It is done.

As of June 12, 2013, this blog will be moving to WordPress, a completely different hosting service, and it'll look a thousand times different.  Seems fitting that it would be on the 5th anniversary, huh?  It's... a new, fresh start, much as my life is these days.

Here's to the future!

Diversions and decisions.

After giving it some thought, I have finally decided just what I'm going to do about this blog; I'm not exactly going to get rid of it (because, after all, it's a piece of history, however shitty it might be), but... I think it's time to perhaps move it to a different source.  I've decided on WordPress, for now; but in time, my own small server may not be amiss.  I still don't have a great deal of time to devote to writing in it or designing it, for now, but WordPress allows a lot more customization, which appeals.  I'll definitely be doing something with it - I don't know exactly what, though.  I don't really seem to have much to say, or if I do, I honestly don't think it's important enough to say it.  But, eh.  Time will tell.

Still waiting on a decision from Boston MET.  They said it could be up to three weeks, so I'm not exactly pining by a phone or checking my Email every 5 minutes.  I figure that if they don't take me, UMUC always will - they took me for the bachelor's, so why not this?  In the meantime, I'm trying to relax (which is usually a foreign concept for me).

Greg is out of town again - this time it's kid #2's high school graduation.  I'm still not happy about it, but at least he'll only be gone for 36 hours this time as opposed to 4 days.  I made damned sure that he got his own hotel and car this time, because I had to throw out the luggage he used last year. It smelled like dirty dog hair and the smoke of a thousand cigarettes.  Fucking GROSS, okay?  I don't know what kind of a person his ex-wife is, but really - the way that bag smelled when he got home, I thought I was going to puke then and there.  Seriously? 

I'm still not involved much with his family, but I think I'm going to choose that route.  There's just too much dysfunction going on, and I have enough to recover from with my own situation(s) without adding his into the mix.  No, thank you.

Work is the same.  I've applied for a small leadership program class for the summer, but I don't know if I'll get that, either.  There's only two spots and a LOT of people applied, so the chances aren't good.  But I'll hope, anyway, even if it's futile.  It's like the Powerball, you just never know.

Random closing thought of the day, speaking of Powerball:  how come the only people that ever win that shit are either mega-tons years old that won't live another ten years to enjoy it, or people that just flat out don't need the money and have enough to live comfortably even without it?  What's up with that shit?  They need to pick numbers that a struggling, middle class Federal government worker has on their ticket - preferably a struggling middle class Fed worker that's female, Caucasian, 41 years old, married, has three cats....

....oh, wait.  That might be asking a bit much.  :D

Can you imagine what would happen if I ever did win that shit, though?  A Federal government worker winning all that money?  Do you KNOW what the court of public opinion would say on that one?  I don't even want to THINK about that.  Ugh.

More changes coming soon.

The first week of my post-college life.....

....and I'm bored.  Go figure.  :p

 

The graduation ceremony went okay, although it was, quite frankly, the most boring waste of a Saturday afternoon ever.  I stood in line for hours waiting for the staff to get their crap together alphabetizing everyone - honestly, I could have organized that shit in 30 minutes flat - and by the time we marched down to the arena floor, my feet were hurting like a son-of-a-bitch in those heels of mine.  Thing is, that was nothing compared to what was to come - four hours in a folding chair, lashed to other folding chairs so that no one could move without smacking someone in the eye, listening to mind-numbing speeches and watching thousands of people I don't know walking across a stage. 

 

(Okay, to be fair about it, the speeches actually weren't that bad.)

 

What added insult to injury was that by the time my name was called, nearly half of the audience had left.  Fucking ingrates!

 

Anyway, it's all over.  I'm just waiting on final grades from the last two classes (one I'm sure I aced, the other is iffy but I'm pretty sure I passed it okay), and my degree will be conferred.  I won't receive the actual paper until July, though.

 

So the next step has already been taken - I have decided to go ahead with graduate school.  What the hell?  I have nothing better to do with my life.

 

I'm secretly amused that I'd said the exact same words 4 years ago in the throes of depression.  Only this time, instead of feeling pretty hopeless about my future, I'm actually kind of excited about it now. 

 

I have decided on Boston University Metropolitan College (or Boston MET for short) to pursue the Master's.  I've already applied, and once my transcripts are sent, I'll receive a decision fairly quickly, I hope.  I have recommendations, so.... we'll see.  No guarantee, of course, but Greg and everyone else seems to think that I'll make it.  I don't know - as usual, they have much more confidence in me than I seem to.

 

It's funny, but I don't really feel much different inside than I did before.  Although I will confess to a moment on Saturday afternoon, after I'd walked the stage.  I sat down and clutched the "fake" diploma (it's really a letter inside the diploma case saying that it's on the way) and started to watch the rest of the graduates walk.... and as I looked down at that case... I couldn't help it, but yeah - I did start to cry.  Not sobbing, not wet or snotty bawling, nothing like that.  Just quiet tears down the face.  Because, you see, that diploma case is PROOF that I've beaten everything negative that people have tried to throw at me and make stick.  Looking down at that blue folder, it just... hit home for me.  I did it.  I fucking MADE it.  No one can take that diploma away from me.  No one can say that I don't have a college education and no one can say that I didn't earn every bit of that. 

 

In those few moments, all of the negative things that people ever said about me - physically, mentally, emotionally, my entire lifetime - went through my head like a reel-to-reel tape.  I heard them, felt them, experienced them all over again.  And then I looked down at that blue folder.

 

That blue folder is my "fuck you" to everyone that has ever messed with me, or tried to.  It's the biggest "fuck you" I can ever convey.

 

When I receive my real diploma, it's going in the biggest, most expensive, professionally mounted frame I can find, and it's going right up on my wall. 

 

Until the Master's degree is earned, anyway.  :)

 

My brother called me on the phone the other night and said that he can't wait until he can see me walk the stage for my doctorate.  I laughed at him at the time....

 

....but, hey.  Why not?  After all... I have nothing better to do with my life.  :D

 

 

I did it!!!!!

Suck it, haters!

What I've Learned: An Essay by a 41-Year Old College Graduate

Well, this is it, ladies and gentlemen.  In a mere five days, I will be striding across a stage in College Park, Maryland, celebrating my journey through the last four years - a journey that has been alternately filled with painful, dark memories and rich, bright beauty that would make anyone weep. 

 

It's been such a long time coming.

 

Four years ago, when I began this road, I never thought that I would live to see this day, because I was suicidal and didn't care if I lived or died.  It wasn't as if I was going to do anything about it, you see - I'd tried multiple times in multiple ways to kill myself and it was a drastic failure every time, so I decided to just .... wait it out.  I went back to school because I had nothing better to do with my life.  I went with criminal justice because it had been a long-forgotten, thought-lost dream that I'd once had when I was young and foolish.  I never expected to take the subject and master it.  Yet.... somehow that's just what I've done. 

 

Over the course of those four years, though, I've learned much more than tort law and computer forensics,.I've gained wisdom in much more than elementary Spanish and psychology of criminal behavior.  I've grown up, somehow.  I've learned that not everyone is out to get me.  I've learned the wisdom of slowing down, saying no, being true to myself and not allowing others to dictate to me what I should be.  I've learned the true meaning of love and I've learned the right way to handle difficult situations.  I've also learned that it's okay - it's all going to be okay.  No matter what happens to me.

 

What was it that John Lennon once said?  Oh, right.  "Everything will be okay in the end.  If it's not okay, it's not the end."

 

There's always going to be situations that will make me freak out, upset, whatever.  I still tend to overreact sometimes - but I'm beginning to recognize when that is, and I'm taking steps to prevent that from happening so much.  And even if it does - so what?  That's who I am, and I'm okay with being who I am.  I need to accept and understand that I'll have flaws, dark thoughts, whatever - am I not human, after all?

 

In the meantime, while I learned all of this through the school of hard knocks... I studied mean, median and mode.  I read about the Women's Liberation movement of the 1970s.  I wrote about the theory of the correctional system and absorbed information about web design.  I took courses on diversity, conjugated verbs in Spanish, held discussions on public safety policies.  Some classes were boring as hell.  Others were a hell of a lot of fun - my art history course, something that I thought was going to be the driest subject ever, was actually a blast and my favorite course ever.  Who wouldn't love to curl up with the one they love and watch old movies for homework?

 

All of those courses, all of these years.  It's all over now.  In five days, the culmination of that work, those experiences, that life, will be called in a single name as I walk across a stage forty miles from home.  The door on that life will close for good.  And all I will have to show for it is a piece of paper that says I have graduated from college.  A Bachelor of Science in Criminal Justice with a minor in Gender Studies.  A degree.  The most valuable thing that I have ever worked for up to this point in time.

 

I was going to apologize for crowing, really.  But I'll be damned if I don't deserve to crow.  I worked HARD for this.  We're talking blood, sweat, tears for this.  I deserve it.

 

I guess at this point, my real question is - what will I do now?  School took up so much of my time and energy - but now it's over.  What next?

 

There's nothing left to do but find out.  :)

 

The end of being.... mordacious?

I've given this blog some thought recently.  That is, whether or not I want to continue it.  I know, I've threatened that one before, but this time I'm wondering if it's truly worth keeping up.

The reason why I'm contemplating this now is that, of course, it's spring and because it's spring, I'm thinking "spring cleaning".  I have a lot more skills than simply throwing a blog up on Google or whatever - I could really make this something, if I want to.  But the truth of it is that I have two "subscribers".  And a lot of spam traffic from Russia, heh.  I really don't think that anyone reads this anymore, which is okay by me, as it was never really meant to be anything but a place where I could whine and bitch and moan.  :p

So, I'm wondering if it's worth keeping up - or at least worth moving to my own server, redoing fancy graphics for, etc.  I mean, I'd love to do that if I thought that I'd keep up with it, or that it served a purpose other than what it is.  You know?

