You know what makes you feel better when you feel like shit?
Flirting with a local subbie boy whom you've had a thing for for the last 6 years, while flirting with a dom from Germany whom you've known online forever and know you will never, ever meet in real life.
I still got it, bitches. Yes, I do.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Things Aren't The Way They Were Before....
You know, sometimes, even when you wish you were dead, people can come out and surprise you in the nicest of ways.
I've been doing this sort of on-again, off-again thing with a subbie/switch/whatever boy, T., since...2006? Christ, I'm old. We went back and forth for a couple of years, but things kinda just faded out in late 2008. We only just started talking again a few months ago.
Yesterday, I was desperate. I needed someone, someone nearby, to keep me from falling headfirst into the first bottle of liquor I found, someone to keep me from finding a parade of men of to fuck to drive all the pain away for a little while. And against what would've been my better judgment, had I had any at that time, I sent T. a text. I wasn't even going to tell him what was wrong. I just needed someone to talk to me, to keep me occupied.
But he could tell I was desperate. He has demons of his own, and as most of us with demons will attest, it becomes easy to recognize it in others. He wouldn't let me get away with not telling him. I was so ashamed of being upset over something like this, something that, in all honesty, really had no impact on me whatsoever. He basically forced it out of me, though, and the whole story came spilling out like somebody'd opened the floodgates to the world's biggest dam.
Mind you, this shit is not something I talk about to anyone but maybe 2 people in the whole world. So he had no idea what was coming. Once it started, I couldn't have stopped it if I wanted to. And you know what? He didn't laugh at me. He didn't roll his eyes at me. He didn't say I was a drama queen. He didn't rapidly change the subject. No, for the first time in I couldn't tell you how long, I had someone actually acknowledge my pain for what it was.
"No wonder your mind was shattered," he said. "Whose wouldn't be after all that?"
That's more validation for my feelings than I've gotten from anyone in a long, long time.
"That was cold," he said. "Really, really cold. Who does that to someone they claim to care about when that person needs them?"
I tried to explain, tried to let him know it was my fault, too, but he cut me off.
"I don't care what you did," he said. "You didn't deserve to lose everything you loved like that."
And just like that, this huge weight lifted off my shoulders. He went on to tell me that he knew I'd been so used to blaming myself and so used to feeling worthless all the time, but that it wasn't true. He told me that he understood why I was so upset over what I'd just heard, even though I felt like I had no right to be. Then, he said a bunch of other nice things and--get this--didn't come over to fuck me, even though I was clearly angling for it. He wanted to, I know. But he didn't.
I'll be goddamned. Chivalry does still exist in this world.
He had to go shortly thereafter to do something for his parents, but he came back later, just to check in. I have no idea how I'll ever repay him, but I'm going to do it somehow.
In the midst of my conversation with T., I also got a private message from someone on my message board. I'd posted something on there about "Worst day of my life, and, no, I don't want to talk about it" or something similar. And then, I got a PM from a sweet man (a regular poster, not some weird creeper) in Germany entitled "Why you are stronger than I am." In it, he made me promise to let him hear from me at least once every 10 years to make sure I hadn't given up yet. He also said a lot of other kind things that I won't go into, but I swear to God, between him (M.) and T., they talked my ass down from the ledge last night.
I sent M. a reply to his private message, thanking him and basically telling him that he and another friend were the only reasons I wasn't sitting drunk off my ass in a bar, looking for a group of strangers to run a train on me. Because he's in Germany, God knows what time it was there when I sent my message. But today, when I got up and checked, he'd replied, said some more nice things, and sent me a link to his blog, where he had posted this.
Now, if only I could read German, so I could read some of his other entries....
No matter, though. Between the two of them, they kept me...well, if not sane, as sane as I could be expected to remain last night. If there is a sentient and merciful God in this Universe, I hope he rewards those two for what they did for me last night. Regardless of how small it seems in the grand scheme of things, it meant fucking everything to me last night.
