Lately I have been feeling lost and extremely lonely.  That overwhelming feeling of knowing I am sitting next to someone who loves me more than anything I can see it in his face and I can’t reach out I can only lash out and depression hurts everyone.

It just feels like it is easier to have no one than have friends sometimes. Seems like less people to let down and disappoint that way.

I’m at a new and different place that I have never been to before. For over a week now I have been able to fight off abusing any of my medication, I haven’t taken even one milligram of extra clonazepam.  My brain is winning that battle for a change, my head is saying things to me like;

do you really want to sleep for that long
do you really want to lose all that time and not remember what the fuck you were doing
you won’t be able to read
you won’t be able to play xbox
you will get even more stupid bruises

I have even been eating and bathing which is new to me when I am this depressed I normally do not care how greasy my hair gets and I have an appetite I may have even put on a pound or two but I won’t know till the monthly bloating bullshit subsides.

On the flip side the hard water of Northern Ontario did a number on my face and hair, my face is a mess my hair is broken and although I would consider shaving my head if it was summer not in the winter my neck is already cold.  And that vanity has been my latest excuse an excuse that lasted six full days where I would not step outside.  Add that to hitting the end of my rope over any negative comment made to me about my weight right now I hit an all time low in the appearance department and when I finally did go out it was with Adam and I did my best to not make eye contact with anyone.   It pisses me off because I hate the pattern of finding a way through something just to find it almost instantly manifested in some other completely absurd behavior.

This is different than being a homebody, being hermity and having social anxiety. I normally jump at the chance to defend and brag about my naturalness and I have had adult acne since I was twenty-five so although I hate it I’m used to it, or I thought I was, same with my peach fuss I despise it but I accept it.  If there is one thing I am really starting to realize it is that it isn’t that I’m so much getting over any of my insecurities in my thirties it is that I am starting to accept that I have the insecurities that I have, more of a, yeah I’m insecure about that what’s it to you type attitude.

I can come up with literally any excuse not to go outside.  I am so bad Adam has and will respond with “good one” that is seriously fine with me he has been told by my shrink not to play into my anxieties and I personally think he does a fantastic job and I have no idea how he does it, he could do things like refuse to pick up my prescriptions and stuff for me forcing me outside but trust me he already does a lot.   It is strange to me that taking a few milligrams of clonazepam to get high and knock myself out seems saner than not going outside because of my acne.

I don’t know how to get over the abandonment issues I have so I can stop hiding in my apartment because my skin is better sort of now I know I’m stuck in this feeling like I have no family that I suck really fucking bad at friendships, that I feel like I have no where to “go home” too.  I don’t feel any connection to Ontario, there is nothing left for me in Northern British Columbia. Nostalgia is eating me alive right now. But with it comes so much anger I’m like a ticking time bomb. I don’t know how to move on to get to a place where I can be happy with only having forward to go and nothing to go back to.  And I don’t want to end up in the hospital and have to start all over like I normally do and I don’t even get it.

I’m going to get my eye brows waxed it better make me feel beautiful.

 It is officially official: I suck at being away from home.  The last time I even went away anywhere this long was when my dad was dying but then wasn’t dying but I was already booked for two weeks so I went for two weeks.   Normally I can’t even go home to my parents place for very long something will piss me off or I will miss Adam and change my ticket.  Vacation like sun spots I have done max two weeks. One week is barely enough and two weeks is just about too much but is doable.

Even though my ultimate dream is to live in the opening scene from Love Actually and have someone sweep me off my feet and make-out with Adam for five minutes with extreme head turning and exaggerated everything while the poor bastards with no one to pick them up stare and dream that they too can have what I have. But in reality I am a raging bitch when I get off a plane in YVR and my destination is home. I used to despise being that lonely soul with no one to pick me up but now I just want off the fucking plane and I want my luggage NOW and I want in a cab and I don’t want to talk to you I want my HOME and my CAT and my stuff and the way my apartment smells and I want to be alone.

When I was just seventeen years old based on my looks I got a job at a hotel in butt fuck no where half way between Golden and Revelstoke.  I didn’t even last a week. I quit and then they fired me which I know makes about as much sense reading that as it did when it was happening.  And the guy that runs the place is a sadistic ass who threw me out and many others over the years and made us sit across the street outside the gas station waiting for the bus that came once a day.