Maybe I'm just searching for another purpose in life since my college education is now winding to an end.  I graduate in ten days.  Can you freaking believe it?

I need to think about this.  The true fact of the matter is that I probably won't do a thing about it.  But it's nice to have dreams, heh.

I may move my stuff, but if I do, I'll make sure and let the few of you who still read here know, heh.  :p

I've been in a bit of a bad place for the last couple of days.  I had originally written this post as dealing with one particular situation, but in truth, it's all a mix of several bad things that have happened to me over the course of years and years.  I don't actually feel sadness (although I sure have cried a lot this past week, more than usual), but more like a burning sense of injustice, I guess.  With the legal situation now disposed of, I have a bit more free rein to express myself, and I suppose that it's coming out in this fashion.  Not exactly the emotion that I would have selected, but that's what it turned out to be.  So be it.

I often think about those who have wronged me, and I think to myself that I want to shove it in their faces that I am not who they have thought me to be.  No one really knows me, anyway - not really.  I think that Greg might be one of the few that truly do, but even he doesn't know it all.  Not without living with me for years and years, anyway.

I don't know where I'm going with this, honestly.  Maybe I just want to put it all out there - you know, this is what I am, what I think, what I do.  I've been so fucking secretive for most of my life, and that's out of a sense of self-preservation.  After you're abused for years, you learn how to do that really well.  I'm tired of living under a shadow, though.  I'm tired of living behind a wall of something, whether it's alcohol, depression, weight, whatever.  I'm tired of hiding.

I shouldn't ever have had to.

I have no issue with my life now - it's going in the right direction.  But I do have an issue with my past, it's always my past.  The things that you do, you can't escape them, you can't hide from them.  Well, maybe it's time for me to deal with them, head-on.

Do I want to return to those times?  I don't know... sometimes.  In hindsight... well, you know.  I wouldn't have done a lot of the things that I've done.

I need to explore all of this.  It's going to take time.

Reflections on a quiet night.

It's Monday morning at 3:20am, which means that the neighborhood is dead quiet - not even a car rolling by, all I hear are the birds singing.  I have my window open, since it's late April and pretty nice out.  My husband is next to me, sleeping the sleep of the calm and happy (he's snoring, so I can tell, hah).  And I'm wide awake, since I actually fell asleep after my exercise session at the gym and got a good bit of rest.

Seems a good time to reflect upon recent events.

The truth is that there really isn't too much to say.  I've achieved most of what I've planned, so far.  I'm married now to a good man who loves me (and I must say that this second marriage is already a thousand times happier than my first, even after only a month).  I'll be graduating from college in three weeks, a feat that I never in my wildest dreams thought would happen, ever.  I've lost almost eighty pounds in two years, with more slated to come off as my exercise routine gets better, and stronger (and it is... more about that in a minute).  My three-year waiting period for the house ends in a week (you know, the 8k tax credit - I have to live here for three years in order not to have to pay that back to the government.  Once it ends, I can move and I don't owe anyone anything), so... if I want to move, I can (not that we're planning on it soon, but you know).

The only sour note is that I'm way behind in my finances.  I was hoping to have a lot more paid off than this.  Unfortunately, the bullshit with the legal case totally derailed that - but I'll eventually catch up.  I'm still not sure if I'm going to graduate school yet - it depends on the economy and whether sequestration will continue, etc.  So far, it doesn't look good - no one's even mentioned it coming to an end.  It may never come to an end, at this rate.

So that's up in the air.  But everything else, so far, is on track.

I was in the gym today, working out, and I was really getting into the routine - feeling the sweat pouring down my face and my body, which is normally a pretty icky feeling to me (and it's one of the reasons that I dislike working out, to be honest).  Today, though, I was reveling in it for some reason - then I started to notice that I would feel a little "nudge" in my legs - it was the feel of the excess fat/skin/whatever rubbing up against my leg.  It wasn't a lot (just so you all don't get grossed out, you know), but it was enough to motivate me to work out even harder.  It was like, "oh my God, you're nasty, go AWAY."  Know what I mean?

Suddenly, with each step I took, with each rotation on that elliptical, it was like I was saying "fuck you" to everyone who had ever told me that I was worthless, grotesque, ugly.  It was a constant "fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you."  (Yes, I'm actually kind of laughing thinking about that.)  But it was incredible.  I worked out so hard today, almost 700 calories burned in one session, which for me is insane.

Yes, I'm a beginner.  But for some reason... I think this time it's going to stick.  There was a time where I did it to make an impression on others - this time, this shit is for me, because I don't have anyone I need to impress.  My husband loves me whether I'm obese or not - he's proven that.

This time, it's for me.  This time, I'm saying "fuck you" to the ones that never believed in me.

The music helps.  I've been working on my mp3 collection (yes, again, I'm so freaking obsessive, that's NEVER changed about me), so I've had to use Slacker Radio for workouts.  Oddly, they've come up with stuff I never knew about and that I'm seriously digging.  The song below is one of my newer favorites:



I marvel at how far I've truly come.

I wonder sometimes, only sometimes, what those who put me down before would think of me now.  I wonder sometimes if I'm strong enough to confront those that have tried so hard to see me in the ground, either figuratively or literally.  But, to be honest... that wondering only extends to what I would do if I saw them again.  I'm vindictive enough to laugh in their faces.

Anger is a powerful, powerful motivator.  But...  in the end, you know what?  It's only useful when it helps me.  I don't think about it beyond that.

I think I'm going off into a tangent now, so I'm going to stop here.  But... my life is good.  It's getting better.  It's going to keep getting better.

:)

The truth of what REALLY happened on that cruise. (Warning: STRONG language. I mean, strong.)

This post was originally written in late February of 2013.  I have not altered the original post in any way, shape or form; this is exactly how I was feeling at the time.  I will only say that these are the words of a scared, frightened, stressed-out woman that had no idea of what was going to happen.

The only reason that you are reading this right now is because the legal case has been dropped, or settled.  You will now understand what stress and horror I have been living under for the last three months.  I was ordered not to discuss this, for fear it would jeopardize the case - but now it's over.  And now I'm going to scream it to the skies.

Grab some popcorn.  You're about to take a ride on the crazy train.

By the way?  The case was judged as nolle prosequi - which means that "the plaintiff has dropped the charges".  Well, well.  Maybe because you're a lying douche that never had a leg to stand on, huh?

~~

It's been more than a couple of weeks since our aborted vacation; you know, the cruise to Jamaica that we were supposed to go on.  I've been putting off explaining what happened, partially because of shame (though why, I do not know!) and partially because I was afraid that a legal case would be jeopardized because I discussed it on Facebook.  More details about that are below.

The short story is that Greg was arrested, on-board the ship, by the Broward County, Florida Police Department AND by the United States Border Patrol.  He was arrested for, and I quote, "battery and tampering with a victim/witness".  Apparently there was a warrant out for his arrest that was dated from September of 2011.  In that warrant, it was stated that "Mr. Osman has violent tendencies". 

Wha-wha-wha-WHAT???  Fucking WHAT??????

Now, if you guess that it has to do with the crazy-assed bitch of an ex-girlfriend that he literally escaped from in Florida... you would win the new car and a year's supply of Rice-a-Roni.

This fucking cunt - and yes, I say the word cunt, I do not use this term EVER, but that's exactly what she is, so that's what I'm going to say - actually put out a warrant on Greg for supposedly abusing her.  Uhhuh.  That's why he had visible bruises on his body when he fled to my house in June of 2011.  Sure, bitch.  He abused you.  Get... fucking... REAL.

Greg was a victim of domestic violence in that relationship.  When he arrived in Baltimore, he and I actually went to the House of Ruth to try and get him to be seen by a counselor.  That's how much "he abused her".  She broke his glasses - and I do mean shattered them.  But HE "abused her".  Right, got it.  He walked around here for months like a whipped dog because he was so fucking afraid that someone would hurt him - but "he abused her".  Right. 

And she actually dared to use the judicial system to put out a warrant for his arrest. 

The result was that Greg was arrested, in view of over 3,000 people, on the Liberty of the Seas on Monday, January 28, 2013.  Needless to say, I was absolutely hysterical.  We had no idea that there was a warrant out on him, because if we had known - we would have freaking taken care of it!  Also, think about this - if we had known there was a warrant out for his arrest, what makes these idiots think that we'd even come back to Florida to begin with?????  Do they think we're that fucking stupid?

He was unceremoniously hauled off of the ship in handcuffs.  I'm throwing clothes into suitcases, sobbing hysterically, not understanding anything of what's going on, what I need to do next, anything. 

Do you believe that they actually asked me if I wanted to stay on the cruise?  Say the fuck... what?  What makes these idiots think I'd just take off to Jamaica by myself while Greg's in handcuffs over false domestic violence charges?  Do they really think I'm going to just leave him in the Broward County Jail while I hightail it off to the fucking islands?  GET.... FUCKING....REAL.

So I get off of the ship, with those same 3,000 people watching me.  The ship is late taking off, you see, and we're the sole reason for that.  So, yeah, I was totally humiliated.  No doubt about it.

