Sunday, March 1, 2015

Sunday Confessions: Aware

Jamie tried to wiggle her toe. She longed to feel her toenail scratch against the coarse sheet that covered her, but try as she might it seemed that she would remain a prisoner in her own body. At least for today.  She wasn't sure how long she had been there.  The last thing she remembered was climbing in the front seat of her best friend Sarah's truck, and driving down the highway with the radio blaring and Sarah's cousin Travis trying to read their itinerary from the backseat.

They had all been friends since seventh grade when Jamie had met the "dynamic duo" in English class and they had become a trio almost immediately.  Sarah and Travis were lithe, blond and fair-skinned and were often mistaken for twins (and only occasionally a couple). They were beautiful like the elves in Lord of the Rings and Jamie sometimes felt like a hobbit standing between the two with her dark hair, hazel eyes, short legs and curvier figure.  Sarah's parents had given her the truck as a graduation present and she had convinced Jamie that the only way to celebrate graduation and their last summer of freedom before "real life" started was to go on a roadtrip just the three of them. 

Jaime snickered.  Real life had hit them faster than they ever could have imagined and they never even saw it coming. Of course, the nurse who was in the room using the phone next to Jamie's bed to make what sounded like a personal call about an errant child didn't even pause in her conversation because Jamie's snicker didn't even register as the tiniest blip on any of the monitors.  From what Jamie overheard her doctor telling her parents in hushed tones in the corner, she concluded that while they weren't sure how long she'd be like this they did know she wasn't a vegetable.

At least she had that going for her, Jamie thought to herself.

Try as she may though, it seemed she couldn't alert them to her presence.  When she first became aware of her surroundings, the rhythmic whooshing of the respirator and the beeping machines, she'd tried to get up in spite of the fact that there was something wrong with her eyes and she couldn't see.  When her mother came to see her and stood next to the bed brushing Jamie's hair, Jamie had screamed so hard inside that she'd given herself a headache.  They could see the spike in her heart rate and their fancy monitors told them she had a headache. They knew she was there.  They just didn't know how aware she was. 

Day after day, Jamie tried to wiggle a toe or squeeze her mother's hand during her daily visits when she would beg Jamie to give her a sign she was there.  Jamie's consciousness faded in and out, and she thought she might be sleeping in those times though it was hard to be sure.  It was difficult keeping her days straight, especially because she couldn't see. There was a woman who worked evenings, Jamie thought she might be a nurse, who talked to Jamie every time she was on shift as if she knew Jamie could hear her.  She didn't seem to mind that she didn't get an answer. Every night she would turn on the television and even though Jamie couldn't see it, she could listen to the prime time shows and the nightly news.

Sometimes Sarah would come visit, and those were the visits Jaime hated the most.  Though she couldn't remember what happened, apparently there had been an accident.  It seemed Sarah had walked away without a scratch, but Travis hadn't been so lucky. Travis was recovering on another unit in another hospital.  According to one of the ladies who came in to roll her over and change her sheets, Travis had been thrown from the truck in the accident and had "torn his pretty face off on the pavement".  The phrase haunted Jaime, especially when Sarah came to visit because she just sat next to the bed week after week crying and begging for forgiveness.  As much as Jamie wanted to reach out, there was nothing she could do but listen. 

Eventually, people stopped treating her like a person and started treating her like a piece of furniture.  Jamie was aware of them all though. Hospital staff came and went, sometimes using her bedside phone or discussing their personal lives with each other as they tended to her most intimate needs as if she wasn't even there.  When what was left of her friends came to visit, they just talked over her body about things she knew nothing about, not even really acknowledging her until they left and said goodbye.  

