The struggle that never ends…

I can’t tell you how this is shaping my self-confidence at the moment.  I can’t tell you how much this fucks with my head.  My weight SHOULD not fuck with me this much. 

Hello world, how ya doing today?

Today boys and girls, since my absence to the blog world has been unintentional due to life being sooooo busy and I like only to write in private.  My husband has been home for days and his presence interferes into my writing mojo.  Anywho…today we talk about life and the software that shapes us as humans.

Getting right into it.  I was born fat, have always been fat.  I have been called every fat name in the book that anyone can thing of, and that was by my family.  So you’re looking at the pictures above, right? Well, that’s pretty much as fat as I ever got, exception of being pregnant of course and yet, never too fat by some standards that aren’t my own.

My weight has shaped my life.  Every decision, every thought [the first one each morning: have a lost any today?] Crazy right?  I wake up and measure my half and half in my coffee, I watch each carb, etc.  Oh yeah, I mention the carb thing.  I’ve been doing Keto for over a year and have lost about 30lbs in the year time.  However, in the past 2 weeks, I’ve gained 5lbs.  Not sure how and why.

I can’t tell you how this is shaping my self-confidence at the moment.  I can’t tell you how much this fucks with my head.  My weight SHOULD not fuck with me this much.  Yet, it does.  I run roughly 15 miles a week, do weights and yet, the fat in me survives.  What the fuck?

I literally can’t stand to look at myself.  Now the people around me, tell me all the positive stuff anyone would love to hear.  Nope, I don’t listen, not in the slightest.  In my head, I just repeat the mantra of whatever.  Do I stop eating, nope.  It’s not as if I like food either.  It’s a bittersweet relationship, I like it, but I don’t at the same time.  An enemy of sorts, that I need to maintain to stay alive.  It’s fucked.

So you are thinking, as I’ve heard from my mental husband, I have body dysmorphic issues.  Oh you’re probably right, but I think I’m in love with being mental.  Hello, one sick puppy here, with no cure.

From morning to night it is my focus.  What will I eat here or there?  Racing to the scale each morning after I pee, throwing off my clothes to see how much I’ve lost.  Or after pooping, I undress and weigh myself again, and call it a victory if a couple of ounces come off.

I’ve had every test run on my body.  No thyroid issues, no diabetes, nope nothing.  I purchased a body metric scale, a food scale, etc.  A Keto diet has been the only success story that hasn’t involved drugs [teenage years and speed, a whole other story] starving or intense exercise.  I feel great, yet my mind is still fucked up.

I’ve never written about these issues.  I really wish I could be like others and just accept myself for what I was planted and built to be, but I don’t seem to be able to get out of my own head to manage this feat.

I often wonder if I hadn’t taken care of myself like I’ve had for over 50 years, what would I have been like.  Would I have been one of those 600lb people or would my absence of thinking about my weight issue gained me a thin perspective on life [thank you family for my body awareness issues…oh gawwwdddd]

No idea, because my awareness of my body began as a 3-4 year old little girl sitting on the toilet looking into a mirror and counting my belly roll fat.  That’s an image I cannot forget, ever!  Since then, I hid my body, no skin ever, no swimsuits, no tank tops, as long as I couldn’t see the rolls they didn’t exist.

See the picture of me on the right.  It took a lot to get there, and it’s going to take much more to grow out of this mindset and software conditioning.  But first, those 5 pounds…I’m not lying, I have issues.

https://adaa.org/understanding-anxiety/related-illnesses/other-related-conditions/body-dysmorphic-disorder-bdd#

This is so much fun

Anyway, I was left alone to survive.  There ya go.  Thank you to all and your bizarre reasoning to left me to be lonely while I ‘survived’ through cancer.  Guess you were doing me a favor.  Because I did absolutely nothing, and here I am, spoiler, I survived!

I get knocked down, but I get up again
You are never gonna keep me down
I get knocked down, but I get up again
You are never gonna keep me down
I get knocked down, but I get up again
You are never gonna keep me down
I get knocked down, but I get up again
You are never gonna keep me down ~Chumbawamba~

Pretty much what we all experience one or more times in our lives.  If you haven’t had hardship, well, I call bullshit.  Or your definition of hardship is well a lot different from mine or anyone else’s.  Whatever the case, there isn’t a doubt that even the most positive person has suffered life blows moments and had to stand up, brush off their tushy and move forward once again.

