Poverty sucks.
That's pretty much all that's on my mind. Going to the bank soon and getting groceries and trying to figure out how to squeeze more into my savings account than I already am is a challenge. But I'll do it. I always figure out a way to get everyone paid. It's just that this year, I don't think I'll honestly make it paying Uncle Sam all I owe him, in time. And I hate the thought of owing back taxes. Even if it's only few thousand dollars, I know it could be a lot worse. So in the middle of all my worries about money, I try to look at what I'm thankful for.
I'm thankful for my kids and my friends that check on me and miss me enough to reach out and just tell me good morning and want to know what's going on with me. Mr. Hopeful woke me up yesterday with a sweet message and we made plans to watch the Pro Bowl tonight. Mr. Practical and I got three episodes of Dr. Who in last night before the TV GOD NETFLIX removes it from our title selections FOREVER. Please reconsider....Netflix TV god....please renew the contract again for us. I hope they are monitoring the ratings this last weekend and realize how much ratings they will lose when this title is gone. She of Little Combat Boots and I found some time to catch up on her family and life. And a bit on mine. I left out sad goodbyes and only talked about financial worries. I wanted our time to be about her and her life. I miss her so much. Poet In My Heart has been so busy with work, and trying to cope with illness and both of the common variety and not so common that she's been very tired and or too busy to chat much, but that doesn't matter any more than it does with any of my friends, or family, because I know how much I'm missed and loved. And I know they know too. I miss my kids so much. I don't regret spending the money to see them at Christmas, and I'd do it again even owing taxes. Sometimes you have to put your life first.
Taxes.....I really hate them. I know technically they are unconstitutional, but I still pay them. Sometimes I wonder why. I was so shocked to learn that I still owe so much after paying quarterly that I looked up the percentages myself to make sure my tax person wasn't making a mistake. Which I guess I should have done last year, but trusted the program. Somehow I overpaid state and will get a small refund which I may elect to just leave and they can use it toward next year. The thought of owing back taxes scares the shit out of me. Isn't this how homeless starts with some people? I hope I have enough loved ones in my life that I would never be homeless. I'm pretty sure I do. But when you're scared, you think scary thoughts.
But enough of that. After coffee it's to the bank, and pay my rent and loan and save....I'll have to find some grocery money in there somewhere, but I will eat. Don't worry. And if I don't, well I have enough extra body fat for a couple of months before I start losing weight. Maybe that's all part of the grand plan to get me hot and gorgeous before my next romantic encounter. I wonder who the lucky guy will be? Maybe that's what I should write about next.
Cheers.
Sunday, January 31, 2016
Sunday, January 24, 2016
Forward Movement
I open my eyes.
I don't want to get out of bed.
I don't want to adult today.
I am tired.
I am lazy.
I am stressed.
I need food.
I need to go to the bank.
I need to file my taxes.
I need to get out more.
I should write.
I should color my hair.
I should walk away.
I can't walk away.
I can't stay in bed.
I open my eyes.
This is what anxiety sounds like in my head. A buzzing of voices telling me what to do, all with equal pulling toward movement of some kind. Movement forward is best. I've been moving backward for too many years now.
But forward used to be exciting to me. When I had a partner in crime. Now it's kind of scary. I guess that's my experience telling me to open my eyes and just keep walking. Keep trying and keep my head up. But
Sometimes I get really tired doing that. Especially alone. Its the only time I really feel being single. Is coming home from work and no one there waiting for me or for me to anticipate coming home. No one to share my day with. This is why my friends are so important to me. The ones that check in daily or every other day. You KNOW who you are. They are the ones that are either depressed and anxiety ridden too or they just care that much about me or both. YOU know who YOU are. I just wanted to take a moment to let you all understand how much I love you and how special you are to me. How my life would feel lacking without you in it. And none of you are near me, so this electric communication is all I have of you. My moments sharing tv shows, or chatting for hours about feelings, or life and what we did that day. Tiny little moments of wonderful connecting.
My internet life has become more real than my real life. Much more social than my real life. That seems both strange to me and somehow expected. And my bestie, Poet In My Heart wants me to go on an on line dating service. I'm hesitant. I know I need to move on in a physical sense from Mr. Hopeful, but as That Guy would say, "its not high on your list". And he'd be right. Perhaps some physical comfort would help my state of lonely, but that actually seems to pass rather quickly when I am outside in the world and actually see what's out there. Choices become very slim for women over 40. And I'm just not built for one night stands. I'm just not. I hate them. They never lead to anything. They don't have a story. And I'm a writer, I live for the story.