Not everyone treated her like a coffee table to be spoken over, though the only visits she truly enjoyed were from her mother who brushed her hair and talked to her about her friends and current events, only sometimes asking Jamie if she was "in there". The people who didn't treat her like furniture could be just as bad as the ones who did though; Maybe it was because she couldn't react or respond, but some people took the opportunity to confess things to Jamie and mentally unburden themselves of things she never wanted to hear.  A guy from high school visited once, and as Jamie laid there he told her how he'd liked her for years and how he masturbated to her yearbook photo and how pretty she still looked.  The janitor talked to her one night about his son, how he worried about him and wishes he could meet a pretty girl like her because he was sure Jamie was a nice smart girl who could keep him on the right track.  Her aunt admitted she was always jealous because Jamie was healthy, beautiful and smart, while her boys had so many problems and she wondered if it was because of her exhusband who was so abusive, even during her pregnancy (something Jamie never knew).  At one point, Jamie remembered her Dad telling her it was ok to just let go, even once begging her to so he could finally leave her mom.  Then, there was the doctor who came in with an intern who discussed how hopeful he was that Jamie's parents would soon "come to their senses and let her go" as there were patients who could benefit from her accident. 

Sometimes, the confessions and the things people told her were awful.  Jamie could do nothing but listen. She had no way of getting away, and she had no way of communicating anything to anyone, and she grew lonely being unable to express herself, or share thoughts and ideas.  She was forgotten outside of designated visiting hours and even when she wasn't she was still in the middle of a crowded room screaming, and no one could hear her.  She was trapped,and painfully aware.


Friday, February 27, 2015

Friday Feats & Fails 2/27/2015

Let's get on with it then, shall we?

- Depression sucks.

-  Mean people suck.  And they've been everywhere this week.  I might be a potty mouth and a sarcastic asshole... but I'm not a mean girl.  At least I don't think so.

-  Finally picked up my Fitbit and the battery off the floor where I hid them from myself... then didn't have the plastic piece to put it in and I couldn't find anything else to open it with.

+  I think I might be suffering from low Iron.  I should probably get tested by my doctor or at the very least try and donate blood, but at the same time I know how low I am because I can look back at my food diaries from when I was keeping them consistently and see that my Iron intake was on average less than 40% of what it should be... for months.  So I'm beefing up my vitamin regimen and I remembered to actually buy vitamins. So, yay for that.

+  I actually tried to get my Fitbit up and running.  That counts for something, right?

+  I got to spend time with my nephew.  He loves me.  He mostly says nice things to me.

+  I paid bills.  When I got done, I still had a big stack of unpaid bills but at least I was adult enough to pay some of them instead of curling up in the corner and crying a whole lot which is what I REALLY want to do.

Sunday, February 22, 2015

Sunday Confession: Open

Every few months I have a discussion with my mom about Facebook where I will tell her about something someone posted, or she'll ask if I've heard anything from so-and-so recently, sometimes I even tell her the terrible things I post on my page.  Sometimes, I'll try and gently convince her that she should sign up for Facebook or at least get a page for her business.

The response is the same every single time.  It's kind of like this:

Ok.  My mom isn't that old and she shops online, but every time the topic of her and Facebook comes up the response is, "I don't want people to know all that stuff about me."

Um.  What stuff, Mom?

And we have this conversation where I explain, again, that no one knows anything about you on Facebook unless you post it to Facebook.  Then, I explain why Facebook can be a good thing including getting in touch with old friends and being aware of social events, not to mention it would be great free advertising for her business. I've even offered to run her page for her.

She's still managed to not join the world of social media.  

Maybe it wouldn't bother me if I didn't feel like she was just using the same bullshit excuse in an attempt to annoy me because I've explained my face off clarified how social media works and can be a really great thing so she has no reason to feel that way about it.  But at the end of the day I have to respect that she is a technological hermit prefers to be the kind of person who lives her life "in person".

I think there's something to be said for that.  There are people in my life who I don't even try to connect with in real life anymore because they wouldn't look up from their damn phones at dinner or anywhere else.

Yes, I have a smart phone.

Yes, I have the world accessible to me at any moment.

But I don't think I'm that person who is so into their phone that they are unreachable in person.

That being said, that doesn't mean I don't sometimes wonder if I'm not too open.

When I wrote about my abusive relationship, my mom asked me if I really wanted to put that out there.  At the time, I did.  While I write the blog from a position of semi-anonymity and I don't share my picture (very often) or my writing is credit to Ashley from More Than Cheese and Beer and not me by my full name where it can be Googled... I still feel very exposed.

