I had to stop being stubborn and make a decision that I wish I didn’t have to make but is very much in my best interest. I shouldn’t be the one having to make a change, I am not and never was the problem, but I can’t do it anymore. So I have to move. And that’s stupid, I shouldn’t have to uproot myself, go through all the additional stress of finding a place, move my cats… It’s my stubbornness that has kept me here as long as I have. But I am clearly not respected, I clearly don’t matter, and I can’t be miserable at home. Homebodies cannot hate being home, it doesn’t work. My “landlord” roommate was super sweet and supportive and understanding which is nice, although it also infuriates me because, again, I shouldn’t be the one that leaves. I like it here. Or at least I used to. And I’m really gonna miss my one roommate.

I can’t remember the last time I felt so many feelings. I feel like I’m feeling everything, and it’s too much. I’m feeling too much. It’s like that meme of Woody and Buzz Lightyear with a caption that reads, “feelings, feelings everywhere.” Except this isn’t funny. It’s horrible. I’d kill for apathy. Everything is just too strong, too intense, it’s paralyzing. I cried for most of the day yesterday. I couldn’t control it, I just sat on the couch and cried. And cried.

I’m lonely, if you want to get to the point. I’m really, desperately, disgustingly… lonely. I’d kill for a long hug. I’d kill extra to snuggle up to a man. I know, my happiness should not revolve around anyone but me, blah blah blah. But it is what it fucking is, okay? I know it’ll make me feel better. I’m tired of people telling me that I’m responsible for how I feel and no one can make me feel anything without my permission. Do you have any idea how ludicrous that sounds to someone battling depression? Do you really think I’m choosing to feel so fucking sad all the time? Don’t you think if I could just “be happy,” I would do that? So I want what works. I want what will make me feel good. I know it’s not the healthiest route to take and I know that it won’t really solve anything, because once the high wears off I’ll be right back where I started. But for a little while, I’ll feel better. I’ve felt unwanted for so long, a feeling made stronger after recent events, so if I get what I want, for a little while, I can feel a tiny bit better.

I haven’t read the book [yet] but I know my love language is touch. I want to touch and I want to be touched. Words of affirmation is up there too, but I have always been more bothered by lack of touch in a relationship. There isn’t much more in this world that I find more pleasant than laying in bed with someone and running my fingers up and down their chest or their back, drawing patterns. And I really, really want them to do the same. So it’s all I want, I want to lay in strong, hairy arms and feels fingertips draw patterns on my back. I want to forget how sad I am, for a little while.

One of the things they don’t tell you about depression is the guilt that can come along with it. I have great people in my life. Friends who will always let me come hang out, who’s doors are always open for me. Friends who will leave work early and drive an hour and half to come hang out with me because I’m having a terrible, weepy day. I even have one wonderful roommate who just gave me a hug because he knows I’m having a hard time. Those things, all of those things, they all mean so much to me. They make me feel warm. But sadly, those warm feelings are fleeting, they slip away all too quickly. Those great moments with great friends aren’t good enough, they don’t fix me. And that makes me feel so guilty, and selfish. I’m having a hard time being there for anyone else, I’m having a hard time getting out of my head.

I’d kill for numbness. Apathy. For time to pass more quickly. For that snuggle. I want so badly to feel better but I don’t know how to do it. All I can do is sit on the couch. And cry.


Mixed Media


Well… I didn’t keep my mouth shut. Do I ever? I’m not sure it’s better or worse, but I like getting it off my chest. I’m still anxious and miserable, but I’m not battling with myself anymore about why I shouldn’t bother. It’s done, nothing I can do about it now. Although I do realize it was dumb and not actually worth it.

I’m not entirely satisfied with the answers I got but at least I did get some. I also got to make sure someone knew they shared responsibility. I feel like I stood up for myself and I am happy about that. I am also happy that I made them feel bad. They should feel bad.

I have my therapy appointment tonight. I can’t believe this is what my life has come to. I still struggle to wrap my head around how much crazy has seeped through the cracks. I’ve had such a strong will for so long. I feel so weak all of a sudden.

I don’t know where to start with her. It’s going to be a shit show no matter what. I imagine there will be a lot of crying. Either that or I’ll seem like a total bitch. Because I’m feeling a little bitchy. I’m so nervous! I just hope it goes well. I really, really need this to go well…

Leaving Unsaid Unspoken

I’m not very good at keeping my mouth shut. I always have so much that I want to say and I’m amazed at how much I’m actually able to keep in. Especially when you consider what actually comes out of my mouth. Who would have thought I was really holding back, right?