Life isn’t a series of just good things.  It’s a series of shit happens and it happens often.  Without all that shit, we wouldn’t appreciate the good stuff.  Even in my darkest moments, I can see the light.  Probably one of the factors built-in me of not doing myself in earlier.  Not that I haven’t tried, seems as if I have a guardian angel or something, if you believe in the horse snot, snatched me up at the last-minute.  Whoa, what the hell are you doing, I’d shout, let me die! Nope, I was forced to survive.

I’ve attempted suicide more than once, even simple as playing chicken with cars as a younger person.  Yep that was me heading for you, and you swerved, should have hit me, but the selfish person you are, you swerved and missed me, just so you wouldn’t get hurt.  Ha! See what I did there? Seriously though, life has its moments and surviving isn’t one to sneeze away.

You see, surviving doesn’t take much effort.  All you really need to do is not do anything.  Yep, pretty much.  Look at all that claim to fame you can have just for doing nothing.  I ‘survived’ cancer twice.  I didn’t fight, I didn’t do shit.  I just let them poke, cut, and radiate my body until it was done.  I wept in silence, because yeah, it did hurt.  I was lonely because people were worried that the chemicals from chemotherapy would leach from my body and poison them.  Even better, cancer is contagious.  Didn’t you know????

Anyway, I was left alone to survive.  There ya go.  Thank you to all and your bizarre reasoning to left me to be lonely while I ‘survived’ through cancer.  Guess you were doing me a favor.  Because I did absolutely nothing, and here I am, spoiler, I survived!

Now you see my reasoning behind not being a supporter of surviving.  I can remember comments like, “you got this, you’re a survivor, you’re a fighter”, um okay….What am I fighting and what am I surviving?  No, I’m a warrior you mother fucker.  I’ve been to war and back.  I did not fight cancer, it fought me.  It took my way of living and it fucked it all up.  I didn’t survive cancer, I ran the fuck away from it, placing obstacles in its way so it will never find me again [7-years out from BC, 5-years out OC]

I did absolutely nothing to survive a horrific childhood, poor decisions, etc.  I’m not a survivor, I’m a doer.  Surviving doesn’t take effort, its mediocrity at it’s best.  When people ask if I’m a survivor and then say ‘woo hoo’ , I look at them plainly and say, “ahem, what choice did I have?”  I either let it eat me alive or do nothing and let the doctors experiment on me.  Either way, it was a death sentence.  So I chose the lesser of two evils.

Ha! Yeah…evils.  Or are they? Someday, we’ll replace that word survivor with warrior, or maybe realize, it’s just life.  Simply as Chumbawamba states, “I get knocked down, and I get back up again.  A mentality that will never let you down.  I love Bozo!

.   3D Bozo Bop Bag

Even in my darkest hour, and lately it’s been pretty dark, I’ve picked my ass up and did nothing but move forward and will continue to fight the darkness, seeking light, happiness and joy and as any person with depression can only hope to do.  There is no cure for the darkness, embracing it seems to be the only option.  We need the dark to enjoy the light and vice versa, its seems cliché’ and I agree, I’d like to punch people in the face when they use those kind of metaphors on me.  Yet, deep inside, I know the truth, and each day the warrior in me will continue my journey, training, gaining skills and tools, honing the ability and strength to one day cross-over to the real battle, no longer just a survivor, but now, a badass warrior!

If I could lay my brains out on a table…

It’s groundhog day everyday in my head.  A labyrinth of failing of which is my only success.  ‘If only’s’ are my only comfort.  Nonsense remarks from others, “oh you’ll do better next time”, “you’re being to hard on yourself”, etc, etc, you all have heard it before.

Maybe, just maybe someone could make sense of the nonsense I call a brain.  There isn’t any logical explanation why I continue to choose or do poorly.  My motivation to fail is outstanding.  It shines brighter than the moon.  When I need to succeed, well, fail stands right up and states, Fuck you, there is no way in your lifetime you will succeed.  Fail flashes me a peace sign and giggles, “bye, Felicia”.

