Lost In The Wild

January 17, 2016

On Monday, I received a phone call for another interview. This time, I paced around for an hour before returning the call. My confidence has officially been drained. Interviewing is no longer a breeze. I feel like a disgruntled, ex-employee that's been timed out of the market. Skills...obsolete...and I can't even remember what day it is anymore. I feel like if I blink, I'll be in a nursing home. This time has taught me...I am better in the workforce. It's my purpose. It saves me.

Anyway, I called back with the most confident tone I could muster, however, I think the exhaustion bleeds through my vocal cords, "Hey, hire me because I'm tired of hanging around wondering what's going to happen." The days collapsed into themselves and before I knew it, it was the morning of.

I had previously, jokingly, texted some friends about the what-if of being interviewed by someone attractive. In all of my experience as a worker, and having more jobs than I can count, I've never been interviewed by someone remotely attractive (in my opinion). My last company I was with for quite sometime only hired attractive people maybe once every 1.5 years. LOL. It was a running joke within my circle there. "I'm glad I left. I'd never meet my soulmate there!" I texted my friend as she descried the new controller of my ex-company. Superficial as it may seem, it's true.

Anyway, I drove out there. It's ten minutes from my home. That's a pretty wicked-awesome commute. If it wasn't all highway, I'd ride my bike everyday. I walked into the lobby after reviewing my notes in the car. I had on my suit which allowed me some borrowed confidence. I sat and filled out an application while wearing my visitor badge. Then, the HR lady came out and her face pulled into a condescending half-smile. "Grreeeaaattt..." I thought. She doesn't like me already. She didn't even shake my hand. She led me to her office, sat me down, asked me some of the standard questions and told me a little bit about the manager I was supposed to interview with. She was nice enough, but she wasn't crazy about me. It seemed as though I was the filler interview, and they had already decided who they were going to hire (not me). I made the best of it.

She led me down to the conference room to speak with the manager. He took awhile to arrive, and was late. Then...he walked in and I was amazed. I laugh about it now, but...he was everything she said he was. Extremely laid back, intelligent, and very driven. Also, VERY young to hold such a position (around my age). I couldn't gauge his age though, when he remarked about how he was so young. He had forehead creasing, some laugh lines, no sagging yet. "****, is he younger than me? No way...No freakin' way..." I thought. Then I realized, I can't work for him if I were offered the job...he wasn't wearing a ring...and he was attractive.

I heard everything he said, and I stayed present...or as present as I could. I was absolutely shocked that this had happened, haha. It wouldn't be a good mix though, because I'd wind up sitting there pining over my boss and that is wrong on so many levels. And he was single...not a good thing, nope. He seemed engaged in the conversation, was very informative, and if I did get the job, I could see myself really enjoying working for him (but not in that way!). I asked how I'd be trained..."I would be the one training you..." Huh? Oh no...Not good. Not good for me. It was just a resounding, all-around, "Shi*...nooooo!!!" blowing through my mind the whole time.

The attraction felt very one-sided, although I contained it very well, since I'm so naturally closed-off. I can usually identify attraction within minutes, and it wasn't present or obvious at first. Looking back, however, he did blush a lot and fumble over some words, stood tall, etc. I tried to jot down his email address, and ****ed that all up trying to spell his last name. I felt like a 2nd grader learning to write cursive. We stood to part ways, shook hands and he let me go first, opening doors for me along the way. That made me feel rather uncomfortable, because like, hello, I'm not on a date here. You lead, I follow. That's just me though. I've never had that happen on an interview before.

He led me to the receptionist and I fumbled a pen trying to sign out, right in front of him. The whole experience was...awkward to say the least, but I was quite enchanted with the company. It would be up to him who they hire, but HR packs a hell of a punch in deciding. They clearly want someone who holds a bachelor's degree, and they don't know about my DUI charge. I have to say, I don't think this bodes well for me. I was as professional as I could be, and did the best I could. I left feeling like it went well, but I've felt that way before and never heard anything back. It's a crap shoot really, and my best, most honest guess is I won't get it. I'll know something in two weeks.

I sent a thank you email. He never replied. So, I'll have to keep looking. This was just a different experience—and it added some fun to my boring life, I must say.

January 26, 2016

Life filled my body and I stirred into consciousness. For some reason, my first instinct was to grab for my phone that was buried in my bed sheets. The first text message I read was from my mom: "XXX passed away this morning."

Are you KIDDING ME? Really? As if this wasn't enough, someone has to die this year? I called my cousin. It was her mother who died. There was no answer. I didn't hear from her all day.

It didn't quite sink in for me the way these types of things should. I mean, I loved her. She was a great woman. The epitome of kindness and hilarity. She was a wonderful woman who should have outlived everyone else because she had such a big heart and so much to offer. She was the wild side of life, the one who taught me it was okay to bend the rules a little (essentially undoing the rule of my overbearing mother), to have fun with life, and make it your plaything. And so I did, much to my mother's dismay.

I waited to hear from my cousin checking my phone every 10 minutes. I checked my email many times, too. This was the week! The week I would know whether or not I got the job! I kept thinking, "Wouldn't it be something to have a death and a rejection all in the same day?"

Well, wouldn't you know it? Sure enough that is exactly what happened. That was when I realized...there is no point in doing anything. Spending a lifetime fighting to survive and then boom, you have the other end of the spectrum...death, the inevitable something that happens to us all at some point, the one of two things we all have in common...we are born and yes, we die. I faced mortality, loss, and pain all in one moment. I cried. I wanted to fire an email back, but decided against it. Emotions ran too high and surely I'd regret saying anything at all because it would not be positive (I have many reasons for this, which I will not illustrate).

Then my mom called me shortly after that. I didn't want to got to my parents' house today because of all the negative feelings I felt. I wasn't ready to jump into a social situation right away without some serious introspection, but I did it anyway. And sure enough, me and my mother fought like cats and dogs.

I'm SO angry. She is incredibly difficult to get along with. For example, I bring up my childhood and she says something like, "You're just holding a grudge. You need to get over it." I'll get into the context a little later. She drove to the grocery store so I could run in and grab things for my dad because we were cooking. She will park at the end of the row on the other side of the building five blocks away. "You're young. You can walk." Um...it's 15 degrees outside...And I'm fuming as I walk by ten available spaces near the entrance of the store. Who does that? She sits in the car waiting and I get to walk. Nice mom. Thanks. "You're just jealous of me," she said tonight as we arrived at her place. She says things like this all the time, and we fight because she firmly believes she is right and just ignores any attempt I make to convince her otherwise. This is true with everything, including my job search. "I didn't get the job," I tell her. And she will fire back with, "Well, you need to call your old company and ask them for a job. Or you need to get a job that you don't want." She is implying that I NEED to take a minimum wage job and discounts all other variables in the form of house payments, student loans, etc. "I did it. I worked at places I didn't want to because I had to." Okay, I understand this is a high probability at this point and I don't need someone pointing this out to me at the moment. It is really unhelpful and it infuriates me. "YOU WERE AND ARE MARRIED MOTHER! You had someone to fall back on and child support payments when you and dad were separated. You have no idea what it's like doing all of this and having NO ONE to fall back on!!!" She doesn't hear me. I can't talk to her and I dread it. She only sees things from her point of view and forsakes all others. She hates being wrong, and I suppose I do too. This is why we clash. And in the wake of someone's death we fight to the death of our relationship.

I'm fuming as I storm into my parents' house and my dad asks me what's wrong. "I can't get along with her. She is impossible!" And dad agrees and says, "I don't get along with her either." I ask, "Was she a good mother to me? I have no good memories of her at all." Dad says, "I don't know, I was always working." I ask, "Well, when you were around?" He says, "I don't know, I tried the best I could. Do you have good memories of me?" And being in the emotional state I was in I couldn't lie. "I have good memories of you," and his face looks relieved, "but I also have bad ones too." And dad asks, "Like what?" I thought I was on the verge of getting kicked out of their place before cooking dinner commenced. I prepared for it and shifted in my seat and even prepared to be hit. "I remember getting my ass beat all the time." I sh*t you not, I never saw this coming in a million years. If there is a memory that would cut me the deepest, it would be this one. I just...there are no words..."I never touched you. There were many times you needed your ass beat, and I never did. You're lying." I felt like a child again, in the corner, looking up to see a belt coming down on me and my voice got small..."There was the time when I didn't know a division problem..." He sat up and grabbed his testing device for diabetes. I decided to stop talking or else he would start screaming at me.

Then I went to the bathroom and cried. I can't move back in there.

Yes dad, you did beat me. Sometimes you had good reason, sometimes you were having a bad day. And yes, you beat my sick mother too. That is why I was a bed wetter. You and mom spent a lot of money trying to figure out why I couldn't stop, but you wouldn't tell the professionals why. When the abuse stopped, I stopped doing that. The abuse was the reason I walked around as a child with my shoulders shrugged up to my ears. I have a fond memory of you correcting my posture as I walked out to go to school one day. It embarrassed you. I remember never being able to stand up for myself and even today, my voice shakes when I don't know how someone who has power over me will react, because some part of me remembers you.

For my thirteenth birthday, my dad bent me over and hit me hard thirteen times then laughed about it while I cried. The last time he laid hands on me, I was 17. And for some reason, I just can't forget. It's not something I think about all the time, but it's there. I told my mom what he said. She said, "Well, that's because you just need to get over it. You need to stop holding grudges." She told me I can change my personality and forget. None of those things made me who I am today. Wow, okay. So there we have it, even when I was 16 in therapy with my parents after attempting suicide, they sat tight-lipped and placed all blame on me. After all these years, nobody mentions it. I think a simple acknowledgement from dad tonight would have changed my world for the better. Instead, to him, it's just not true and I'm a big, fat liar. Hence, the reason why I can't deal with conflict. I can't talk about it. But I can write about it.

At some point, yeah, none of this stuff matters. It IS up to me to change things, but I haven't the slightest clue where to start. Therapy won't change what happened. And I hate talking about this. Therapy won't change my parents, either.

My cousin finally texted me back telling me she's okay. So I told her a funny story about her mom, and offered to have a wine night where we get together, spill some for our lost homie and talk about her. She's game, but she needs a couple of days, understandably. I also told her I'm glad we were talking again and how happy I was to be able to see her mother over Thanksgiving.

