Happy Birthday To Me

I thought I had successfully ghosted D2, so as to spare us both the fallout of actual confrontation. Regardless of if you believe my motives, I believe my motives. I thought it had worked, but I got a message from his yesterday… and I couldn’t not respond. He asked to take me to dinner for my birthday. I told him maybe next week. While I don’t want to be his best friend, it doesn’t mean we can be friends with a good bit of space. I just have to guard myself. I am what’s important, and I have to remember that.

Saturday, Mom and I went to the Curiosities and Oddities Expo, thrown by the Punk Rock Flee Market. It was neat, but there were SO MANY people. The Fox St. Compound is a lot smaller when it’s filled with hundreds of people, and while I had fun and saw some cool stuff, I definitely feel like sales were lost just because there were exhibits I couldn’t even get up to see. I mean, let’s be real, I’m the type of person that would love to buy your obscure taxidermy, wet specimens, and various things made of dead animals, people, or whatever. I saw some cute things, some unsettling things… but in general, it was a lot of us trying to dodge the crowd and not lose each other. One of the vendors, The Room of Lost Things, is a brick+mortor shop in a nearby art district. I told Mom that maybe we could just go to the art district and look around the store, as well as others in the area, like Flossy McGrew’s.

On our way back home, we stopped for lunch at Pappadeux. It’s about the only place in Colorado you can get really real, super great seafood. I don’t know how they do it, but their plates are on point if you’re looking for a seafood joint in Colorado. I also always forget how pretty the place is. They have this giant courtyard made of stone and features and it’s just lovely, guys. So lovely. We got a shrimp cocktail and some lobster, shrimp, and pork eggrolls for an appetizer, because why not? For lunch I ordered the lunch portion of the Cajun Combo, which is blackened catfish on a bed of dirty rice served with shrimp creole on a bed of white rice. Lots of rice. In spite of it being a lunch portion, it was fucking huge. Mom got fried catfish and shrimp. Also huge. We had enough sense to stop about halfway through, but then we ordered bread pudding… because Birthday Pappadeux. It was amazing!

Overall it was a really nice day. Afterwards, I went home to recover from my food coma and get ready to go out. Since I got the costume, I needed to wear it, so I went to a Halloween party at Scruffy Murphy’s. I dressed as a Steampunk Air Ship Captain, and ended up heading down early because A, parking, but 2, the dogs kept trying to sit on me.

So, I’m sitting in this bar, awkwardly, and I ordered the first thing I saw on tap, because I’m awkward, and it’s an IPA called Space Dust, but as I do this my bad ass steampunk skull cane falls and smacks the guy next to me. I, in my infinite wisdom of social interactions, froze like a deer in headlights. Fortunately for me, this gent bent down and picked up my cane, and just went, “That’s heavy! You could hurt someone with that. Where’d you get it?” And thus a conversation began.

This is really odd for me. I’m not the kind of person to talk to attractive men in bars. I’m the type to sit quietly and awkwardly in a corner until my friends show up or I get depressed and go home. So, I did my best to be cordial, normal, and interesting. I thought I did well, but I haven’t heard from him since… although I know where he is every Sunday. He’s a devout Catholic, apparently, and goes to confession at 3pm and mass at 5pm every Sunday at the Cathedral Basilica in downtown Denver. I don’t plan on stalking him, interesting though he was. It’s so rare that I talk to someone, and even more rare that their first question is what my favorite book is… to which I had no read good answer, for I love so many books. Still, he has my number and I asked him to let me take him to a nice speak easy, so he can contact me if he wants. If not, I’m not going to die.

Bird showed up and I mostly left the guy alone and just enjoyed my Bird. We danced. We had a couple drinks, and we both went home around midnight. I had a great time! And I was really glad that my bestie came out with me. We have ups and downs, but at the end of the day she really is one of my best friends.

Sunday we had to come into work. There’s just too much to do and new girl wasn’t catching on like we wanted. It turns out that it’s good we came in because Monday morning new girl up and quit on us, just two days before month end. What a bitch.