My parents were really mad at me and I was a failure and it was put on top of the ‘Corinna quits everything’ pile.  I have always resented that pile and it makes it easier for me to quit things.  To me it would be different if as a kid I were able to have tried things that I asked to try like singing and dancing the stuff I showed an interest in. Big deal I quit and failed at a bunch of shit I never wanted to do in the first place.  The areas I excelled in naturally I was not nurtured, or believed in or coached in on any sort of scale that was positive.  I was instead considered a problem child.

I don’t like being away from home to the point that I have issues just going over to friends places, I tie it in with my social anxiety and do my best to have people over to my place.  I don’t even like being bare foot in other people’s places.  It feels icky to me. I did not spend the night at Adam’s place even one time before we moved in together.  These are my issues I don’t think any of my friends or acquaintances places that I have been to are unclean.

With all that said, I am cutting my trip short and will be home this week.  I am pretty pissed off at myself to be honest because I was doing okay, I was facing the challenge of being away so long, pushing myself, stepping outside my comfort zone but when I started to crack I handled it wrong.  I’m getting really tired of this trait of mine.  Even if I just throw a mini flip out it is still a flip out and it isn’t like I don’t know the proper ways to communicate.  And I’m staying with my very best friend, she has been there for me through EVERYTHING and I mean EVERYTHING, she knows about ALL of my awkward and bizarre corks.  So when I started to get depressed and not just homesick depressed but DEPRESSED and I just wanted to sleep and pick fights with Adam, I should have said I wanted to go home but I let it fester and got grumpy.  Turns out even Rhonda was surprised I agreed to come for so long. But I wanted to help my friend out and test myself and I suck at saying no.  I’m disappointed I didn’t change my ticket days ago because it would have saved me some grumpy angst filled days.  Thankfully I am dealing with someone who accepts me.

I have been dreading writing about this because I know it is going to be long and my feelings are still all over the map not to mention there will be things in here that once my parents have obtained internet access again [they check it once a week right now] they just aren’t going to want to read.  My mom will read it for sure my dad probably will but won’t admit it or he will just because I’ve said he won’t.

Today marks two weeks since they retired to Indonesia.

Until this very moment about three people know that I did not say goodbye.

I received a text from them and when my dad asked if I was ok I said yeah and gave some lame excuse for not texting more and just this morning received a group email containing photos.  I don’t really understand why TWO numbers did not come through, my mother not having her own phone is ridiculous, I’m TRYING to give my father the benefit of the doubt here and am hoping once they are settled she will have her own or at least a bloody email address he has no access to.

Everything happened so fast I don’t even remember how long ago it was that they went to Bali I just know because I checked my archives that they told us they were MOVING there in February of this year.  All I know is that before they went to Bali they’d been on maybe three other tropical vacations that weren’t all inclusive resorts. They went away once a year [always for two weeks and always without me] while I lived at home and twice a year once I moved out.  Jamaica was about the most extreme place they’d been to, they have never been anywhere in Europe and although they went to The Cook Islands three times - once in a rented house for a month - I almost fell off my chair when I heard they were even vacationing in ASIA.

According to the email received today my mom is already speaking good enough Indo that she is carrying on conversations with the locals.  That is pretty cool.

Originally my parents were not supposed to have spent three weeks in the city. My dad was supposed to work right up to his last day in Prince George, fly to Toronto for two weeks return to Vancouver for two and a half days and then off to Bali.  Turned out he was able to work his last three weeks from Vancouver, his company put him up in a hotel a block away from our apartment and I was able to spend three weeks with my mother which was for the most part fantastic.

When they first arrived we were all at each others throats over anything and everything.  I think I appreciated that we were all on different pages emotionally but I think my dad thought I was just being selfish not giving all my attention to his retirement and how life changing it was for them both regardless of the move.

My family operates within a dynamic therapists refer to as an unhealthy triangle it is a pretty common behavior exhibited in many relationships.  I have almost always been the monkey in the middle.  As a kid I was pitted against my mother and therefore we were never able to bond, it doesn’t help that my mother and father both come from demonstrative families and I now have affection issues that go well beyond not being able to let most people even hug me.  We have never communicated as a unit we converse through each other.