Laying my brain out, unfolding the worm like tissues, untangling the meshuga that transmits thought and possibly putting it all back together then maybe, just maybe, I can after 54 years succeed at something else but failing.

I’m educated, street smart, but for the life of me, when I’m called upon to answer a question, this brain of mine goes completely dark.  Not just a little forgetful, no darker than dark like I never had the information in the first place.  Then suddenly, boom, it returns after I leave the building.  Then failure says, “there, there, you can always try again” with that laugh that you know is pure bullshit.

As I see it and probably appears to others, I am the epitome of fail, find the word ‘fail’ and you will see my face.  Or at very least my brain.  I’m sure its been hardwired to fail, I can’t imagine for any other reason or cause, the path to succeed escapes me completely.

Today, in my heart of hearts I wanted this job.  I wanted to make a difference, I wanted to move forward from the present employment of which is not doing any good for anyone.  I bombed it, brought in my self-destructive personality and bombed it.  The true me, the funny, smart and playful me, hid inside like a turtle, scared to death to show itself.  So today, I’m giving up.  For all I care a bus can hit me tomorrow and end this bullshit.  I’m so over being broke, tired and forgotten.  So over it.

It’s groundhog day everyday in my head.  A labyrinth of failing of which is my only success.  ‘If only’s’ are my only comfort.  Nonsense remarks from others, “oh you’ll do better next time”, “you’re being to hard on yourself”, etc, etc, you all have heard it before.

I write this in hopes that others can know they aren’t alone, not just a forum to bitch and complain, but to see the darkness lies in us all.  I hide it pretty well, which to many may seem that I’m not as unhappy as I state and maybe I’m just a whiny bitch.   People find it hard to believe when I confide in them about my forever state of unhappiness.  It’s not as if I don’t know happiness, I do know happiness and it is a fleeting moment, now and then, never staying for long, just long enough for me to have a taste of what it is like.  Then its gone as quickly as it arrives.

Those moments of giving birth, the giggle of my children.  The playfulness of a kitten or puppy.  The proud moment when your child is more than just a little awesome.  But never a moment where the internal happiness rises from my inner core and says, “hello” do I get to experience it.

I continue to write and allow the process maybe to find its way to happiness, thinking that possibly if I allow all the dark to spew from my brain and physical being so I can lock the door and it can’t return.  Allowing all the darkness to flow into the pages of the internet, trapping it forever, then maybe at some point, at any point, I can say, “bye Felicia”, just maybe.  There, at that moment, I can call a success and push failure to the curb.

 

 

False start, 1, 2, 3 and counting

Let me tell you a story of girl who has done nothing but make bad decisions from the moment of conception.

1. Choosing the wrong set of parents, they didn’t want me or love me and lied to me daily

I truly believe we all start something with the full intent of finishing.  NOT! I start, knowing very well that I won’t finish or at the very least I will fuck it all up.  Yep, pretty much, so when I do finish anything, oh shit-cow, I’m totally surprised.  Imagining myself running down the street naked screaming a declaration of completion with a side course of “really, I’m amazed too, quit looking a my nipples”.

Everyday brings about new prospects.  Prospects you say.  Yes, what omens/signs/nudges will the universe push me towards that will bring some success.  Because you all know it’s worked wonders thus far, right?  Yet, getting out of this mode of thinking is difficult if not downright impossible.

It’s an undeniable, insatiable ability to have faith in hope.  Kinda counter-intuitive to us less than intelligent type. Well, I need to work on that today.  Another piece of not-so-good news has landed before us again, financial of course, we take it up the ass.

Let me tell you a story of girl who has done nothing but make bad decisions from the moment of conception.