No thanks to the Broward County Police Department, I found a hotel to stay in.  Of course, it's 130 dollars a night, but I was so hysterical that I didn't care.  I'm in a city that I know nothing about (Fort Lauderdale), I'm stranded, my fiance's in jail and I don't even know what the fuck is happening.  So, let's see... we lost our cruise vacation for sure.  That's 800 dollars.  Plus the hotel, so that's another 130. 

Want to keep tabs with me?  It gets better.

I call my mother in absolute hysterics, who in turn calls my brother in absolute hysterics.  He calls me, not in hysterics but visibly rattled.  He dispenses advice - call a lawyer, stat.  Good idea, I think, so I start looking up lawyers.  I'm overwhelmed by the choices.  Call a few, no one answers, it's 9:00pm.  I pull up the website of the jail - I see Greg's booking picture.  He's got visible tears in his eyes.  I totally fucking lose my shit and sob, curled up, on the hotel floor.  What the fuck.  What... the... fuck.

I toss and turn all night.  Can't sleep.  Dry-eyed.  Can't eat anything - I throw up what little I can get down.  I take my blood sugar levels - it's 214.  Only 36 more points and I get to go to the hospital.  Yay.  Great vacation so far.

Dawn arrives.  I wait until the latest hour I think I can before I start calling lawyers again.  I reach one's legal secretary - I spill out my story.  I end up crying again, I can't help it.  She puts me through to the lawyer himself.  I repeat my story.  He agrees to take the case - it's 1,000 dollars for a retainer.  I call my mother, begging for help.  She agrees and pays the retainer for me.  He promises to get over to the courthouse, in the meantime, can I come down there?  I'm on my way.

Now we're up to 1,930 dollars.  Keep counting, boys and girls.

I take a cab to the office because I have no idea of where the fuck I am, and even if I did it wouldn't matter, because I still don't have my driver's license.  So that's another 20 bucks.  I get dropped off right in front of the courthouse - nice, everything's laid out nice and convenient.  Lawyers here, courthouse there, jail across the street.  Big business, I see.  I'm totally disgusted.

I enter the lawyer's office.  Small, plain, white walls, Latina secretary.  Greg's been granted bond.  2500 dollars.  Charges are felonies.  Wonderful.  I start panicking again.  The secretary tells me not to worry, hands me a card, and tells me to go down the street to the bail bond office.  I go over there, thanking Christ that I have a fair amount of cash on me - it was for the ship staff, to give them tips.  I guess they won't be getting it now. 

I enter the bail bond office.  Explained the situation.  I sit down and sign mountains of paperwork - agreeing that they could come after me for the full 2500 if he doesn't show for court, etc.  Names of family, relatives, acquaintances.  I once again feel the humiliation and the despair of the situation we're in.  I get handed papers, told to wait at the jail for his release, and bring him back to the bond office when he's out.  "It may be a couple of hours," they warn.  Great, what else do I have to do?  I fork over 250 dollars, the 10 percent required to get him out. 

So far we're up to 2200 dollars.  Not done yet.

I walk up to the Broward County Jail.  Huge, multifloor concrete building.  Forbidding looking men and women walking through a security line.  I stand there for 15 minutes, not knowing what to do - no one is paying any attention to me.  I get barked at.  "You!  Purse in locker, walk through!"  I take the key, walk through security, nothing goes off.  I try a feeble smile at the officer behind the desk - nothing.  To him, I'm a common criminal just like everyone else that's in here - supposedly.  It doesn't matter that I'm in law enforcement, working for a place a lot higher than the state of Florida.  Here, I'm a criminal. 

I sit down.  Some inane talk show is on.  It's 10:30am.  I wait and watch.  Someone comes in, kisses his girlfriend, walks behind a partition, walks out escorted by a guard and in cuffs.  Returning from a weekend out, probably.  Lots of soft muttered Spanish, guards coming in and out, bringing lunches.  The hours pass.  12:30, 1:30.  The girl from the bail bonds office comes in, ostensibly to deliver paperwork.  She tells me not to worry, that he'll be out today; they're most likely going through processing, it takes time.  I ignore her - they've got their money, I want to be left alone - and keep waiting.  2:00, 2:30.  The time ticks away.  I zone out, wishing that I was anywhere, anywhere but here.

Suddenly... he comes out of the sallyport.  I lose it.  I totally lose it.  I ran over to him and squeezed him as hard as I could, sobbing like a child, not caring what happens.  I know we stood there at least 10 minutes, if not longer.  To their credit, he didn't look the worse for wear....

Not that that's much credit.

We leave the jail and go back to the bail bond office for an appearance.  The guy hands him a bunch of papers to fill out.  Same thing I had to.  Then, a picture.  We finalize everything and go back to the lawyer's office. 

I sit down with the lawyer and ask him straight out what the worst is that can happen.  I get told 2 to 3 years of probation, no more than that - but it's such an insult when he did nothing!!!!!!  He said he'd try to get the charges down to misdemeanors, or thrown out altogether.  I nod numbly.  Asked him if we could go home.  He said yes.  Thank you, Christ - thank you.  He said that we didn't have to appear at the arraignment, he would get a waiver signed so that he could stay in Maryland until the trial, if there was one.  Thank you again, Christ - I will never doubt you exist after this.

How much is the final fee?  2500 dollars more.  1000 extra if the case goes to trial.  Fine, I say.  Let's do this.

Total cost so far:  4,700 dollars.  Plus 1,000 if there's a trial.

We end up being forced to stay in Florida one more night - it's now 5:25pm.  Too late to get a flight out.  That's another 130 dollars.  35 dollars extra to change the plane reservation to the next day - fine, let's do it.

Now the cost is 4,865 dollars.  With trial - 5,865 dollars.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was our lovely Jamaican vacation.  We returned home on Wednesday, January 30th, with a nearly six thousand dollar bill for a legal case that should never have happened, and the possibility of a felony being on my fiance's record - all because of one scorned, abusive, crazy motherfucking bitch.  The same scorned, abusive, crazy motherfucking bitch that sent him countless messages over his cell phone, over Facebook, threatening him if he didn't come back, trying to sweet talk him back, then talking "dirty" (trying to use sex as a weapon, I guess, this thing knew no bounds), then threatening ME through Facebook, using her ex-husband to message him, etc.  We had to pay for a block on his number so that she couldn't contact him anymore - we had it instituted in July of 2011.  I had to change my phone number outright because she was calling it day and night threatening me.  When that didn't work, she tried to use my Facebook account to tell me to "watch my back".  I have blocked everyone on Facebook with the same name, whether they're her or not.  I have been living in a state of semi-fear since the day he moved here, because from what I understand, this crazy bitch has a gun.  And Fort Lauderdale is 2 hours away by plane and a mere 100 dollar fare.  How do I know what this stupid turkey-neck slut is going to do?

I have been trying my best to hold it together, for Greg's sake and for everyone else's.  But it's been absolute hell having no one to talk to - because I've had to keep this quiet.  I have had nightmares since January 28th.  I have eaten very little and slept even less.  My dreams are of sinking ships, jail visits, and death.  I can no longer think about taking a vacation anywhere that is further than 50 miles from home.  I jump at the sound of sirens; I feel sick when I see a police officer walking toward me. I jump when the phone rings because I think it's the lawyer or the bail bond office calling me to tell me that I've lost the bail bond because he didn't appear for court (and this has already happened once).  I am probably going to have to go back to therapy because I can't process.  This has been nothing short of traumatic for me.  I can't even tell you how many tears I've cried since that day.  I don't know.  It seems endless.

The only reason why you are reading this now is because it's finally over.  The case has been put to rest.  (Though right now, I don't know what that outcome will be.  It'll be revealed after this sentence - I'm prewriting this so I will never have to think about it again, ever.)

Now that you know the entire story, those of you who have disagreed with me about opposing the Violence Against Women Act (VAWA) now know why I oppose it; it is what happened to us that makes me believe this is not a good idea for anyone.  Those of you who know and have met Greg personally can attest to the fact that he is genuinely the sweetest, gentlest man alive - he wouldn't harm a soul.  I will never believe that he abused that woman - ever - not from what I know and not from what I've seen.  I have lived with him for the past 2 years, and I know - if he were abusive, I would know by now!

And that part about "violent tendencies".  Shit.  I have more fucking violent tendencies than he does, and anyone who knows us can also attest to that!!!

So... now what?  I don't know, honestly.  I don't blame Greg for any of this.  He was a victim of this woman.  He was abused shamefully, and it just seems that it's punishment on top of more punishment.  How can I be mad at him? 

And yet, I still suffer from this.  The utter humiliation of three thousand people watching me as I scurry off a cruise ship, the amount of money that we've had to spend to defend ourselves from someone who has little to no respect for the court system, the nightmares and fear that I feel. 

Where is my justice? 

I was told that it wasn't even worth trying to sue this woman for the money that we've had to put out defending these bogus charges.  Because (if Greg is telling it right, and I believe that he is) she has nothing anyway - she's a leech on the body society, she collects disability (of course!), she doesn't work, she's a fucking drug addict.  She'd be at home on Jerry Springer - pure trash. 

All that I can say is that Greg must've had one hell of a lapse in judgment at one time to be involved with a thing like this.  (And, yes - the word thing applies here.)

I can feel the tears again - it never stops.  It never ends.  Again... where is the justice? 

Probably my last post ever.... while I'm single.

A mere nine days from today, I will once again be a married woman.  I never thought that it would happen.  Hell, I never thought that I'd ever be involved in a relationship again.... ever.  Yet here I am, searching frantically for flowers and pondering what I need to do in order to make my hair look at least halfway decent. 