After I took my Lamictal, my brain calmed down a little and allowed me to see things a little more clearly. (Take that, everyone who says it's not an anti-manic. Ok, well, maybe it wasn't mania, but there were clearly racing, catastrophic thoughts, so whatever.) I had an epiphany late last night, which I intend to post later, but not right now because I've gone on too long already and need to get a little work done.
Things aren't the way they were before
You wouldn't even recognize me anymore
Not that you knew me back then
But it all comes back to me in the end....
I've been doing this sort of on-again, off-again thing with a subbie/switch/whatever boy, T., since...2006? Christ, I'm old. We went back and forth for a couple of years, but things kinda just faded out in late 2008. We only just started talking again a few months ago.
Yesterday, I was desperate. I needed someone, someone nearby, to keep me from falling headfirst into the first bottle of liquor I found, someone to keep me from finding a parade of men of to fuck to drive all the pain away for a little while. And against what would've been my better judgment, had I had any at that time, I sent T. a text. I wasn't even going to tell him what was wrong. I just needed someone to talk to me, to keep me occupied.
But he could tell I was desperate. He has demons of his own, and as most of us with demons will attest, it becomes easy to recognize it in others. He wouldn't let me get away with not telling him. I was so ashamed of being upset over something like this, something that, in all honesty, really had no impact on me whatsoever. He basically forced it out of me, though, and the whole story came spilling out like somebody'd opened the floodgates to the world's biggest dam.
Mind you, this shit is not something I talk about to anyone but maybe 2 people in the whole world. So he had no idea what was coming. Once it started, I couldn't have stopped it if I wanted to. And you know what? He didn't laugh at me. He didn't roll his eyes at me. He didn't say I was a drama queen. He didn't rapidly change the subject. No, for the first time in I couldn't tell you how long, I had someone actually acknowledge my pain for what it was.
"No wonder your mind was shattered," he said. "Whose wouldn't be after all that?"
That's more validation for my feelings than I've gotten from anyone in a long, long time.
"That was cold," he said. "Really, really cold. Who does that to someone they claim to care about when that person needs them?"
I tried to explain, tried to let him know it was my fault, too, but he cut me off.
"I don't care what you did," he said. "You didn't deserve to lose everything you loved like that."
And just like that, this huge weight lifted off my shoulders. He went on to tell me that he knew I'd been so used to blaming myself and so used to feeling worthless all the time, but that it wasn't true. He told me that he understood why I was so upset over what I'd just heard, even though I felt like I had no right to be. Then, he said a bunch of other nice things and--get this--didn't come over to fuck me, even though I was clearly angling for it. He wanted to, I know. But he didn't.
I'll be goddamned. Chivalry does still exist in this world.
He had to go shortly thereafter to do something for his parents, but he came back later, just to check in. I have no idea how I'll ever repay him, but I'm going to do it somehow.
In the midst of my conversation with T., I also got a private message from someone on my message board. I'd posted something on there about "Worst day of my life, and, no, I don't want to talk about it" or something similar. And then, I got a PM from a sweet man (a regular poster, not some weird creeper) in Germany entitled "Why you are stronger than I am." In it, he made me promise to let him hear from me at least once every 10 years to make sure I hadn't given up yet. He also said a lot of other kind things that I won't go into, but I swear to God, between him (M.) and T., they talked my ass down from the ledge last night.
I sent M. a reply to his private message, thanking him and basically telling him that he and another friend were the only reasons I wasn't sitting drunk off my ass in a bar, looking for a group of strangers to run a train on me. Because he's in Germany, God knows what time it was there when I sent my message. But today, when I got up and checked, he'd replied, said some more nice things, and sent me a link to his blog, where he had posted this.
Now, if only I could read German, so I could read some of his other entries....