  1. Choosing the wrong set of parents, they didn’t want me or love me and lied to me daily
  2. Choosing the wrong body to be born into and endure the criticism of anyone who thought their 2 fucking cents mattered on the subject of my chubster rolls.
  3. Being verbally, physically, emotionally abused for years that I’ve literally lost count.
  4. Years of being on my own and attempting to survive, it hurts…
  5. Choosing every abusive boyfriend, it was like I was a magnet.
  6. Married Mr. Wrong, [caveat of this one, 2 wonderful child I do not regret]
  7. Married again for the wrong reasons, but don’t regret it [caveat, I grew as a person]
  8. Returning to college
  9. Student Loans, don’t do it, it’s a real-time ghost that never goes away.
  10. 2 weeks after graduation in 2010 with a master’s degree in science, Human Services, my youngest and only daughter gets married, leaves for North Carolina and I’m diagnosed with cancer.  Triple negative HER BC.
  11. Nearly died from chemo, a little dramatic, but I’m damn sure death would have been less painful, ya think?
  12. Radiation for 33 rounds, still paying for that physiologically
  13. Could not find work because who wants to hire a bald person with cancer?
  14. A year and half later I found cancer again, Lucy was hiding in my ovaries this time, bitch.
  15. Chemo again, this time, I did die, inside many times, part of me has not been reborn, good parts died, wish I had.
  16. Still no work in my field, now its been 3 years, student loans mounting
  17. Employer doesn’t want to take another chance in my cancer returning, letting me go by setting me up [yes, I have proof, but no will to move forward]
  18. Finally finding work in my field sort of, liking it but working with a bully who has chosen me to be their bitch.  For now…
  19. I hate my job a regret it every day, but out of desperation for a paycheck, there’s no way out.
  20. Applying for several jobs being turned down, again reinforcing my worthlessness
  21. In severe financial distress due to student loans and wondering how are we going to survive any longer at this rate
  22. Thankful I have a husband who understands and kinda likes my crazy, even though he’s super judgy.
  23. Possible job opportunity ahead, so I spent money we don’t have on a class that could help me with the initial interview.
  24. Feeling worthless and not wanting to go forward
  25. I’m tired but writing helps
  26. 54 and have really nothing to show but a long trail of shit and poor decisions, what a great asset to society I’ve become.

So there now, all that whining is out.  Now welcome to my dark world where with one positive thought, there are five to disprove and squash its benefit.

I do know that others have it worse, others are stronger than I.  I’ve struggled, no hand outs, no winning the damn lottery, no inheritance to fall back on, just surviving, it’s like treading water for indeterminate amount of time with no clear end in sight.

Einstein said, “the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results”.  Yeah, told ya, I’m not super intelligent, but yet, I have no fucking clue of what to do next.  Jung talked about a shadow…I think my shadow is now who I am, a very dark confused human who can fake life better than most, then walk away and hide.

So how is your day going?

Never leave the house without clean underwear on…

Depission~combination of depression and being pissed off~deadly to say the least

Oh the advice we received as young children, underwear, wear it and be sure its clean.  Socks, what if you lost your shoes?  My personal favorite, “be kind to people and they will be kind to you back”.  The Golden Rule, right…I’m beginning to think its bullshit, same with the underwear idea, clean, yes, on, who fuck cares.

Anyway,

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you

command based on words of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount: “All things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them.” The Mosaic law contains a parallel commandment: “Whatever is hurtful to you, do not do to any other person.”  [The New Dictionary of Cultural Literacy, Third Edition Copyright © 2005 by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company. Published by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company. All rights reserved.]

I’ve lived that rule, not sure who taught me, but I lived it.  I was pretty respectful to strangers and some people I liked, just kidding, I don’t make friends, friends suck and so does family sometimes.  Its not that I’m not likable, I’m very likable for about 30 seconds or whenever my usefulness runs out.  Yeah, I’m that person.

I’m the default program on your computer, I’m the one that is there when there is no one else, until someone else does come along, yeah back to default mode.  Its sucks, and you ask, “why do it?” Because most of the time, I care too much and I’ll weigh out the alternative.  Guess better to be needed part of the time, than none-of-the-time, and I know what that feels like too.

It’s sort of like this blogging, I don’t do it for likes or comments, I do it to get that ugly bullshit out of my system.  To shout without shouting, to tell someone, anyone my feelings without them landing in my lap the first argument that occurs.  Blogging is my default friend.  It’s always there to listen,  it never comments something back and it always forgets, unless I need the reminder and seek it out myself.