Over the three weeks that my mother and I spent together things came up, conversations were had, abuse I suffered in ways I could never prove were confirmed.  I always knew I was held back I always knew it was my dad who was the liar and not me and knowing I was right would only make it better and would only enable me to let it ALL go if he had changed at all but he hasn’t.  Since my mother’s break down a few years ago all he has done is manifest his abusive behaviors into new ones and I am sorry but I am not going to put up with it and I made that clear so long ago now I think my dad really did mean it when he said to my face that I wasn’t smart enough to go to university because I have changed which is partly why this is so fucking hard.

If only my father had have left well enough alone, I would have played the good daughter and spent more time with him and maybe even pretended to like it.  Instead he decided to plop himself into our poang the very first second he was in the apartment without Adam present and launch into a speech concerning how I needed to get a job.  BUT his reasoning for me needing to get a job had nothing to do with our finances; he actually said that I needed to prepare for the day that Adam leaves me.  He said he’d seen it before, like this one time at his ICBC office some woman one day just got up and left her husband after four years or something for no reason at all she just got up and left.  I remember him telling that story as a kid and thinking it was crazy. As an adult I felt like screaming at him that AS IF it was over NOTHING did he really think she was sharing her LIFE with the fucking office. I listened to his little speech; I handled myself extremely well, I did tell him he was lucky Adam wasn’t home though.  After pondering the insanity of his statements I very calmly asked him how he, my father, someone who has said many, many times to me that if I keep concentrating on a negative thought I will make it happen and has constantly accused me of being an impressionable person would EVER want to put the thought of my husband leaving me into my head.  His back peddling got him nowhere.

My dad honestly has no idea how to handle the new Corinna.  He didn’t even know the old one so how could he, really.  I used to give him exactly what he wanted, exactly what he expected - a freak out.  I’ve told my father to fuck off to his face so many times he once said he’d plant me if I said it again.  I don’t even waste my time responding to his shit now.  So guess who takes the brunt of it all? My mother, we switch up holding the middle position when it suits my father.

For the first time ever I felt like my mother and I were bonding, we had some really good talks my anger and resentment towards her failures to protect me softened because I know trust me I know that she is also a victim here I thought I even forgave her because she kept saying she was so sorry that she just wasn’t there that she hadn’t tried to stand up to him enough.

When they left for Toronto it took him about two seconds to brain wash her back to normal.  When I talked to them over webcam my mother made a point to ask me to get back to her on how my shrink said I was doing.  Ok what? Didn’t you just spend three weeks with me having heart to hearts seeing me NOT freak out whilst learning some extremely heavy shit about my past AND I’m on the lowest dose of meds I’ve been on in years and have been for months now.  I was flabbergasted just blown away and mad.

We were supposed to talk over webcam again shortly after that so Adam could meet my Grandmother.  I sent my parents an email with our availability and added simply that Dr. B was proud of me.  I didn’t think I needed to say much else I thought having just spent so much time with me it was pretty obvious how I was doing.   In fact after I relayed to him all the bullshit my dad tried to pull and all of the dramatica events that took place over the month since I’d seen him that I avoided or handled with awesomeness the smile on his face when he said he was proud of me almost made me uncomfortable because he was literally beaming with pride at me. I felt so validated in that moment.

My parents didn’t respond to my availability email they just expected us to be around on the day and then I got an email asking where we were, we were online within fifteen minutes and they were gone.  My parents are on laptop there was no excuse for that when they didn’t even bother to set a time with me.  Two days later I got an email from my dad with the one liner - why is your shrink proud of you?  [my parents share an email account but I can tell them apart from the font used and style of writing]

Thank you for that bullet through the heart there dad.  I’ve only been working my FUCKING ASS OFF!

I responded that I felt that was a rude question, my dad responded asking why it was rude and I haven’t had a civil conversation with them since.

He is bloody lucky that I didn’t respond with the TRUTH the truth being Dr. B was pretty proud of me for not throwing his narcissistic ass out of my apartment when he suggested my husband was going to leave me.  Feels good, real, real good to know that my father doesn’t even see me as being worth being married to because I don’t have a job outside the home anymore, I’m not having babies and I don’t do the dishes everyday.

