else have you neglected to tell me? Are you married? Are you married to like seven different people across the US who all have the same story of you leaving your wife and six children behind? Are you a felon? Do you have the Herp? Are you a Russian sleeper cell sent here by Vladimir Putin to recruit me? Are you the leader of a new cult and you need me to be the creepy serial-killery enforcer at your side? Do you sacrifice infants to the dark lord under a blood moon to gain the knowledge of the universe and the powers of night?

This kid is like new, too. New enough to need a talk about where babies come from. Like… A, when does he ever see little Johnny? Is that REALLY why he goes back to Wichita every other week? 2, Why does the mother have full custody? It’s not the 80s anymore… a father can get full custody, especially if the mother is as cray as he’d have me believe she is. D, HOW DO YOU FUCKING FORGET TO MENTION THAT YOU HAVE OFFSPRING?! That’s a big thing.

Also, he tried to fucking talk to me during the movie… at a fucking theater.
I was so irritated that the sound of his laughter made me want to kill him.

It was all just the topping on the bad ju-ju cake.
I can’t trust him. I can’t tolerate his touchy-feely habit. I already felt like he was clingy and needy. He’s cheap to the point of rudeness. He makes gross noises when he eats, breathes, or generally exists. (Mucus problem? Idk.) He talks during movies. I’d rather have been on a play-date with a 6 year old. It was so bad.

So… I thought about it, and ghosting him wasn’t on the table, because I was in too deep. My friend in California agreed. My friend in Australia said I should just use the kid as a card to play, since a normal person might call it off because they “want to take that journey with someone for the first time.” Which is gross…

I didn’t wanna lie… so I ghosted him, and I don’t give a fuck.

This guy stood me up once. Then ignored me for a month. Then acts like a  freaking needy child AND FORGETS TO TELL ME HE HAS A CHILD. Is it shitty to ghost people? Yes. It’s shitty and total fuckery. And I regret nothing.

I don’t have time for the “but why”  and all the attempts to justify everything they did wrong. Even if you don’t answer their questions, they try to justify everything… and then they might get mad. He might secretly be a psycho. He’s got a shitty “I’m always right” attitude anyways. You should hear the shit he says about his sister just because she’s a single mother. So then a bitch starts to think… would he get more angry if I ignore him or if I tell him it’s over. What if he shows up to my house in an angry fit? These are the things a woman has to consider. Fortunately, I have four dogs and I say creepy serial-killery shit all the time, so he’s naturally a bit wary, but I wouldn’t write him off. He could still snap.

So… that’s the end. I’m out.

I deleted my dating profiles. I’m okay alone. I like being alone. I have honestly missed not having to text people. Yeah, I’d like someone to do stuff with, but I still hold out hope that one of these days I’ll meet someone when I’m out doing the stuff I like to do, and we can build off that…

Sometimes Aro Sucks

I don’t know why sometimes shit bothers me more often than other days. I’d kill for something constant in my emotional spectrum.
Today being aromantic bothers me.

I’m a special kind of nothing. I’m asexual and aromantic.

Part of me wishes I was just a little more agender so I could claim that and complete my all around absence of characteristics… but I don’t think just generally being uncomfortable as a human being in the gender binary counts, for me, as a valid reason to identify as agender. I just buy the chick clothes and let it go.

Being asexual is often frustrating because people don’t understand the concept… but sooner or later you get lumped in with abstinence or celibacy and they just kind of brush it off.
I’m fine with that, myself. I’m all about people being apathetic about my little uncommon traits.
I think apathy is better than acceptance, because people don’t have to accept it. It’s just more of a, “You don’t feel sexual attraction? Okay… I don’t really get that, but whatever. Let’s get a burger.” I feel like that’s a normal, healthy response to things, and requires significantly less from the person you’re speaking to. I mean if someone came out to you as straight… unless they have some VERY unique personality characteristics, you’re not gonna care. It’s just whatever…

Being aromantic is different. An asexual is still probably looking for their soul mate, and trying to figure out how to make relationships work, and they’re still on that journey that all people are on to find their other half to complete, or compliment, them (depending on how codependent they are). They could still be in a romantic comedy released on Valentine’s Day, with their asexuality being part of the laughs… and then prolly totally disrespected by them finding THE ONE that makes sex great and they were never really asexual in the first place… and they ride off into the sunset while fucking on the back of a white horse.

Aromantics, to many people I’ve spoken with, sound like Psychopaths. We don’t want a relationship. We don’t believe we need another person to complete us. We can have great friendships, but we don’t want that to develop into something romantic… and if it starts to, there’s a chance we’re gonna have to cut you loose. That’s not to say all aromantics are opposed to relationships, just like not all asexuals are opposed to sex, but wrapping your brain around someone not wanting to find someone to spend their lives with sounds crazy about 90% of the time.

So if you take this, and apply it to my interactions with people, either my friends are married (mixture of happily and unhappily) or they are single as fuck. Apparently, being single as fuck drives people insane.
I hang out on dating sites because it’s fun to make fuckboys cry and because it makes my mom feel better when I occasionally get a date. (It makes her feel like I’m trying.) I guess other people are actually trying to find love on these sites. You can’t.

