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? 

Don't cross me. I have minions. (A bit rambly, and certainly may qualify as venty, too.)

I didn't feel much like doing the Saturday 9 this week, but then my entire mood has been just weird and... I guess a little "off", I suppose.  I still have my times where things just don't sit well with me, and this was one of them.  I've actually been upset over the smallest shit today, and that's bothered me immensely.  For example:  Greg and I made a grocery order online (something we usually do, though neither of us like it) on Friday night, and we'd ordered a pound of white button mushrooms.  Simple enough, right?

So, the order came, and I swear to fucking God, there was a bag with ONE.  MUSHROOM.  IN.  IT.  One.  A tiny little solitary white button mushroom.  We checked the receipt... and they actually charged us 28 cents for this one sad fucking little mushroom.  It's enough to make anyone laugh their asses off, me included - usually.

No.  I fucking lost it because Safeway had the nerve to actually bag up ONE mushroom.  And charge me for it.  I was literally upset for hours over this - like I said, the stupidest shit on the planet.  Why did I do that?

Bless Greg for putting up with me.  I don't know how he does it, I swear.  And I honestly don't know why I felt like that, but.... it's stupid little shit like this that's made me feel tired and rundown and sad all day.  Depressed, actually.  I don't know whether it's because all of what I'm going through at work is dragging me down, or financial worries, or what.  I have no clue.  All that I know is that I'm so tired of being strong for everyone else's sake.  And I know I have to let go of that stupidity, because I've carried the weight for so freaking long that it's broken my shoulders.  Isn't that how I got depression in the first place?

I find that I still have so many issues concerning independence and needing help and allowing others to assist me.  I have no idea of what I'm going to do when I get too old to do things on my own - I'm so freaking proud and stubborn, and I know it.  Sigh....

As usual, when I'm feeling like this, I have a yearning to go backward in time... to see how people from my past are doing.  Whether they "miss" me or not, I guess.  Whether they think about me.  Which is silly, actually, because I'm pretty sure that they couldn't give a rat's ass.  But, still... it's a compulsion that I have a hard time breaking, and when I'm in moods like this, it's magnified a hundred times over, usually with bad results.  Tonight's journey wasn't actually so bad.  I'm feeling less and less hurt as time rolls on, which I guess is a good thing - though I cry when I find out new information, sometimes.  Like... tonight, I found out that one of my favorite cats that I'd loved so much in the trash shack in Georgia is dead.  I don't know when it happened - but it happened before March of 2010, because that's the date on the picture and it says "the late ".... sigh.  I loved that boy like he was my very own - he was the sweetest one of the bunch that I tried to take care of.  He comforted me when my Pearl died in that hellhole.... and now I know he's gone.  And THAT hurts.  He wasn't even eight years old yet, I know that for a fact, because I moved into that horror house in March of 2002 and he was literally weeks old then.  

Of course he didn't make it to 8 years old.  Would you, if you were forced to live amongst filth and decay?

I feel so fucking guilty that I couldn't save him - any of them.  That's what happens when you live with a hoarder.  That's what happens when you try to have a normal life with a person who isn't normal.  I mean, let's face it - I'm a slob, I'm Oscar in the fucking Odd Couple - but I'm not a hoarder.  I know when to throw shit away.  I know better than to have 22 cats and 4 fucking dogs and not be able to take care of any of them.  I know when something needs fixing in my house and I don't use a slop bucket to fill up my toilet tanks when I need to take a shit.

Oh, Christ, I don't even want to go into this right now.  I WILL start crying and I'll go into a downward spiral for the rest of the weekend.  That I DON'T need.  I'm not ready to confront all of that.  Not yet.  Not now.

Tonight, though, I'm grateful that I've removed certain people from my life.  I'm grateful that I have the knowledge that I will never go back to those times, nor do I want to.  I see tons of people on my Facebook "friend suggestions", people that I knew, people that my friends know... but I don't add anybody.  I don't want to, honestly.  I have all of the "friends" on there that I need or want, and if someone wants to get in touch with me, they know how to find me.  If they don't make an effort... they don't really want to know what's going on in my life, then, do they?

Those kinds of "friends", I don't need.

I find that I am enjoying simplicity.  I have my job.  I have Greg in my life, and we live pretty quietly, simply - we don't need or want a lot of things.  I have friends that I can turn to in the rare event that I need advice.  I have a home to live in, food to eat, clothes on my back.  We occasionally go out for a movie, bowling, walks;  nothing complicated.  The anger that I have held inside of me for so long is beginning to dissipate.  I no longer seek out drama, or even welcome it in others.

Maybe I'm starting to grow old at last - but I'm at the point now where I just want a quiet life and my ways are my ways.  I've never dealt well with change as a rule, anyhow.

The sun is setting on the first half of my life.  I'm okay with that, finally.  I'll be 40 in less than 3 months now, 90 short days - and I'm okay with that as well.  I've seen enough "action" (which really translates to pain, when you think about it) for a lifetime.  Now I just want my life settled, quiet, happy.  I think I'm well on the way to that.  Things didn't turn out the way that I'd expected, maybe - but it's all right.  Everything for a reason, yes?

I am considerably "calmer" now than when I started writing this post, all in the space of 20 short minutes.  I guess that writing it all out does tend to help with my confuzzled state of mind, heh.  Still... I dislike it when I lapse into old patterns of thinking.  I need to watch that, still, I think.

One day at a time.  (La, dah-dah-dah.  Score if you know to what I refer, heh.  :p )

Until then.

Massive turkey-filled update!

As everyone can see, I've yet again done some major revamping of the blog.  I'm still not all that satisfied with the look; the red background with black accents is classy-looking (and as it's a combination of my two favorite colors, it's aesthetically appealing to me, personally), but... I sort of miss the "tight" look of the old black background with the cityscape header.  I really, really dislike the header now, but I don't really have much time to create a new one.  Once I manage to get some more time (yeah, right), I may fuss with it again.

In the meantime, you'll have to take what you get.  :p  At least it looks somewhat festive for the holidays.  I guess that's what I was trying to get at, but I think red and green as a combination blows chunks, myself.

I'm feeling better now that Thanksgiving is over and done with.  I had Greg and my mother over; she actually behaved herself for a rare switch.  My mother likes Greg (well, as much as she can like any man, I suppose); this has proven to be an extremely rare thing.  She's never liked anyone I've dated, and unfortunately that dislike has seeped into my relationships in one form or another.  I'm still convinced that she's angry and bitter over my father's betrayal all those years ago - which isn't my fault, but somehow I and my brother paid the price for that anyway.  But, anyway.... the feast was a success, at least in my view it was; so that can't be a bad thing.  Since Greg has to work a whole lot right now (the curse of the holidays, sigh), I'm spending my weekend just catching up on things; basic chores, putting up decorations (I know, since when did I decorate for the holidays???), listening to music, doing schoolwork, etc.

School is going fine, I guess.  I'm not all that convinced that the instructor teaching the public policy course actually knows anything of what he's doing, though.  But I have to try and get through it, as it's of course a required class.  The film course is as I'd expected, a lot of fun, and I've been seeing some really good black-and-whites as of late.  "Strangers on a Train" was the last one - Hitchcock, of course - man, was that Robert Walker character a creepy one or what?  Left impressions on me that'll last for weeks.