My mother had confided in me that my father doesn’t think we will ever be close again [although we never really were it was an act on my part to get by] because of MY depression, MY mental issues, MY temper, MY selfishness etc. It isn’t about me moving on in relation to my past with my youth anymore it is about trying to learn how to have a relationship with my mother and just with my mother and finding a way to eliminate him from the equation which I have tried to do before but he makes it worse for her and won’t allow this.

Due to what I thought was progress with my mother, I waited the whole two weeks they were in Toronto for HER to contact me didn’t matter how just some contact and she didn’t.  I can and will forgive her but in my own time.  I can only imagine the shit my father said to the rest of my family about me, I tell myself I don’t care they don’t know me anyway. My parents left their entire family for British Columbia shortly after I was born and now they have done it again leaving me. For a while I was able to concentrate on the free trip to Bali once a year so I didn’t have to deal with how I really feel about them going so far away but I would rather give up that trip and my mother have to fly here to see me than bow to my father’s bull shit.  I simply refuse to go through the motions of this life altering move on his time.  A lot of people assume that when you are an only child that everything is about you, for me it was the exact opposite, NOTHING was ever about me but it was made to look like it was and my father still to this day manipulates things to appear as such.  I made it clear to my mother that now it is about me and it will continue to be about me and that it is about fucking time that it is about me and that if he can’t handle that too fucking bad. I have worked too long and too hard to fail at putting a stop to the abuse in this family now.

When my parents arrived back in Vancouver I did not see them, I did not say hello or goodbye I did not email them, I knew seeing them would lead to a nasty fight and felt it would be better if we all just went with whatever positive memories we each had during the impromptu three week work excursion.   And by this time I’d analyzed the fact that my dad hadn’t actually planned on them spending more than two.five days with me before they left.  My dad made the choice to work up until his very last day had it not been for the fluke of him working out of Vancouver that is ALL I would have been allotted TWO.FIVE days. I wasn’t even invited to accompany them to Toronto.

I don’t know where things will go from here, we are supposed to be going to Bali in April but only time will tell, I’m mad, hurt, I feel betrayed by my mother but am trying to be understanding of the fact that 39 years of brain washing her to believe I’m a bitch among many other choice words I’ve overheard him call me trumps any work I got done with her in three weeks.

This is the week that it’s hit me that they are really gone.  I have no regrets over not saying goodbye I made the right decision for me.  I’m feeling unloved, abandoned, disrespected, unworthy and just down right sad.  I cried for the very first time since I was told they were leaving the other night as I was trying to fall asleep, Adam rubbed my back, and he isn’t going to leave me.

I don’t know what it is.  I don’t know if it’s my thirties, I don’t know if it’s from learning the hard way and taking the extra long way up until recently or if I got more smarter.  Maybe it’s a bunch of things. Well, I guess if I know anything it’s that it is a bunch of things.

A bunch of things have made it so that my reactions behind closed doors and the reactions people get or don’t get to things they do, say or write to me or about me aren’t just new they come in limited form.

I used to have a reaction to everything.  EVERYTHING.  Because more than once I’ve allowed myself to be treated like shit by people in my life and had a horrible habit of giving them exactly what they expected from me.  A flip out.  Generally an abusive, venom filled rant via email, text message, voice mail, letter, blog post or my voice to your face with spittle.

As I have mentioned before I’ve been horribly bullied and been the nasty bully. Some hard lessons and some hard losses have come from being on both sides but there are of course times when some relationships oddly come out stronger.

When I think back on how bad my high school years were, how I never stood a chance with what I was given I can’t even fathom what youths go through today and considering I spent a week in the hospital over high school bullies I try not to think about it. With so many people hiding behind their computer anonymity, the feeling of invincibility is a power put in too many of the wrong hands.

I used to be a drama magnet, drama queen and one thing I’ve learned about being a drama diva is that you have to be open to it. And because you have to be open to it, it seems almost moronic to point out that you can close yourself off to it as well. Fuck man, who knew.

I remember years and years before I started blogging and didn’t even know what blogging was I left a mean comment on what was someone’s blog that I didn’t like and I left it anonymously and I felt like shit after and I couldn’t take it back and I’ll never know if said person ever knew it was me we were never really friends.  I left the comment because I was jealous, insecure and could hide behind the name ANONYMOUS, I remember I even laughed after likely to hide that I felt bad instantly but that doesn’t matter the damage is already done to yourself and the target.  I have a really crap memory, why I even remember this is beyond me maybe my subconscious knew that one day I would have my own blog containing all the things I was attacking.