Truth be told, if I can't have Mr. Hopeful, I'm pretty content with my own company. I know that sounds like I'm giving up, but it really is just the truth. I understand why some women stay single now. It's not that they never loved its that they loved very well and their bar is set very high. And when you've had that kind of all encompassing arms enfolding you throughout the night dreaming together, emotion filled eyes that you'd do anything for, stress relieving voice at the end of the day, laughter that makes you happy to hear, and tears that destroy your resolve; well when you've had that you know what love that lasts feels like. And all of this can even be when you are fighting and seem at your furthest apart. Not just in the happy times when all is ok. They say love changes, and it does, but it doesn't too. When it's real it never does. Oh we might fake it and pretend that it has to save ourselves too much pain. Especially when our deepest loves are not the ones we snuggle against.
So love me and check on me, make a date to spend some time with me, and let me live my story.
Cheers
I don't want to get out of bed.
I don't want to adult today.
I am tired.
I am lazy.
I am stressed.
I need food.
I need to go to the bank.
I need to file my taxes.
I need to get out more.
I should write.
I should color my hair.
I should walk away.
I can't walk away.
I can't stay in bed.
I open my eyes.
This is what anxiety sounds like in my head. A buzzing of voices telling me what to do, all with equal pulling toward movement of some kind. Movement forward is best. I've been moving backward for too many years now.
But forward used to be exciting to me. When I had a partner in crime. Now it's kind of scary. I guess that's my experience telling me to open my eyes and just keep walking. Keep trying and keep my head up. But
Sometimes I get really tired doing that. Especially alone. Its the only time I really feel being single. Is coming home from work and no one there waiting for me or for me to anticipate coming home. No one to share my day with. This is why my friends are so important to me. The ones that check in daily or every other day. You KNOW who you are. They are the ones that are either depressed and anxiety ridden too or they just care that much about me or both. YOU know who YOU are. I just wanted to take a moment to let you all understand how much I love you and how special you are to me. How my life would feel lacking without you in it. And none of you are near me, so this electric communication is all I have of you. My moments sharing tv shows, or chatting for hours about feelings, or life and what we did that day. Tiny little moments of wonderful connecting.
My internet life has become more real than my real life. Much more social than my real life. That seems both strange to me and somehow expected. And my bestie, Poet In My Heart wants me to go on an on line dating service. I'm hesitant. I know I need to move on in a physical sense from Mr. Hopeful, but as That Guy would say, "its not high on your list". And he'd be right. Perhaps some physical comfort would help my state of lonely, but that actually seems to pass rather quickly when I am outside in the world and actually see what's out there. Choices become very slim for women over 40. And I'm just not built for one night stands. I'm just not. I hate them. They never lead to anything. They don't have a story. And I'm a writer, I live for the story.
Truth be told, if I can't have Mr. Hopeful, I'm pretty content with my own company. I know that sounds like I'm giving up, but it really is just the truth. I understand why some women stay single now. It's not that they never loved its that they loved very well and their bar is set very high. And when you've had that kind of all encompassing arms enfolding you throughout the night dreaming together, emotion filled eyes that you'd do anything for, stress relieving voice at the end of the day, laughter that makes you happy to hear, and tears that destroy your resolve; well when you've had that you know what love that lasts feels like. And all of this can even be when you are fighting and seem at your furthest apart. Not just in the happy times when all is ok. They say love changes, and it does, but it doesn't too. When it's real it never does. Oh we might fake it and pretend that it has to save ourselves too much pain. Especially when our deepest loves are not the ones we snuggle against.
So love me and check on me, make a date to spend some time with me, and let me live my story.
Cheers
Sunday, January 17, 2016
Hermit Mode Has Kidnapped Me
Well that didn't work the way I wanted it to, but that's ok we move on, we don't sit and wallow. It's funny but it doesn't feel like wallowing when there is no on to see you feeling down. I don't know what's wrong, but I keep hearing myself say one more day, and then back to normal. One more day of feeling blah, and then pop back, right with the world. Why do I always sound British in my mind when I'm trying to give myself a pep talk? Probably from all that Doctor Who.
Ok so lets talk about what has gone right. Lets see, Mr. Hopeful and I have started watching Football together. Its fun. More fun that football alone, and I really did have fun watching with him over the Internets last night. And will again today. It seems like he's serious in wanting to try on friendship with me. And I asked for this so it better be what I want. Or at least what I need. Lets focus on what I need.