It severely depresses people to scroll through all the available singles in their area only to see that everyone is awful.
My matches, for instance, are all overweight, balding, introverted mega nerds with poor social skills. I’m not super picky about looks, cuz let’s be real… I’m probably not going to fuck you anyways… but even I have a line. That line is, “strikes me as a potential pedophile obsessed with young Asian girls as a result of watching too much anime alone in a dark room instead of speaking to human beings.”
But I know that all my matches are going to be awful. I’m not looking for a relationship. I’m just dicking around on the computer.

I’m the queen of internet dating. I’ve been doing it since before other people really latched onto the concept and began toying with it. My first “relationship” was with a kid halfway across the continent. I didn’t meet him till way later. It was a weird time.

Anyways, so when people I know get on these websites and complain, I just look at them like, “yeah, duh, that’s what’s on a dating site…” If these people were really datable, they wouldn’t be on a dating site. Are there potentially datable people on a dating site? In theory, yes, but the chances you’re going to meet those people on a dating site are so slim that it could model high fashion during the heroin chic 90s.

I, personally, just don’t get it.
I, also, don’t feel the need to even really sustain friendships at this point, though. Yeah, I have some people I go see at karaoke… but I have no idea what’s happening in their lives. We don’t associate if I don’t show up. Yeah, I have some people I go to shows with… but we don’t associate unless we’re going to the same concert. I haven’t seen Bird in months. Besties 1 & 2 live out of state. I have a coworker that I’m friends with and we do stuff, but it’s a pretty artificial relationship. She wouldn’t call me for dating advice or to help her move. She’s got better friends for that.
That shit used to bother me, but now I totally embrace it. People come with baggage and shit… and I don’t have time for that.

The thing is, though… My distant stance on interpersonal relationships makes me… not… relatable. That’s not so bad when you’re avoiding contact with people… but when you’re legitimately trying to understand someone or give some comforting advice… I just end up sounding like a heartless freak. And maybe I am, but there’s that feeling.

It’s a feeling I get a lot, in a lot of different kind of situations… but it’s where you’ve said something that you feel is relevant or interesting… and people just side step you. Happens to me all the time, not with just romantic or sexual things. I’ll bring up an interesting fact, and no thinks it’s interesting. I’ll make a comment on my interpretation of something, and no one thinks it’s worth talking about anymore. My mother literally just talks over me sometimes… Like me saying ANYTHING is probably the wrong thing to do right then….

And that’s why being aro today sucks. I’m being side-stepped because I’m incapable of relating. Makes me feel stupid.

The Ex. Again.

I ran into him again!

I went to a show last night. It was six local bands, a burlesque troupe, and a fashion show. Sounds fun, right? I thought so. I invited Cat and she brought her friend with her, but they aren’t “show” people. They’re more club people. So they didn’t stay that long. In the meantime… I fucking saw my ex again.

It’s baffling, really, the emotion that sweeps over me when I see him. It’s not remorse, or longing, or heartache, or any of the things NORMAL people usually associate with an ex…. It’s a lot of rage and the feeling of being invaded. I haven’t seen him in years, aside from passing him on the street when I went to the museum with Billie, so you’d think that I’d just let it go. No. I can never let it go. All the rage, wrath, injustice, and general loathing that I ever had for him is still there, floating just underneath the skin, ready to boil over at any minute like unwatched ramen noodles set too high. If I look in the mirror long enough I can see the contempt swirling around beneath my face.

I’ve heard of people seeing red and losing themselves in their rage, but that never happens to me. Everything stays quite clear, except that my brain is rushed with thoughts like, DRAG HIM INTO THE STREET AND BEAT HIM TO DEATH WITH ALL THESE PEOPLE AS WITNESS TO HIS EXECUTION. I haven’t done it, yet, but if he keeps popping up at places I’m at, it might be the winning argument. This is my world, those were my bands, my show, my scene, my haunt. If he’s going to invade my territory, eventually we are going to tangle.

I was doing okay with his appearance, as okay as one can when every fiber of your being is screaming for you to murder someone, at least, until Cat and her friend left. I was then left relatively alone. Shows are weird for me that way, because it’s not that I don’t know anyone, but I know the bands… and the bands are there for business, so it feels like I don’t know anyone since they get busy. In poor judgement, as I tend to have under strained thoughts of homicide, I started drinking pretty fast… too fast… somewhere in there I tapped him on the shoulder and said hello and that he looked great (and he did, which pissed me off… I wanted to like kill him while fucking him in that moment, which is weird for me for a number of reasons, not the least of which being that I don’t experience sexual attraction…), and then pretended I had people to go talk to… Now, it seems really pathetic, but honestly I felt better afterward. I showed I didn’t need to avidly ignore him. It might pay off in the long run…. Shortly after that, though, I threw up vodka in a trashcan on the patio and left…. I should have waited, but people saw me, so I got in my car and left. I did stop at an all night diner and eat, though. I know that doesn’t make me less drunk, but it did make me a safer driver, since it gave me something to soak the booze up with and I didn’t feel drunk and disoriented afterward. So… made it home.