When I look back at my entries on this blog, I cringe a lot of the time, because... well, let's face it.  I was seriously ill.  I was talking out of my ass and not understanding one word of it.  I rambled, raged, sounded like a complete idiot.  Hell, I was a complete idiot.  But somehow, some way, I kept it together day by day by day, piecing my life back together in slow, agonizing stitches. 

I have worked hard.

My reward is that I just received an Email from my school congratulating me on my upcoming graduation in two months.  Two months... eight weeks.  I cannot believe that my educational journey has hit this milestone.  When I began my classes in May of 2009, I was incredibly sick; my depression was fully raging, I was antisocial, obsessive, feeling hopeless and suicidal.  Yes, it's true; it may not seem so from my words, but if you read between the lines, it's there.  I still have no idea of how I managed to get through in those days.  I have little memory of that time period other than a blurry, tear-filled haze.  But I pushed on, and I pushed, and I pushed. 

Nearly 4 years later, almost to the day - here I am; completely awake and fully aware.  And on the brink of beginning a brand new life, a life that 4 years ago I could have never imagined in my wildest dreams.

Today - every day, really - is a day for celebrating.

In the last 4 months, I have been through some unbelievable circumstances, including a very serious legal situation (see my last post; unfortunately I still cannot discuss it, as it's still pending), a huge fraudulent transaction on one of my credit cards that I've had to fight, serious financial difficulties (which have been partially incurred by said legal incident), things that would have brought down nearly anyone sane and would have virtually made me a mental basketcase if I'd still been sick.  And I've not only gotten through it all, but I've thrived pretty nicely as a matter of fact.

I still have my bad days, always will.  I have moments where I completely and totally lose it - a good example of that is yesterday when I was caught up in the crowds at the St. Patrick's Day parade downtown and was forced to stand next to a blaring speaker, which frazzled me to the point where I was literally knocking people down to the ground to get away.  (I've discovered that very loud sounds like that make me "lose it" - I think I'm sound sensitive to a degree, unless it's actual music.)  But, for the most part, I've learned to tolerate situations like crowds and all of that as best as I can.

Some of the reason that I'm "better", I think, is that I've finally accepted myself as I am - and that I'm okay no matter how that is.  Does that make any sense?  For example... I'm just not a social person anymore.  I walked through life pretending that I enjoyed social gatherings and the company of people, but the brutal truth is that I don't, not really.  Oh, I like people just fine when I can relate to them, or if I've known them a very long time and they accept me and my peccadilloes - but strangers, or "new" acquaintances, or whatever - eh, but no, no thanks, I don't need more "friends".  I think that this stems from me being hurt so much in my early days, perhaps.... that could be true... but I've also accepted the fact that I'm very literal, and very pragmatic, and I see the world in a way that a lot of people don't.  I'm liable to say exactly what I think, all the time, even if it really, really hurts someone - and most people can't, don't, won't accept that.  And I'm mild about it in person - if you could hear some of the shit I say to Greg about people in private, ohmyGawd, I'd have had my ass beaten a thousand times over by now.  Or maybe I'd be totally friendless instead of having the few friends that I do. 

(Disclaimer:  That's not to say that I talk shit about my friends behind their backs.  You all know me better - if I have something to say to you, I will tell you straight up and pull no punches about it.  You know that much about me, I should hope.)

That's just an example, but it's generally the way I do things now - I just don't pretend anymore for the sake of approval.  I don't need approval anymore - I am what I am, and people can take or leave me on that basis.  Do I wish that things had been different?  Sure.  Do I wish that I'd have found this out earlier?  A thousand times over.  But, eh, better late than never, right?

It helps that Greg accepts me for who I am, unconditionally, no matter what.  When I talked to him about weight loss surgery, I acknowledged the fact that he might be uncomfortable with "the new me", and asked him if he was prepared to accept the way I looked afterwards, even if it was physically "unappealing", let's say - and his answer was an unequivocal, unhesitating yes.  It's been yes every time, every month, every minute.

This is why I'll be a bride in nine days.

I once chased after someone that didn't give a shit if I lived or died this time 3, 4 years ago - and it's so hard to believe now that I ever cared about what their opinion was.  I don't even think about them anymore, or "it", or the circumstances that brought me here.  It happened, I can't and won't deny that, and I behaved in ways that I'm ashamed of now - but it's history.  It happened when I was at my lowest point, and for someone to come along and take advantage of someone at their lowest, well, that's pretty despicable behavior.  But, honestly, it's something that I should have known, realized and believed, because enough people tried to warn me about it.  I just thought that, by magic, I could change the outcome. 

Wrong.  And that's also something that I've learned - I can't control anything or anyone other than myself or what I do.  Sound like a familiar refrain?

These days, I wouldn't allow that person to wipe the shit off of the bottom of my shoes.  He'd be lucky to get that close to me.  That might sound like I hate him - I don't, because he no longer matters enough to me to hate.  I have reached a comfortable, happy point of indifference; and that's an ideal place to be.  :)  I wish him well in future endeavors - but it's preferable that he remains out of my life, for good.  And, honestly, I think he feels the same way, as he hasn't attempted to contact me since late 2011, "defriended" me in early 2012, etc.  I'm okay with that.  Hell, I'm good with that.  I have all that I need, and then some.

I think that I've finally "grown up", at last.  :)

Much has been going on....

...and, unfortunately, not all of it has been good.  I cannot discuss the main trouble right now, though; I have been instructed by an attorney that I have retained not to talk about it (either on social media or elsewhere).  It sucks - because I have a lot of feelings about it, and most of them are not positive, but for right now I have to keep it all inside of me.  It's hard on some days, because all I want to do is verbalize my anger, disappointment, fear - oh, yes, fear is involved, no doubt about that.  But... in order to protect who I must (whether that's me, Greg or someone else, I cannot say right now), I must, must, must keep my mouth shut.  For now.

When I'm allowed to, I will scream it from the rooftops.  You can best believe that. 

I know, more mystery.  You would think that I'd just not send up teasers like this.  But I know that a lot of people were worried about me when our vacation was cancelled (and it was cancelled in a horrible, disastrous way that I will never forget), so I feel obligated to say something.  Even if it's a quick "I'll tell you later". 

Sigh.  I wish I could be open about this.  Right now, I really need a friend.  Or two.  Or sixteen.

Other than this horrific event, things have actually been quiet at casa Ray/Osman.  Which will soon be just casa Osman - as we've decided to get married on March 20th. 

Yes, in less than 45 days, I will be a bride again.  I never thought that it would come to this, ever.  I never thought I'd allow myself to get married again.  I never thought that I would trust anyone ever again.  Yet... here I am.

The above reason that I cannot talk about is some of the reason why we've moved the date up.  It's not because of legal trouble on that front - no worries there - but... some of what happened made me realize that I can't put up walls forever.  I need to learn to trust at some point - and Greg's been there when I've really, truly needed him, time and time again, without fail.  How many people can one say that about, honestly?  And where is Greg's support?  I sure haven't shown him much, though I'm sure that he might tell you differently.  He's not out to get me - he's out to protect me.  I realize that now.  So... I'm in a much better place emotionally to handle a complicated thing like marriage.  And, unlike my first disaster... I don't feel a bit of hesitation.  I don't have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach (at least, not about this).  I think about it, and every time I do, I realize that I've made the right decision.  So be it. 

Yeah, that sounds so romantic, doesn't it?  But those of you who know me very well tend to realize that I'm more pragmatic about things like this than romantic, at least when I express to other people.  I'm not much of a mushy type, I'm afraid.  Though, I know that pragmatic love can be just as good as romantic, sometimes better - at least with pragmatic love it's based on a solid foundation of respect, caring and genuine, deep love with rock-solid future plans.  Romantic love is nice, but it's dreamy and ethereal and... just not exactly secure, you know what I'm saying?  At my age and time of life, I need security so badly.  I need to know that the rug won't be pulled out from under my feet again.  This time, I don't think it will be, although I will always, always be somewhat afraid.  We can thank past history for that.

So, on March 20th, I will no longer be Carrie Ray; depressed, alone, hurting.  I will be Carrie Osman; hopeful, loved, healing.  At least, that's the plan.

I am about midway through the semester now, with only three classes left to go before I earn my B.S. in criminal justice (with the minor in gender studies).  I graduate in less than 90 days, if all goes well.  It's hard to believe that I have come this far - when I started school I was incredibly sick with the depression and I didn't even know my own name at some points.  To achieve all that I have is astounding, and yet.... I still sometimes really don't feel it when I'm told that it's a massive accomplishment.  I just shrug it off and say "thanks", or sometimes I respond with something like "it's what I should have done all along, why are you congratulating me for finally doing what I should have done?"  Because in some ways, I do feel that.  I struggle a lot right now with regret, with "could/should/would haves", and it's pointless, I know that, but at the same time, I feel so sad for the time that I've lost.  If only I had been treated sooner, if only I hadn't ignored my health (physical or mental), if only I had reached out for help.... etc., etc.  You know - could have/should have/would have.  It's stupid.  It's not worth the screen I'm writing on.  All I have now is today.  And I have to proceed forward with that.

I'm also scheduled for weight loss surgery.  My initial consultation was yesterday, and I was pretty much accepted into the program right away - a little difficult not to when your BMI is in the stratosphere and you have diabetes-II to add to it.  Because I'm a Federal employee, I only have to have 3 months of dietitian consultation - one session is already completed - and the other two are scheduled already.  Theoretically, I could be on the operating table as quickly as June.  There is a lot to think about, though.  The doctor (who has also done both of my cousins' surgeries, as well as my aunt - it apparently runs in the family) suggested that I do the full Monty - the Roux-en-Y gastric bypass - which scares the ever-loving shit out of me.  It's supposed to be the most effective procedure, but it also has the highest mortality rate on the table. 