Learning to separate yourself from drama and bullies is truly hard but without doubt rewarding.  I’m not saying that you never utter another bad word about someone ever again but with learning that EVERYONE talks you gotta learn who YOU can safely talk to and you gotta keep it off the fucking internet.  Everything you record to it, write to it and upload to it can and will be found and used against you at any time for the rest of your life.  Learning to choose your battles doesn’t cut it here.  Growing thicker skin only gives you skin that is thicker.  No matter what you think you know you can’t trust the internet so why fight with it?

I used to waste SO MUCH energy firing off mean emails in defense of  whatever drama I was defending, flipping off a thoughtless text message, once, I even accidentally forwarded an in office email backstabbing another staff member directly to them. BIG oops. I used to condone saying whatever I wanted behind people’s backs because there is almost nothing I won’t say to a persons face.  BIG lesson learned.  That was still bad.  The thing I didn’t realize until it bit me REALLY hard in the ass a few months back was that I was saying things that to me weren’t gossipy and weren’t mean but when left to interpretation those things take on a life of their own and trying to explain yourself is useless and spells guilty to people even when you aren’t.

Keeping my mouth shut is not easy, not responding in any way shape or form to things I’d have jumped all over just months a go has been an interesting little experiment that has quickly changed my life and my relationships.  I’m far from perfect, I threw a mini fit the other day over some stupid flickr photo of mine, and then I was just like what? Why waste your energy on that shit but it served as a reminder of how awesome not being an asshole is.

I really can’t say I thought I would ever write a post such as this, I’m not known as a particularly modest person but I’m also not known as an overly secure person either so even if I say nice things about myself there is little or no conviction behind them unless I’m going off about my running days, good luck shutting me up then.

I have been working so hard, so so hard. The only thing that isn’t falling into place is my weight but it will come and I am nowhere near as hung up on it as I was I’m beginning to accept that I have always been thin and small boned.  My weight gain may have really been just what I was calling it, the newlywed fifteen.  This month we’ll have been together five years and we just celebrated our two year wedding anniversary, so we are for sure not newlyweds anymore.

Yesterday I was asked by a new doctor how I have been feeling in regards to my depression right now.  And I said and meant it that I haven’t felt this good in years, if ever.

• I saw my shrink yesterday for the first time since July 26 2008 and I didn’t have any sort of break down of any kind,
• The lowering of my medication is still going extremely well, I know this because;
• I just spent three weeks almost every day with my mother and my father was here too but I didn’t see him as much. I prefer to see my parents in their area, which was up north because our apartment is small, we don’t have or want a car, I’m pretty boring and don’t like to leave my apartment and I just find it extremely stressful spending long periods of time with almost anyone but Adam,
• In that three weeks I only lost my temper and raised my voice a few times in the first couple of days and that was also because I had bad PMS when they arrived,
• When it comes to my life online I for serious learned to relax. I have not checked my stats even once since I said I wasn’t going to months back now, when people are talking about stuff that is pissing me off cause I’m not invited or something, I know damn well I’m likely only not invited because I’m not a tech blogger and some people in the social media scene do know that my social anxiety does still take over at times. But see before I’d take that shit personally. I don’t care and in the cases where I do care I walk away from the computer, it really is that easy,
• I have stopped napping during the day. Even when I have a bad headache with the drop in my meds I have way too much energy. And if I’m having a bad day I still find I can convince myself I’m going to be able to fall asleep only to find myself back out in the living room frustrated but present,
• Life threw me a curve ball the other day that given the compassion I have learned to exhibit over the years was extremely hard for me to turn away from but I’ve worked way too hard not to and I can’t feel guilty for that;
• I got off my ass and have been to five Yoga classes. My classes are one and a half hours long and rule. Yoga is on break but starts back up on the 15^th, now that I’m not sick anymore I will start doing it in the apartment and should therefore be running again by the end of the month. Yoga is filled with instant gratification which I love my lost muscles are coming back already which gives me hope for my knee [I/T band] getting strong again.