Week after week, I feel like I open a part of myself by sharing my innermost thoughts, my embarrassing moments, and the times in my life when I've felt weak, scared, stupid, strong, awesome... everything.  I've talked about my issues from my abusive relationship to my pay with self harm.  Sometimes, I get scared... is sharing so much of myself, being so open, eventually going to bite me in the ass?

Sunday, February 15, 2015

Sunday Confession: Pull

Sometimes I feel like there must be a higher power.

I don't know that higher power's name. 

I don't know which religion is really talking about the actual higher power. Maybe they're all referring to the same being and things got lost in translation between peoples and languages. 

What I do know is that sometimes it feels like there is no way that we can't be a part of something bigger.  Sometimes I think that higher power is honestly trying to pull a fast one. Some might call it Murphy's Law, some might call it how it is, but I think we've all have those moments. Its like every time you drop a piece of toast, the peanut butter is the side that lands on the floor. It's the way that when you're having a bad day and things are going so horrifically wrong, and then something happens that's so ridiculous and you just can't do anything else but stop and laugh the ridiculousness of life sometimes.

It's amazing to me, how just when I think I know what it is, how things are going to be, how things are supposed to be, or that I'm in control... Something happens. It's as if someone pulls the strings and says "No, you are not in control. You do not have all the answers. There is more going on than what you see."

I don't know who is pulling the strings, but I hope I'm on their good side. 

Friday, February 13, 2015

How I'm Spending Singles Awareness Day

Valentine's Day.

Last year, I wrote this post about pigeon mating and not liking Valentine's Day.  Looking back, last year was so much easier than this year.  When you're dealing with the loss of a relationship you're grateful to be out of, Valentine's Day is an OK thing not to celebrate.  Last year, it was easy to be about self-love and trying to love myself the way Kanye loves Kanye because that is what I needed to be doing.

Fast forward to a year later.  I've done a lot of healing.  I've done a lot of introspection.  The result?  I'm spending another Valentine's Day alone and this year it actually hurts a little because I'm a little bit lonely and I can't help but wonder what it is about me that just isn't good enough to be able to celebrate the day of love with someone else.

There are a lot of people who seem to be just fine and it is just another day.  Perhaps I should take a cue from them, but I've never really been that person so I'm going to spend my day doing what I have dubbed "Happy Little Hateful Things" to remind myself how great it is to not be in any of my past relationships while celebrating the joys of being alone.   Here is how I plan to spend my Valentine's Day:
  • Sleep in.  Wake up overjoyed not to be pressured for morning sex slowly to sunshine in my window and a cat on my chest kneading my face like a little creeper.  Then spend 30 minutes snuggling fur babies and embracing how beautiful being a cat lady can be.
  • Get coffee.  If I'm feeling particularly motivated, I will have programmed the coffee maker the night before which will make me feel super fancy and pampered in the morning.  I might make it an Irish coffee if the love on Facebook is already unbearable.
  • Make breakfast.  On the day of love when no one loves me, I somehow think heart-shaped chocolate chip pancakes and a plate of bacon I don't have to share is perfect.
  • Do something productive with my day, because laundry never stops and the washing machine needs to feel needed to feel loved.
  • Make myself something wonderful for dinner that not a single one of my exes would have wanted to eat...because fuck those fools for being picky, close minded, unexperimental turds who never appreciated my culinary genius.
  • Drink wine.
  • Take a long, hot shower and enjoy the feeling of getting to use all of the hot water without someone trying to join me (my ex ruined co-showering with farts) or having to give a shit about someone else needing a shower to wash their naughty fun parts before the requisite Valentine's Day Sexy Time.
  • Put on the sexy nightie.  Not too long ago, I dated a man with a satin fetish.  It was admittedly kind of intriguing, and it's unfortunate he was such a jerk.  I managed to snag myself a little satin robe and nightie set which he never got the pleasure of enjoying/seeing as it was a size or two too big.  Unfortunately, I was too lazy to return it and now I'm the proud owner of a too big nightie.  It's going to be my fat fat pants, only not pants.  I'm going to wear them because I deserve to feel pretty, and I'm almost positive he'll be spending his Valentine's Day doing something like playing Xbox or looking through his Pokemon cards and will be considerably less well fed, well dressed and less sexy.  He was not a person worth putting pants on for.
  • Movie time.  Because nothing saying "Happy Valentine's Day" like watching a movie where someone completely loses their shit and starts killing people over rejection like "Swimfan" or a movie where a hatchet happy killer hacks up horny teens being "romantic" in true teenage form... and by that I mean by fucking in the woods. 
  • I will enjoy all the snacky snacks in bed, because I wouldn't kick myself out for eating crackers in bed.  Except I'll be eating all of those really fragrant things like garlicky hummus, or Top the Tator (which is onion and chive potato chip dip for those of you not in Wisconsin) with potato chips.  And chasing it down with chocolate because that is the thing to do on Valentine's Day.
  • Drink more wine. 
  • If I get really rambunctious, I might shop for a new battery operated boyfriend because why not?
  • My night will end when I pass out in bed smelling like red wine, chocolate, sour cream, onions and chives in a nightie that is a little too large but I'm too lazy to return.  Hopefully have a sexy dream that isn't ruined by the object of my affection suddenly turned into Alec Baldwin. And no, it wasn't young and hot Alex Baldwin either.
This is my plan and I'm ok with it.  Normally, I make it a point to enjoy a heart shaped pizza, but somehow I feel like I need to keep that as a low expectation for the next time I actually have a date on Valentine's Day.  Heart shaped pizzas make me deliriously happy and I think it's a small thing to ask of the kind of people I date who feel pressured to "do something" for me.  I'm a simple girl... all I want for Valentine's Day is a man to buy me heart shaped pizza and touch my butt.