There was a time where I used to want to die.  Now look at me.  :(

Much to consider, much to think about.  I'm scared, there's no doubt about it.  I might have been depressed, but I lived in a comfortable limbo - school won't be done for years, I'm getting in touch with my feelings, healing from my depression, etc.  Only now, that's all coming to an end - and I won't have that "safe place" to fall anymore.  I should be happy about that - shouldn't I?

My diabetes treatment is going well.  They just lowered the insulin dosage a bit, so we'll see.  Their eventual aim is to get me on oral medication only - and with the weight loss surgery, even that may not be needed anymore.  We'll see. 

So... where I am is pretty simple.  Things are going well for me, but as usual I'm scared to death and so afraid that the other shoe is going to drop - so to speak.

In other words, a normal day.

Sigh.

Yes, kids, here it comes again...the end-of-year recap! I know you're thrilled....

....or something.  :p

This year has been the most tumultuous yet in a series of years that have seen a great deal of change, both in myself, my surroundings, and the world.  So, how have I been (other than kind of quiet)?  Let's have a look...

The "best of" and "worst of" 2012 is actually that of a single event, oddly; and that is the discovery of my Type-II diabetes.  So, everyone could maybe understand why this would be considered "the worst" - after all, diabetes is serious business here.  I can't eat anything I want anymore; I can't even eat certain things anymore.  My health is on its own "fiscal cliff", so to speak, where if I even eat a piece of bread or a crusty roll, my body will revolt; I get headaches, my temperature rises, and I feel both sick and guilty at turns.  How is this a good thing?

I'll tell you how.  It's because I'm now taking care of myself and my health more, in these last three months, than I have in thirty years.  I am no longer compromising how I feel for someone else's sake; my health now comes above everything and everyone.  Either I feel good enough to get through another day - or I don't, and I do nothing for anybody.  That's the way it goes now.  That's the way I insist that it be.  Because, after all, how can I help anyone when I can't help myself?  And, in turn, my physical health has improved dramatically.  I've lost 51 - that's right, fifty-one - pounds since September 11th.  I'm gearing up to lose even more, as the latest plateau has ended and the metabolism is getting ready for another blast.  I am unable to wear clothes even from 5 years ago, as the weight comes off, and off, and off. 

I can't even imagine how I'm going to look by this time next year.

I also finally have a name to what's been wrong with me for so many years.  I've been sick - and I know I've been sick - but no one could tell me just what the hell was wrong.  I'd go to the doctor, and they'd be like, "We don't know how to help you - there's nothing wrong with you."  Until September 10, 2012, I was just...coasting along, feeling incredibly ill, but never knowing just what the fuck to do about it.  Now I know.  Now I know everything that needs to be done, and more.  And I haven't looked back since. 

So, what now for me?  What's on tap for 2013?  Well...

Physical Health:  Continues to improve every day, and will be sped along considerably.  I have begun the process of consultation for bariatric (weight-loss) surgery; my first appointment is on February 6th.  This is assuming, of course, that I don't get my BMI too low to be considered for it, but I don't think that's going to happen.  Either way, my insurance covers it - and it needs to be done.  I am tired of the way I am - it's no longer a vanity thing, but a health thing.  Now that I've dropped a good deal of weight already, I am beginning to realize that I have been, and continue to be, unhealthy.  I am 40 years old, and I have Type-II diabetes.  Isn't that enough to deal with?  Really?  So... we will find out on this front how successful this will be.  Otherwise, things are the same, though my family's history of varicose veins are beginning to come to fruition, unfortunately.  It's not really awful - yet - but over time my legs are going to look like roadmaps.  I accept that - it is what it is.  Hopefully the weight loss will reduce the speed in which it happens.

Mental Health:  The depression has not returned, though it's precarious - I've felt it trying to sneak up on me, mainly when times are pretty stressful (and they have been, at least recently).  I am facing down several situations, including the increasingly bad health of my mother (who is, pretty much, my only parent) and balancing my own health needs as well.  But it's been mainly okay for the most part - I am slowly learning how to stand up for myself and for the things I need.  I still have a hard time accepting that I'm getting older - a lot of regrets exist for the past, mainly for how much time I have wasted - but that's also a day to day thing, and I can usually cope all right.  It's a process.  I am no longer in therapy, and haven't been since August - but I am keeping him on the back burner, because I know that I will need him again.  My mother's death will be the worst day of my life - and I KNOW that will be the day I need to go back into therapy once again.  May that day be many years away - but it's inevitable.  I know this.

Career:  Big changes in this area.  If you've been following this blog with any sort of regularity, you know that I left the drug lab in July after a long and stressful 4 year tenure.  I am now a "community supervision assistant", which is basically a fancy term for "office manager to a team of parole officers".  I process payroll checks, I send reports to the U.S. Parole Commission, and I organize and plan schedules.  Basically?  It's an office job.  It can be boring as shit sometimes - but it's mainly easy and I can do side projects while I'm here sometimes.  I have a second job doing transcription for a company called SpeechInk (which is the afore-mentioned side project, heh) - it doesn't pay a great deal, but it's more money than what I had before, which is all that matters.  Now, I don't want to stay here forever - because it really can be boring as all fuck - but it's not bad for now and it pays just as well as looking at bare asses did.  I'm okay with where I am.  For now.

Social/Relationships:  Greg and I are still together, still strong, still as much in love as we ever were - maybe even more.  A huge shift has happened in Greg's personal life (which I'm not really at liberty to discuss), but it means quite a lot, so much that we're seriously discussing marriage at this point.  Now, admittedly - I'm gunshy.  I was married once before, and it was everything that I thought marriage was not going to be.  I don't want to ruin this good thing we have - and it is a good thing.  But... I also really don't think that it will be a mistake this time.  Nothing is set in stone just yet, though.  The world will know, once it happens - this much I promise you, heh. 

No progress on other relationships, friendships, etc.  I think I've just accepted the fact that I'm not much of a people person anymore.  I don't honestly care what happens to other people, partially because if I have to go through my own crap, I have no interest in other peoples' crap as well - but also, because I really just have been burned so much by others' actions that I don't have a desire to hang around people any longer.  I guess that's what it is.  I also don't have much interest in the past anymore, as evinced by my disdain to be involved in the old BBS groups.  I just... don't care, really.  That was 20 years ago.  I have no desire to revisit my past, much of which contained a great deal of painful events and memories that I would simply rather forget about. 

Financial:  This is the only portion of my life that has not improved in 2012, and this is partially because of the surprising expense of my diabetes diagnosis.  I have had to spend a great deal of money getting the medicines I need, doctor visits, etc., and I'm afraid that it's still not quite over with -I will be paying off a lot of medical bills over the next few months, which is partially the reason I now have a second job, I suppose.  Still, I am going to focus special attention on this over the next year, because I will soon be graduating from college - in 4 months, YIKES!!!! - and I'll have school loans to deal with, which is going to suck ass.  I know myself, though.  I have tenacity, if nothing else. 

Things have changed a lot over the course of last year, some very recently.  I was getting ready to go somewhere with Greg the other day, I can't remember where - and I was brushing my hair, looking in the mirror.... and I had to stop for a minute.  I realized that I really, honestly, maybe for the first time in my life.... thought that I looked beautiful.  Content, smiling, joyful... happy to be alive.  The sparkle in my eyes has returned to me.  True, my face looks a lot more grave than it used to, and there's a lot of pain etched there....but for once in my life... I felt that I looked beautiful.  That I was beautiful. 

Those striking moments are beginning to appear more and more.  I am slowly, painfully being reborn into the person that I really am.  That I should have been, all of these years.

I cry now when I think about dying, when I think about all of the life that I haven't yet lived, when I think about all of the things I would have missed out on, had one of my many suicide attempts been successful.  I no longer embrace death, or even glorify it - indeed, there is nothing glamorous about suicide, or death, or anything about it.

So, with all of this said, I am ready to take 2013 by the horns and work it until it's crying for mercy.  This is my time.  This is my year.  And God help anyone who would get in the way of my plans - because I have wonderful, wonderful plans for my life!

I struggled over a song that would fit this turbulent year.  Several snatches of lyrics seem to fit -

"Times have changed... and times are strange,
 ....here I come, but I ain't the same.
 .... Mama, I'm coming home...."
(Ozzy Osbourne)

But I think that this is the most apropos song I can find that would describe 2012 for me.... because I really am the proverbial "blackbird" in the song. 

And finally.... here I am.  This photograph was taken just as I was leaving for work this morning.  It is a far, far cry from what I once was, from what I used to be.  I still cringe at it a little; my hair is so grey and I've lost so much weight that my blouse doesn't fit (and I haven't worn it for 3 years!!!).  But it's me.  I need to learn to love myself for who I am.  And this is who I am.

"All your life... you have only waited for this moment to be free."



Happy New Year.

Apathy's exit. And other earth-shattering news.

I was coming home on the train yesterday from work, ready to enjoy a long five-day Christmas holiday, when a song by Queensryche, "Silent Lucidity", came on the Internet radio on my phone.  Now, in the past, I usually did one of two things depending on my mood - I either turned the station (because that particular song does have a few bad memories attached to it), or I listened, but... didn't really listen, if you follow me.  It was just background noise.