I can't even explain how unhappy I am. There are no words for this. And frankly, I don't want to do this anymore. There's no reason for me to be here other than to not cause hurt to those who "love" me, and I can't help but think my parents would rather have me shut up. I really have more reasons to die than to live. On the other hand, a friend in Connecticut is begging for me to come visit her and get involved in her connections. She thinks I'd be able to find work there, but I'm too broke to go. And I'm on probation (lol) now so I'd have to "ask" for permission to leave the state lmao. My life is such a joke.

Edited January 26, 2016 by LostInTheWild

February 11, 2016

And so...

I decided to start a business online. It is rather unsuccessful so far, being I need customers to say I made it. I have advertised, and advertised, and advertised. Everything I can do for free. I need to pay money to get customers, to advertise to my target audience. But...alas, another unsuccessful venture...until it isn't, I guess. However, it is something I want to do, so I'm hoping I have the energy to keep at it.

Luckily my internet is still going, my phone still works, and the electric company is pissed because they're not getting paid. Yowza. Bill after bill goes ignored and unpaid. I freaking love my life...not.

Anyway, along with all the advertising comes social media...the "demon" in my book. But...let's see...I signed up on a professional networking site, thinking this will help me make some connections and get me my first customer. A few days later, I log in to browse and explore the interface. It's pretty straightforward and boring. Then I notice I can see who checked out my profile.

I nearly "shipped my pants"...LOL, I love that commercial.

Anyway, a long, long time ago (four years), me and the ex that inspired this thread broke up (for the second time, but this time wasn't permanent). He moved out, took the raccoon (yes we had one—we saved its life), and we talked about getting back together, but took a few weeks of a break. Meanwhile, my cousin invited me to this crappy little metal concert out in the sticks. We were to go by bus (a school bus), so we could get wasted and hang out. I said, "Hell yeah!"

We had our little bottles of spiked drinks and we chatted along the way, getting buzzed. We get there, hop out, and explore the place. All of a sudden, this guy appears like he owned the place, and acted like we wanted to hang out with him. And we did!!! He was SO cool and awesome. He and I really did get along well. And he had this energy about him that I absolutely adored. We all hung out, got hammered, and hopped on the bus. He sat near me. In fact, he never left my side.

We got back into our town and he wanted to ride with me, since he was from out of state and didn't have his car (he had ridden to the carpool with someone else). So our group all met up at a bar and talked and partied the night away. He looked better and better to me, and we ended the night with a one night stand.

The following weeks he was in another state and we talked over the phone until he stopped calling and stopped emailing. I got pissed off and went about my life, got back with my ex, and...forgot.

He did come back. I remember one time, I think I was seeing the Teacher at the time, and I got a text or email from him for which I promptly told him to shove his words up his ass because I was done. After that, I don't think I heard from him again. He's definitely the "Boomerang Man." But no, I won't name him that. I will name him Bazooka, because that's more relevant to his name.

Although this time, everything was my fault. A couple of days ago I spotted Bazooka checking out my profile. I looked in my email to see if I still had his email address. I typed in his last name and it was like...fate. Kismet! I quickly shot him an email wishing him well, telling him I saw him stalking me, but I did think he wouldn't be using that email and it would go unread. And I thought about how weird it would be if I wound up dating this guy...My ONS from many moons ago...

Twenty minutes later...

I get an email. He seemed happy to hear from me. We chatted a little, caught up. He isn't married, has no children, and he lives in my state now! Wow, and I thought he was a catch when I knew him last. I could tell he wanted to have sex with me again...which is never really a good sign, but I figured...Why not see what can happen with this? He seemed eager to talk to me, so a few jokes and a phone number later, we were texting. Then I told him to get in touch if he wanted to meet up for a drink or something (I'm more of a coffee drinker now).

I didn't think I'd hear from him again since he made no plans to try to see me, and strangely, his aggressiveness was gone. He wasn't the old, persistent Bazooka I remembered. Then I realized my thought pattern was all wrong...I was sizing him up as a mate, like a good, old-fashioned Desperado. But I think more than anything, I'm just lonely. I'm just tired of being lonely. Even during my "private moments" I cry instead of feeling the rush, so I don't have private time anymore. I always wonder when someone will touch me and it will mean something. When I can look over and say, "Did you see that?" And he says, "Yeah!" Building memories and a life...However, that's not what this is about...

I debated with friends over his sincerity. He wants a booty call. This is still unconfirmed but I'm pretty sure that's all he wants because that's all I'm good for in the male eye. Either way, the silence was deafening because I wanted someone to joke around with, to talk to, someone I could see and remember and smell...tangible.

Then I get a text from him this evening and again, I nearly "shipped my pants". We joke around for a while then he makes a comment about being out of state. Confused I ask him what's going on, like are you not living around here like I thought you were? And he said he is but he's traveling for a job interview. In. Another. State. So if he gets it he will move! "That sucks. But good luck!" I said. This is the same scenario as the last time. He responded with, "Thanks and good night!" He had to go to bed. But he doesn't know that...I'm not entertaining this any further than making a new friend. That's it. I'd really prefer I don't hear from him again, but if he texts, I'll be friendly. And there will be no plans to see him.

After all this, I can't help but feel like...here we go again. Another case that goes cold...For some reason, I'm reliving the feeling of not being good enough. This time, I'm older, and I have the power to control this, but I don't know. It really leaves me in poor form, probably because I liked him so much then. I call that the "what-if factor".

In all other areas, besides someone (I think) trying to break into my house (such positivity all around me!), life has maintained the **** sandwich vibe and shows every sign of deterioration no matter what I do. Luckily, it is leveling off, slightly, so I may be eating a smaller **** sandwich this month. That is my forecast for the month.

Un-****ing-believable joke: my life.

Edited February 11, 2016 by LostInTheWild

February 18, 2016

I don't know what to write, but...I feel like I should force myself to do it.

I don't know how I get out of bed, but somehow I do it. Sometimes, I can't.

I don't know why I get out of bed, but I keep trying to believe one day I'll be grateful I did. "Maybe," I think, "today my life will be different." It never is.

I don't know what happened to my favorite past time, running, but I hope one day I'll feel the gravel under my feet again...and almost feel like I'm flying. Like I used to. If I ever do it, I hope I can say it saved me. I can still see my feet moving, taking me wherever I wanted to go.

I don't know how to answer questions anymore in order to seem interesting, but somehow, "Nothing," and "I don't know," have become acceptable. Nobody probes beyond that, and I wonder if I have lost my spirit for the art of conversation.

I don't know why I stand on my parents' balcony and look over the side, thinking about jumping. Would I live? Would anyone even notice?

I don't know how such a large world can feel like a snow globe, but I know something else is out there. I stare into the hills filled with people, lights, cars, and lives...but I can't seem to imagine myself living anywhere else. Where do I go? Evaporate?

I don't know where the tears come from, but I can't remember ever crying this much. I keep grieving my life as I knew it because I hate what it is now.

I don't know when I'll get out of the house to do something fun again, but I keep hoping something comes along. I used to be fun. I used to be wild. It was hard to let that go, and seems like I don't know who LITW is anymore and sadly...writing is becoming difficult. I feel this crippling sensation creeping over my life and bleeding me dry, taking all that I love with it.

Whenever a rush comes over me...like too many emotions at once, too many thoughts going through my mind at a single time...I feel it. I feel the suffocation. Like I'm not meant to go any further than this. Like I'm not allowed to breathe. Like my freedom has been stolen, permanently.

Then I struggle to catch my breath and I understand this is what life is. No matter the cruel joke it's turned out to be. And sometimes I think, I may have been better off taking my ex back. It would have changed all this. Because I don't want to be alone anymore. I'm tired of trying to figure out where I fit in. I'm very lonely, even with my dog.

Sometimes, the feeling of suffocation passes. Sometimes, it doesn't so I get out of bed to go to my parents', to stand on their balcony and cry while they watch television, or to look down at the street and cry, and to breathe while life scurries on around me. Dad asks me when I first walk in, "Are you all right?" And I just say, "I'm fine, dad."

But I'm not. I'm not fine. I'm pretty sure my parents know that I haven't been okay in a long time. A very long time. So I don't even understand why they bother worrying and fretting over me like a child. Life sucks! Can you fix that? You shouldn't have ever given birth to me! Then, I wouldn't have to deal with this now. The blame game. But I'm here. So, now what?

Sometimes, I'll make it to the garage before I start crying as I leave my parents' to go home. Sometimes, I'll come home, lay in bed, and stare at the ceiling while tears run down my face. I guess everything is okay until it isn't; and everything isn't okay until it is.

I don't know why I'm here. Maybe my soul is tethered to a little sailboat drifting out on the ocean, and a storm is just finally getting around to sinking it. Or maybe, I have a lot of time left and there are many things I can still do and accomplish. Whatever that is, I don't even dream about it. I don't dare cross that line. It's not worth it, because everything I dreamed about crashed and burned.

Update on February's Forecast:

2/18/2016: Sh*t sandwich

2/19/2016: Mediocre sh*t sandwich

2/20/2016: Sh*t sandwich with extra sh*t

2/21/2016: Sh*t sandwich

2/22/2016: Extra large sh*t sandwich with extra sh*t and turd sprinkles *I'm banking on this one being highly accurate.

That looks weird with the days laid out like that. Really makes me question why I even bother at all. But that about sums up every week I've had thus far, too. What is there to look forward to?

March 4, 2016

Don't speak to me this way

Don't ever let me say

Don't leave me again

Oh you never felt this lost before

And the world is closing doors

I never wanted anything more

Oh you never felt this lost before

And the world is closing doors

I never wanted anything more

Don't hurt me this way

Don't touch me this way

Don't hurt me again

Don't hurt me this way

Don't touch me this way

Don't hurt me again

Oh you never felt this lost before

And the world is closing doors

I never wanted anything more

Oh you never felt this lost before

And the world is closing doors

I never wanted anything more

Don't let me make the same mistake again

Please don't let me make the same mistake again

Don't let me make the same mistake again

Oh you never felt this lost before

And the world is closing doors

I never wanted anything more

Oh you never felt this lost before

And the world is closing doors

I never wanted anything more

Don't let me make the same mistake again

Please don't let me make the same mistake again

March 4, 2016

So, I'm working on my attitude towards life (again!!!).

Trying to make it better and get around the obstacles, rather than pushing through them...taking the path of least resistance.

It's kind of tough though, waking up everyday not knowing where I'll be. Not knowing where to go.

I used to know this about my life. I used to know what each day would bring.

And now I don't.

Can I stop to just...see what I'm doing, how self-destructive I've become...and change that?

Get fit, eat well, be healthy.

Keep looking for work, keep fighting for what matters, keep the dreams alive...