No matter, though. Between the two of them, they kept me...well, if not sane, as sane as I could be expected to remain last night. If there is a sentient and merciful God in this Universe, I hope he rewards those two for what they did for me last night. Regardless of how small it seems in the grand scheme of things, it meant fucking everything to me last night.
After I took my Lamictal, my brain calmed down a little and allowed me to see things a little more clearly. (Take that, everyone who says it's not an anti-manic. Ok, well, maybe it wasn't mania, but there were clearly racing, catastrophic thoughts, so whatever.) I had an epiphany late last night, which I intend to post later, but not right now because I've gone on too long already and need to get a little work done.
Things aren't the way they were before
You wouldn't even recognize me anymore
Not that you knew me back then
But it all comes back to me in the end....
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Well
Now I know the cause for the anxiety and wretchedness of the last couple of months. I always know when something is happening. I don't know how, but I do.
I went to the bank and McDonald's today, before I found out. And in between the two places, I was struck with a single thought--I will never be happy.
Then, I came home to confirmation of it.
I should be happy for them. I know I should be. When people you love get what they want most in the world, you're supposed to be happy for them.
But, goddamn, I wish I were dead.
I went to the bank and McDonald's today, before I found out. And in between the two places, I was struck with a single thought--I will never be happy.
Then, I came home to confirmation of it.
I should be happy for them. I know I should be. When people you love get what they want most in the world, you're supposed to be happy for them.
But, goddamn, I wish I were dead.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Maybe Praying For Strength Is A Bad Idea?
I can't live like this. I can't. I'm making myself sick. I can hardly eat. I sleep too much, and I'm tormented by my dreams the whole time. Tonight, I've been literally walking the floor. I feel about a hundred years old.
The guilt is killing me. Tearing me apart. Eating me from the inside out.
Must do something. Soon.
Why haven't I already?
Because in addition to being a bad person, I'm also a big, fat coward.
Dear God, give me strength. I surely don't have it in my myself.
The guilt is killing me. Tearing me apart. Eating me from the inside out.
Must do something. Soon.
Why haven't I already?
Because in addition to being a bad person, I'm also a big, fat coward.
Dear God, give me strength. I surely don't have it in my myself.
Monday, July 16, 2012
The Treadmill To Hell
So my friend B. came down from Huntsville to visit. He's been here since Monday. I appreciate the company, I guess, but it costs a LOT of goddamn money to feed him. I mean, when they sold my grandma's house, I got a little money from it, but I was kinda supposed to pay my taxes with it. I haven't been able to pay them yet because I have been having to use it for other things, and if I'm not careful, it's all going drift slowly away, and I'll have nothing--and my taxes still won't be paid.
I feel myself slipping down again. I was doing better, but I'm getting overwhelmed once again. Google levied a heavy penalty on all my sites back in April, and now I'm not making any money off of them. Like, it costs more money in hosting fees to keep them up and running than they bring in every month. I work my ass off constantly, and I'm still having to spend more money than I make. I'm just to the point where I feel it's not worth it anymore.
My daddy took out a loan for me last April to pay off my credit cards. The payment on the loan is $385 a month. And you know what? Both goddamn motherfucking cards are maxed the fuck out again because I was trying to do a good thing. So now I'm stuck with a $385 payment on the loan every month AND another $150 on the credit cards. I'm in worse shape now than I was before I got the fucking loan.
No good deed goes unpunished, I suppose.
I do excellent work for very little money. I guess I should raise my rates, but Jesus Christ, I hardly get any customers now as it is. I'm having to go back to the phones, but they aren't even ringing now because--surprise--my sites don't rank for shit in Google anymore.
I feel like no matter what I do, it's one step forward and two steps back. I've already been told by my mother that she "can't" help me anymore. Mind you, I can count on one hand the number of times I've ever ASKED her for help. Basically, I was told that if I couldn't make it on my own, I had to move back to my mama's house.