But until that happens... you know what I'll be doing. I hope you find something just as satisfying to celebrate your day with.

Friday Feats & Fails

It's that day.  Friday the 13th.  I won't lie... I kind of love it.  There may be scary movies in my future. But let's get on with the Feats & Fails.

-  I dreamt about work at least twice this week.  I love my job, but I don't want to spend my sleepy time there.

- I ate veggies and thought I was going to die this week. Which is really just evidence of how poor my diet has been lately.  Speaking of which... they had Ghiradelli chocolate on clearance at Walgreens this week.  I bought 6.  Yes, I'm ashamed.

-  I've had a super hard time knowing what day it is all week.

-  Valentine's Day is tomorrow.  While it normally doesn't bother me and it really didn't last year because I could accept not being in a relationship after the breakup, this year... it just kind of hurts that I don't have someone in my life.  Yes... I just said that.  And I wish I had people I could go and do stuff with, like other single friends, but I really don't and so I'm just being a pouty bitch.

-  I won a giveaway from a blog.  She sent me an email in December asking for my address.  I sent it.  I still have yet to get the stuff from the company.  That kind of sucks, especially because I really wanted it. 

+ I bought something other than crap at the grocery store, so it counts for something.

+  I finally remember to buy oil for my car and went to the carwash.  Since getting my new car, I've tried to go at least once a month.  I skipped December.

+  Paneer.  I got it super cheap and I think I will be having some kind of homemade paneer masala with jasmine rice and naan on Singles Awareness Day. I might be lonely, but I'm fucking eating well.

+  I remembered to buy stuff for some friends who I have been promising stuff for months.  Now I just actually have to send it. (and I got boxes too.  I'm getting there).

+  Birchbox this month was a win.  Ipsy looks like it is going to be a win too.  I'm excited even though I'm supposed to be getting rid of stuff.

Ok.  That's my week.  Short and sweet.

Sunday, February 8, 2015

Sunday Confessions: Before


Look before you leap. Think before you speak.

I guess it goes without saying that I just suck at these things. Perhaps I just suck at being prepared, or doing things in the right order as the case may be.  It seems I just keep finding myself in the same holes, like I never learn. But sometimes I wonder if this is just something that I'm never going to learn, or maybe I just have to learn it a hundred more times before I really figure it out.