The job front is as always; nerve-plucking, irritating, lazy-assed coworkers that can't get shit right.  In other words, as usual.  But I did apply for a project specialist job with the same agency, and I made the referral list twice - which means two upcoming interviews.  God, I'm nervous.  I haven't had to do one of these in over 4 years, and I've never been good with interviewing; but, shit, I did the drug lab interview at the height of my depression and I managed to get that, so I suppose that I shouldn't worry so much.  In any case, I'm waiting on a call from the selecting officials, so we'll see what happens.  As always, more shall follow.

I'm making (as of now) fluid plans to maybe buy a new car; Greg promised to teach me how to drive and get this bullshit with the MVA sorted out.  I really think they fucked up down there; okay, I'm half-blind, but I know damn well I can see well enough to drive, so I'm going to try yet again and not go through the Medical Advisory Board, not yet.  I hope I won't need to, but we'll see.  I'll probably do this in March or so, if I do it.  Still pondering things.  Despite my woeful financial state, my credit is actually excellent (over 700) - now I just have to keep it this way.

Contemplating cancelling therapy for good.  I find that I need it less and less, and when I do go down there, I find that I just don't have that much to talk about anymore.  I just want to make sure that I don't need it because I'm healthy enough to go on without it, not because Greg's here and seems to be my salvation in everything.  That's exactly what I don't want to happen - Greg is a beautiful addition to my life.  But not "my life"; as I've said before.  Right now, things are going well.  We've celebrated six months together as of yesterday, and while it's not the wild limerance of the early days, it's comfortable and happy and we're establishing routines, getting to know one another well, spending time together.  It's proving to last beyond the initial excitement; and isn't that what everyone wants out of a relationship?

I've had a great deal to be thankful for this past Thanksgiving, and I'm incredibly grateful for all I do have.  I'm not very religious, admittedly, but I do think that blessings have finally come my way.  I'm determined to enjoy them, to not feel guilty for enjoying them, and to make the most of what I have and what I'll continue to receive.

Hey.... I think I've finally grown up.  :)

Anyhow, I've rambled on long enough, so I'll conclude here.  I don't get a lot of chances to write anymore, and even when I do, I find that I have little to really say that's different.  Perhaps I'll start doing the old "memes" again, or find something to expound upon that'll be interesting.  I'm really glad that it's not a bunch of complaining anymore.  I'm glad I'm not that person anymore.

I'm healthy, happy, loved, and fulfilled.  What more can one ask from life?

Ciao for now.  :p

Angry at the world tonight.

I don't know why, but I've been feeling like shit for the last couple of days. Part of it might be that I've been working a whole bunch of overtime recently (unwillingly), but... tonight was just weird. I once again felt that sense of disconnection with people, with life, and I've been crying on and off all day today. It reminds me of the old days when the depression took over.

There could be a lot of reasons for it, of course; it's getting close to a certain time of the month (oh, shut up, whiners, and deal), it's been raining the last couple of days and therefore kind of miserable out... the holidays have finally arrived and I'm feeling pressure, my finances are getting kind of bad because of all of the expense, I've been working a lot, Greg's been working a lot... it could be any or all of those things. Tonight, Greg and I had a few awkward moments... I can't really call it a fight, because it wasn't, but... things were not as they usually are and I could feel it in the air. It bothered me. It scared me.

I'm trying so hard not to be pessimistic, but it just seems to be my second nature now, no matter how hard I try to look on "the bright side" of things. I've been screwed over, fucked with, made fun of too much to be any other way. I keep waiting for that shoe to fall. I'm trying not to... but I can't help myself. :(

I felt bothered enough to go looking up old "enemies", if you will. And things haven't changed. I'm still angry with them. I still want to take a chunk out of their heads. It's still the same stupid toxicity, years later. I can't ever allow myself to think it'll be any different. Why do I seek it out still? Is it something within me that won't let go? What is it that I want to hear from these people - "I'm sorry"? Heh... sorry lies between the words shit and syphilis in a dictionary. What difference will it make, hearing it now?

In one particular person's case, I guess I feel cheated of the chance to rip her fucking head off and shove it down the stem of her neck. That's what I really want to do - write her (or better yet, tell it to her face) a big "fuck you, bitch" note. There's something that she did that I cannot and will not ever forgive her for - even though the original situation is long over and I don't really care about it anymore, the fact that she fucked me over while it was happening.... well, that's enough right there for her to earn a permanent place on the shit list.

Actually, I'm mad at a couple of people from that time period, one of whom I couldn't get mad at before. So.... I guess that's progress, in a way.

I wish I could blank out the last six years - the last thirty years, really - and start over again.... sigh.

Maybe I'll feel better tomorrow. I don't know.

Word of the week: discursive. (Snicker.)

In all honesty, I'm really feeling way too tired to post anything tonight. There's been a lot going on, though, as usual. It's funny how my life's turned from a slow-motion, depression-filled drag to one that's almost warp-speed and full of action. Is it bad to say that I actually long for a bit of ... well, I guess that "calm" isn't really the word I'm looking for, but perhaps I could use "dilatoriness" instead. (Hah... now who's the vocabulary vixen, Mr. Greg? Lawl.)

I was ruminating over my upcoming "end of year" post, thinking about everything that's happened to me since January. To be sure, this has been one hell of a wild year, and I'm sure that the last month and a half will be no different. In truth, I don't think I really want it any other way. After the last six years of pain, depression, sadness and tears.... I welcome everything that has happened to me in the last six months.

That is going to be one long-assed post, let me tell you.

So, a quick fill-in on everything that's happening:

- My (should be) final orthopedic appointment is tomorrow morning. The doctor will check out my wrist, but in all honesty, there's really nothing more he can do for me. My wrist is as healed as it's going to be. There's still some pain in the arm, a bit of stiffness, but there's not much I can do except live with it. I can use my arm again, I can write and type and lift things (though heavy items are still kind of unknown - I haven't pushed myself that far yet - once the doctor tells me for sure that the bones are healed, I'll try that out when I get the opportunity). That's all I can ask for.

- I dropped a heavy can of tomatoes on my big toe, and over the last few weeks, the nail's been slowly coming off - bit by painful, bloody, nasty bit. It finally fell all the way off tonight. Eeeeww. That's all there is to be said about that - just, eeeeww.

(This has NOT been a good year for me, medical-wise, unfortunately.)

- OB appointment went fine. There was a minor issue, but nothing that is life-threatening or massive, and I am in the clear until next year. Unfortunately, that's the year the stupid mammograms and Pap tests start - and Dr. Lynch is insistent about it, sigh. For once, I have a really great OB, though; she's sensitive to the fact that I have issues with this whole thing. Thank Christ for Fed insurance, man - I have the best doctors I could ask for.

Considering that I spent 20+ years abusing my body and never seeing doctors, ever, for anything - I'm amazingly healthy.

School is going well. The film class is a real blast - I love it. I get to watch movies with Greg on the weekends, which is not only accomplishing homework, but it's great bonding time as well. I love cuddling up with the Mister and watching the old black and whites or a good action film. I couldn't ask for a better way to do homework. :) The public policy class is, as I thought, boring, but it's flexible as far as class assignment dates (so far) and that helps. I've only had one grade so far in there, but it's a 90, so I can't be too upset about that.

I am seriously, seriously considering going on for a master's after I graduate. I know, it means spending more money in loans - but what the fuck? What do I have to lose? At UMUC I can also get a dual degree - an MS in crim management and an MBA at the same time - it's only 18 additional credits. Again - what the fuck? If it means I've accomplished something good, so be it, right?

I've also considered going for a health degree or certification as well, though. Time enough to think about that - I just want to get the B.S. done first.