Edited March 4, 2016 by LostInTheWild

April 16, 2016

After much turmoil, fighting with my parents, reuniting with my long, lost friend who lives in Australia, watching endless YouTube clips, listening to my brain cells die, along with a bit of scheming here and there, I had finally lost hope.

I lay in bed, staring at the same four walls, waiting for it all to implode. I was ignoring phone calls for a very long time because it was either a collector, or someone I didn't want to speak to about my problems. I had given up. There wasn't any hope. Between attending my driver's safety courses, and half-heartedly searching for community service opportunities, it seemed all was pretty much lost. I even gave up on the lawsuit against my former employer who did this to me. But the agency still called to give me updates. I just ignored them.

Each morning, I'd reach for my phone that still works based on handouts from a friend and look for something in the universe that was meant for me. Something to lead the way out of the darkness in the wild. An idea, something I hadn't thought of, or an epiphany. Or, I'd often watch videos of people living the life I thought I had and could attain. Then I'd think, "Good for them," and live vicariously through them in my own imagination. It's a lonely life.

Then I received notice about eviction. I have to be off-premises by May 1st. My beautiful house down by the water, overlooking the river with it's bright, off-yellow charm, sitting proudly and smiling in the sun. The home that offered promise. A change. A new beginning. It's gone.

I thought about how fitting it was though, since it has been a financial battle doing this all alone, even when I was working. After struggling for so long it seems that my body is breathing a sigh of relief. No more responsibility. No more yard. No gutters falling off, or roof leaking, or freezing in the winter, or resenting the fact that I had to go out and shovel snow and peck ice off my car and still make it to work on time. All with no help. No love interest to help. No romance to add the zest to my coasting life.

The proud little home still beams in the sun, but it belongs to another life; one that is not my own. I imagine tiny footsteps thumping through the house, a warm stove cooking something that fills the home with a wonderful aroma and a man and woman embracing in the charming kitchen. The house breathes with them and enriches their lives. That's not my life and this is not my world. I don't belong here. And the bad memories I made here will die within the walls, and evaporate as I close the door for the last time. The house won't remember my failure, but I will, and I will try my hardest to forget.

So, I started throwing my dishes away. I had a set from when my ex and I were together. They're gone. I saved a pan to cook with until I leave, should I even get anymore groceries, which I haven't. I saved a couple of cups. A couple of plates. Some silverware. The rest I thought my parents could use, and so I took everything I didn't want to toss to their house. It's time to sell my furniture, to throw away my bed I've had for eleven years and is still a wonderful mattress. It's time to empty drawers and trim down on memories I had saved and thought I would carry with me to the end. It's time to donate clothes, give away TV's, store books, and find a place to put the things I want to keep. Of course, when you have no money, you cannot store your belongings in a rental space. And so, in my parents' tiny second bedroom, I will add boxes here and there and save what I can of my former self. What made me who I am. I'm shedding, trimming, and shredding. I'm a goo hoarder, too, so as a woman, it's hard to get rid of the half-full lotions, hair products, and creams. Yet, everything must go.

I called my high school friend who lives nearby and asked if I could live with him for awhile. I had to stay with someone other than my parents because they're so unstable and with me going through such a difficult period, I need distance from that. I guess this is the most adult thing I've done all year which is recognizing what I need. But today I cried. I'm still crying. My best friend in the whole wide world can't live with me. I had to make a choice. Live with my parents and keep her close to me at night and play with her during the day, or choose my sanity and the ability to see her as often as I want.

Penelope.

I feel the most guilt for her. My dog. I spent a good portion of her life looking at her as a responsibility, like a bill to pay. One day, I brought her home from her stay with my parents and suddenly, she was no longer this obligation. She became my reason. My purpose. The way she looks at me, like I'm forgiven for not loving her the way I should have, hurts me. And just when we became best friends, I have to leave her. I can still see her, but she won't wake me up in the morning or bring me her toy to play. We can't lay in bed together and pass the time. She won't be able to talk to me anymore like she can when we're alone. It really feels like I'm being torn away from someone I love. I'm just glad I can see her, wash her, hold her, and kiss her little nose while she paws the air with her short little legs. She means the world to me. My sanity...or my baby and best friend? Just holding her makes me want to cry.

I've shied away from writing. My internet is still kicking, maybe for a day or two longer before they cut me off. I just don't really know what to say anymore. I have to say, this is the most horrible thing that's ever happened to me. I think I'd rather be dead under a bridge somewhere than go through this. Maybe if I hadn't called the cops that night...Everyone my age is doing something with their lives and here I am thinking I have to get a minimum wage job. I'm actually homeless. I have taxes I have to file, and I can't afford to pay someone to help me. They're complicated this year and I'll owe money. Thank you, Uncle Sam. I say that facetiously, with two birds flipping your way. You're welcome.

Last week, I answered my phone. It was a call from the agency handling my case against my former employer. I thought I'd just tell them I'm tired of fighting, and we can let this one go. "They've made you an offer," a tough, authoritative voice chimed over the line, "for $500.00." And this just pissed me off because I can wipe my ass with that now; it's totally worthless to me and would be gone in an hour. I asked, "I know you can't really tell me anything, but say you met a guy going through this same thing at a bar, what would you tell him to do?" He said, "I can't answer that, but what I can tell you is that of the cases that settle through our agency, they average about $6,100.00." He goes on to tell me those *******s sent him emails I sent out to friends while I was there, and that they really don't incriminate me or lessen the severity of my case because the emails just say that I'm looking for another position. He said they have a lot going on over at that company, but it's very hard to tie that to me. In that event, I may lose, but...

This was just what I needed to hear after all this turmoil. I needed something to quicken me once more. "You tell them that I want back wages," I said. "How much is that? Like $10,000.00?" I asked, not really thinking of the time that has passed. He quickly calculated it, "Oh, no, that's over $30,000.00."

"Well, you tell them that I want that. If they don't give that to me, you tell them that if I lose through your agency, once I start working again, I don't care how much money it costs, I will come for them. I will get a lawyer and sue them for unlawful termination. I will come for them for the cost of my house. The pain and suffering. The whole shebang. You tell them, they should really think about how a lawsuit will look. It's cheaper to settle now because, you tell them, I promise I will not relent. I will get more money if I have to take this to a jury, and I will not stop," I ranted.

I got off the phone and thought about it. I talked to some friends. One guy who still works for the company told me some things he overheard them talking about pertaining to my case. They opened my employee file. There isn't anything in it. They didn't follow their own written procedures to terminate me. Their lawyer thinks they will lose and they're preparing for it. They were throwing around figures of $50,000.00 and had office workers researching what I should get out of a settlement.

It's funny. One day, you're a balloon, held down by a rock, deflating, and the helium that made you puff out, and look happy and cheerful starts to seep out and lose strength. Then, just at the right moment, someone comes along, removes the rock, makes a wish on you and sets you free to float into the clouds before all is lost. Hopefully, it's not too close to a tree, or there will be snags. But the only thing that matters at the time is that someone lifted the rock and said a prayer. The rest is up to the wind and the universe.

And my mind took this and ran with it.

"I don't have to stay here..." I whispered to myself. "I can run. I can escape. I can make a new life. If I win. Money can change this." And everyday since then, I've hoped and dreamed. It's like buying a lottery ticket and dreaming for a few days, except I'll be dreaming for months or years.

I've come to the conclusion that I want a job where I can work from home, so that I can work from anywhere in the world. This is the goal no matter what happens with the settlement, because, I know I don't want to stay in the United States. In fact, I am really starting to hate it here. I really resent that the economy collapsed and now it's an employer's market where they can hire and fire at will. There are no protections for employees. I remember years ago where I could have a job within a week, no matter what. Manufacturing was huge. There was the undercurrent of the "American Dream" flowing through all of us. We just had to work hard and we could get there. Now, I find we are treated like dirt. If it's okay to fire people however and that's just okay...then this place isn't "okay" for me. When I look around now, I don't see the dream alive for anyone anymore, but I could be wrong.

And I have been reflecting on how two weeks of vacation, if we even get that, is extremely limiting and only perpetuates "small-mindedness" and nationalism when there is a huge world to be explored and other things to be appreciated for how other people live and two weeks...isn't enough to appreciate that. I want to learn how to appreciate other cultures, because maybe I'd have more respect for the disintegrating American culture. I'm very unhappy here, and I've decided that even hopping states isn't going to change how I feel when I can no longer appreciate nor identify with a country where this is okay. I feel unsafe now, being single and seeing this happen to me. I hate being told to get on welfare when I can't do that. I don't have children. In other countries, this would never happen. I'm now afraid to get old and sick in this country. It's too scary for a single person.

So, for the ultra-liberal I am, I chose a different country full of ideal liberalism. All of it, I don't agree with, but most of it, I do. It's not going to be utopia. I might not even like it. But I have to try. I have to see if I can escape this fear, because living in fear is not humane. Maybe I have to leave and look at this country from afar in order to appreciate it more. Or maybe I'll get out there, love it, and renounce my citizenship.

Ah, Sweden.

I am juggling ideas for now, like going there and staying for three months on my Schengen visa to see if I like it, or applying for school and studying languages for a year. I even looked up how to get my baby there safely, and she can ride in the plane cabin with me, right under my feet. I hear the air is more pure there, and the food is healthier. Maybe I'll miss having it my way at a restaurant, or being able to indulge in large portions of food. Maybe I'll be homesick and miss my parents, or maybe I'll miss being able to read billboards and traffic signs and store names. Maybe I'll be shocked there is no censorship (lol) or maybe I'll embrace it. I might miss having a car, but I might love efficient public transportation. Or I could miss the American small talk. Something tells me I won't miss the shallow, "How are you?" LOL, nobody cares.

I could make friends in dance classes, or in a study group, or while on a beautiful hike on the countryside. Or maybe I'll just enjoy going it alone like I usually do here anyway. I might get lost one day and have a breakdown on the corner of a foreign street and kick myself wondering why I hated my home in the first place. Or have a meltdown at the grocery store trying to pick out some milk I can't read the labels for.

I could close up my story with a fairy tale meeting of a tall, blonde stranger (S.S. Dreamboat) who looks at me like I'm an enigma because our beliefs would be so different. But he'd help me learn the language and we'd fall in love...