But the problem is that I want to say everything. I want SO DAMN BADLY to say EVERYTHING. When I don’t get it out, I just feel anxious and flustered and like I’m going to explode. I’m hoping typing it out will help but I’m not so sure.

Because I want to say that I hate you for what you did to me. I hate that you gave me exactly what I wanted and then took it away. And I want to know why you thought it was okay. I want to know why you didn’t consider talking to me about it on one of the many times it came up, when we were sitting right there staring at each other and talking about it. You didn’t say anything! You didn’t even respect me enough to tell me, you just went on about your business like I was never a thing, I never even got a passing thought that like, I don’t know, maybe you should keep me in the loop. I want to know why I didn’t matter enough to you to warrant a conversation. I want to know why you didn’t think I was good enough. I want to know what’s going through your mind when you flaunt your bullshit in front of me all the time. Do you feel guilty? Are you doing it to prove a point? To make yourself feel better? Or are you really that much of an inconsiderate asshole?

I also hate that I miss you. I hate that we had so much fun and I enjoyed myself so thoroughly and now I’m just not. My life went from everything going surprisingly well, I was so happy with what was happening in my life, to being really, really shitty. Just like that. And I hate that you had so much of an effect. I hate that I’m not getting what I want anymore, I hate that you decided you knew how I felt better than I did. I hate that you took my happiness away from me and I hate that you were a big part of that happiness.

Because the thing is, none of this means what everyone would think it means. People, you included, will think you know how I’m feeling but the thing is, you don’t have a clue. You have no idea what is going through my head, you have no idea what my intentions are or were. You don’t know anything.

It just blows my mind how quickly things can change. There’s a Nickelback song [shut up, I like them and I’m not ashamed] about feeling too damn good, because when you feel too good, things are bound to go wrong. It’s so emo but whatever, that’s my life at the moment. And it’s true, things can never go too well without shit hitting the fan. And when it rains, it pours. Another incredibly accurate cliche, because my life isn’t just emo, it’s also a cliche.

Ugh. I don’t know I’m hoping trying to write things out will help. I have my doubts but it was worth a shot, right? Not everything needs to be said out loud. Right?


I took a really long shower this morning. And by “shower,” what I really mean is I sat down in the shower, knees pulled up to my chin, crying, for a very long time. I feel so broken. I feel myself getting more and more desperate to feel better. All I want is to feel better and I find myself thinking I would do anything to feel better. I’m grasping at straws, clinging to anything that might help me feel better for just a little bit. And I am terrified.

I’m also starting to hate myself and I don’t know how to deal with that. I hate myself because people affect me so much. They always say no one can hurt your feelings or make you feel insignificant without your permission. Quite frankly, I call bullshit. I don’t know anyone who can just not be hurt by the things people say and how people treat them. I hate when people act like I don’t matter, and I don’t know how to not take that personally. If someone is gonna treat me like shit on their shoe, someone that I thought cared about me in at least a small way that the average person should care about another person they are “intimate” with, how am I not supposed to be hurt and offended and angry? When someone doesn’t even respect me enough to extend common courtesy, to just flaunt their bullshit in front of me without any thought to my feelings whatsoever, how am I supposed to not be upset?

So I feel hurt. I feel insignificant and worthless and like I don’t fucking matter. To anyone. I feel like I don’t deserve anyone’s respect. Because no matter how much I think I’m standing up for myself, apparently I’m not, so clearly, I am not worthy of anyone’s respect. I feel under-valued and unappreciated, and I don’t know how to make anyone see my worth. Reason would suggest that the only people worth having in my life are the ones who just realized it, but where does reason actually fit into life? Since when are things fair or reasonable or make any sense at all?

I wish I had the ability to say everything I need to say. I hate unfinished business, and I really hate when people get to think they won when they didn’t. I hate when people walk around like they aren’t giant douchebags. I think they should know that they’re a piece of shit. They should know that they hurt someone and it isn’t okay. People shouldn’t get to walk by me every day like they didn’t treat me like crap, like I’m the one being crazy and unreasonable for calling them out on their shit. Quite frankly, no one else is gonna stick up for me, so I have to at least act like I care enough about myself to stick up for myself, so I won’t lay down and take it. I don’t have it in me to go whimpering off to lick my wounds, which is one of the very few things I do like about myself right now.