One the way home we stopped at Safeway, and my stomach freaked out. It hurt and I thought I was going to vomit all over. I came home, and after I ate some chicken, because I hadn’t eaten all day, that’s exactly what happened. I was VIOLENTLY ill all evening, all night, and half the morning. I couldn’t even get up the next morning, and when I finally hauled into work I was only able to stay for an hour because my whole body hurt like I’d been beaten, presumably because that’s how you feel after shitting and vomiting out your insides for 24 hours. Fortunately, whatever this ordeal was, it seems to have passed.

My birthday was just a day at work, but the office girls made it nice. One brought green chili, one brought cake, one bought me flowers. It was a lovely little affair. We worked late, to compensate for the lack of a biller, and then I went home and watched The Pagemaster.

It wasn’t an epic birthday, but it’s notable because I didn’t have a breakdown or a crisis or any kind of negative reaction. My friend Mel is pregnant, and Lindsey is engaged, D1 is going to run for congress… and I’m just here, doing the best I can, and that’s enough for once.

Welcome to the last year of my 20s… I don’t expect it to be eventful, but maybe it could be pleasant.

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Lying to Mental Healthcare Professionals

Friday sucked. Actually the whole week sucked. I started the week with weird dreams. That progressed into NO SLEEP Tuesday and Wednesday night. I had to take a literal mental health day on Thursday because I was losing it, and on top of not sleeping I’d spent all week trying to cleanup a schedule that should have been clean. It was genuinely frustrating.

I spend Thursday in bed, and then when the house got too hot to sleep I went to buy shit to make cookies. I don’t bake, but I wanted to make cookies. I made four batches total, two of which were totally inedible because they were overwhelmingly gross and salty, one was fine but dry, and one was legit good. I was kind of listless. I don’t know why I wanted to make cookies. I didn’t want to eat them; I had two cookies from the okay batches and gave the rest to mothership. I just liked making them. I can’t really tell you why.

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I’d been suffering through the side effects of my Abilify. The worst were the hot flashes. I would get REALLY hot, which I’m always kind of hot anyways, and then dizzy and nauseous, and it was just flat out sucked. I’m 28; I didn’t need to get a preview of menopause. So Friday night I debated taking my pill because I was going out. I ended up taking it, because I’m responsible, but I then ended up sweating to the point my friend was concerned for my health and took me home. Let’s not mention that I spent two hours picking an outfit and trying to look cute, or how my makeup melted off my face, or how when I got home I was so disappointed that I cried and went straight to bed.

I emailed my pdoc the next morning, but because it’s Kaiser, she didn’t get back to me till today. In the time between the two events I’ve quit cold turkey… but I didn’t tell her that. It was on accident, really, because Saturday night I went to David’s for an anime night, and forgot to take it before I left. I wasn’t about to take it the next morning… I have played that game and it was too terrible. So, I forgot. Then Sunday was such a good day for me, I just decided not to take it anymore. My pdoc doesn’t know that… I told her I wouldn’t tamper with my meds until I heard from her, but…. I’m tampering.

Saturday was a nice day, though. Mom and I started by taking the dogs to the vet. I was still visibly sad about the night before, but I tried to be in a good mood. The chihuahuas, Bdo & Guy, did great, except that Guy is overweight. Afterwards we took some time apart, and then went to get mani-pedis. It was nice. I got a weird beetle green. And to wrap up mom-time we went to a seafood place and got fried seafood plates.

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That evening I went to D2’s for an anime night. I subjected him to Paprika and Metropolis while we ate $60 worth of sushi (because stoners and fat kids like sushi). It was a lot of fun. We’re having a follow up night on Friday to watch Howl’s Moving Castle and Wizards, which isn’t really anime, but I consider it honorary anime. Bird was supposed to come, but I guess she got wrapped up with other things that feel through, and she essentially slept through it all.