See what I did here? I realized the story doesn't end with losing my house. It begins because there are a million more directions I can take. I'm counting on many more of the paths I choose being very painful; in fact, I see no way around it. Some might be more hopeful than others. It all really just sucks, but I'm beginning to understand this sense of loss I feel might be tied to not having a passport and not understanding the rest of the world. I still think people are generally d0uchebags, but this dark period in my life has brought out the most kind people in my life that I'll want to keep close to my heart for all time. I guess, even though I've lost faith in men, I haven't lost faith in people. I've had a lot of help, and for that, I'm eternally grateful. Things would be a lot worse without one soul who has helped me and I don't know how I will ever be able to express my gratitude.

I've kissed my pup and promised her that we will be together again. Today is the first day I've been crying uncontrollably since this all started. Today, when I understood I have to leave my troop behind. The one who waits for me to get home, or who cruises with me in my car, eats with me, and keeps me together; the love of my life, in the smallest package, but who offers the greatest gift—joy.

So, with my life condensed to a suitcase, where will I begin? How do I start over?

April 16, 2016

Just reading my latest post...

I can't believe this is me...or my life.

It's like sand rushing through my fingers...

April 16, 2016

Somewhere, somehow, there's a silver lining in all of this. You just can't see it yet.

April 16, 2016

Somewhere, somehow, there's a silver lining in all of this. You just can't see it yet.

I hope you're right. I've been looking for that silver lining for a very long time and I'm very tired.

April 17, 2016

I hope you're right. I've been looking for that silver lining for a very long time and I'm very tired.

What you've been through would be tough on King Kong. You are resilient. You are a survivor!

April 25, 2016

I've been pretty nonchalant about this whole moving thing. I've been trying to look at all the positives in it, but sometimes it is so very hard to do. I'll definitely be free. Not financially, but I will have fewer obligations. I will be able to leave and travel, "Eat, Pray, Love"-style. At least, that's what I tell myself.

I tell myself there's a better life somewhere else, just waiting for me to discover it. There's something meant for me out there, where I'll fit in and feel whole. But what? I have no idea how to understand what it is that I feel I'm lacking. If you've read this far, thank you, and you can see how I've never really felt totally at peace with anything. I feel lost, still. And very angry lately.

The tipping point was the day I had my furniture removed to be consigned. I spent that morning cleaning and taking my memories out of drawers and placing them into boxes, again, because I just did this a year and a half ago. This time, they'll be boxed away for an indeterminable amount of time. Pictures of friends, of my old life, love letters...I didn't dare open them. I couldn't face that because even though I've been miserable pretty much my whole life, there were some moments worth writing about and cherishing. There were things that did make me happy and I'm happy to remember them. All I wonder is, why not now? Why didn't the glimpses of happiness turn into a permanent trend throughout my life? I'll never know and I'll never understand it.

I moved my dining set to the living room for easy removal. The dining room set I never used. It was a place to set my purse and random items as I barged in through the back door. I never ate at that table anymore. I stood in the kitchen to eat or sat in bed. It felt too formal to sit down and stare at a wall or lamp while I ate. But, I did use it once. My ex and I had wonderful breakfasts, lunches, and dinners at that table. We painted and we drank while sitting in the small brown and black chairs. I remember many nights we would sit in our old place and laugh and talk while we drank 40's of cheap beer. Nobody knew what the future held. I was somewhat happy then. The day he left, he stood in front of the table, looking out of a window, contemplating. That was the last time I hugged him. After that, many friends sat at that table trying to cheer me up. I sat and cried there. I ate with new love interests. I pondered my next steps in life. I made mistakes.

I bought my bedroom set and desk with the intention to redecorate our old bedroom, since he was gone, and I made it mine. It was a sign of independence and freedom for me, being able to decorate without asking for his opinion. I'd say, though, although pretty, it was the saddest furniture I ever bought. I have no memories that are good associated with that furniture.

My sofa set...I had that for about 10 years. I got that with my first ex. A white, luxurious sofa made of hemp and linen. I was so protective over it that it lasted me this long and only showed signs of light wear. A lot of asses sat on that and good times were had. People wanted to sleep on it and I was mean and told them no. The movers picked up all the furniture, and then my sofa. The sofa my ex sat on and said, "You keep the bamboo plant. It'll bring you luck." I tried so hard not to cry as he said that, even though it was the right thing to do; it was still hard. I watered that plant for another year and it finally died a slow, awful death last year. Frankly, I don't care because I didn't get any luck from it anyway.

And then I was alone, in an empty house, stripped of my possessions.

My mattress is due to be scrapped on Friday. I wonder, though, how I'll feel about that. The mattress of memories. Sleeping, fighting, crying, loving, hoping, wishing, praying, and countless hours with countless men. Time spent with my ex, him rolling over with a smile on his face and hugging me in the mornings, and then, me waking up in the morning trying to get him to hold me, and finally, us both waking up and not giving a ****. Crying there when my grandmother died. Many hopes for new relationships were made in that bed. The mornings spent with the European, feeling exhilarated, thinking this could happen, if after work I went home and wished for it enough while laying there. And laying there, crying, when it didn't. Then, after that, laying in bed and not caring anymore. Searching for jobs, and dating someone I thought would be the one to end it all, and discovered I had to sleep with memories of a married man. The bed is still comfortable even though so much pain surrounds it, but I guess it's time to let that go, too.

I went to pick up the key to my friend's place. I walked in and looked around. It's cold there. It's a bachelor's pad, but clean. I can't complain. I sat there and told him about what has happened to me and he just listened. He says he's never home, so I'll have the place to myself pretty much. He told me to let him know if I needed anything and he'd get it for me after work. I told him he's done enough, and that giving me a place to stay would be all I could ask from him.

Several nights ago, I packed up some things to take over there. I just kept thinking, "This can't be happening." But it is, and it will. I pulled up and parked on the busy street. I unloaded my car in a few trips. Then I stood in the living room and looked around. I hate this. I prefer to live alone or with partners only. Now, I'll carefully place miscellaneous items around, so as to be able to leave quickly when the time comes. I can't plant my flag anywhere and say, "This is my home." I no longer have a little patch of grass to mark my territory with makeup, throw pillows, and pictures. Although, something tells me he wouldn't care if I did.

I'm having trouble remembering now. What box did I put that in? Did I pack that away? Where is it? What if I need this?! Will I wear this again? I've lost my sunglasses about ten times already. I know I'll be looking for that top one day after I already donated it. I can't seem to find anything appropriate to wear.

Slowly, I find myself more angry. Angry sitting in traffic. Pissed off at something someone said. Mad because I can't buy essentials. Furious because I can't get out of this. Upset because I can't escape and do what I want. Confused because every decision I make after this is going to change the trajectory of my life forever. Bewildered, because my life is in pieces. Lost, because I have no idea what to do or what the right thing to do is.

The right thing to do. Generally, that's spelled out for us. Obey the law, go to work, pay your bills, feed your children, love your other and family. What is the right thing to do when you're at the mercy of the dollar and employer?

I know, I'm here crying about all this when I had a perfectly good job offer last year, to return to my former company. I didn't want to do it then, and despite everything, I'm still glad I didn't go back. And I wouldn't even if I got another offer. I wasn't happy there. I'm not happy now, but I still have time to change that, maybe. I just know that in order to avoid being unhappy again, I should never go back. I miss them, though, but I still think I made the right choice.

What I don't want to do is give up on finding a good job. Everyday, it looks more and more probable that my business skills will be gone. And I will have to don that name tag and fry that chicken or butter those rolls for poverty wages. It isn't so much pride; it's more...the fact that I know I can do more. I'm smart and I know I am. It's why I quit my stable job. I get bored very easily, so I know I won't last long. I'm the lady who takes a break and doesn't come back when the job blows. Those jobs suck and numb my mind. I used to work in retail, and I hated it. So, money, or happiness? To get out of this country, I'll need money. It's something I still may have to do, and grit my teeth and bear it. As long as I don't get sucked in to the permanence of it, and keep striving for more, save the change I do get, and tell myself it is so I can leave. Maybe that'll work. The good, old-fashioned, American spirit. In an America that doesn't exist the way it used to. Hmph. I just hate going backwards. I want to find my passion. That, is not my passion.

Today I was speaking with my mom and I can tell she's very unhappy. She's unhappy because she expected me to have more in life by now. Today was different, though, because she actually tried to encourage me and I got mad at her. I'm really tired of hearing, "Eventually things will look up. You'll get your dream job. You'll get all your stuff back and more. It'll happen for you, I know it will." Da fuq? It's not happened so far, has it? This is like telling a child they can be President of the United States someday. This is like telling someone, "I know it's not cancer. You'll be fine." Or walking up to someone who just got impaled and saying, "It doesn't look that bad. You're okay." Then again, I don't know how I'd feel if someone said, "Your life has sucked for a long time and it will continue to suck for another 10 years." Or, "Be happy for what you did have because from here on out you're gonna wish you were dead." It's confusing to hear these things. I want them to be true, but then, it never happens. I did appreciate her sentiments, though, minus the "find a rich man" part. She said, "You'll work again. You'll love your job again. I've seen you happy before. You'll meet someone and you won't be lonely anymore." Those are her hopes for me, but I am really starting to believe saying these things make other people feel better, not the intended target.

In leaving this great, fruitless nation, the question becomes not what am I running from? It becomes, what am I running to? I know the demon that haunts me here, but what other plagues will I find in new lands? I've been searching for answers to that question, and I have to say none of it sounds like anything I haven't dealt with before.

My friend told me that leaving the country, even if I failed, was brave. Who does this? Nobody really. I guess I'll grow a pair of balls and have an experience to talk about, like everything else in my life. I can totally be a guru on failure. If anyone knows anything about failure, it's this chick. My dad can't even talk to me about it. I guess I'm that embarrassing now, "un-American", and I bring nothing but shame to our war-torn, military family.

For any information on how to become a complete failure/loser, have people think you enjoy it, and how to become an embarrassment to your family, please private message me today! Response time: intermittent, based on random internet connection.

Edited April 25, 2016 by LostInTheWild

May 16, 2016

Straddling the line of a new chance and the probability of being a 29-year-old bum, I am really stuck on how everything still feels surreal.

From the moment I open my eyes each morning, I face confusion. This is not my home. I should not be here. Truthfully, I hate living where I do now. I could have lived with my parents, sure, but the alternative is better and more comfortable at this point. I just hate it, even though I'm alone here, I can't seem to find my footing and get settled in. I feel unsafe. Most days, I feel drained and exhausted.

I also am finding that I still have many issues floating around in the world that take money to solve. It's going to take a lot of time and money to change things and make my life steady. I don't know if I'm interested in all the work required to become a normal citizen again. I'm losing interest in fitting the mold and kind of want to do my own thing. But everything requires income and dedication of time. Time I feel I don't have. And still...I want to leave the country.