It looks like I will, and very shortly, too. :o I'm amazed at myself, really...

Greg and I will celebrate 6 months together on the day after Thanksgiving. It's still as good as day one. The crunch, as we both tend to say, is still in the cookie. We've settled into a routine, the two of us, and while it's not all sunshine and roses (we both work an awful lot, and bad schedules at that)... it's a beautiful thing we've got.

I hesitate to let down my guard, or relax completely, not yet. But he's great for me. I hope that it's reciprocated.

And so concludes another update of my boring, yet queerly interesting at the same time, life. I look back on old entries - a year, 2 years ago at this time - and it's like a different person wrote them. Another world. Another life. Was that really me?

This new world of mine feels good. Really good. :)

"There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." - Ernest Hemingway

As always, I have little bits and pieces of thoughts throughout the week or during the periods of time where I don't write. Things that pop into my brain - "hey, yanno, I really should write about that" - only to have them disappear into the ether. What I should do is write them down as they occur to me, but even if I do (and I've tried), I usually decide that it's not really worth expounding upon later, for the most part.

You'd never know that I actually used to write on a creative level when I was younger. Not by the disjointed posts you see here today, anyway. I'd love to get back into that, but I don't feel that I have enough talent to do it, or originality to be honest. When I go back over the few writing pieces of mine that exist today (mainly really bad poetry on Literotica and the like), I cringe with complete embarrassment. That's usually a sign that I'm not cut out for the writing scene, heh.

Just that I'm thinking about trying to start again, though... that's as close to "normal" as I can ever remember being. Writing used to be my passion, what I lived for, and I might have had a shot at it if it hadn't been for a really painful experience when I was younger.

Yes, folks, here it comes. I'm purging yet another painful memory. Get ready.

Between the time I was about, oh I'll say sixteen or so, and nineteen... I was ass-deep in the writing of a book, an actual book. It doesn't matter what it was about now - something about a smart-alecky cat traveling the country having Kerouac-like adventures - but it was really, really good, or so I thought. I'd written, written, rewritten, revised, gotten critical opinions, revised again... etc. I was actually going to try and publish the damned thing, more fool me. At nineteen, I had a lot of dreams, still.

To make a long story short, the asshole that I was with at the time was abusive - in body, mind and spirit. This is the only douchebag that ever dared to hit me on a physical level, and to this day I don't know why I ever stayed with him - I guess I was conditioned to take that abuse, just like I was conditioned in childhood to accept emotional abuse and neglect.

This asshole, in a fit of rage, ripped up my book. The only copy I had. You see, there were no computers accessible back then to the general public - you had to have serious money to afford one in those days, which I didn't have. So... no copies. No way to get anything back. He took each page, and deliberately ripped it in halves, quarters, eighths. Scattered them all around the rooms. It was a big, huge, hurtful "Fuck you, bitch - you're nothing. Your so-called "talent" is shit."

I cried for weeks. That crushed my spirit like nothing else could have. At nineteen, something profound died within me. I've never been able to retrieve it since. Not ever. I have never written a word on a creative level since. Only bad, inept, stuttering poetry that is a fraction of the ability I used to have. Something inside of me still hears that limpdick's voice, echoing that sentiment. "I'm nothing. I'm shit."

Isn't that awful?

It doesn't matter how many people tell me differently, either. I just can't seem to get over that one thing, the destruction of something that I poured my heart and soul into for almost 4 years of my life. I guess you just had to be there to understand the depth of the pain.

Just the fact that I'm thinking about writing again, or even trying is a huge, huge positive sign that maybe I'm returning to the young, idealistic woman I used to be. Believe it or not... I did have hopes and dreams once, underneath all of this hurt and all of the tears I've cried incessantly since I was old enough to walk, pretty much.

Ugh, tears again. Always more tears. But it means I'm healing, doesn't it? Even if it seems to take absolutely forever.

I'm finally accepting the hurt, the pain, the fact that I endured abuse heaped onto yet more abuse. I'm finally getting that it happened and that I can't pretend it didn't and that I can't change it. But when am I going to get to forgiveness? I'm conscious that forgiveness is for myself, a way to keep people out of my head and heart... I'm getting that, too. But when is that going to happen? Am I going to carry all of this darkness within me forever?

Questions, questions, yet more questions. I want answers, damn it.

Heh, I can hear Greg's voice in my head now going, "Paaaaayyyy-shence."

Quick update on the rest of my life, here:
- Greg and I are doing wonderfully fine. Now past the 5-month mark and counting down to half a year. Hard to believe that this wonderful man is still with me, despite all. <3
- I just won the annual incentive workplace award, again, for the third year in a row. Which essentially now means that I'm set for life here, should I want to be. Not that I want to take urine for the rest of my life, that's for sure.
- School is in full swing again. This time I'm taking film history (wonderfully fun) and public safety policy (boooooring, yawn). Semester ends December 18th, hopefully I'll pull good marks.
- My wrist is more or less out of the soft cast (though it's not supposed to be yet, but I can't stand wearing the fucking thing one more day). It aches, it's VERY stiff in the mornings, but that's the way it goes. It's liveable. I can deal with it.

And that's it, for now, I guess.

Cheers from the verbal vomitorium. :p

Life is delicious - literally!

Greg and I went to the Baltimore Book Festival a couple of weekends ago, and we really didn't pick up all that much, to be honest. However, we did buy a few cookbooks - he's wonderfully supportive of my hobby of occasionally trying out recipes and learning more about how to make really good meals.

One of the cookbooks that we bought - for five measly bucks, yet - was one by Cristina Ferrare. Apparently she has some cooking show on the Oprah Channel, or whatever it is (I wouldn't know, as I find Oprah detestable at best).

Greg decided that he would surprise me tonight with dinner. Normally I'll cook on the weekends, because he has to work a good deal of the time and I always have more free time than he does. Well, surprise me he did - with Chicken Piccata and mashed potatoes from scratch, probably one of the best meals I have ever had in my entire life. Eating that chicken literally brought tears of pleasure to my eyes.

And I'm not usually a chicken kind of woman. :D

There is nothing, nothing, nothing better on this planet than a man who not only knows how to cook, but takes pure pleasure in it!

Yes. I officially proclaim myself the luckiest woman alive. (grin)

He'd just better watch out, I have a couple of recipes lined up from The Vegetarian Epicure to hit him with... :D

She's moved on.

In the past, the first half of October would have been the time I would have, at the very least, dissolved into a depressive funk - and at the most, had an episode of the screaming meemies.

You see, the first half of October, for me, is memory-laden, and not with good things.

October 2: This year, it's the fifth anniversary of my divorce.
October 10: My now ex-husband is 43 years old.
October 13: This year, it would have been eleven years since the day I was married.

No, none of these dates mean good things for me, usually. And yet... this year I think nothing of them. I reflect back on eleven years ago... when I was preparing to say that little phrase that would "lock" me to another human being... and I honestly remember that I didn't feel much of anything. Should that be the way a prospective bride feels?

Today, I feel much like that prospective bride - nothing ripples the calm surface. For me, this is a positive step. For me, it shows that I've taken huge steps toward healing, if not conquered this entirely.

Today is my ex-husband's birthday. I only feel the concern that maybe a stranger would now - "oh, yeah? well, happy birthday" as I go on my way. I do hope that his life is happier today than it was 11 years ago. I hope that he is settled, maybe with a new wife, some children - he always wanted that. I feel no ill will toward him - indeed, I feel nothing at all but a slight memory, a time that I've pretty much put out of my head. Not banished.... not that. Just put away, for good.