I also wish I had learned by now to really keep my distance. I try so hard not to let anyone get that close to me. I don’t ever want someone to see my vulnerable, to see me weak. I don’t want people to see my at my worst because all they are going to do is judge me for it. How do I know that? Because everyone who has ever seen me at my worse has held it against me. Heaven forbid I ever have a moment of weakness and I just want some comfort. It’s not like I’m ever unclear about what I want or what I’m looking for. I’m no mystery. I don’t even ask for much. I ask for very little. And during all this, I try to keep everyone at arm’s length. I don’t want anyone near my heart. I don’t want to ever let someone close enough to hurt me, but somehow they always slip through the cracks. I am weak. I have a softness I can’t seem to harden. A softness that lets me see the great and wonderful things in someone. The things that I enjoy, that I find endearing, things that I use to learn about someone, to get to know them. And then I start to care and I just enjoy what’s happening. It seldom means that I want more from the situation, it just means that I am finding them more enjoyable to be around and that I’d like to be around them. This just bites me in the ass because it always translates somehow that I want more, that I’m asking too much. But I’m not. Can’t I just like someone? Can’t I just like being around them? I’m so honest all the time, can’t you just trust me to be honest about what it means? So while many would argue that this softness is somehow a good thing, to remain soft in a harsh world, it is truly a terrible thing. It hurts me, it causes me pain, it gives me no escape from the constant torment of having so. Many. Feelings.

I am also getting reckless. I don’t care about work, I’m getting lazy and I don’t care. Or I guess more accurately, I work very hard to avoid doing the work I don’t want to do. I don’t want to be around people. I don’t want to talk to anyone, I don’t want to deal with it. I’m also trying out retail therapy, I’m buying things I can’t actually afford, consequences be damned, because I’m desperate to feel just a little bit better. And the new shirt makes me feel better, even if only for an hour. It’s an hour while I don’t feel like I need to cry. An hour free of the hopelessness. I know I sound like an emo teenager but I feel like an emo teenager. And trust me, realizing I sound like a whiny, mopey teenager doesn’t help anything.

As I said, I’m getting desperate. Desperate for anything that will help. I ache for numbness. Or for someone who can actually comfort me. I yearn for a cuddle, for someone to hold me for an hour, who will let me just cry and be weak and just… let me be. I want to feel like I matter, even if just briefly. I’ve been dealing with so much, I have this very intense fear that no man will ever touch me or want me again and I have a pretty legit reason to feel this way, and I want so desperately to be wrong. There’s a lot of desperate.

One Year

It is slowly creeping up on one year. One year without my love. One year without my heart. One year since my world stopped turning.

I remember what it felt like getting the first text that Ricci had hurt herself. It was late Friday night, I was housesitting out of town, it was my last night there but there was no way I could get there. But I knew something was wrong. I was in a panic all night, tossing and turning all night, I didn’t get any sleep. I was so nauseous by the time I had to get up for work, I had to puke. I got through a couple hours of work before my boss let me go early so I could get to the barn.

The vet was called and we thought she was fine, but then the next day… we all know that story.

So when I was asked if I could housesit at the same place again at the very same time this year, I didn’t know what to say. I housesit for this friend all the time, I know they rely on me and it’s some extra cash. So at first I said sure, but I had to text her this morning and say I’m sorry, I can’t do it. I almost let myself feel weak for that but I stopped myself. This is not weakness. Ricci was… everything. It isn’t anywhere near enough time for me to be over her loss, I don’t think any amount of time will. I already asked for the day off so I can just lay around and drink all day.

It’s still so hard to not have her here. It’s hard when what used to be everything you ran to when you were sad or stressed or angry isn’t around anymore. Ricci was my therapy. Just a few minutes at the barn enjoying her company was enough to give me the highest high. I sat and watched her for hours sometimes, letting my heart settle into a blissful rhythm, crying until I couldn’t cry anymore, ranting and raving when I was angry, or dancing around the barn, singing loudly and obnoxiously to the music on my iPod while she looked at me like I was a fool.

She was just the greatest. The most wonderful creation to have every been put on this planet. I’ll never stop missing her.