I look at the lives of my friends and I seriously don't want any parts of it. I don't want to be with anyone, I have no interest in intimacy, and I don't want to be tied down with a house, family, kids or other obligations. I'm feeling light as a feather and I want to blow away and get stuck on the right branch at the right time. I am just waiting for that breeze of hope to pick up and I swear, I'm in the right state of mind to spread my arms and be taken by it. Where to?

My story has definitely taken on a different tone, hasn't it? I used to cry about guys all the time and how I thought about children and building a secure life with that special S.S. Dreamboat. I really thought that not having someone was the biggest problem I had in my life. Maybe I needed to really be in the position I'm in now to understand, to truly realize that I want so much more than a baby on the hip and a ring on my finger. Maybe I needed this time out from this culture to see that this ideology was not born of my own consciousness, but from societal pressure. Not having the money to hang around couples and being able to baby sit has really put into perspective the fact that I might actually never be with someone again. And this time, it doesn't make me sad to say that. I don't want anyone to strip me of my discoveries or try to change my mind about staying in this country.

I like my freedom. I like thinking of one instead of two. I like knowing that the drama that comes into my life has nothing to do with another person; **** happens. I like knowing that at any moment, when finances are in order, I can take off, and merely kiss each parent on the cheek before boarding a plane. On the ride to my destination, I'll know there is nothing waiting for me in either place because there is no "home". My life is a blank sheet of paper and now I'm just looking for a way to add some color to it, while carefully choosing from a palette full of dull and brilliant colors each and everyday. I can't remember a time someone offered me a multitude of colors to paint my life with. Love just doesn't last a lifetime and it's riddled with too many time-consuming, energy-draining highs and lows.

Men bore me now. It's really hard these days to even try to force myself to be attracted to someone walking down the street. I just don't care. I've given up completely on that part of my life, so what comes after that point? The point of no return? I keep thinking all it would take is the "right" person, or the "right" timing, or the "right" location. The problem is that this has nothing to do with anyone else but myself. If I think hard about having a guy around, it still makes my skin crawl to imagine anyone getting in my personal space again. Something happened to me somewhere along the line and my brain literally rejects the thought of dating or being in a relationship. I mean, look at all I've been through. Nobody can blame me for that. There's another side to this, though. I feel a depth of loneliness, a sense of loss that I've never experienced before. It's like a sinkhole and when I speak to friends, I just can't get enough of their time. I want their interactions if only to feel close to someone for a brief moment in time. That tells me that I would be a needy partner, and that's something most people don't want. And so, I'm better being alone.

But...maybe there is a silver lining in my future. And improvement? Maybe that, too. Maybe something tangible, to offer me structure and the right to have a say in society. Maybe I'm not totally useless. Maybe I have a chance and maybe they do exist.

A couple of weeks ago, a Monday to be exact, my phone rang. I had just gotten out of the shower and had a toothbrush jammed in my mouth when I answered the mysterious caller. "Hewro?"

"Is this LITW? Hi, we have a position open with a small company and I just reviewed your resume. Your qualifications would be a great fit with this company and I was wondering if you would like to come in for an interview."

At this point, I thought, "Another waste of time...a temp agency...great." He explained the position was temp-to-hire, gave me all the pertinent information, and I agreed to it because let's face it: it's been a long damn time and I need to keep improving on my interview skills.

A few days after the call, I found myself not being able to fit into my suit comfortably, picking some random business attire, going on the road to his office, and later at a table answering the standard interview fare. I felt tired, but ready. Tired, because I'd already lost everything. What was the point of this again?

"You interview really well. I'm going to pass your information on to the company and speak with your references. I think you'll have a good shot. You won't need to practice interviewing or anything. You have good eye contact and are well-spoken," he said, complimenting me.

I walked out of that rolling my eyes because recruiters speak nothing but fluff. And I waited.

Tuesday I found out I had an interview on Thursday. I used an old gift card to buy some necessary items to look my most professional. I painted my nails a flattering color. I took the time to research the company. Thursday, I applied my makeup carefully, but this was the first time my personality showed through a bit. I thought, "To hell with it; they like me or they don't." I carefully dressed myself, neatly tied up my hair, looked around the room, and turned to leave.

I found myself in a small building, sitting at a table with two interviewers. I shocked myself with how much I still remembered. I didn't feel obsolete anymore. Most of all, I noticed how well we all got along, and how easy this interview was. And then they began discussing travel. They want the person they hire to travel to Minneapolis for training and my ears perked up. This is it! I totally wanted to go. I got a tour, and shook hands, saw the products, asked questions...The interview was almost 2 hours long.

I walked out kind of frustrated because I know I did well. I didn't want to kick myself for anything I said in there. But...I can't trust myself anymore. Nothing turns out right for me, and nothing ever goes my way. I didn't feel excited or overeager. I didn't dream like I normally do when I leave an interview, thinking I just might get lucky; I just might get it. I climbed into my car instead, and thought, "That was great practice and I probably won't get it."

I emailed the recruiter later in the day and told him my perspective of the interview. I wanted him to tell me why they wouldn't hire me, too, so I could get better at correcting whatever flaws an interviewer may not like. He told me he'd let me know what they thought of me the next day.

Friday, I was quite tired. I slept in for a long period of time. I was tired of thinking, tired of hoping, just sick and tired. When I woke up in the late afternoon, I saw I had a message from the recruiter. Luckily, he left me his cell phone number in his message, "Hey LITW, please give me a call back to discuss what the interviewers thought of you. The feedback was positive. My number is..."

So I called.

"I wanted you to start your weekend off right. They LOVED you and they have to work out travel details and tweak the job description..." he said.

"So, does this mean that I pretty much have the job?" I asked.

"Yes. You have the job," he exclaimed, "and the offer should be made soon."

Well, I got a little excited, but I also understand that words mean nothing. Not until I sign papers. I don't consider myself employed, but the thought that within a couple of weeks I could be on a plane to Minneapolis has me...wistfully excited. I mean not only would I have a job, but I get a nice time-out from the stress of living here.

And...they still haven't run a background check on me. Imagine that...not getting this job because of a DUI. I just need one more thing like being rejected because of my criminal record to happen before a fuse blows and I snap. I'm right on the line, straddling two places with two separate mindsets. Which one will I be forced into?

May 16, 2016

I really hope you get this job. It will give stability to your life and give you confidence back.

May 17, 2016

I really hope you get this job. It will give stability to your life and give you confidence back.

BC, it's nice to see you back here.

I hope so, too. I'm hoping it has that effect and changes my outlook a little.

May 17, 2016

Fingers crossed for you.

May 28, 2016

January 3rd, 2017

Rebuilding...

I've been working out and I owe it to myself to show off that hard work I've been putting into myself. From my closet, I pulled out a nice, glittery cocktail dress, and a pair of high heels to match. I sat down at my vanity in my bedroom and pulled out fun colors of makeup to paint my face for the evening. It was, after all, New Year's Eve. A time to celebrate. I swipe and blend away the years of pain that used to haunt me only to reveal a better version of myself.

I look back on the last few years of my life, and I can't imagine what in the hell I've been crying about because I can finally say that I'm happy with the way things turned out. The struggle meant something, if only to make me appreciate the joy I've been experiencing these days. I finished my look with a touch of lipstick and a text came through reading: "I'm here."

Yes, you read that right, someone came to pick me up. Who is this? I've been holding out on you guys a bit just to make sure that I looked before I took the plunge. All those old feelings of pretty much condemning the opposite sex? Well, I met my new toy at a company function this past summer and, sigh...I saw him from across the room. I didn't dare approach him, though. I was still too caught up in trying to adapt to my ever-changing life at the time.

A coworker came up to me and said, "There's someone I'd like you to meet." When she clarified who it was, I stood there stammering for a bit, trying to buy myself some time to escape from this situation. I know he saw me looking at him all stupid but before I knew it, I was standing in front of him with my hand outstretched while wearing a sarcastic grin on my face. So...attractive of me. Seeing him up close, though, made me feel a bit differently. I can't explain it, nor will I try to.

He accepted my handshake and returned the sarcastic grin. He worked for a different branch of the company and he explained what he did. I thought that would be that. Another little crush. Tall, handsome, dark hair and dark eyes with a smile to live for. I left that evening thinking that would be the last I'd hear from him. But it wasn't—a few days later, I sat down at my desk at work and found an ominous, menacing email chilling in my inbox, waiting for me to read, titled: "Hey :)". I opened it up and thus began our daily weather conversations that quickly turned into texts, then phone calls, and then dating.

I am so crazy, stupid, happy with him. I can't remember laughing so hard and being so playful. I love feeling like myself again. We spent the rest of the summer going to festivals and he surprised me with real concert tickets...something I've never done before. We even managed to take a couple of road trips to close out the summer. Then, we visited pumpkin patches in the fall and absorbed all the pumpkin-spice-this and pumpkin-spice-that's that we could. He was Dumb and I was Dumber for Halloween. And over Thanksgiving, we met each others families. It was quite a nice close to the year. I think, I just may have gotten more kisses than I have in any of my relationships. It's crazy because I never thought this would happen to me.

Financially I'm back on track and have found an apartment in a nice location that I decorated with such passion when I first moved in. I can honestly say that I felt really good about it the moment I walked in. It has that nice, artsy feel that I really like, and it's close to nature which I love. Rich, luscious plants surround the premises and it's nice and quiet. You know, I have to say that most people were right; I did get it all back and some of the stuff I have now is much nicer. The main point here is, I am so much more comfortable than I have been in about a year.

The day I moved in, I had a lamp, a fan, and some boxes that my boyfriend (wha?) helped me move in. I had nothing at that point. Luckily I had some pillows and some blankets. My boyfriend brought over an air mattress and eventually I had enough saved for a bed I always wanted and was finally able to get. Cheers to new memories being made there. I haven't gotten the chance to cry on it yet though, and sometimes I do wonder when it will happen.

Anyway, he picked me up for the party. The party was at one of our friend's houses. It was rather swanky and I didn't expect that at all. We mingled for a bit and had a couple of drinks between the two of us. We rang in the new year the right way, and the kiss was even better. He handed me a jewelry box that had the most beautiful bracelet in it and I've worn it everyday since then. It's almost overwhelming at times. Somehow, I feel like I can't enjoy all these moments because I'm waiting for the bottom to fall out, but therapy has helped a lot by getting me to focus more on the present. I really try, but at times, I feel traumatized. Boyfriend helps me out a lot with this, too, and he seems very patient and understanding.