Well, yesterday, I figured on the latter - I wasn't in a bad mood, I was okay in my head, etc.  So I left it on and listened to it.  Only, this time - I really listened to it.  And all of a sudden, I felt this incredible rush of.... sheesh, I don't even know how to describe it.  Pain, fear, happiness, joy, all emotions just blended into this feeling - that's what it really was.  Feeling.  I was feeling for the first time in years, and it was so intense that tears actually spilled out of my eyes at the same time that I was laughing.  I don't even know how to put it into words.  I just knew that I could feel, for the first time in years, that I didn't exist in a vacuum of dull apathy.  The world was somehow brighter, more intense, more there.  Does that make any sense?

It's another sign of healing.  I really am healing, despite how it may seem or how I sound sometimes.  Each day is another step toward making my life what I wish it to be.  Sure, it's hard breaking old habits - but I'm getting closer.  

Not much else to say today, but I think I'm being lazy.  I'm on the last semester of school - graduation is on May 11th - and Greg and I are still together (as a matter of fact, we're going on a cruise together in a month's time).  There's more than this, but I guess I'm actually not as talkative as I thought.  I'll elaborate more in a later post.

BBS relationships - coming clean.

Recently, I was added to a group on Facebook for people who were involved in the bulletin board scene in my hometown; keep in mind that this was nearly 20 years ago.  This was a huge portion of my life for a while, maybe lasting about 5 years, and I knew a lot of people back then.  This was also the scene of some of my most humiliating memories.

I tried to get out of being in the group - quite a few times, actually.  I removed myself 5 times.  And somehow, I kept being added back, by different people, over and over again.  I finally spoke with someone that convinced me that "it'll be okay, are you going to let what happened 20 years ago affect you", blah blah.  I fucking hate it when people are logical.  So this time I stayed.  I haven't spoken one word in there (and so far don't plan to)... but I'm watching.  Observing.  Staying silent - for now.

What I'm seeing, so far, hasn't been much of a surprise.  It's the same people, with the same malfunctions, only it's 20 years later and no one seems to have "grown up" too much.  It's nice in some ways to see people that I've only wondered about for a long time - some really have matured and grown and they're leading happy lives, with partners and spouses and kids.  For them, I'm happy.  I wish them all the success in the world.

For others... it's the same sad dysfunction.  Those people, I don't wish to get involved with again.  It's not surprising that the sad dysfunction stems from the very people that had a direct hand in some of the bad things that have happened to me.

One of the topics that is being discussed in there right now is, "So, list all of the people you had sex with, I bet it'll be a six degrees of Kevin Bacon thing."  You know, trying to be clever and witty and shit.
Like I REALLY want to go on that particular trip down memory lane.  Who gives a shit?  What fucking business is it of theirs, anyway?  Yeah, okay, I had sex with a few people - so the fuck what?

This is the level of immaturity that some still have.  Is it any wonder I asked to be removed, over and over?

I've grown up in 20 years, despite the depression, despite the abuse, despite the shit sandwiches that others have tried to make me swallow.  It is nobody's business who I had inside of my body, regardless of how "fun" they try and make the topic.  It's also nobody's business WHY I did the things I did, though I'll go ahead and tell you now - I did it all for the approval of people who, quite frankly, didn't deserve it or warrant the attention.

I was duped in a lot of situations, quite honestly - by one who took genuine feelings and used them as a platform for massive humiliation - and I had a couple of genuine (if short-lived) relationships that I still remember fondly.  I had one massive crush on someone that never really knew I did (and that's because I was careful after being humiliated pretty much metro-wide).  One relationship that slowly faded over time (and it's not one I remember fondly).

And that's it.  Some "hot ticket", huh?  At least everything I did in those days was motivated by wanting to actually love someone.  What's their excuse?  An itch to scratch?

This has not been a good week for me.  I was NOT ready to confront the things that have happened in this portion of my life, and it's been very, very hard to read the writings of people I once knew on a somewhat intimate (well, as intimate as talking digitally over a telephone connection can be) basis.  My mind has been racing a mile a minute over various memories.  Some good, some horrific, some I just wish I could bury forever.  I've been crying on and off for the last five days, because it's all coming back to me like a big fucking pile of sick.  And I'm resentful that I'm being forced to confront it now, at a time when my life is pretty much set - graduation in 4 months, Greg and I thinking seriously about getting married, etc.  This had to come into my life now, like a big piece of shit that just won't flush away.  Great timing, thanks so much.

So there's the answer to one of the "burning" questions everyone wanted to know.  Yes, I whored around in those days, and I DID it all for your approval, which I never ended up getting in the first place. Happy now?

Fuck everyone that's ever hurt me.  Just... fuck them all.  Oh, wait, but I DID that already, right?

I'm going to go buy some stock in Kimberly-Clark now, you know, the makers of Kleenex.  Because I have a feeling that I'm going to need it for a while.

You may ask yourself at this point why I stay in the group.  I don't really know.  Maybe because I'm waiting for an apology that will never come.  Just like I did with the latest Douchebag - it seems that I don't learn my lesson very well.  I guess when I get tired of the self-abuse, I'll leave, I have no idea.  Since I'm being forced, more or less, to confront this shit now, maybe it's just as well.  My life is set - I have a great life.  No one is going to take that from me.

Over my dead fucking body.

Meltdown? Perhaps.

Recently, I posted on Facebook about an incident that I'm having trouble reconciling, mainly that of Mr. Murderer (that I've mentioned in this blog before).  The question that I had asked was, if someone had a chance to get revenge on a person, would they do it.  I really didn't mean for the post to get blown up the way that it did, but I just suddenly felt so freaking angry about the whole thing - it's like, why should I hide over this, I did nothing wrong and I'm not going to pretend that I did.

I've probably at the least lost a few so-called "friends" out of this, but in truth if I have, they're not friends of mine anyway, and never have been.  More purging, as far as I'm concerned - let it come, if it's to be so.

Each day, I grow stronger, more confident, healthier in body and in mind.

I've lost 40 pounds since diagnosis - I'm down 4 sizes on top and 8 sizes on the bottom.  None of my clothes fit any longer.  I've had to buy new things, and even days later, they hang on me.  It's like a magic wand was waved over my head, only that wand is called "diabetes".  I wonder starkly if I haven't had issues all along with my endocrine system - ever since puberty struck, I've had nothing but difficulties with weight and menstrual cycles and everything else.  (Shut up, whiners - it's a normal human function.  Deal.  We're all adults here.)  If I had known, I would have pressed for a solution a long time ago, but... like everything else in my life, I kept quiet until it was nearly too late.

What amuses the fuck out of me is that people assume I'm brash and loud and irritating.  Certainly, I can be.  But people don't realize that I haven't nearly begun to speak up for myself, and it's starting to shock them when they see "the new me".  I'm sick of sitting on the sidelines and letting people just steamroll over me - it's not going to happen anymore.  Hasn't been, as a matter of fact.

One of the things that I'm beginning to discover is that I have a deep well of untapped anger at a lot of people, especially in my past, that I've not even begun to delve into just yet.  For most of my life, I've been stuffing it down for fear that I wouldn't be "approved of".  Sad thing is, 1. I haven't been approved of for most of my life anyway and 2.  I've been actually seeking approval from people that I've recently discovered that I couldn't give two shits about.  So... maybe it's time to change that.

If I can manage to get a little more serious about exercising (I still have trouble sometimes, mainly a lack of time), I'm going to perhaps try to get serious about running.  I joke around a little about a marathon...but, shit, if I can get with it, why the fuck not?  Why not?  What's my reason not to?

If I can beat depression, control diabetes, survive abuse, earn a bachelor's degree, work full-time, all at once.... why CAN'T I run a marathon?

If anything, I can pound the pavement and get my anger out that way.

Anyway, that's another story for another day.  I'm alive.  I'm happy.  Things are going well.  'nuff said.

Yep, back again. I must be feeling like shit.

It's true - I'm not really having a good day today.  It's not because my life is shit, though, just the usual every day stupidity and irritation that everyone experiences, which I guess is a good thing - a "normal" thing.  Still, it's rare that I feel like I can't really put it all into words.  So, I come here.  You know.  My complaining place.  :p

Not much has changed.  I still have diabetes.  I'm still at my current job (which, today, is the source of most of the irritation).  I'm still in school, though I'm finishing the next-to-last semester and I'm hoping like hell that I can get through this last stretch.  I'm still with Greg.  My finances still suck, but I'm relatively happy other than that.  I've lost a shitload of weight in the past 2 months and I'm pushing for more - I may even have weight loss surgery at this point (haven't decided for sure yet).  See why I don't write much in here anymore?

So why am I here now?  What is bothering me?

That usual sense of disconnection, I guess.  It persists.  Must be a mental thing.  I've long since discontinued my therapy sessions - there just doesn't seem a point in going anymore and there are plenty of others that I'm sure need help more than I do.  May as well free up the doctor's time.  Besides, I go to so many damned doctor's appointments these days for the diabetes that I don't need to spend more time in an office with whitewashed walls, Muzak and out-of-date magazines.

I'm just blue today, I think.  Feeling down.  I was doing an assignment question for one of my classes about "cyber-bullying" and I started reading about all of the suicides that have happened over the years - a brand new one happened in Canada only weeks ago.  The girl was tortured for years before she decided she couldn't take it anymore and hung herself.  Hanging seems to be the way everyone does it now.  I keep thinking about my own life - I don't know if it's right to say, but I think those kids have the courage of their convictions to take their lives into their hands and end their pain.  But is it RIGHT?  I don't know.  I'm no longer suicidal - but there was a time where I was, I really was, and I would have done ANYTHING to escape that pain.