Sunday morning I got up, dressed like a Time Lord and went to the Renaissance Festival with my mom. We stopped at a hat shop, and I finished off my Time Lady look with a nice hat and a flower-tie thing. I wanna make those now… I need to hit Goodwill. And figure out where to buy a sewing kit… We had a lovely day at RenFest and walked until we both thought we were gonna drop.

On the way home we hit the grocery, and I spent the rest of the day not standing.

It turned into a good weekend… but it’s been a trial… not gonna lie.

Mothership

I’m abnormally close to my mother. Not in a gross way, just in an uncommon way.

After my dad left, things were bad. We were broke. People kept breaking into our house. She lost her job. All kinds of shit just rained down on us from the sky like some cataclysmic plague sent by god. Things got worse and worse, to the point that my mother was selling off our possessions on the side of the road to make ends meet. I even setup my own little stand, at 2 years old, and sold my toys, but I remember it feeling like some kind of game than something dire. Things were bad, really bad, but my mother is the kind of person that made shit work. I never knew things were so bad until I got older.

Things got a little better later. Mom somehow managed to afford my tuition for private school, and a little duplex home. I had a happy childhood, really, but eventually things were bad again. We were strapped.

We moved to another state so that she could get a job and we could have a better life where we didn’t sell all our things to strangers or cut corners on anything and everything. It was a rough start. I remember that we lived in a motel room for a while. That didn’t bother me so much, because after my dad left I started sleeping with her anyways. We eventually found an apartment, but it wasn’t in a good part of town, so I wasn’t allowed to play outside. Instead, I got the master bedroom so I had room to play inside.

Things got better, but not without consequence. Mom finally made enough money to buy a really real house, but landing the sale nearly killed her. Then the overtime she had to work to pay for the house nearly killed her. Also, taking me out of private school nearly killed her. She felt incredibly guilty about the fact that I became a latch-key kid and spent tons of time alone. She’s spent most of my life feeling guilty. Guilty for picking the wrong dad, for not being able to make time, for working too much, for not providing enough, for this, and that, this thing over here…

When I turned seventeen and graduated from high school, she helped me buy the house next door to her, as it was a foreclosure and I kept threatening to move up where the druggies lived: it was all I could afford. The house she’d bought was far too small for me and her to co-habitate (not a word, btw)… At a puny 750 sq ft, we just tripped over each other and got under each other’s skin. We tried to make the house nice, but it never really got there. While it was the most economic thing she ever did for me, I’m not always sure it was our best choice.

I had a house, so I filled it. I filled it with things and pets, and at one point people. In recent years, what was a thing to fill was just became something to hold me back from doing anything. I have too many things. I have too many pets. Somehow I ended up with no people, though. No room for them with all those things and pets.

I never felt like I could move. Moving four dogs and a cat is daunting. Going through all my shit and getting rid of a bunch of it is daunting. More than anything, if I left, I’d leave my mother alone. Most people don’t think twice about that kind of thing, but my mother is single with no family in the state. Really, no family in the world, as the family doesn’t really stay in touch. Her sister is worthless and doesn’t even call to check on her. Mom does have an uncle around her age that checks in on her, but I don’t think she’d like to hang out with him ALL the time.

So leaving would literally leave her here alone. What if something were to happen? It would be my fault. I wouldn’t be here to do anything for her.

But what do you do when you’re not happy?

It’s not a recent thing, but I feel like whenever I talk, my mother gets mad at me. She doesn’t like when I explain thing. She doesn’t like when I tell her fun facts. She seems happier when I don’t know, like she just wants to say something without having things explained to her. It makes me feel like shit, to be honest. I don’t know how to be another way, but my nature seems to irritate her. She’s always accusing me of being agitated just because I’m explanatory and saying I’m getting upset, but I only get upset when I try to tell her something and she just goes, “I dunno.” I AM TELLING YOU. NOW YOU KNOW. WHY DO YOU NOT LISTEN TO ME?!

I’m not sure what to do when I think I’d be better mentally if I were away from her, but can’t bring myself to leave her here alone…