February 23rd, 2017

French Foodie...

Just checking back in! There is so much going on with work and I have so many activities going on. Whew...I'm so not this outgoing normally.

So, since my last post, I took up a class for French cuisine. I'm totally enamored with Julia Child's cooking so I thought I'd try to perfect a few methods and get better at it. I haven't quite burned down my apartment yet, but I'm not ruling out the possibility of that happening. It's fun and it makes me a better "dater" than my boyfriend. We try to one-up each other sometimes for fun and he can't beat my cooking yet lol. It's fun.

Work is just...so incredible. I never thought in a million years that I'd get the opportunities I've been given. I look forward to going into work each day and they treat us so well. It's such a stark contrast from where I was two years ago. I sometimes have to stop what I'm doing and go into the bathroom to hide and collect myself because...I don't know why I get so emotional but I do at times. I haven't figured this one out. My life was a complete wreck last year and I just...I still get emotional when things go my way (maybe PTSD?). I'm even going on another business trip next week and I can't even wait. I'm so excited.

Around this time last year, I was laying in bed looking for work, had sworn off men entirely, and couldn't imagine things ever getting better. I didn't think I'd even live through it. I didn't think anything would get better. I'm still hesitant to even believe that things did. So much damage was done last year and it's still so hard to recover. That is why things are moving quite slow with my boyfriend. I don't talk about the future with him, even though I know he wants me to.

Over Valentine's Day, he brought me flowers and took me out for a nice meal. We went to see a movie and took a walk through the park. It was quite cold, as it normally is during this time of year, so we went back to his place and drank hot chocolate in front of the fireplace. He looked at me and said, "I haven't felt this happy in a long time, and I want you to know that even though you're not ready to say it back, I love you very much." Just hearing someone say that, after going so long without someone feeling this way about me, made me cry. I said it back. I really meant it, too. Since the first day I saw him, I knew he would make a huge difference in my life and he has.

He's my equal on so many levels and we have so much in common, but I find that where I lack, he picks up the slack. But being in a relationship is the one thing I just can't get that excited about. I'm waiting for the storm. I still remember our first row and I have to say, it was unlike anything I've experienced before. He was definitely holding his ground with me, but I expected him to just walk out and leave me. He didn't and he's still here, but I always wonder...

April 14th, 2017

Sooo...

It's been a busy time with the nicer weather coming in to play. I haven't had much time to get around to writing. I'm not really sure there's a whole lot to say at this point.

I'm still loving my job, so that's great. I'm still loving my apartment. I'm more in love than ever! And that's about all that is going on. I can now make a mean French onion soup and baguettes to go with it. Yummmm...And I'm now contemplating going back to school to finish up my degree. I feel ready to take that step and upgrade my skills.

Oh yeah, a few weeks ago I took a trip to a bed and breakfast I've always wanted to visit! My boyfriend booked a weekend trip for us out there where we got to go horseback riding and enjoy fabulous meals (what the b&b is known for). We got massages...it was so relaxing. I couldn't even believe it. I think he's spoiling me. What will be left to do in a couple of years if we stay together? Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro? I think not.

Guys, I still think this is surreal! I can't wrap my head around this. My life is finally heading in the direction I always wanted and I'm having a hard time embracing it. I feel too lucky, you know? Like I have this great job, great place to live, awesome guy, parents are doing okay, amazing dog. I'm so ****ing happy!

May 29th, 2017

The Blues...

I really think that I have PTSD. I get so upset and have anxiety attacks when things happen to me that are actually good. I'm good at managing it so not even my boyfriend knows about this, but...it's there and I'm not sure how to make this go away.

I do feel like my old self these days though, and hitting 30 was a breeze and a huge mile marker for me. I was able to pull myself out of a slump when I so desperately wanted security by this age and it seems like the past is behind me, and yet it haunts me.

Sometimes, I sit in the kitchen by the window and stare into the well-manicured, artsy vegetation surrounding the window and think about it. I think about the time when I couldn't have believed I would be writing something like this now. I think about the pain I had to endure and the deep, deep hopelessness that nearly destroyed me. I always wonder, what could I have done differently to change things or to have had them change sooner? A lot, I suppose, but then again I wouldn't be where I am today if that hadn't happened. But why does anyone have to be dragged through rocks in order to find themselves healing once they're let go?

I'm actually excited about life. I have plans, I have a future that is so richly colored and bright. I smile too much. I literally smile at the fruit in the grocery store when I go shopping. Sigh...

June 11th, 2017

Stranger Things Have Happened...

I was just happy to have found a decent job last year. I didn't expect anything to fall into place like it has for so many other people I know. Now that I know what that feels like and am beginning to accept it, I'm finding it's easier to trust myself again and to trust in good things that life has to offer.

I slept over at my boyfriend's house last night and we watched some movies and went old school and played a board game. He wants to take a trip in September to Thailand. He said he wants me to go with him. I said, "Hell yes!"

So we're going to Thailand. But he's been acting funny...like a better boyfriend, more attentive, more affectionate...I don't know. Something seems kind of off. I can't quite put my finger on it and it's freaking me out. I'm not sure if I should enjoy this or not.

August 22nd, 2017

I Found Something...

Work is definitely keeping me busy, so that's why I haven't posted much lately. Then again, I'm not sure why I still do because I don't think I'm coping anymore, but I feel so connected to my story and my thread that it would break my heart to stop writing altogether.

My boyfriend doesn't know that I know this, but I found a ring...he's a guy of course he's not good at hiding anything (from me). It's very pretty and I adore it, but I'm not sure if marriage is something I want.

I love him deeply, like, I can honestly say that I didn't know what love was until this loyal, loving man who picked me came into my life. I don't think I can do better than him. That thought scares me and thrills me at the same time.

Spending 20 years together and feeling this way, always? I'll take it. As naive as it may sound, I don't think my feelings would change (unless of course, you know, the douche baggery started after marriage).

Ah, well, I found something...

May 28, 2016

After thinking for a few weeks that I'd luck out and have an employer, I've kind of been strung along until I had my first phone screen with the company headquarters yesterday. The recruiter knew nothing about why this was happening but he explained it away as a "formality." I was confused because I had already done the in-person interview and they like me and were trying to push this through the company.

It was not a formality. I was caught off guard and unprepared for behavioral questions conducted by HR. I wish I had had a heads-up so I could have read up on it a little bit. I've never had to answer behavioral questions like that before.

I rambled, fumbled, bumbled and broke every interview rule you can imagine. I wasn't nervous, it was just...I don't remember all the stuff they wanted to know about. I had to make things up at some points. If I had been told this was behavioral I would have been able to shift out of standard fare questions-mode and into behavioral questions-mode. I wasn't mentally prepared at all.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure I'm not getting that job now. I was mortified.

I really feel like throwing in the towel.

But stay tuned for next week when I get my rejection. Should be fun after pissing around waiting for a company to make up their damn minds (though the recruiter told me I was hired and was waiting for an offer) and organize themselves to throw some ****ing questions together to find out if my "behavior" aligns with their goals/values/morals. A whole month of this...I'm ready to shave my head, get committed to a psyche ward and live out the rest of my ****ing days there.

And we haven't even gotten to the DUI yet! So exciting!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

May some force of nature blow over my cardboard box and kill me.

June 6, 2016

Just when you think it's over, something happens, and you find that it isn't.

I may be rejoining the rat race sooner than I can say, "What happened?" Gone may be the days of lounging around, basking in the faded unemployment glow, forgetting which day of the week it is, watching the sun rise and the sun set, and fitting into everyone else's schedule because I don't have one of my own. May. Be.

And I'm not happy about it. That's the kicker. Not for the typical stamp I'd get for being lazy and a societal rebel. No. I'm not happy about it because someone in the company likes me...and someone doesn't. I got the offer last week and all the perks that turned me on were stripped down to basically nothing. It will not be a direct hire position; it will be temp-to-hire. They will not have me travel; they'll send someone to train me (this person is obviously of more value than I). They will not pay me a decent, adult wage despite my experience; of course, I was willing to take a slight cut but this is over ten thousand dollars less and two thousand less than what I was making when I quit my good job I had. They really sapped the incentive out of it. For the work they want me to complete, they got a good ****ing deal. A steal. Holding an unemployed hostage. The whole building it up and knocking it down kind of turned me off completely.

I guess, though, I should be happy. Or grateful, rather. I now *might* have the opportunity to have an income. I might be able to escape perpetual window shopping and stop in to buy it. I might be able to feed myself in healthier ways, because I'd buy my own foods and reinvent the wheel of my lifestyle. I might be able to repair my car, my credit, straighten out my taxes, pay off probation, move on with my meager existence. I'm dying to be able to go to the gym and upgrade my appearance with a few clothing options. I'm dying to buy, spend, indulge, and bury my past in consumerism. But I can't. I'm afraid to spend anything. What if it doesn't work out again?

I can't trust anything. Even the mirror lies with a reflection of myself smiling at me and I can't feel my mouth upturned. There are no guarantees, no refunds, no cash back on life. These past nine months of doing nothing are gone. Time, the future, is not for sale. The past is bought and paid for.

So now I own the past, awaiting my background check to return every pimple count, every gray hair, every pound, every lover, every charge-off, and every drink. The desk might have wheels after all and now the recruiters keep reminding me, "upon successful completion of your background check..." And I sit, tight-lipped, waiting for government data defining my character to be released like an angry bull, charging and slicing and bucking through every chance I had that mattered.

I am confused. Since when does my personal life matter to anyone who isn't me? These screens only act as a filter, giving society a position that should never be offered, in order to dissect and act as an armchair psychologist.

Meanwhile, I get fined, charged, and taxed even when there's nothing left to give. I'm not happy because I don't want to be in the rat race anymore. I want to do something more meaningful to me but I still have no idea what that is and I know it isn't going to be free. I'm not happy because I understand that this will just give me money, and my direction in life will again become my career, and then I'll wonder again why I'm single, and then I'll be back in the cycle I didn't want to begin with. Wake up, get ready for work, go to work, get paid, buy stuff, exercise, go home, sleep, wake up...

Is there more? Please, is there more that I'm missing? I see no point in this.

June 10, 2016

Tired by 10AM, I struggle to keep my brain awake to listen to the flow of information being spoken to me. The job is actually awesome, but it feels like something will happen and I'll be unemployed again. I feel as though I'm not good enough. I'm not delivering. I'm not as sharp.