I couldn't be a teenager today.  There is no way in hell I would make it.  I would be a suicide statistic, guaranteed.

I'm one of the "forgotten" targets of bullying.  It wasn't done online - there was no "online" in those days.  But if there had been.... oh, I'd be staring down what these kids did.  I know.  I KNOW. 

I think often about Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold.  The pain they must have been in.  Enough pain to make thousands of Molotovs and buy a shitload of guns, and then just walk casually into school and shoot to kill, anyone that crossed their path.  I can't even look at a gun without shaking in fear.  How did they do it?  How much pain were they in?

Bleh.  It's all morbidity today.  I wish I could feel cheery and pleasant, or at least content like I usually do, but today the weight of the world is on my shoulders for some reason.  I look out and while I don't see complete darkness, it's a bit bleak of an outlook. 

I've been ill with a slight cold.  That could be one of the reasons.  It's also getting toward holiday time, which isn't really an easy time for anyone, but especially for those with my mindset and outlook. 

We're going down to my uncle and aunt's for the bird dinner this year.  It'll be the first time I've been there since I was 20 years old.  It'll probably be one of the last times I see my uncle (he's not in great health anymore and we never did see him very often).  While I look forward to it in some ways, I dread it in others.  I have always been envious of my cousins, of their lifestyle, how everything seemed to just come easy to them, their nice house in the suburbs and the better schools, etc.  While I've struggled for every positive thing I've ever gotten out of life.  It's going to be hard to reconcile that to what is now.  I have to, though.  This is part of the reason I agreed to this, as well - because I want to continue to put the past behind me.  It's the only way I'm going to grow as a person.  I know that.

As usual, talking some of this out (even if it's only to myself) makes me feel a little better about everything.  I have no grand illusion that anyone reads this anymore - I really don't have anything interesting to say, anyhow.  But it serves as my "journal", if you will, a place where I can vomit out whatever negative feelings I have and try to sort my shit out so that the people I love don't get a huge dose of it. 

For its purpose, it serves well.  Because after only 20 minutes of freestyle writing... I feel better.  So, thanks for that.

Temporarily behind the glass.

I don't even know how to put into words how I'm feeling right now, exactly.  I've just noticed that I've been kind of withdrawn from a lot of people and situations - it's probably to do with my recent diagnosis, no doubt, but it's also that usual sense of disconnection with the world that I seem to keep experiencing from time to time.  You know, like - everything bugs the shit out of me and the only way I can regain a sense of equilibrium is to "tune out" for a while, if that makes sense.  This often happens when someone has pissed me off, too, in an indirect or roundabout way. 

 

I recently was called "condescending" for expressing an opinion.  Yes, that's right - an opinion.  It's not fact, it's not engraved in stone.  I have negative feelings about this particular subject, that's all, and it's not even an important subject to be honest.  But I was called "condescending."  At the time (and publicly), I shrugged it off with another pithy comment, as I'm wont to do.  But the more I think on it, the more irritated I feel about it.  Since when was it wrong to express an opinion - even if one disagrees with it?  I'm seeing a LOT of that here lately in the world - it's not safe to speak your mind unless you want to be castigated for it. 

 

My opinion is just that - an opinion.  Just because I might say, "everyone who rides bicycles are idiots", it doesn't mean that you're an idiot if you ride a bicycle - "everyone" is used in a general sense of the term.  Don't get all fucking SENSITIVE on me.  Seriously.  Anyone with half a brain (and yes, it's the same here, hello, "anyone" is general) ought to know that I'm not specifically referring to YOU.  If I meant to say you, I would have SAID "you".  As in, "you're a fucking moron."  There - that's pretty specific, isn't it.

 

I've spent the majority of my life biting back my opinions, thoughts and feelings about shit.  I'm still guilty of it to a certain degree, and it pisses me right the fuck off when I'm assigned a negative quality because I actually dared to open my mouth and speak out.  Well, the only thing that I can say is that said people had better get used to the fact that I'm not going to "shut up and be a good girl" any longer.  Don't like my opinion?  Think I'm condescending?  You can waltz right on out of my life, then, because I have too much to do with it. 

 

Along with this negative bullshit, I've been focusing on other issues that have made me angry in the past, and trying to come to terms with my feelings about them.  I'm not talking about anything before last year, though I've also been thinking on that time period as well to some degree (more about that later).  No, these are more recent happenings where I've been pissed off royally, and trying to examine my anger - mainly to see if it's warranted.  I'm referring in particular to one specific incident that happened over this summer (which I don't really want to get too deeply into - the person knows what they did because I got a half-assed apology after).  The long and short of it is that I was "dressed down", if you will, in front of a bunch of people (some of whom I knew, some I did not).  This person does not realize that humiliating me in front of an entire group of people is one of the worst things you can do to me.  That is something that I will very likely never be able to forgive them for.  It's a central reason why I'm angry at a few select people from a few years ago involving Douchebag, heh.  (At this point, I need to start assigning numbers to all the douchebags I know, heh.)

 

So, was my anger warranted in this case?  I believe the answer is yes, because 1.  I did nothing to provoke this person's wrath  2.  a lot of the incidents referred to happened in the very distant past - and when I say distant, I mean 25+ years ago  3.  the potential for embarrassment in front of friends and strangers was there (and truthfully, I was VERY deeply embarrassed by some of what was said - all I wanted to do was crawl into a hole and stay there). 

 

I'm very proud of myself.  I kept my cool.  I just stared at this person coldly and was like, "Really?  Is that right?"  Over and over, with each new embarrassing revelation.  It was uncomfortable enough that this person's spouse kept going, "You've said enough."  Greg was there.  He saw what happened, every bit of it, and bless him for hearing me out on the way home, raging in the car. He's one in a million, he is. 

 

Later on, I got an apology through Email.  "I'm sorry - maybe I said too much."  Gee, you THINK?

 

That's one instance in which I really wish I'd said something.  That's one of those things that's going to burn inside of me, and one of these days I'll get angry enough and let loose.  God help those in the vicinity when that happens. 

 

But, among all of this crap, there's been a small light - I've done some thinking about all of the mess of the last six years... and things have come to a point of total indifference.  I haven't really thought about it in a long time - obviously, with the new job and my diagnosis and being with Greg and trying to balance everything that's going on... it's not something that really comes to mind anymore, and when it does, it's just a fleeting thought of, "man, was I stupid" and then it's pushed away again into the depths.  It's a good, safe place to be.  I tested the waters and listened to a few key pieces of music from that time period - things that I used to associate (falsely, it turned out) with Douchebag 1, heh, and the situation (as fucked as it was).... and no reaction.  Nothing.  It was like listening to background white noise that you might fall asleep to - it's there, but it means nothing to you but as a means to an end.  And that's what it turned out to be.  My mind is eased and my conscience is clear. 

 

Does it mean that I've forgiven the principals involved?  I don't know that I've forgiven them as much as they just don't matter to me anymore.  I've moved on with my life, they've moved on with theirs, they probably think as much about me as I do of them, which is fleetingly to not at all.  I can't really say with any certainty that I've forgiven anybody, and I may never be able to say that - but I've also learned that that's okay.

 

I have to put the past to bed, or at least to try.  Because that's what's held me back all of these years.  But sometimes it's hard, especially when I keep seeing facets of my past everywhere - faces, places, memories.  Sometimes the memories are what's hardest. 

 

I went to the store that I had worked once, long ago, when it was a CompUSA - only now it's an A.C. Moore craft store.  But I walked in there and I didn't see dried flowers or acrylic paint.... I saw rows of computers, video cards, people in red shirts and black pants, the customers, the corporate desk, the training classrooms.  I saw the ghosts of my friends, of my coworkers, of 15 years ago.  I saw the person that I had adopted my cat, Pearl, from when she was a tiny kitten.  I saw Pearl in a box with a soft towel, and I remembered holding her close.  And I had to walk out of the store, because I started to cry.  I couldn't help it.  :(  There are some things that I just haven't put away, not yet.  But I'm working on it, little by little. 

 

Tears in my eyes now.  I've still got so long to go before I'm right again.  Will it ever come?

 

Enough for now.  I'm not going to solve all of these outstanding issues in a rambling post like this.  But as always, this is the place I go when I don't feel I can get it out anywhere else. 

 

Hopefully, someday, all of this will be a non-issue.

 

Thanks for listening, if you got this far.

 

 

 

My new "normal".

It's been nearly a month since I was diagnosed with diabetes-II.  Already, my outlook has changed so greatly that I don't think I could even go back to being the person that I had been.  For one thing, I see food and the issues surrounding food a lot differently than I once did.  It's honestly a wonder that I hadn't died, considering my one-time eating habits.

When I go shopping, I now check every label for carbohydrate counts.  I have to.  I try to keep my total carbs (per meal) at 30 grams or less - not an easy task.  30 grams equals 2 carb "choices", in the diabetes world.  I'm allowed a maximum of 4 (so far), but the less I have, the better my blood sugar is.

Have you ever read a nutrition label?  Some of the things I see absolutely scare the piss out of me.  Some foods have more than 50 carbs - PER SERVING.  When you see a box that says "total serving size: 6"... you do the math.  Jesus Q. Christ.  Seriously!!!