A few things with that: 1.) I damn sure can't make money living there. 2.) Not one single thing has gone the way I wanted it to in my life, except for the fact that I got the fuck out when I was 18 and never went back. 3.) I swear before God, I will blow my fucking brains out before I'll go back.
I have basically been supporting someone else my entire adult life. I attract users, hangers-on, and everybody in the world who wants a free ride. I never wanted to be like my grandmother, who had plenty of money but would sooner let you starve to death than give up a penny of it. If I can help someone, I want to help them. But the thing is, people don't want help until they can get on their feet. They want somebody to do it for them. FOREVER.
I'm tired of footing the bills for everyone. I'm tired of being in debt because I've spent the last 10 years trying to help other people. Here's the thing--if I were just paying my own bills, not debt I've incurred doing for other people, I would be fine. Not rich, by any stretch of the imagination, but not always robbing Peter to pay Paul, either.
I wish now that I had just gone on and told my mama that I wanted to move into my grandma's house before they sold it. I wouldn't have had to pay rent, so that would've been $400 a month I could have saved. But I was supposed to have a roommate, who didn't want to move there, so I ended up not doing it. And by the time I realized that the whole roommate thing wasn't going to happen, they'd already gotten earnest money put down on the house. So I wasn't going to be some asshole who went swooping in there and said, "Nope, stop the sale. I'm moving in."
No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, it never works out. At this point, I couldn't get a real job. It's partly because I'm too crazy and partly because I haven't been officially employed since 2006. Who the fuck is going to hire me now?
Nobody. That's who.
My bills alone work out to be about $1400 a month. That's not counting food, gas, or anything else. (Before I got this money from the sale of the house, I went two months without buying light bulbs, even though every light fixture in my house only had one bulb in it because I could not spare the $2 for a box of light bulbs.) I make about $900 a month, now that the sites aren't pulling in extra money anymore. That's a BIG fucking gap. And bless your heart, you can forget anybody coming to my rescue.
But you know what? I don't need (or want) rescuing. I just want to not have to work myself to death for shit wages while steadily digging myself deeper into the hole because I'm constantly getting fucked from every direction.
The thought of taking another phone job makes me ill. I do good to manage to log in 10 hours a week because it makes me so sick to have to do it. But I honestly don't know what else I can do at this point. My mental health is going to suffer. I'll probably end up not being able to work at all because it'll drive me off the deep end again. But I honestly DO NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO anymore. It's not like I can send itemized bills to every motherfucker who screwed me over and expect to get anything back from it.
I just...I don't know what to do, and I'm back to having migraines and problems sleeping from worrying about it so much. I've basically made my sick over what essentially amounts to OTHER PEOPLE'S BILLS. I'm burnt the hell out and my body is starting to crap out on me again like it did last fall. I've been trying to take mental health days on Mondays, but I feel guilty for even taking a day off because I know I need to be making money.
Fuck.
This? Right here? Is why people kill themselves.
I feel myself slipping down again. I was doing better, but I'm getting overwhelmed once again. Google levied a heavy penalty on all my sites back in April, and now I'm not making any money off of them. Like, it costs more money in hosting fees to keep them up and running than they bring in every month. I work my ass off constantly, and I'm still having to spend more money than I make. I'm just to the point where I feel it's not worth it anymore.
My daddy took out a loan for me last April to pay off my credit cards. The payment on the loan is $385 a month. And you know what? Both goddamn motherfucking cards are maxed the fuck out again because I was trying to do a good thing. So now I'm stuck with a $385 payment on the loan every month AND another $150 on the credit cards. I'm in worse shape now than I was before I got the fucking loan.
No good deed goes unpunished, I suppose.
I do excellent work for very little money. I guess I should raise my rates, but Jesus Christ, I hardly get any customers now as it is. I'm having to go back to the phones, but they aren't even ringing now because--surprise--my sites don't rank for shit in Google anymore.