At the end of today, I felt like maybe, just maybe I can make this work. Maybe they won't fire me. Maybe I can last awhile. Maybe.

Then I found out my cousin is sick. The cousin I refused to speak to, and whom refused to speak to me for years, has stage 4 melanoma. At this stage, prognosis is grim. She's also 29 years old. My diaper buddy. The person who took me egging. The person who made me laugh until I cried. She might very well die.

So, I can answer my own questions as I crawl into the hospital bed with her. Is there anything more? Yes. Does life matter? Yes. She has a three year old son. And even though we aren't as close as we used to be, at least I got to tell her, "I love you very much."

Edited June 10, 2016 by LostInTheWild

June 17, 2016

I'm not happy by any stretch of the imagination and telling anyone how unhappy I am doesn't seem to be cathartic anymore. It doesn't allow me to let it go and move on. It just kind of sticks and stays there, with me, like a weight dragging me down.

Telling people I have job now is like saying, "I bought a pack of gum." They get excited and I giggle at their excitement and shrug. It's not a life-changer for me, as I've come to realize. It hasn't changed much of anything, to be quite honest. I'm still broke. My car failed inspection and costs over $400.00 to fix AND the inspection is OUT. And well, that's all I really give a **** about because that's the only thing in my life to GIVE a **** about. The only reason I give a **** about it is because I don't want to see the red and blue lights come on in my rear view mirror. I do my best at work but I don't give a **** about it. It's fragile and intangible in my opinion. At any given moment, poof! It can be gone. I don't ****ing trust it to save my life. I'm sorry, it's just the facts. I am completely powerless, or at least, that's what it feels like. I get the work, I have the experience, but things aren't quite where they should be. I'll get to that later.

Life events have taken the last of my spirit with it and I just don't feel normal or human any longer. I truly feel like a shell of the person I used to be so very long ago now. And I'm not quite sure how I should feel about knowing this about myself. I'm on a different wavelength than everyone else and have no real way to figure out where I'm going. The car is simply in reverse, and that isn't a fun feeling trying to look back and see where you're going, wondering if you'll hit anything along the way, checking the blind spots, and living in paranoia.

Then this past week, a switch turned on and I became, suddenly...okay. I wondered about it for a day. I wasn't quite sure where contentment was coming from, but I just felt it one morning on my way to work. I drank too much coffee that day and everyday since, and have been ultra-bubbly and peppy at work. That's not really a person I care to know anymore, but I did like a few of my own jokes. And therein lies the problem. My workplace is small and I can't find anyone to really connect to and be buddies with. Of course, I'm not there to make friends, but I usually have no trouble doing this. It's glaringly obvious with much of the place being male, aged 50 and up, well, who is there really to connect with? Nobody gets my sense of humor (and I think it would be even better if I had someone to banter with throughout the day), nobody understands me being bubbly (and I think it comes off as flirtatious—oops!), and I feel constricted. I actually leave work feeling like I don't know how to interact with people anymore, which is something I used to be quite proud of and I was easily loved by coworkers.

It's a huge adjustment and of course I'll ride it out, but I still have this feeling I'll be shown to the door at some point, especially because...well, nothing ever ****ing works out now, does it? I've lost the wherewithal to keep going and keep doing it and then I'll SEE! It'll be WORTH the PAYOFF! If I just keep plugging away then in about 200 years I'll have made it! If I think happy thoughts! If I try to understand myself! If I try to find the beauty in life! If I participate in life! I'll get there! I'll find serenity! If I keep doing this then one day I'll look back and think this was nothing but a dream!!!

I want someone to be honest and really say that life ****ing sucks and sometimes it's just not worth doing all this horse ****. Sometimes I even catch myself saying these uplifting things to people and I want to punch myself in the face. I don't believe one god damned word of it. It's hot ****ing air to me! But I do it. I say it to others. They want to be happy so I give them the best version of life I can imagine, but have not yet attained. My friend is considering divorce and I'm just buttering her biscuits with **** I know she believes, but I don't. I just do it to fit in. To fit into this little ****ing box of who everyone thinks I should be and I'm ready to explode and scream about it. I'm really frustrated with everything and it's unimaginably difficult to manage this. The ****ed up part? I had a decent ****ing day and I don't know why I'm pissed off but I'm mad. Maybe I'm mad because I just feel like being ****ing mad. Oh well, at least I'm not starving in a third world country! Holy ****!

I woke up this morning and got ready, showered, put on business attire, did my makeup masterfully using techniques I taught myself, did my hair which turned out to be mediocre, and left feeling okay about things. I try to project confidence these days and to be honest, I've never had someone tell me I seemed weak or unsure of myself even though I have 35 pages saying I am. I'm a miserable mother****ing person I guess. Oh ****ing well. At least I own it. I don't know if I want to be happy again because there is only one direction after happiness is achieved and that's back in the ****ing hole. And nobody wants to hear this anymore! WHY DO I NOT WRITE REGULARLY ANYMORE? BECAUSE I'M TIRED OF WRITING THIS ****!Every update is another ****ing disappointment! Another ****ing hole being carved in my life! And you know, I get it, I should probably be more positive but my thoughts are not my reactions—****ing remember that. I'm good at pretending. I'm the only child. Of course I know how to create illusion. I know how to sit in a boring office with grumpy old guys and entertain myself. I know how to be "talentedly" ****ing remarkable at all one-person activities!

Luckily, my cousin's cancer hasn't ****ing spread. I thought for sure she was a goner and was preparing myself for her impending doom and all of a sudden I didn't feel like I had to worry anymore, and her life will get back on track. That **** better stay gone and she better live longer than me. I cried at her house and pretty much drank (I didn't get drunk) too much so that I couldn't drive, then sat around hanging out with her husband after he hit the bottle after work. It was a fun time, but I could sense his grieving too. And hey, now we don't have to do that I don't think. So woo hoo! There's a victory in life to be happy about.I'd have to say that was the best ****ing thing that's happened in a while, and no, I don't count working as one of them because it's a means to ****ing end in my opinion.

I still know deep in my heart that living in this area is eating away at my soul. I know that I want to move. I know that I don't want to lay down any roots here, because I just don't want this. I don't want to live here. I want to go somewhere else, to a foreign land, where I have money and time and peace and quiet. Or maybe a new city. A new place. Something. But this place is too close to where I grew up, in the same state. I just want to leave and get away.

Then there's another issue at play in all this and maybe I'm pissed off because my body betrayed me again. I found myself attracted to someone at work; purely sexual attraction. I couldn't really control it and flirted a bit. Who is this person, by the way? The BOSS' SON. It's a small environment and well it just kinda happened for me. I couldn't decipher how old he was and per usual, I'm a child molester. He's a solid 5 years younger than me but oh well, I danced on that train last year. I'm a creepy grandma and I guess I'll own that for now.

Anyway, I flirted in conversations about work, making jokes here and there. I wasn't overt and kept everything at a somewhat professional level. I wasn't sure of his status, either. I could tell he either didn't really find me attractive, or he was shy, or he wasn't single. I couldn't figure out which one but I guess I did today. Not single. I think. I heard him say "she" in a conversation and I couldn't hear the whole thing because of background noise, but it's enough to make me remove my intent. So, towards the end of the day, we were all shuffling out and awkwardly, I found myself walking out with him, not flirting or anything, just inquiring about some WD-40 for a squeaky door. While he is always polite, I cannot understand why he isn't more direct and in-charge. He still would hardly look at me. At that point I didn't ****ing care, I just wanted WD-40.

So, I need to have a difficult conversation with my body about this. It wasn't supposed to get excited over any potentials and I was enjoying it being that way. Now I guess I'm pissed off because why? Why can't one thing just be smooth and effortless? Nope. Not happening. Actually, the struggle only really begins when I try for something. When I don't, and I just coast, it's much easier. I like coasting because life just passes by and I don't have to fit the mold. I don't want to be like everyone else and be judged and shamed into doing what everyone else does. I just want out of this place. I want out of this country. I want to live on an island or somewhere where I can just be a human being and have feelings and be allowed to express them the way I want to and never be afraid that even those closest to me will try to snap me back into the mold. Or maybe, god-****ing-damn it I just need to get laid. What in the **** I'm still "young" and I deserve to have meaningful SEX. There I said it. I want to have SEX with someone I WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH! Not a one night stand! Why is that so ****ing hard to find? Why can't I stumble into it??????????? Why must I look online? Why am I not pursued in the daylight? HUH?

I don't know how else to explain this ****ing feeling. I don't like the pressure and the quickness and buzzing about for **** that doesn't even matter at the end of the day. I'm cracking up, and not in the ha-ha way; I'm cracking up in the holy-****-something-will-happen-and-I'm-going-to-blow kind of way.

Today was the first day I've felt like I have a serious mental issue besides "situational depression". I don't feel like fighting anymore. I always say that and then two months later I'm back on here talking about more miserable things in my life because I'm doom and gloom...but I own that, too.

I was happy with my little sexual infatuation. Then people pew-pewed all over it and I discovered some not-so-cool **** to boot! Well, ladies and gents, there will not be a romantic drama-saga that plays out like a fairy tale in my head and blows up like a hand grenade in my face anytime soon. Give me another 5 years. Or 200. Or maybe a millennia. Oh wait...that's right, we don't live that long. What the **** do I do?!

I'm laughing at how many ****s I put in this tonight. It'll be ****ing hard to read! That's what my ****ing life is like! Enjoy!

June 21, 2016

Near the clearing again. I look to the fields, where trees border the houses nearby.

"Now is my chance to get out of here! I've finally made it. I can get my life back."

Peeking through the brush, I wonder where the trail will lead. A perfectly carved out path, right through the towering wheat, with a bridge crossing over the river I've drank from so many times.

It is so quiet, as if nature is beckoning me to make a choice. To change. To feel whole again. A flock of crows cross overhead, through the gloomy sky, until they reach the break where sun shines through, over the houses. They land near the water.

I step out of the brush, covered in leaves, dirt, grime, and my oily, but once white, torn, black dress. My hair falls to my waist now. Lines cover my face. The stress from sleeping and crying myself to sleep each night in the dark, scary wild starts to feel more comfortable with each step I take towards the new.

I step, one bare foot after the other, through the soft field. The wind picks up and blows all around me. I can barely see ahead with the wheat blowing, but I push through it. I'm just so uncertain. Each step becomes more painful.

I realize I'm unsure if I'm ready to speak again. I don't know if I want to change out of my tattered dress. I don't know what I want, or what to expect.