Onward. :)

Wheeeeeee! :p

Wow, things have been going batshit crazy my way recently. I guess this is the time to do a massive (if I can) update. I've actually been wanting to write for a little while now, but I've put it off because I didn't want to try to type out a long post with that stupid cast on.

First of all, the hard cast on my wrist came off on Wednesday, though it's not completely healed as of yet - I still have a soft brace on and will have it on for the next six weeks. It's a fair trade, though, if I can wash my arm and scratch my own skin - believe me when I tell you that I'm relieved beyond belief. I am now able to dress myself, for the most part, as well as type with all of my fingers again. Still no lifting for a while, though - even a full bottle of water is too much for me at this point. Hopefully the swelling and bruising will go down soon.

(Warning: If you're squeamish about women's health issues, or if the word "gynecology" scares the crap out of you, proceed to where it says "END" in bold. I understand if you don't want to read about my female plumbing - trust me, I won't be hurt. :p )

I also went to the OB to discuss tubal ligation - just like I'd promised I would way back when. Apparently there are other issues going on, though, which means I need a pelvic sonogram and comprehensive bloodwork. I already know what's going on - there's a definite hormone imbalance and has been for some time, I don't need a return visit for them to tell me that. Question really boils down to, what are they going to do about it.

Oh, I cried throughout the exam. It was horrible. I just couldn't get a hold of myself. Thank Christ Greg was there to support me through it, or I don't know if I'd have ever stepped foot into the place. Luckily, my OB is very sweet and understanding of my fears - so I do feel I'm in good hands. I hated the exam, but I'm glad I went - this encourages me to take a lot better care of my health, I think. It's time I did that. I don't have the excuse of no health insurance anymore!

(END of squeamish portion of the program. You little pussy. :p )

School is going... eh, so-so. I don't think I'm going to get real good scores on the classes I have right now, but then I didn't plan on breaking my wrist and being in doped-up, intense pain for most of the semester, either. I'm not killing myself over it - if I fail, then I fail. I'll take it over again, I don't (and won't) have any other choice.

This has been a really crazy month, though. Work has been about the same, though we again have a new manager and he's making some pretty serious changes to the day-to-day operation of the unit (in this case it's mainly good things), so that's something to get used to. I've been settling in with life in general - Greg and I still have a wonderful relationship and we've been getting along great. While my guard is still up (mainly on an unconscious level now, though), I do think that things just may work out after all. We have plenty of time still ahead of us, so in the meantime, I'm just enjoying, enjoying, enjoying it.

Lots of events have been going on as well - we went to the Baltimore Book Festival this year, we're going to Kings Dominion in a couple of weeks, RenFest this weekend - then the holidays coming, and that'll be a big thing because it'll be our first together.... yeah. Life's been nuts, but it's also been a ball. I'm happier than I've ever been in my life. :D

Of course, there's always that other shoe. But I'm slowly gaining faith that it just might not fall. Maybe.

Not much else to tell at the moment. My wrist is beginning to ache, though, so it's probably best to close out for now.

The wounds are beginning to close.

I start this with the feeling that I want to write something, but... I don't really have a clear purpose in mind. This most likely means that it's going to be a lot of rambling about nothing, so if you don't really give a rat's ass about the inner workings of my head, it's probably best to skip this one. It's okay, really - I won't be upset about it. :p

My wrist and hand are doing a lot better, though they're not "fixed" by any means. I am still having trouble with some things such as putting on a bra or clothes that have to be buttoned (though I'm doing well with tying shoelaces, oddly). Today, I was able to tie my hair back into a tail for the first time since the accident, a very good sign. I am able to type again with both hands, though on a limited basis (I can only do it for short periods before I have to "rest" again - it's the way the cast is wrapped, bluh). My next orthopedic appointment is for October 5th, and there's a good possibility that I'll be able to get the cast off completely, though I'm sure I'll still have to wear a soft brace for a while. Still, it's better than this heavy monstrosity that seems to weigh more and more each passing day. Ugh!

I once again have been thinking of my recent past... only now I just feel indifference. It no longer matters. None of it does. I have survived the pain and I have come out on the other side stronger, healthier, more determined than ever. Perhaps the ghosts have finally been vanquished... or at the very least, put to rest.

Yesterday, my therapist shortened my appointments to once a month. When I first began seeing him, it was once a week. It's further proof that the depression is now fading away, or at least has been pushed way, way back onto the closet shelf. It gives me hope that I continue to improve, little by little, day by day. I hope that the depression stays gone - forever.

Still, I bear its scars. I suspect that I always will.

My relationship with Greg continues to flourish. I still pinch myself some days, wondering how all of this came to be... but I am trying not to question my good fortune, but to simply enjoy it.

It's strange, but I now wonder what this blog will become, now that my mental health has improved, if not been restored altogether. This used to be my complaining ground, my "best friend", the one place that I knew I could scream, whine, be emo, cry, sob my stupid head off. But now? I don't really know what purpose it serves these days, as I have very little to complain or cry about. I question whether I will - or should - continue to write in it. The lack of posting recently is no accident, really - I've just not had too much to say. I've been too busy living my life - and I've discovered that there IS a life out there!

(Though my wrist being broken doesn't lead me to want to use it too much in the pursuit of writing, or anything else. There is that, heh.)

And now, a video. :p Actually... this song has a certain meaning to me, as it's one of the last songs I remember... before the depression took over my life. :(

Yes, I cry when I hear this.

Enjoy. Until next time.

The "new" mordacious?

As everyone can see, there's a new look floating about around here. It's not as... uh, black as it used to be. I'm not sure if I'll actually keep the theme that's up now - I'm not used to all of this bright pastel shit - but it won't go back to what it was before. It's a work in progress, much like myself.

I have continued to take steps toward healing. I am currently in the process of sorting and organizing the massive piles of paper that have collected over the past six years when I was... "out", we'll say. Unfortunately, organization is not my strong point, just like housekeeping isn't, heh... so there's a lot to do. A lot. But it'll get done eventually. In the meantime, I've begun clearing out remnants of my past, both on paper and in my head. I've opened up a lot more about those dark years that were my depression.. that led up to my depression. I've shed some tears over it, yes, but they're the sort of tears that I think have to come... the ones that burn inside until you can't hold them back anymore. It's a catharsis. I'm beginning to truly heal, it's not just show.

I have begun to let go of a lot of people, a lot of things. I am starting to see what was real... and what was fallacy. I'm starting to realize that I held impossible dreams about situations and about certain people that were never slated to come true, were never possible except in my own cracked head. And that's okay, because it allowed me to survive what I needed to. When I think now of losing certain things in my life... mainly the obsession that so ruled me over the last few years.... I still feel a slight sting. But that's all it is - a sting. Nothing more. It passes, and I'm myself again. I am still alive. I am still me. :) I didn't die.

Indeed, I no longer think about these things anymore.

Do I have regrets for the way I've treated certain people? Oh, you bet I do. I was stupid in a lot of ways. But... maybe it was all meant to be this way, because I wouldn't have what I have now. And what I have now is pretty damned good, honestly.

For example. I don't refer much to the person that I lived with in Georgia (not my ex-husband, the person after him) because it was incredibly painful, both the situation and the ending. I still haven't processed a lot of this situation yet, so I'm slowly working on coming to grips with the bleak reality of where I was and what I was doing (or not doing). However, I got curious (always a bad thing) and looked him up on the evil Eff-Bee to see if he was there, what he was doing, etc. I found out that he had moved to Florida and was in a new relationship.