Yesterday I went I saw my shrink for the first time this month. It is hard for me to believe I haven’t seen him since June.

I went to the United States of America and Aughra said she charged really high rates and so I never had any therapy there and then I came home sick because I can’t even travel over the border without getting backed up and exploding MANY times upon return to the point I was sent to bed moaning and groaning and saying “I’M FUCKED for Bali if I can’t even go over the border getting sick coming home from Mexico was one thing.” I was a rebel and drank the water but getting sick coming home from the States made me feel like a pussy, I only shat little pebbles the whole time I was there cept for maybe once I dropped a good deuce maybe twice. Then Dr. B was off for a week because HOLY STOP THE BUS I forgot to mention that I’ve graduated to seeing him once every two weeks now, for various and all good reasons.

I had to get down to business fast because I only had fifty minutes and a lot happened over the course of that time.

My medication has also OFFICIALLY been lowered. I am taking lots of vitamins and have been feeling soooooo much better since I don’t know maybe around my birthday (beginning of June) and when I got home from the mission I was finding myself falling asleep every day for hours and it was pissing me off and all I could link it to was too much medication. This is actually the second time it has been lowered since I started to feel better but is the first time that my prescription has reflected the change. This is also one of the only times in my life that a lowering of my medication has been successful.

Needless to say things are not perfect I still have super bad days and spend them in bed but it is one day not a couple or a week, one day, then I feel better and move on. I can not believe how far my capability to let shit go has come it is even blowing my own mind. I even uttered the words all of us depressed people fear yesterday, I announced I was HAPPY but that I feared the happiness in the stereotypical manor of losing my identity as a depressed person. This obviously isn’t going to be an issue I’m not cured I am just doing better than I’ve done in years right now and I am doing my best to ride it out and not think of the day it ends because I’m trying to keep reminding myself that it doesn’t have to end.

I now have August off and don’t see him again till September. The only difference is that I know I won’t see him for over a month. I didn’t plan on canceling my other appointment this month getting sick did that for me. I personally think I have done really well this month and can’t see why I shouldn’t be able to keep this thing I’ve often heard referred to as happiness going strong.

*Sleeps with Butterflies - Tori Amos

PS. I had my hair chopped off. Quite frankly I had never left it long that long before but I got married and then wanted to see what I looked like with may natural color, been married two years next month and I look like Corinna Liscumb Carlson so off it went.

I have started to call my left forearm my depression forearm because when I decided that I had to have the word breathe tattooed onto that arm, that not only would I tattoo it there but I became excited dreaming ahead to all the places that part of my arm will take me and what else I will feel the need to put on that section of my body along the road, down the paths my depression takes me.

This was not one of my already planned tattoos. This one just popped into my head and given what the last almost year presented to me I knew it had to go on now.

For anyone who has ever wondered or hasn’t had me explain it to them, the gerbera with the petals falling off of it through a fan of blue to embody the water represents my struggle with depression - through my favourite flower, our wedding flowers and the only flowers that people who know me buy me because Gus has anti inflammatory bowel disease and can’t eat nothing but cat food or she barfs and she has a penchant for plants and leaves, little brat, and gerberas don’t have leaves YAY! - it symbolizes a storm of sorts the flower is being torn apart likely through the tempest that is my temper.

I have added breathe as a reminder that I have to breathe through every storm. Breathing exercises really do work however cheesy they seem and are sometimes all I have to get me through a moment alone when I am freaking out heading towards the destruction of something and most likely something I really did not want to destroy in the first place. I have gone with the typewriter font because I love old typewriters, we have one, it is Adam’s, we use it, it was built between 1941 and 1943, although it needs a new ribbon we are just lazy about ordering it, and it is a font and style that begs to sit where it is typed with little symmetry.

One of the reasons that I see a shrink is because I have emotional problems.

Talk about stating the obvious.

My emotions come in so many different sizes, shapes and colors; they are wild and hard to control. But I have had the pleasure of learning that for me controlling my emotions is also about letting go and acceptance.