Here's a great example below.  Remember those Thin Mints cookies that everyone loves when Girl Scout cookie time rolls around?  The label for that box of Thin Mints is below:

Everyone always concentrates on the fat and the calories inside of a serving size of cookies; people are under the mistaken impression that this is what the problem is as far as Americans being overweight.  I'm here to tell you that this isn't it.  This isn't what has caused my weight gain - at least, I have a good feeling that that's not the reason.  Let me explain further:

According to this label, a serving size of Thin Mints is 4 cookies.  Yep, that's it - four lousy cookies.  Do you know ANYONE that stops at four Thin Mints?  Nope, I didn't think you did.  Now, note the serving total - seven.  That's 7 servings of 4 cookies each.  At 160 calories a serving, you're looking at... yep, a gutbomb.  But it gets even worse.  There's 8 grams of fat in a SERVING of cookies.  Yep, those four cookies again.  Each cookie - EACH ONE - has 2 grams of FAT in it.  Saturated fat, at that.

Still sound appetizing?  Read on.

The carbohydrates are what's going to REALLY kill me (and you, too, over time).  A serving size - remember, FOUR cookies - has 22 carb grams.  "That's not that bad," you're thinking, probably.  But for a diabetic, it's a rotten trade-off of valuable carbs that they can spend somewhere else.  One carb "choice" equals 15 grams, remember.  I can only have 4 carb choices per meal (and by my OWN standards, I try to stay under 2).  Do you really think I'm going to spend nearly 1.5 of my carb choices on four lousy Thin Mints?

Yeah.  I didn't think so, either.

Now, keep in mind - how many people do you know that can stop at four Thin Mints?  I'll bet not many. Maybe six?  How about eight?  That's 44 carbs they just ingested into their bodies.  Not to mention the hamburger WITH a bun (lots of carbs in bread), French fries, maybe a green salad because someone told them it was "healthy"....

It's no freaking wonder that diabetes is becoming the new epidemic in America.

Watch the commercials on television some time.  The commercials for food are astounding - it's pushed every second to third advertisement, something to eat, as if you didn't have more than enough already.  Let's take another example.  Everyone's seen the new commercial for KFC's "Chicken Little" sandwich, right?  Looks great on TV.  And it's chicken, right?  How unhealthy could it really be?

Nutrition information taken directly from KFC's own website states that the Chicken Little sandwich has 320 calories, okay; not too terrible.  Until you consider that 170 of those calories - over FIFTY PERCENT! - come from fat.  Yep, that's right - fat.  Eff-ay-tee.  Nice, huh?  Now let's bring the carbs into it; oooo, 35 carbs.  THIRTY....FIVE.  That's already over my personal 2 choice limit.  And it's hardly worth the effort - it's nothing but sandwich roll and greasy breading.  Do I want to spend my carbs on THIS?  Remember, a diabetic doesn't get much.  If I DID spend my carbs on this, I sure couldn't have anything else.  Forget fries - THEY'RE 35 carbs.  Some things at KFC are so packed full of carbs, grease and sugar that it should be criminal.  Like pot pies?  At KFC, their chicken pot pie is SEVENTY-FIVE carbs.  That's right - 75.  That's more carbs than ANYONE should be eating in one meal.  Or even two meals, for that matter.

And it all adds up, ladies and gentlemen.  Some people eat over a thousand carbs a day.  Certainly I was one of them.  Is it any wonder my blood sugar was in the stratosphere?

The American food industry is LYING to the public.  I see more and more evidence of that as I go on and navigate my way through this new diagnosis.  They're lying to the mindless sheep, and the sheep are swallowing it because they don't know any better.  They WANT you to concentrate on calories and fat and buy all of their useless weight loss remedies, because they DON'T want you to know that carbs and overdoses of sugar are killing you, slowly, in the form of diabetes - and later, diabetes complications.

What's more important?  Having that cookie, or having your foot intact?

I've woken up.  I'm watching everything that goes into my stupid mouth - counting every carb and being damned grateful that I'm now armed with the information that I need to make healthier choices.  I've lost nearly 25 pounds in a month.  I'm becoming more and more toned.  I have MUCH more energy and can do more things.  I'm not as tired or stressed out anymore.  I don't snap at people.  And I'm going to the gym faithfully, three times a week, because exercise lowers my sugar levels.  It's good for me, and I FEEL good.  Maybe for the first time in years.

Please, people - wake up.  It's the carbs that are making us fat, tired, exhausted, unable to cope.  I promise you.  I spent years, decades, wondering what the fuck was wrong with me and listening to the programmed voices telling me that I had to eat low-fat this and high-energy that and only eat 100 calories of this, that and the other.

Guess what - this fat ass (which is quickly getting toned and shapely!!!) eats as much bacon as I like.  Steak, too.  And chicken.  I chomp on string cheese and pickles all day long.  And I've lost nearly 25 pounds.  Does that sound like a diet to you?  Maybe it is - but it's a reasonable one that doesn't include 75 freaking carbs in one tiny, inferior Sysco-made pot pie from KFC, now is it.

I think it's safe to say that my outlook has changed, heh.

My life, as I once knew it, is over.

It's been quite a while since I wrote in here.  QUITE a while.  And normally, this is a good thing.  However, I was recently hospitalized for a lower leg infection that didn't seem to want to go away.  I took tons and tons of antibiotics, but... nothing.  So, I went to St. Joseph's Medical Center in Towson - the emergency room, specifically - to see just what the hell was going on.  And I figured, eh, a couple of shots, this shit will clear up, right?

How wrong I was.

I ended up staying for four days.  I was poked, prodded, stuck with a thousand needles.  And the results came back, to my utter shock and horror.  One word.  One word that has now changed everything - the playing field, the game, my entire life.

Diabetes.

I have been diagnosed with type-II adult onset diabetes.  There is no cure.  There is no stopping it.  It is permanent.  It has altered the course of everything I believed in, everything I stood for, everything I once did and can do no longer.

I now have six prescriptions at a pharmacy, where I once had none.  Lancets to stick into my fingers to test blood sugar.  Test strips for a meter.  Insulin, two different types.  Needles to stick into my belly, four times a day.  Pills to swallow every night.  I can no longer eat anything I want.  My meals now consist of measuring cups and counting numbers and being careful not to have too much bread or coffee creamer, or indeed ANYTHING with sugar.  And believe me - almost everything you eat is laced with sugar, whether in pure form, or sugar alcohol.

Yes, my life has imploded to the extreme.

And yet.... even THIS isn't going to stop me from taking control of my life.  This is, after all, MY LIFE.  I've survived much worse than this.  I've survived abuse on almost every level.  Loneliness.  Deep depression.  Countless suicide attempts.  Alienation from the world, so-called friends, family.  If I can survive all of that, and come out on the other side.... diabetes is NOTHING.  Nothing at all.

I still have my job/employment/career.  I still have Greg, who has proven himself beyond measure to be a rock, someone I can truly depend on in a crisis, someone who truly loves me - and I do believe that now, with all of my heart.  Those doubts, at least, are finally gone for good.  Because if he didn't have a reason to walk before, he does now - and yet, he's stayed.  He's filled my insulin needles.  He's helped me count the carbs, he's picked up my medicines, he's visited me in the hospital, he's explained how to test the sugar, he's gone above and beyond the call of duty.  I can't imagine what my life would be without him, now.  I hope I never have to imagine it.

September 11, 2012 is the date of my diagnosis.  How odd that it would be on the most notorious date of the year for every American - when all of our lives, our safety net, our illusions of grandeur, exploded into nothingness, into a new reality for everyone.  Indeed, my diabetes diagnosis has been the same.

My life, as I once knew it, is over.  But I have opened the door into a new life - yes, one with pills and needles and strips and "inconveniences" - but in the end, it's a healthier life.  A life where I CARE about what I do and how I feel and how others feel.  It's a life where I MAKE the time to exercise and eat right and take care of my body.  It's a life where Carrie takes care of Carrie, for a rare change.  It's a life where the priority is self-worth, not self-abuse.

I have already dropped eleven pounds this week.  Most of it is from the lack of food in the hospital - as they didn't give me much, they needed to stabilize my sugar - but some of it is since I've been released, as my diet has drastically changed.  Oddly, I don't feel deprived.  I can still have a lot of my favorites.  Steak and most meats are actually OKAY on my diet - God, how I love a good steak.  I can have all of the mushrooms I want - I love, love, LOVE mushrooms.  Cheeses are just fine.  Eggs are encouraged, as they're protein.  I love all of these things.  I don't have to go without them.  Even the carbs, while highly restricted, aren't totally out of reach.  I can have a banana, or a piece of bread, or a baked potato - I just have to limit these things as much as possible.  And, of course, I've learned to love salads, broccoli, cauliflower, most vegetables.  I'm even learning to eat things that maybe I'd turned my nose up at before - grape tomatoes, or cucumbers.  I'm not crazy wild about them, but I'll eat them now.  It's good for my body and good for my health.

I've already gained a lot more energy than I had.  I've done more things this weekend than I've been able to for the last three months - because I was always SO FUCKING TIRED.  No longer.  I feel energy coursing through me.  I can't wait to harness it.  I've already joined the local Y (with Greg!) to get my exercise in - 3 times a week, for now, plus pool time.  I took a beading class over the weekend and enjoyed it so much that I've bought some supplies - maybe I'll take up a new hobby.  Who knows?  Maybe when I get my bike repaired, Greg and I can go cycling on the weekends.  I'm going to find out, that's for sure.

Diabetes hasn't beaten me.  If anything... I'm determined to beat IT.

The final cherry on the forbidden cake?  I'm STILL pulling straight A's in my classes this semester.  The statistics class, of all things, at that.

Yeah.  This is the kick in the ass that I needed, WANTED, to get my life straight.

Watch out, world.  I've been reborn - and if you think I was determined THEN, wait until you see me now.

Get on the rollercoaster and hold on - it's going to be a RIDE.  :)