There's that slight sting again. But... I was oddly peaceful with what I'd found out. The fact is that he and I were never meant to be, obviously - he's with a new person, I'm with a new person. I'd venture to bet that he's just as happy with his new love as I am with mine. So... in a way, while the past hurts a bit, perhaps I was meant to go through that hurt to appreciate the good things that I have now. Does that make any sense?

There are things about that time that I'm not proud of. Things that I will have to live with for the rest of my life. I will eventually talk about them, most likely here. And I'll probably cry my eyes out while talking about them. But...catharsis. Healing. Purging the sick from my soul so that I continue to grow, to learn, to heal. It's what I need to do. It's what I continue to strive for.

I have learned much in the last 8 months.

Things are going well otherwise. My relationship with Greg is as strong as ever, even though we're both tired a lot because of work schedules (and they conflict, bluh, figures) and we don't see one another nearly as much as we'd like. The limerance has ended, certainly - we're not starry-eyed teenagers, heh - but I think we have plenty of strength and a solid base from which to begin building on. I still have fears, a lot of the time - but that's only natural given what I've been through. He understands this, bless him. He is truly one in a million.

I'm laying here writing this and listening to him breathing beside me. It's a good sound. A solid, comforting sound. It's something that I could find myself listening to forever. :)

Okay, everyone go "awwwww" now. :p

Nothing else is new, really. But you know what? Sometimes that's a good thing. :D

I am my own person. No, really. I am.

Ever since I met Greg (two incredible months ago!), I've been a lot happier, which has been pretty obvious to all who know me. I've been receiving comments from all sources - personal, work, otherwise - that have told me that I'm beginning to smile again... that I seem more "alive", I guess, than I have in years.

I've worked incredibly hard over the last year to get myself back onto solid ground, to recover from my depression, to validate myself as someone worthy of existing, never mind living. To tell the truth, I would have been perfectly happy with just existence - seems that I've gotten more than I'd bargained for, heh.

Still, fear persists. I'm scared of my fragile recovery being blown to bits, and I refuse to lie about it. The ground underneath me is still quite shaky, though it's getting a bit firmer every day. I think that it's important for me to realize that I've done all that I have done myself - that no one's helped me along with this, that I'm responsible for my own happiness. A comment from my last post made me think about that, long and hard - am I happy because there's someone in my life now? Or can I be just as happy by myself, alone, the way I was going along? At the time, I'd said that having someone in my life was an addition to it, not that it became my life. I still find that to be my truth, I think.

The mistake that I've made in the past, in nearly all of my previous relationships/entanglements/something, is that I've made the other person "my life". Does that make sense? Instead of seeing them as a pleasant addition, an enhancement, I've enmeshed my own personality into theirs. Wrong, wrong, wrong move! It's okay to feel empathetic - it is NOT okay to absorb!

It's a shame that it's taken me nearly 40 years to learn better.

This relationship with Greg has been different in a lot of ways - hell, in nearly every way. Maybe it's because I'm now mature enough to know the difference, maybe it's because it's the first relationship I've had in a long time where the disparity between lifestyles wasn't such a yawning cavern, maybe it's because I'm finally ready to own my shit when I do something wrong. I don't know why, exactly. Perhaps I'm finally ready to yield a little control over to another person, because a relationship - a good one, anyway - is give and take. I've always been such a control freak in the past - if I wasn't in the driver's seat, I'd literally have a conniption and be unable to cope. I still have a lot of issues with that, with trusting, with relaxing and laying back and just letting things happen. But I'm getting better at it every day, just like I am in a lot of other ways.

Eventually, I'm going to be able to relax enough to talk about my other past relationships - to the point where I can finally cleanse wounds. I don't look forward to reliving the pain associated with that, but to finally putting it all where it belongs - in the past - I actually look forward to owning my mistakes, which sounds weird, but.... it's an essential portion of healing that I still have to do.

I am so ready for it. :)

In other quick news: it turns out that I'm not the only one in the neighborhood that's been broken into recently, and drug dealing has unfortunately started to pick up, as well. There's a community meeting about it on August 9th, which is unfortunately a Tuesday - but I may try and prepare a statement about my experience for the meeting. They say the Baltimore police department will be there. Wouldn't it be nice if they could get to the house faster than 2 hours next time? /sarcasm

Otherwise, life rolls along. I'm doing pretty well, all things considered.

I'm certainly a lot happier than I used to be. :)

Blog improvements may be coming soon. Might be time to get rid of all of this black. :D

More later.

Approaching the end of my "staycation".

It's been a whirlwind few days here at casa Ray. I haven't really done too much other than relax, settle in with my new relationship, and simply enjoyed my days off from the drug lab - though I'll have to come in on Thursday and Friday, bleh. Still, it's a fair trade-off for all that I've received in the last couple of weeks.

I've been mindlessly happy. It's sort of frightening that my life went from shit to pure bliss in a matter of only days. I'm cautious, however, even though I really for once in my life don't want to be - I actually WANT to believe that things are going to go my way for a rare change. And I've been really stepping out of my comfort zone as of late - I'm thinking about going to get a freaking tattoo on my body, which is about as far from the comfort zone as I can get!

I don't really know what's happened to me, but I'm enjoying every minute of it while I can. I just hope, pray, that it's not all a fragile house of cards that will collapse when the wind blows too hard. I really pray that's not the case.

I know, the dreaded word (which is now considered a curse word in the house) - patience. Sigh.

Just a quick update for now. I don't actually know when I'll be able to write again - I always mean to get around to it, but... well, I've been too busy AND too happy, I suppose. Maybe that's a good thing.

Dear Gawd....

...it's been absolutely forever since I wrote in here... but in truth, so much has happened in the last two weeks that I can't even begin to describe it all without getting my words mixed up. Suffice it to say that my entire life has changed - for the better.

I wish that I could explain more, but in truth, I'm very tired and I need to sleep rather badly. As soon as I can get some more time, I will fill in all of the missing details. A good deal of you know what it pertains to, anyway.

I only know that I'm happier right now than I have been in years.

More later, promise.

A bit of catching up to do.

This is the last weekend I have "off" before school starts, and in truth, I'm excited to get started again. I've been bone-idle way too long.

I made a major decision over the course of the week to change my minor from forensics to women's studies - which is striking some people as "quite odd", especially since I've often said that I despise women, can't stand them, etc. In truth, I think that it's the sociological aspect that turns me off, especially regarding my generation. It's a throwback to the 1950s, where women were all about their husbands/boyfriends and their kids - both aspects that I cannot relate to in the slightest. I once read a book called "Tripping the Prom Queen" that described the rivalry of women and how they compete (especially for the attention of men). It only confirmed exactly what I've always thought - there is no such thing as a "sisterhood". The second you show any interest in what women consider "their man", the claws come out and the friendship is all over. Even I've done it. Bee-eff-eff, my fat ass.

I've just never had any interest in "competing" for any man - if a person doesn't want to be with me or spend time with me, fuck them. They miss out, not me. (Although it's taken years, decades, for me to get to that point. I don't kid myself on that score.)

So why women's studies? Partially because it relates to me in that I'm a woman, of course - but also, because I want to know more about my own gender, and what makes us do these stupid fucking things we do. It's also because I actually started to relate to the female convicts down at work - I started seeing life through their eyes, started to realize that a lot of the reason why they were in trouble to begin with is because they have little to no self-esteem. They don't believe in themselves or their potential. And isn't that where I was, at one time? Where I still am, in some ways?