It isn’t necessarily as cut and dry as saying, “I’m a crier”, because in some situations where you would think I am sitting balling about something I’m not. It puzzles me I always notice it and think to myself, holy shit I feel really bad about that shouldn’t I be crying? So then I will make an effort to cry, but nothing. I am a seriously bad fake crier I can not do it. But what I can do is cry my eyes out at the most inappropriate times and embarrass the living shit out of myself and then I’m also the asshole who used to find out someone died and started laughing instead of crying, or again, I just can’t cry. It is fucked I tell you. I must have out grown the laughing thing, thank paganism for that but nothing has seemed to slow the flow of the water works.

This isn’t something you can mention in a session and expect and instant cure for; I have been the epitome of the above paragraph since I was wee kid. It has taken me five years of weekly sessions to even write about it. But this time my blubbering outbursts at the Triathlon World Championships and then in my therapist’s office had a different spin. It was from the perspective of being proud of the fact that I am so passionate about really fucking awesome things, like books and sports and friends in other countries, and people I’ve met through my blog and when I talk about books and movies and sports and people I’ve met through blogging who have helped me accomplish personal goals and helped me deal with my social anxiety I get misty eyed and I used to really try and hide it, behind things like my ugly prescription sunglasses, but just the other day when I was getting my hair cut I was telling my stylist about having my photo taken with Tri-Athlete, Lauren Groves and I got teary eyed and I had told her how emotional I had been that day in general and she looked at me and said “are you getting emotional now?” And I said “FUCK YEAH!” For the first time in my entire life I just came right out, didn’t try and hide it and owned my emotions. Because I know and am starting to accept that I feel the things and people I love so deeply that yes it makes me very emotional, I think I have stated that the Olympics on my turf could possibly drain me of tears and it may kill me.

This is something I could never figure out how to deal with, I despised it. It bewildered Adam to no end, I think we have grown together on this one though because I really have had no choice but to just let it all go, this is my husband and it hurt trying to hide the emotions, it would hurt when he would laugh at me because he didn’t understand. And the knots hurt my throat, playing the watery eyes off as allergies was fake and I’ve only had adult allergies for four years so it was also a flat out lie. And Adam actually knows me so excuses didn’t work.

This is me, see me get emotional over the finals of Wimbledon every year, see me cry when I talk about passages of my favorite books, the mere mention of Africa, movies that I think got it right with something that matters to me, see me be happy that other players are going to get to shine but still cry because no Tiger for what seems like ever, see me get teary over a Michael Phelps commercial, see me cry and scream watching Simon Whitfield come out of the water, watch me tear up sending emails and snail mail to people I care about telling them how awesome they are and not expecting a response. I could go on and on but I think you get the point. I cry, and it isn’t because I am weak and I’m finally learning to be comfortable with just how deeply I feel and how it affects me and how my body chooses to release that joy with tears but they are tears of passion for the things I love.

Have a breakdown of the magnitude of the one I’m still physically recovering from ever again.

I can’t tell if it really was that bad or if the natural progression of my age since my last bad one is making a full physical recovery seem near impossible and has gotten to the point where YAY! I don’t want to leave my house again and that is the last thing I need to be feeling right now.

Last year when I finally hit what I considered a healthy weight [see below] I was STILL criticized by some for my lack of obvious muscles, and was called fat.

I’ve always been small, until an unfortunate running injury [that I still have, LONG story!!] most people have known me to be extremely athletic with an athletic build, athletic lifestyle and always fit. I remember a day a friend and I got up, went for a run, went skiing, hit a bucket of balls at the driving range on the way down from the hill, and then decided to hit a ten pin bowling alley before calling it a day and heading for a massive meal. I was running between 44:30 and 46 minute ten ks on the pavement and in my sleep. Those days are left as some of my fondest memories and I yearn for them to become a reality again soon. And the worst is I know that I’d be FASTER now.

Adam said the other day “you HAVE to start running again” and he is right, when I am running nothing can stop me, nothing can get me down, I’m clam, collected and in control, probably a bit more arrogant than normal but someone you want around all the time not ONLY in small doses, not someone who is unreliable and not someone that there is ALWAYS something wrong with. When I look back on my life thus far the hardest and worst times have all taken place in periods where for whatever reason I stopped because of them or was already on a short break from running.

This post isn’t about my running history though it is about weight, the point there being that when I’m running which I was basically my whole life up until late 2003 you could call me thin, you could call me skinny - even though I’d be smacking you upside the head for the skinny remark in my mind and stabbing you with invisible lasers - but you could NEVER call me anorexic I was too built and I ate like a mother-fucker one of those skinny bitches [that term makes me want to rip my FACE OFF!] who could eat anything in any amount and did.