I feel like no matter what I do, it's one step forward and two steps back. I've already been told by my mother that she "can't" help me anymore. Mind you, I can count on one hand the number of times I've ever ASKED her for help. Basically, I was told that if I couldn't make it on my own, I had to move back to my mama's house.
A few things with that: 1.) I damn sure can't make money living there. 2.) Not one single thing has gone the way I wanted it to in my life, except for the fact that I got the fuck out when I was 18 and never went back. 3.) I swear before God, I will blow my fucking brains out before I'll go back.
I have basically been supporting someone else my entire adult life. I attract users, hangers-on, and everybody in the world who wants a free ride. I never wanted to be like my grandmother, who had plenty of money but would sooner let you starve to death than give up a penny of it. If I can help someone, I want to help them. But the thing is, people don't want help until they can get on their feet. They want somebody to do it for them. FOREVER.
I'm tired of footing the bills for everyone. I'm tired of being in debt because I've spent the last 10 years trying to help other people. Here's the thing--if I were just paying my own bills, not debt I've incurred doing for other people, I would be fine. Not rich, by any stretch of the imagination, but not always robbing Peter to pay Paul, either.
I wish now that I had just gone on and told my mama that I wanted to move into my grandma's house before they sold it. I wouldn't have had to pay rent, so that would've been $400 a month I could have saved. But I was supposed to have a roommate, who didn't want to move there, so I ended up not doing it. And by the time I realized that the whole roommate thing wasn't going to happen, they'd already gotten earnest money put down on the house. So I wasn't going to be some asshole who went swooping in there and said, "Nope, stop the sale. I'm moving in."
No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, it never works out. At this point, I couldn't get a real job. It's partly because I'm too crazy and partly because I haven't been officially employed since 2006. Who the fuck is going to hire me now?
Nobody. That's who.
My bills alone work out to be about $1400 a month. That's not counting food, gas, or anything else. (Before I got this money from the sale of the house, I went two months without buying light bulbs, even though every light fixture in my house only had one bulb in it because I could not spare the $2 for a box of light bulbs.) I make about $900 a month, now that the sites aren't pulling in extra money anymore. That's a BIG fucking gap. And bless your heart, you can forget anybody coming to my rescue.
But you know what? I don't need (or want) rescuing. I just want to not have to work myself to death for shit wages while steadily digging myself deeper into the hole because I'm constantly getting fucked from every direction.
The thought of taking another phone job makes me ill. I do good to manage to log in 10 hours a week because it makes me so sick to have to do it. But I honestly don't know what else I can do at this point. My mental health is going to suffer. I'll probably end up not being able to work at all because it'll drive me off the deep end again. But I honestly DO NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO anymore. It's not like I can send itemized bills to every motherfucker who screwed me over and expect to get anything back from it.
I just...I don't know what to do, and I'm back to having migraines and problems sleeping from worrying about it so much. I've basically made my sick over what essentially amounts to OTHER PEOPLE'S BILLS. I'm burnt the hell out and my body is starting to crap out on me again like it did last fall. I've been trying to take mental health days on Mondays, but I feel guilty for even taking a day off because I know I need to be making money.
Fuck.
This? Right here? Is why people kill themselves.
Monday, July 9, 2012
A Letter I Wouldn't Send To Save My Immortal Soul
Dear Z,
This will be the first time since I met you that I didn't wish you a happy birthday. It used to be such an easy way for us to fall back into our old routines when we weren't talking. I told you happy birthday, you said thank you, and in a week, we were right back where we started from.
But not this time. I'm sure you won't notice, but I hope you do, anyway, and I hope it eats you alive.
~Bunny
This will be the first time since I met you that I didn't wish you a happy birthday. It used to be such an easy way for us to fall back into our old routines when we weren't talking. I told you happy birthday, you said thank you, and in a week, we were right back where we started from.
But not this time. I'm sure you won't notice, but I hope you do, anyway, and I hope it eats you alive.
~Bunny
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