I don't fool myself that I can make these womens' lives better. But I can at least understand, or relate in some way. I can offer empathy, an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on. I know how they feel, in a lot of respects, in that they don't have anyone to listen to them, or that cares what happens to them.

Perhaps I do have a minute shred of compassion left in this hardened heart of mine.

With the minor change, as of the spring semester (2012), I'll only have 47 credits left before I graduate. At 12 credits a semester (a lot heavier than it has been, but I want this over with, to be honest), I'll be done by fall of next year. Even I can't believe it's true, in a way. I've come very far since my first panicked post that I had enrolled in school.

Oh, how far I HAVE come. :D

Alternate work schedule (AWS) starts this week. Basically my day is now nearly 10 hours instead of 9, but I get Wednesdays off every 2 weeks, which will help me out for things I have to do (like grocery shopping, deliveries, running errands, etc.). I don't know how it'll work out - I'm bone tired as it is - but I've agreed to try it out. It's not as if I'm really there any longer than I am now. What's another hour a day? And this week will be particularly sweet, as I only work Monday, Tuesday and Friday - I have jury duty on Thursday (not that I'll be selected, due to the break-in amongst other reasons), my AWS day falls this week, and then a long weekend for Memorial Day, which will be perfect for me to begin the semester with.

Despite all of the additional expenses because of the break-in, I'm actually all right, financial-wise. It's higher than I want it to be, but isn't everything? And I've decided that my federal tax refund will apply toward my bills, once again, so it'll all wash out in the end. I'll be a lot careful this time around not to run things up - of course, I've said that before, but this time I'm really going to try.

Last but not least... I received another Email from that guy that wrote me back around the holidays last year. That's the one that disappeared for months, then wrote again saying he was "thinking about me". I haven't really gone to much effort to write him, because I'm still ticked off about that - if someone's interested in you, a 4-month-long disappearance isn't the way to show it. But, eh, I guess I'm the flavor of the moment or something. Whatever. I'll play along - I don't have much else to do.

And that's about it. What an exciting life I lead, huh? :p

More later.

I've been sorely tested as of late.

As most of you who keep up with my life in any way know by now, my house was broken into on Saturday night while I was out for a rare social event, and my television was stolen, along with a few choice electronic items (including the brand new computer that I'd just bought not even 30 days ago). To say that I feel violated doesn't even begin to cover it, and I've spent the last 48 hours contacting banks, credit card companies, and spending a country fortune replacing computers, electronic equipment, and installing a security system in this house - for I'll be damned if I ever let this happen again.

I've not been to work today, and won't be going tomorrow, either - I have to wait for the security people, as well as go to the banks and reopen accounts under new numbers, etc. A major hassle, and I have no idea of how I'll be able to pay my bills on time, which of course adds another layer of inconvenience.

However... this situation has taught me so very much. It's taught me that I can handle even a horrible event like this. And that I have so much more support and friendship than I ever dreamed I did. People have been calling me, asking after me, offering to help, leaving messages of support for me. In my darkest days of depression, I never would have believed that people cared about me.. and yet, the last 48 hours have taught me better. Even my family has stepped up to the plate for me in ways that I never believed possible.

It's comforted me. I feel afraid and violated... but also that much stronger.

A couple of thugs took my electronics. But in a way, they gave me insight and the realization that people really do love me.

In that, maybe I came out ahead after all.

Tired (and somewhat depressive) rambling.

Can't sleep at the moment, so I figured I'd make a post and wait for these pain pills to kick in. Thank Christ for Excedrin PM, that's all I can say. This weekend hasn't been the best for me on either a physical or mental level, unfortunately. I ended up sleeping for most of the day today because I just... I don't know, the lethargy was overpowering and I didn't feel like battling it, to be honest.

There's a lot going on right now. I'm embroiled in a huge project at work where I more or less have to create a website for the department, and while I have the talent/ability/skill to do it, they're not giving me a lot of time to accomplish the job and I'm beginning to fall behind in not only this, but the other things they've asked me to do (not to mention my regular duties). I'm starting to feel overwhelmed and irritable. I don't even want to think about what might happen after school starts - what the fuck am I going to do then?

My notebook computer suffered a devastating fall on Friday afternoon, and the screen is useless, so I ended up having to spend 700 dollars on a new one - an expense that is very, VERY ill-timed. I was rather proud of myself for not completely losing control, but I'm sick inside about the whole thing. As usual, it just seems as if I can't win, no matter what I do.

Maybe I slept the entire day away as a form of escape. I don't know. I'm painfully aware that I'm still not very happy with my life, even though things have improved quite a bit.

When I went out on Friday night to get the new computer, I watched people walking around at the harbor with a sort of detached observation... and as usual, I felt out of place and alienated from what was going on around me. That, at least, hasn't changed. I find that as time goes on, though, it bothers me less and less.

Whenever I feel sad or lonely or even a quiet sense of desperation... all that I have to think of to snap me out of that mood is all of the failed relationships that have gone on before... or the last time that I tried to date someone. The last time that I tried to strike out in the romantic arena, I was violated. That's enough to make me feel more than glad to be alone. Sometimes I think that I'll feel that way for the rest of my life, but.... oddly, it doesn't bother me nearly as much as it once did.

I simply don't want to be hurt anymore. If being alone is the price I have to pay for safety, for security... I will gladly pay it and be content.

Ah, hell, this is turning a bit toward the despondent, and I didn't mean it to be, as I'm not really depressed so much as lethargic and achy. Whiny, if you want to be blunt about it. :p As always, I'll probably feel better tomorrow or in a couple of days. I'm just laying here and hoping for sleep at the moment.

It's strange, because I've been eating the best I ever have these past few weeks (i.e., a lot of vegetables and fruit, not much meat, sensible portions, the "right things"), I've actually begun to lose a significant amount of weight, and yet... I feel like I've been spun dry in my Bosch, knocked around in a boxing ring, run over by a truck. It makes no sense. Perhaps my mind is fighting the progress that my body's experiencing, a psychosomatic response to the possibility of shedding the wall that I've been hiding behind for most of my life now. I know damned well that my weight is a hiding mechanism - no therapist has to tell me that.

The possibility of losing that mechanism is, apparently, too much for my cracked brain to handle.

I'm not giving up, though.

Anyway, enough of this complaining. Hopefully the Excedrin will do its job soon and I can get some shuteye.

Later.

Now leaving the Twilight Zone....

I've been busy over the last week. As I've probably mentioned a few times on my social networking accounts and elsewhere, I've received my bed, it's set up, and I've been sleeping like a fiend all week long. Ever since, though, I've been doing more around this house than I have in the last 10 months combined - probably because I really don't have any more excuses to put it off, but also because the bed just looks so damned good set up and it's starting to tie together, if you will. There's finally things on the walls, though I still don't have nearly enough, and I'm beginning to get down to the business of taking stock, figuring out what I need, etc.

I know that I should have been doing this - hell, I should have finished this over six months ago. Better late than never, I guess.