I know some people use it to advertise, or talk about political or societal issues.  Great for them.  Not me, because I can get around myself, I’m always in the way of me, just me…I’ll never move forward because I’m always in the way.  I can’t move past my own shit so to stand for someone else’s shit.  The world could be coming to an end and I’ll be sitting in the corner asking some imaginary listener, “who cares if the world comes to end, who cares if there are people dying,  who cares if I die tomorrow”.  Nobody, that’s who, but I don’t want to give anyone the pleasure of knowing that either.

It’s a strong fact and probably the only time I move around myself, because there are certain people in this world that I care about and will do anything for,  and most of the time it’s not reciprocated.  It’s a truth and I know this.  I’m boring, broke financially, and really no fun to be around, I’m funny but not funny enough to hang with, just convenient and here, always here.  I’m clean underwear and too many times I’m forgotten about, taken for granted, but damn relied on like crazy.

However, not the reason for the darkness today.  I woke up with my internal ‘pissed off switch’ on full blast.  I awoke hating the world, full on knowing that today was going to suck like rotten eggs can clear a room.  It was going to be bad.  My filter was on low and my temper on blast.  Worst part of it all, I had to work.  All I wanted to do was come home hide and write.

I’m a runner and most of the time I can cure these moments of darkness with a morning run.  Beat the fuck out of my body so I don’t have the energy to be pissed off.  It’s a sad case of depression or as I’d like to call it, Depission, it’s a joint venture of the two to really see who can drive me mad faster.  Neither of them win because at the end of the day, we all hurt inside and out.

Well now that I feel like a total pathetic asshole with no purpose with a side of being an idiot for allowing my life to be nothing more than ‘default’ mode, I’ll move on, shoving my piehole with bacon and frozen blueberries.  Go ahead and judge me, it’s better than being ignored completely.

Here’s an idea if you’ve been paying attention.  In our new world of technology its easier than ever to check up on people.  Text, message or do the unthinkable and call and just ask, “how are you?”  Is it that difficult?  I do my best and I do fail a lot, maybe its the reason why I am pushed aside for newer and better friends/people/animals/toys, etc.  You get the drift.

Today I hurt, tomorrow who knows.  Today I cried, tomorrow who knows.  Today, I hid, tomorrow who knows.  Will it ever end?

I see my crying face in the foggy mirrored life I call hell

Smelling my sadness and the dying inside as it swells

The darkness is real should I just give in and accept it all

Or keep fighting it, second, minute, hours, days until I fall

No I keep moving forward for no reason I can explain

Only the hurt as a reminder of the self inflicted disdain

I’m an awful creature, this must be true

For I’m tossed aside, no sooner than my empty worth shines through

Never leave the house without clean underwear on

You’ll never know when you’ll be called back and you’re work is done.

 

 

 

 

Life happens with the best of intentions* Deal with it.

All sorts of crazy talk here today, some disclosure, some fact, but all very real. Deal with it.

I’m old, it’s a fact.  A 54-year-old woman, no longer in my party days or wish to be in.  Yet, let me take in less than 5 hours sleep and, Oh yeah, I have a hangover.  A crazy, “who in fuck spiked my drink?” hangover!  Disclosure: I’ve had my share of partying days.  Waking up in places I had no idea how or where I was, and pretty much, “what the hell happened last night?”, rolling around in my head.  Not to say, that wearing a smirk of well I’ve survived one more day, and wow, let’s do this again giggle.

I was pretty much a person who loved to laugh, play and have a good time.  Having parentals who had no involvement in the so-called ‘raising’ of me,  I was pretty much forced into being raised with the wolves of the party world.  Funny, isn’t much surprise that I’m now a dark person inside, sad and dark with thoughts of “how in the hell do I get out of here”.

I realized the other day, I don’t laugh much anymore, nothing is really amuses me anymore…its odd, yet normal.  Anyway, factor in the lack of sleep and you have this mess of garble that some call writing, or self-expression, or some kind of bullshit that isn’t relevant to anything in life.  Or is it?

Disclosure:  I’m a 2x survivor and its a great possibility that I’ll get sick again.  What they term is Triple Negative HER breast cancer, is code for, you suck and you will get it again because I like to roam around your body for a weak spot so that I can eat and screw you up all over again.  Yes, yes it did, in the form of ovarian cancer.  Five years ago now a survivor, a survivor to what?  It’s all bullshit.