For someone who grew up being the smallest of all my friends and still is, except for one, but she has a healthy body, I got so used to the remarks that when they stopped it was as if I had descended upon some odd fantasy land where I was viewed as a WOMAN with curves and BOOBS, I was proudly referring to my weight gain as my honeymoon fifteen and did things like this, but that wasn’t supposed to mean that I’d welcome becoming an anxiety stricken unhealthy too thin depressed self loathing person in the second year of my marriage and drop to a weight that I know is lower than I’ve ever been in my adult life. I refuse to step on a scale, the lack of my clothing and undergarments fitting leave me pretty confident that my estimate of my current pounds is scary enough and I haven’t owned a scale in over a decade.

Aside from my weight, and how unhealthy I am in general, no energy, sleeping loads, hair falling out and just knowing I’m sickly I’ve been pretty happy mentally, steady happy, I’m recovering from set backs faster, when I freak out it is toned down times a trillion million for serious, I’ve had two days that have been real bad but the rest have just been the occasional normal down days there haven’t been any bouts of depression lasting more than a few days, I’ve stepped away from the computer when wanting to be an ass hole, I took a break from posting as you can see by the front page of dates and I’m coming back to posting complaining about my weight for a reason.

If you are over weight, fat, too thin or skinny which ever term you do or don’t prefer here is something I know you don’t like - PEOPLE COMMENTING ON IT TO YOUR FACE! Look, I get it, people talk, I’ve gotten that one for years and it has helped me greatly but this is where you talk behind my back about how much weight I’ve lost. Unless you want to help me in a positive way to get my weight back on then fuck the fuck right the fuck off. Just to be clear, I’m not talking about anyone who talks to me in a genuinely concerned way, I’m not talking about my inner circle I’m talking about people in general, this ISN’T just about me it is about anyone who struggles with depression, unwanted or wanted weight, trust me, just trust, when I say NO ONE wants to hear it. WE KNOW!!!!!

This is something ingrained in society that will never change but infuriates me and I had forgotten how much. At the weight in the above photo NO ONE commented in a negative way unless they themselves were anorexic. If you were in my most inner circle it meant congratulations because I had finally done it, I had finally put on weight, and I finally FELT like a woman. Right now I feel like a fucking pre-pubescent girl, I feel disgusting, unhealthy and sick and no one in their right mind should want to look how I look at present. This past week has been the worst yet. I have been sick in the guts almost every day, nauseous, winded coming up the stairs and not able to get up and stay out of bed for long periods. I’m hoping that writing this is the intervention I need to get physically healthy again and I think I need to face that I’m going to need my doctors assistance my shrink knows I’m struggling and we talk about it but that doesn’t seem to be enough. If only one of them could prescribe me a start off of twenty free pounds, I’d even sign a wavier promising not to add it all to my tits.

Starter GOALS:

Get out of the house EVERY DAY no matter what rain or shine for at least a half an hour or more,

Eat a minimum of three times a day even if I have to force feed myself or drink protein shakes

Ok so I can’t just disappear. Oops.

My Facebook and Twitter are down but I will be back. Soon.

I just need a break.

I’m supposed to be over all the shit that happened but I’m not. I’ve never lost this many friends at one time in my life before. I’m having a real hard time figuring out who my friends actually are right now and I feel lost and alone. I don’t like who I am and don’t feel I am anywhere near where I should be for 31 in *cough* three weeks and two days.

I don’t even know how to take my blog down; I had to call my host company.

I don’t feel I can get over what I’m supposed to be over already if I am all over the internet. It just hurts, I end up in tears too much: over the fucking internet. I understand that shit happens I get that but I am just sick of how much of my energy goes towards being hurt over not being forgiven, not being able to express from my side from my opinion, what happened because no one cares what I’ve gone through, and yeah that is really fucking hard. And so until I genuinely don’t care anymore I’m taking a break.

I’ll try leaving the comments open for now and I’ll converse with you in there if you want, but last time I checked my stats it didn’t look like many people even read here anymore. I have no idea how to check how many people subscribe to my feed. Really, I can put up a post add some photos and that is about it.