Today has been a day of thinking for me. There's something on my mind that's been weighing heavily for a very long time, something that is finally beginning to release its once very, VERY powerful hold on me. I wish that I could begin talking about it, but it's still something that 1. remains quite painful in a lot of respects and 2. is quite recent and therefore fresh, something that I've not fully dealt with yet. It's not earth-shattering, trust me, but the situation more or less ruled my entire life for the last few years. Even a few months ago, I wasn't able to deal very well with it. Certain things that have been tied to this situation still hurt, like some music... some places... watching certain things. I'm beginning to take some of these things back, one piece at a time. But... it's beginning to fade away into the background. I know that I'm being vague about this, and I don't mean to be, but it's... still not something I can discuss yet. I will, one day, when I feel safe.

Valentine's Day is coming up. I don't feel at all sad about it. Sure, one of these days I'd love to be in a good relationship with someone - but until that day comes, I'm not going to lament over it. For the first time in my life, I am OKAY with being single. My life is finally my own, and I have no one to answer to. If I want to be honest with myself, I'm not really sure I want to give that much of myself away to someone. With very few exceptions, I've always been hurt when I've done that, and I won't risk being hurt like that again.

It'll have to be someone that's beyond, beyond, BEYOND special for me to give away even a small piece of my heart again. And we all know how rare that is.

The person that I had been exchanging Emails with back in October recently wrote me after a 4 month absence, saying that "he'd been thinking about me". That's nice, I guess, though my enthusiasm is dampened by the fact that he didn't bother to write me back - for 4 months. Somehow this isn't a compliment, I'm thinking. I gave him a response, but it's not likely I'm going to forget the lapse. Maybe that's harsh, but I'm just extremely cautious about who I'm going to let into "the inner circle". AvPD at work again, go figure.

Things are okay, otherwise. Work is still a huge pain in the ass, though it's starting to settle down once again (unless it's ME, which it could very well be - I've not been in a real great mood this week, but then that was obvious from my last post). I have to do another Saturday shift tomorrow, the second in two weeks, but then they'll leave me alone until May - just in time for school starting up again. I need to get on that, actually, because I have to decide what classes are next. I'm going to try three courses this semester instead of two - probably not the best of ideas, but I need to get jump-started on this degree. I don't want to still be in school 10 years from now. Or be in hock for yet more school loans. I'm already up over 10 grand in school loans - ugh, I saw that and I nearly cried, sigh.

It is what it is. It'll be worth it.

More later.

For once, contemplation about social issues...

I've been meaning to write a post about this topic for a while now, but as usual life got in the way. However, as of late, I've been growing a bit disgusted about the attitudes concerning this subject that have been floating around.... so, of course, you know I'm going to shoot off my big mouth about it. :p

That topic is infidelity and relationships. Stop laughing, I've been in my share of relationships and have some experience with this. :p

Warning: the backstory to this is long – but it's worth a read and it'll lead me up to my point eventually.

The backstory that got me to thinking about this subject is this: I've been a “lurker” on a few relationship boards for quite a few years now. It all started when I was living in Georgia and was having trouble getting out of the shack, so I found this forum called, appropriately, Loveshack. It seemed a pretty level-headed place where I could get advice from people that seemed, well, sane. (Loveshack, by the way, deals with everything from parental issues to infidelity to abuse – it's not strictly for the “lovelorn”, per se, at least it wasn't when I was there.) Anyway, I received solid advice about what to do with my situation, I thanked them, and sailed off into the sunset. (Turns out that the advice I got was correct – and of course, I didn't follow it, which makes me wonder why I bothered to ask.) Only, I decided to stay and just read other posts – sort of a learning experience.

They have a forum called “The Other Woman/Man” that used to be really lively (but respectful). Over time, I read something about different “other woman/man” forums that WEREN'T as, uh, nice. Basically, there was (or used to be) a board war between an “other woman” forum (warning: pop-up intensive, make sure your ad blockers are on) and a place that, in their description, “lampoons” the other woman. (If you don't know what that word means, think National Lampoon. You'll get the idea.) Anyhow, I wandered over to both places to check it out for myself – and they weren't kidding, either. There was some nasty stuff exchanged between both places, let me tell you. And as awful as it sounds, I enjoyed every bit of the sparring between the forums. As an outsider with zero stake in which place would “succeed”, it added a bit of a vicarious thrill to my days – here are two sets of people, both of whom should know better, arguing over ethics. On occasion, both sides brought up really good points to think about amidst all of the name-calling and mud-slinging.

(You're probably wondering when I'm going to get to the point. Patience, my child. It's coming.)

I started to read other forums dealing with relationships and infidelity as well, trying to learn for myself about the pain of all sides of the triangle (and there is pain for all three people, I think). There is one particular board for the “BW” (their abbreviation for “betrayed wife”) which is particularly heart-wrenching. And it's made me think over the years about my position on relationships, infidelity, and what I'd want out of such things.

I used to be really nonchalant about this sort of thing. I didn't consider that a relationship particularly meant that I had a rope tied to someone's testicles and all I had to do was give it a pull to “keep someone in line”. I'm really still not that way about things. I think that after all of this reading and thinking, my main objection is if someone lies about their intent – what they WANT to do. “I want to sleep with so-and-so.” Okay, why would you want to do that? Give me a good reason. If I think your reason's solid, go ahead, but you're going to hear how I feel about it first. No, I probably won't like it, but if you have a really good reason that would trump my objections, I wouldn't even attempt to stop you. That's pretty straightforward, I think, and it's something that most reasonable people wouldn't argue with.

I think that a lot of what upsets me about infidelity is this: first of all, I think that a lot of people have the entirely wrong idea about what marriage is supposed to be, to begin with. Over and over, I read on these forums....things like, “he's the love of my life”, “marriage isn't supposed to be like this”, “we used to be so happy”, etc. I can break that down pretty easily – what does one think marriage is “supposed” to be? Marriage isn't a blissful dreamy state where you can ignore the hard, cold facts of life – life sucks, darling. You have to work, pay bills, sacrifice time and energy. If you choose to have children, that's a HUGE block of time and energy that you now must give to another person, and if you don't think your partner's going to be okay with that, best to invest in some birth control, honey. Because I can tell you now – a LOT of people aren't okay with that. And the “we used to be so happy” stuff – how does one know that for sure unless they can read minds? If someone's stepping out on you outside of your relationship, it's pretty obvious they WEREN'T happy, isn't it? That's where communication comes in, and if two people sucked at that BEFORE marriage, it sure isn't going to improve later.

Another thing that I've read constantly on these forums is the aftermath – there's two paths that one could take, which is reconciliation (otherwise known as the mysterious “R” in this world, heh), and divorce. This probably makes me more angry than anything I've discussed so far, because there seems to be a constant pattern with either option. In “R”, the end goal seems to be making the spouse who cheated literally pay for it with the rest of his life – either the betrayed spouse's way, or the highway. Now, I can understand a little of that for a while – but not forever. And a lot of these people that I read about seem to want it just that way, forever. For example, there's often talk about “conditions of reconciliation”, i.e., “this is what you must do in order for me to reconcile with you”. Some things I've read are:

“One of the conditions of R was that he not look at porn...”
“He has to agree to complete transparency (Facebook, Myspace, social networking, computer, phone)..”
“He has to quit his job, as the other woman works there too...”
“I want a completely new bedroom set, I won't sleep on the same bed as the whore...”
“He has to show me that he loves me, say nice things all the time, offer to do for me...”

And etc., etc. Let me address these point by point, as I think that every single one of them is completely ridiculous.