The wind picks up and blows harder. And I make a mistake.

Halfway through the field, nearing the bridge, I look back. The leaves sparkle in the sun. The gloom is gone. It looks friendly. Inviting.

I turn and keep pushing through the wheat, towards the houses. I'm lucky enough to make it to the bridge. It's wooden, covered in vines and white roses, and the water looks its deepest there. I stand on the creaky bridge, breathing deeply and rapidly. This is the change. This is my chance.

I stare into the water and realize it's been so long since I've broken my mirror that I've forgotten what I look like. Even standing near the running water in the forest didn't do this justice. It was quiet and still just enough so I could make out a much older woman. I painfully look away.

I then cross the bridge.

Trees tower over me on the other side. I think I've arrived.

Much to my relief, the bridge has led me back to where I started. In the wild. Because no matter how much I want to be like them, those people, the people living in those houses, working those jobs, raising those kids...I'm still not sure. The storms are far worse here. I'm always scared.

It's just been so long.

And I'm lost.

And I'm wild.

Edited June 21, 2016 by LostInTheWild

June 28, 2016

Life picks up at the speed of light and I found myself standing in a store faced with choices. Do I want this body scrub or that body wash? I took the time to sift through what would be perfect for me, guilt-free. What kind of makeup? What kind of this? What kind of that? And I spent hours making sure I got it just right. Now, slowly, it's time to make my rounds and pay the small dues I can afford now. A thank you, to those who loved me when I had things and when I had nothing. First stop: gourmet lunch for my parents. Next stop: dinner for my cousin and her son. The rest I owe much more, and have some hefty bills to pay first, but they're next. I feel like a fairy and I miss giving.

Then, there's the sadness that still clouds my mind and my life. The dreams I don't want to give up on. I still want to move away from here. I still want to travel. I still want my freedom. I just don't know how to attain it. I have ideas that sound good when I think of them. Then they seem impractical when I bounce them off other minds. Then everything seems impossible. And I feel stuck. That rut is coming on stronger this time. I should feel joy in my work. I should feel joy in my life. But at the end of the day, I don't. My freedom is out there, calling me. I just don't know how to grab onto it.

And here's a secret I never talk about much. Well, I rarely say it aloud anymore. Although the tears from that fateful time in my life have dried up, my heart still churns in my chest whenever I'm alone and my mind wanders. I made so, so many mistakes and many times, I wish I could change them. At this point, this far into the future, I can honestly say this is the one thing I've never recovered from. This is the one heartbreak that simply cannot be undone. I can't understand it still, and I can't understand why. I can't wrap my head around this.

Many people have told me I'm strong and I've survived a lot. My mind always whispers, "But you really don't know how weak I am." Then I consider how awful the past has been and yeah I have made it through some tough times, but some tough times have clung to me. My ex, he's an afterthought now. I still hate him, but I rarely think of him, unless I think of a joke he'd make. For instance I'd ask whatever happened to such-and-such band and he'd say, "They're still trying to make that next hit!" And I'd fall over giggling with an image of a band working nonstop wondering why their music sucks.

The problem is that I wasn't treated the best. I have no reason to feel this way really. But...ah, the European still plagues me to this day. I still wonder what I could have done to have such a person love me and respect me more. Not that he was disrespectful, he just didn't want to date me. And I saw it from a mile away (along with everyone else telling me not to proceed). He had such a huge life. A life that is too big for one person. The crappy thing is, as I write this and as you read it, you're thinking I idolize this guy. He can do no wrong. This is untrue. He did plenty wrong and I remember most of it; however, his life...his lifestyle, and the way he made me feel without speaking a word was amazing. I've still yet to meet anyone who can do that.

It makes me sad that I'll never feel that way again sometimes, even though paying it forward should put me in a place I shouldn't feel so bad about. It truly tears me down to think that this was the best I'd get, the best I'd feel, and the best position I was in forever. It makes me sad to see everyone happy with their spouses, getting married, or having relationships that I'll never have. But I only feel that way for a second.

Then I come "home" and appreciate that I don't have anyone to wonder about, to fight with, or to clean up after and feel unappreciated for it. But then again, I've forgotten what it was like to be in love and to be loved a long time ago. And I think I've been appreciating this fact for longer than I think I have, which is why I still won't settle and why I've stopped looking. I still don't think it's worth the trouble and waiting for the shadow who is will prove fruitless in the end and I prepare myself for this more and more each day. Crazy cat/dog lady.

As I uploaded my dog's picture onto my computer at work and made it my background, I stared into those eyes and instantly missed hanging out with her all day. My best friend. If she was my future, I couldn't be angry.

But I got asked when I was getting married the other day and I rolled my eyes and had some choice words for men. That day, I realized I'm holding on to my anger for being mistreated, hoping it makes me wiser. As I spewed the words I understood that I sound like I despise men. So why should I have one? Why would they want someone with baggage like this? A bitter old woman?

At the time when people say my clock should be ticking, I have to say, it's not ticking. It's stopped.

Edited June 28, 2016 by LostInTheWild

July 7, 2016

It's the evening. There is no sound. The wild is quiet now, a rare instance, but I've come to expect nights such as these.

The darkness is thick and the air is warm and pasty. I stand near the river where the moon reflects off the water. I've found myself in a deeply dissatisfying position; no place to go and no place to be. It's not like I was living for this anyway, and it's not like I had false hope. I just expected something different. Something palpable and real by this point. But life said, "No." I have no choice but to agree.

I can't hear myself sob. I can't hear the water running. There is literally no reason to not scream. And scream, I do, at least inside. At first.

I kneel down to find a rock resting at my foot. I contemplate bashing in my own skull and wonder why I couldn't have just slipped and fallen on the stone instead. Oh well. Here goes.

I chuck it. I throw it so hard that my screams release into the silent dark. I pick up another rock. And another. Then another. I throw them as far and high as I can, just like the dreams I used to dream that are now as dead as the rocks themselves.

And that's all I can do. That's the power I'm limited to. It's the reality of things.

Then I cry. For my mistakes.

Edited July 7, 2016 by LostInTheWild

July 12, 2016

It's the evening. There is no sound. The wild is quiet now, a rare instance, but I've come to expect nights such as these.

The darkness is thick and the air is warm and pasty. I stand near the river where the moon reflects off the water. I've found myself in a deeply dissatisfying position; no place to go and no place to be. It's not like I was living for this anyway, and it's not like I had false hope. I just expected something different. Something palpable and real by this point. But life said, "No." I have no choice but to agree.

I can't hear myself sob. I can't hear the water running. There is literally no reason to not scream. And scream, I do, at least inside. At first.

I kneel down to find a rock resting at my foot. I contemplate bashing in my own skull and wonder why I couldn't have just slipped and fallen on the stone instead. Oh well. Here goes.

I chuck it. I throw it so hard that my screams release into the silent dark. I pick up another rock. And another. Then another. I throw them as far and high as I can, just like the dreams I used to dream that are now as dead as the rocks themselves.

And that's all I can do. That's the power I'm limited to. It's the reality of things.

Then I cry. For my mistakes.

Lost,

I have spent the better part of a week reading your story. I am not a slow reader lol just taking it all in in between my 10 hour work days.

You are painfully unaware it seems at how talented you are.

You are not clear on what you do for a living, but anyone who reads your posts can tell you were born to be a writter.

That is your gift.

You can heal yourself and others by using this gift.

Seek out a publisher and don't take no for an answer.

That is the light at the end of this tunnel.

That is your success story that has yet to unfold.

I have NEVER been so intrigued by a story like yours.

Your life is not much different than many but what is different is your ability to describe your journey.

Simply remarkable.

I have never written a word in a journal. This is the only site I have written about my life. I lost my marriage of almost 30 years to my first boyfriend, my first kiss, my first love... I was living a fairy tale. But then my ex changed overnight and after unsuccessfully trying to find my husband in the "alien" he became I filed for divorce. I don't go into much detail but we had a damn near perfect life, a beautiful family and he abandoned me but really in his changing he abandoned himself. The level of devistatation that I experienced I felt no words could describe, which quite possibly is why I never took to writting.

I am almost 2 years post divorce. I am a wiser, funnier, happier, more compassionate, more open minded woman because of my experiences. Most importantly, I am complete. I have loved since, I have been hurt since. Prior to my divorce I had never been alone, ever. I went from my parents home to my marital home. I thought I could never be happy alone. I am single and I am happier than I could ever imagined right now.

If I could bottle this feeling I would send you an endless supply.

The thing is you actually do have it.

It is within you.

It comes when you say NO MORE to the toxicity in your life.

After I divorced my husband, I felt I had nothing to lose.

I made a list of toxic things in my life which included some friends and some family members.

I set about establishing bounderies with them and sticking to it.

I told them all how they have hurt me. Not caring if I lost them in this process.

Funny thing happened.

They all went away. I focused on me. I healed.

Then some"came back" to me. Out of the blue they found there way back to me. Telling me in their own individual ways how much I mean to them. How they missed me. They have a new found respect and appreciation for me. They know I don't tolerated bullsh*t.

The few who haven't "come back" I don't miss. I wanted to cleanse my life. I am clean of bullsh*t and it is refreshing!

These boundaries I have established cross over into my personal relationships. I don't tolerated bullsh*t here either.

I have been sexually attacked by men, yes, men. First time when I was 13. As an adult I have worked in male dominated fields and had several men act in a way that if I wanted, could have had their balls strung up by way of sexual harassment lawsuits. I could have probably owned these companies. I had no voice then. I did nothing until the last time. The last time my boss thought it appropriate to push me against a wall and attempt to "have me".

I fought back. I got away. I used my anger in positive ways. I started my own companie (s). That's how I "won" back my voice.

I never have to worry about my boss harassing me anymore ,)

I have also been raped once. I have never written that. Ever.

None of these experiences defines me.

I define me. I am valuable.

Men who are interested in me can sense my boundaries, my value... and the fools don't stick around more than a hot minute which sure helps me out in the weeding process..

I have not lost faith in all men. I know good ones. They exist.

People will get away with what you allow them to get away with. They will take away from you what you give so chose carefully what you give.

Bottom line, the key, if you will, is I make sure my life is full. Full of heathy things (food, exercise, activities) and more importantly, full of healthy people. I am free to pick who I allow in my life. It's merica' dammit. Ain't it beautiful?

I don't dwell on my past. I will tell my story from time to time because I know it can help others. Like your story. It can help others too.

You are not alone.

Edited July 12, 2016 by tinkerbell16

Lost In The Wild

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