I maintained life minimally, I barely did the function of surviving.  I truly wanted to die.  Chemo is just another form of torture.  We should use it as an interrogation tool, slowly dying from the inside out will surely get anyone to talk.  Pushing the poison through veins with the encouragement from others, “you’re so strong”, “I couldn’t do what you’re doing”.  What the fuck am I doing, it’s what is being done to me.  Geez, people are dumb.  How about this one, bald, looking like a man, once having gorgeous skin and hair and still light in my eyes [gone now] and people telling me, “you look great”.  I’m being injected with a poison that could kill, and I look great??  What the fuck, I’m not from the planet Krypton with some super human powers to ward off chemo.  If I had, then the cancer wouldn’t have invaded me in the first place.

I digress, sleep deprivation does this, I will long for my bed tonight after work, after an episode or two of my boys, Sam and Dean [Supernatural], if you haven’t watched it, well, you have 13 episodes to catch up on.  This is me and my husband’s quality time, and we enjoy it. Stop judging me asshole.

Speaking of that we don’t travel, we don’t go to the movies, we do life in our home.  Maybe because we are broke as all hell due to student loans sucking the holy fuck out us.  Yeah, another faction of what cancer does to the receiver.  It makes you broke as fuck.  Two weeks after my graduation with a masters, I was diagnosed the first time, it took me 4 years to find another job after the current employer *cough, cough* CVS decided to let me go because I was a risk, cancer does that after the second time.  They’ll deny the fact but I have it on great authority that I was let go due to cancer and they’d rather not take the 3rd chance on me taking time off to let me heal or die a little more.

The best and most lovingly sweet part of cancer, people ditching you because they feel that chemo is contagious, or was that cancer, or was that both.  Granted I was a walking talking nuclear plant, emitting radiation everywhere, right, isn’t that a fact?  Dumbasses, read a book about cancer and treatments, educate yourselves before rejecting people at their lowest point. Gahhhhhh

Anyway, as you see this post is everywhere, this is where my mind has become unfiltered and the damage is leaking through in the vibrant colors of the rainbow, gotta be a unicorn around here somewhere.  This is who’d I’d like to be, I enjoy being a little demented, but as life would have it, bits and pieces of me have fallen off because after years of, “act like a lady”, “that’s so inappropriate” and the sideways glances of those who are dream killers, and bullies because their lives are full of bullshit and fake flowers, doesn’t mean they need to take it out on me.

However, in some bizarre way, it affected me and I have been conditioned to a darker degree of cynicism.  I’ve lost the playful side, the drive to move forward, the trickster, the joker, the fun part of me died because I’ve had to alter in order to fit in.  Where the fuck did I get that idea?  And why the fuck did I go along with it?  The ‘back in the day’ Barbi would not have let it happen.  Was it the cancer?  Was it that I’m just fucking tired of fighting life and all its problems, especially the financial ones.  If anyone tells me one more time that money won’t make me happy, well bitch, give me your money and let me see it for myself.  I don’t mind being a test subject.  Another Gahhhh for the stupid things people say.

Its going to be a long day, and I know it.  No trying to be positive or upbeat about it, no attempting to self-talk some bullshit that really irrelevant to an unfiltered mind such as mine.  If anyone could hear the thoughts at any given time, you’d be amazed at my self-control.  I don’t like to hurt anyone’s feelings.  Truly, so I believe in keeping silent until the urge of wanting to take out my verbal stupid stick and beat the shit of idiot who really didn’t think before talking passes.  Self control at its best, right her folks.

We all have room to grow and I have plenty.  I feel sorry for my kids, I did so hard to maintain, but I know deep inside, they knew I was losing it each day.  Yet, despite my fucked up parenting skills, or possibly my husband being a better parent than I suspected [because of course, I knew everything, and controlled the universe, right?] and picked up the slack without saying a word, but in his own silent way was hating me to a degree of which was overflowing and sucking love out of the equation.

It wasn’t until the C-word occurred that I saw how damaged I was and my world became so much more clear and how he’d been covering for me for years.

With that, I end my rant due to sleep deprivation and unfiltered intents to mitigate  in the world of chaos with the lack of self-control.  Figure that one out.

*this post is unedited and unfiltered to some degree due to being drunk to to lack of sleep.