I wish I could will myself to let my grudge go. It’s like a poison in my chest. Makes me sick to think about, even. I just can’t, though.He ruined two rooms in my house that I’m JUST NOW getting back, because I couldn’t afford to fix the flooring.He took away my sense of safety in my house when he got attacked by drug dealers and MY address was the one on his license. He wouldn’t fucking get out. He couldn’t pay rent. He cut his thumb off because he went to work high, but then they didn’t test him so he got to keep his job and he walked out on it. Like… It’s just so much offense, and I can’t let it go.

One thing bothers me, though… I know I didn’t love after him…. I liked Grant, and he was a sweet guy, but I had to cut him loose because I didn’t love him. My question is whether I loved before him? Did me make me Aromantic? I don’t know. But if did, if he took my ability to care about people in a romantic way, and a generally platonic way, because I can’t trust anyone… doesn’t that kind of offense deserve a punishment? I mean, I know that drug dealer set him on fire and everything… but… that wasn’t MY punishment.

Can I Just Sleep Until I Die?

I’m trying really hard not to let this whole thing get to me… but it does. You see, the problem with hope and happiness, is that both can be crushed beneath any stray boot. It’s better not to have them at all, than to have them just long enough to make losing them painful.

Until this past weekend, it had been a year since I was intimate with someone. More than that, it’s been three or four years since I was even interested in someone. I’d reached a point where I was okay with that. I’d pushed friends away, and avoided romantic situations, and aside from bad drunken sex I avoided human intimacy. Everything was fine; that’s just who I was now, and it was totally fine. Yeah, there’s always a hint of crippling loneliness. I get tired of going out alone all the time. I get sick of seeing couples in the street. Even romance in movies and TV made me feel uncomfortable and gross. It’s all so unrealistic, and yet it always looks so nice.

Of course you don’t know in three days if someone is worth your time, but apparently that’s all you need to want more human contact in your life. Sunday was such a lovely day, and it seemed so wonderful to have someone that I wasn’t trying to push away. I was just being me, and letting him see that. It was freeing and lovely and I wanted more, so much more. I’d rather I’d never felt that. Now, that feeling is gone and has been replaced by regret and loneliness. There’s a hole in the center of my body that I had learned to ignore for so long, and now it throbs.

Feeling badly, as I do, I thought I’d treat myself to a cheat day. I’ve been dieting, and the night before last I clock a total of 460 calories for the day, so I didn’t think it would be a big thing to hit 1700 yesterday. Today I’m back to dieting… and food no longer fills me with joy. I ate exactly what I wanted last night and it didn’t do anything. So, not only am I wallowing in my own misery, but the one thing that used to bring me joy no longer does anything. I just felt sick after cramming that much Chipotle into my face. Whatever is missing from my life apparently can no longer be placated with a burrito.

And maybe that’s good. I have a friend I text perpetually and always, and I realized how depressed I sound when I talk about this whole three day business, so I doubled back with the affirmation: “Well, if it doesn’t make shit better, then I don’t need to binge eat ever again! Silver lining!” Maybe that’s true. It doesn’t feel important though. Life just feels so meaningless that I don’t even want to be awake for it anymore.

My best friend lives 1091 miles away…. my secondary best friend just moved 1281 miles away…. my back up best friend wants to join the Navy and leave, not that I ever see her anyway. My mother is miserable. My job is currently being turned on its head and shaken. It’s going to be winter soon, and I’ll have to contend with snow. The only bright spots in my life are my pets, and unfortunately you can’t take them to dinner and a movie, or to a concert, or discuss movies with them. I feel lonely, and I hate everything right now… but mostly me… I hate me so much right now, for getting all tangled up in false hopes and fragile happiness, and for being genuinely surprised when it all fell apart. What am I? New? No. I know better.

I think I’ve mentioned this before, but I was supposed to kill myself this year. When I was fourteen I made a plan. I was going to do my life better than my mom. I was going to be married at 24, and start having kids at 26. I wanted two kids, and to live somewhere with a beach. We’d both work so that we had enough money to have nice family vacations, and by the time the kids were done with college we’d have enough money to travel around a bit before we retired.
The backup plan to that was that if I wasn’t married and had no kids by 26, I was going to kill myself.

I didn’t. I’m still here, obviously. Life hadn’t been good up till then, but I thought that this year I might figure it out. I thought this would be the year I committed to weight loss, and got my house in order, and I’d make some new friends and just enjoy being me. None of that happened. I’m still fat. Down 13 lbs as of this morning and I have 127 left before I’m remotely happy. I actually have LESS friends now than this time last year. I finally got some work done on my house, but everyday I just debate getting rid of everything I own and living in my house with nothing. Still might.

Nothing got better. Nothing panned out.
I don’t think I’m going to kill myself… because I have to take care of the pets. I just… don’t wanna be awake for this part of my life anymore. Everything is meaningless, and all I want is to feel close to someone again… and I know it won’t be for a very long time.

Damn me for trying.
Damn me for not knowing better.
Damn me for getting so lost that I let myself hurt me.

I’m having a bad life.