The bit about not looking at porn? Honey, you are in a DREAM world if you think you can stop a man (or a woman, for that matter) looking at porn. First of all, we live in America, last I heard, and a consenting adult has the given right to view or read anything they want – being married to someone who disapproves isn't going to stop them from looking at it if they really want to. And if that's a condition to stay married is that my partner tells me what I can and can't watch? Bye-bye, see you in divorce court. You're supposed to be my partner, not my parent. That is controlling to the nth degree, and it's probably a good reason WHY your partner would cheat in the first place. You don't like porn, fine, find someone else that doesn't like it too, and you're good to go. But no one has the right to tell a person what they can and can't watch or read. I'd be willing to bet that if this person was suddenly told they couldn't watch Oprah or whatever crap show they watch because it's “objectionable” to their partner, they'd blow a gasket. And rightfully so.

Transparency? This one isn't as ridiculous, but it IS suspicious. Why would someone not be transparent with their partner from the very beginning? I have a friend of mine that just married her husband back in July or so, and they are very much in love, happy, expecting a baby. Yet they have separate Facebook accounts, and always have. Why? Because they trust one another. If a couple doesn't have trust in each other enough so that they can have their own bank accounts, their own social networking accounts, etc., what are they doing getting married in the first place?

Quitting their job? Good luck with that in this crap economy. If your partner quits their job, you and the kids that you put ahead of your partner won't have much on the table to eat. Might want to think about that before you let the paranoia take over. I can understand being scared that your partner would take up with the other woman at work again, but if they're truly sorry about what they've done, they won't. You can't make someone be remorseful – they either are or they're not.

And buying the new bedroom, the new truck, the new whatever... that's just plain selfish on your part and quite frankly, I even see it as gold-digging in some respects. Okay, I understand bad memories being associated with a car, a piece of furniture, etc. But that's when you take that object and you make NEW memories associated with it – that's how you get over trauma. They say that if you get thrown off of a horse, the only way to conquer that fear is to get right back on him and try again. Same here. Paint the bedroom walls, screw your partner's brains out on that bed, have the truck detailed with new upholstery and features, etc. But don't just get rid of things because someone “sat” on it. I mean, seriously. When you get on a public bus, how do you know that all of your partners' ex-girlfriends sat on the same seat you're in that very moment? It's ridiculous. Again, controlling to the nth degree.

Showing someone that they love them? How do I even combat this ridiculous statement? No one can be “on” all the time, for one thing. Everyone has moments in their lives where, let's face it, they're just not very lovable, or even personable. I'm thinking that if someone didn't love a person, they wouldn't even stay in the relationship, or consider it – at least that's how I work, anyway, I don't know about other people. There are going to be times where I'm not going to feel like rubbing someone's back or doing the dishes or whatever ridiculous requirement would be expected as a “condition” of reconciliation.

And that's what really frosts my ass about this whole thing – all of these, in one way or another, are CONDITIONS for staying with the person that cheated. If they slip up in any way, shape or form, the betrayed person would yell, “You don't love me! You're cheating on me again! I'm going to leave you! You're a beast, a brute, you're hateful!” Yadda, yadda, yadda!

Jesus, I think I'd RATHER they left than be in a relationship with an axe hovering over my neck. Because that's what this would feel like, to me.

Now, understand – I'm NOT “for” cheating. I'm not at all supportive of people who step out on their partners (assuming that this wasn't okay to begin with – if two people in a relationship want an open thing, that's their business and I'm all for it). If a husband and wife choose NOT to have an open marriage, in my opinion they should both follow that decision. But, if it DOES happen, they both need to sit down and figure out what is going wrong – and it usually happens LONG before the affair does. Communication is the key to everything, after all. If two people sit down and communicate about how they feel, being completely honest about everything – I don't even see infidelity being a possibility. The problem is that people get together, and stay together, for the wrong reasons.

This is why I'm not planning on getting into another relationship until I know for SURE that it's for the right reasons, that it's the right time, and that the person I meet will have the qualities that I need and want. If that means that I will never be in another relationship, then that's the way it will be. I absolutely will not compromise on this, as I've been in too many relationships that have ended horrifically, for all of the reasons that I've outlined above. I've learned that I can get along just fine on my own!

I have more thoughts on this subject, but it's already become too long and unwieldy of a post, so I'll conclude here. But I'd love to hear other peoples' thoughts about this. Am I the only one that feels this way?

Strangely disconnected... but okay.

Life rolls on as it always does. I go to work, come home, eat, sleep, feed my cat, do laundry, go to therapy - it's a long, never-ending but oddly comfortable routine. Still, I can't help but feel... well, weird. There are days, of which this is one, where I walk through life doing what I need to do, but I feel like I'm watching some fucked-up reality television program. You know what I mean? I eye situations from a purely "outsider" point of view. It's as if I'm there... but not there. And I'm actually okay with this, because I don't really want to be noticed, anyhow.

I'm really in a weird point in my life right now. While I won't be unhappy if I'm around people, I don't make efforts to be social or to 'strike out', and I'm happy with my own company 99.9% of the time. This IS a big change from the first time I lived alone, where I was almost always miserable and lonely. These days... well, I occasionally feel a bit lonely, but I can usually forget about it rather quickly - and when I think of actually meeting new people, spending time with them, it's... vaguely unpleasant to me. Even more striking is the feeling that I get when I think of meeting someone new in a romantic sense - I actually shudder with revulsion. I think that I'm either finally adjusting to being single/alone - and LIKING it - or I've lost so much trust in people that it'll be virtually impossible for me to ever open myself up in that sense again. Maybe it's a combination of both, I don't know.

I've been diagnosed with avoidant personality disorder (AvPD). The symptoms/characteristics fit me almost 100 percent. I have a very close "inner circle" (as close as I'll allow, anyway, which is not very), and I only trust a very, very, very few. Otherwise, I shun social situations. And now that I actually know I do this, and that it's NORMAL for AvPD people to do this... I actually feel an odd sense of peace. That I'm not a freak, that I'm not alone, that others feel the same way I do, that others are just as lonely and frustrated as I seem to be. I wish that I didn't have it, of course, just as I wish I didn't have depression... but both conditions are permanent and with me to stay. So be it. I'll have to make the best of what I have, even if it proves to be very difficult. Eh, well. My life's never really been what I'd term "easy", so why start now? :p

There's a lot of things that I've been meaning to do lately - there's a shit-ton of mail I have to answer (both E and otherwise), I've fallen out of touch with people that I've been meaning to talk with - if you're one of them, patience, I'll get to you eventually. Like I said, when I inhabit this strange place, I often shut out the world around me and concentrate on introspection. I think that therapy has really helped with my introspective qualities. I'm not focusing as hard on the negative as I once did, and I'm really trying to make improvements - and yes, to be good to myself. Still some work to go on that, though.

I've lost another 2 point something pounds. Doesn't sound like much, but I'll take any improvement I can get. I don't expect that I'll be able to take off enough in order to avoid the surgery, but I'm working it the best that I can. Again, I'm sort of in an apathetic fog when it comes to that, just as I have been with a lot of other things. That might be bad - as a matter of fact, I know it is - but right now I'm comfortable with where I am, so I'm not going to make an effort to change it.

I don't know that apathetic is the right word, though, because I DO care. Maybe it should be "fatalistic" - i.e., whatever happens, happens. I'm not going to create stress for myself over things that, for right now, I have no control over. My philosophy is "do what I'm supposed to do and let everything take care of itself". And that's what I'm doing, I guess.

Yes, I have a lot of regrets. But regret doesn't change what is. All that I can do is continue to move forward - and hope.

Strange, that word, hope. But fitting.