Mr. Practicle and I managed to get in a couple of Dr. Who long distance and on a two week period where I promised I'd leave him alone to write. But in fairness I only reached out for advice once he reached out the other time. So I've been good when I needed to talk. And I'm proud of that. Maybe more Doctor Who soon. I wanted to write, I felt it coming on, the characters yammering inside my head. But the numbness took over, and when that is in me, there is nothing else. Hermit mode.
The Poet In My Heart has had an incredibly busy week and I miss her company. I miss hearing about her day to day. It makes me feel more centered to understand that she's going through the same types of daily bullshit that I am. Or have.
And I've been thinking about She of Little Combat Boots and her family a lot, and missing them.
That Guy seems to only contact me right before gaming or not for weeks, and I miss his insight.
But I'm sitting here in my internest, knowing I have to go out and get laundry change so I can do some laundry today or tomorrow, and knowing that I haven't left my internest since Wednesday and I can already hear myself talking myself out of going. It's so cozy, especially when you add how cold it is outside and how nothing ever hurts me here. Well that's not entirely true. Not anymore. So I tried to fight it, and now I'm self medicating and that's not working, but I don't stop because I don't see a reason to stop. And it feels good, so the hippie in my soul says, relax, chill, one more day. The gypsy in me says get up and get one thing done outside. Don't stay in hermit mode until Tuesday. That's five days, and while a couple of those days I was feeling a little sick and headachy, certainly not well enough to be at work, but not sick enough to be in bed, that on the border sick where you know you're contagious but most of us go to work anyway. Well this time i decided not to. This time i decided my health was more important. It should always be, but I admit that I've gone to work sick before, I bet you have too.
Why don't we think of ourselves first all the time? I mean why are we so considerate of others feelings first? Too nurturing. I give of myself hoping someone will give back to me. But I find myself always filling others cups and mine is still empty. I've been trying to figure out whats wrong with me, why I still feel so blue, when the time for this has long passed. I've never been one to feel sorry for myself. But I think that may be what I'm doing. And I hate myself for it. I need a distraction, but I don't want to leave my apartment. Netflix is my company. If I could get a company to deliver me change, I'd call them. LOL no seriously, I'd call them. I think the problem is that I don't know what the problem is. I know I need to talk about something but I don't know what it is. I have five good friends and a two children I could call and talk with anytime. But I don't pick up the phone. The thing about depression is that when you have it you are scared to reach out to your friends, even though you know you need to.
Why am I so afraid to talk? Why am I so afraid of what I'm feeling? And why can't I put it into words? The more I think on it the closer I'll come to the truth. I will finish coffee and I will go outside. And I will not stay in this comfortable cage all day. At least it's clean.
Cheers
Ok so lets talk about what has gone right. Lets see, Mr. Hopeful and I have started watching Football together. Its fun. More fun that football alone, and I really did have fun watching with him over the Internets last night. And will again today. It seems like he's serious in wanting to try on friendship with me. And I asked for this so it better be what I want. Or at least what I need. Lets focus on what I need.
Mr. Practicle and I managed to get in a couple of Dr. Who long distance and on a two week period where I promised I'd leave him alone to write. But in fairness I only reached out for advice once he reached out the other time. So I've been good when I needed to talk. And I'm proud of that. Maybe more Doctor Who soon. I wanted to write, I felt it coming on, the characters yammering inside my head. But the numbness took over, and when that is in me, there is nothing else. Hermit mode.
The Poet In My Heart has had an incredibly busy week and I miss her company. I miss hearing about her day to day. It makes me feel more centered to understand that she's going through the same types of daily bullshit that I am. Or have.
And I've been thinking about She of Little Combat Boots and her family a lot, and missing them.
That Guy seems to only contact me right before gaming or not for weeks, and I miss his insight.
But I'm sitting here in my internest, knowing I have to go out and get laundry change so I can do some laundry today or tomorrow, and knowing that I haven't left my internest since Wednesday and I can already hear myself talking myself out of going. It's so cozy, especially when you add how cold it is outside and how nothing ever hurts me here. Well that's not entirely true. Not anymore. So I tried to fight it, and now I'm self medicating and that's not working, but I don't stop because I don't see a reason to stop. And it feels good, so the hippie in my soul says, relax, chill, one more day. The gypsy in me says get up and get one thing done outside. Don't stay in hermit mode until Tuesday. That's five days, and while a couple of those days I was feeling a little sick and headachy, certainly not well enough to be at work, but not sick enough to be in bed, that on the border sick where you know you're contagious but most of us go to work anyway. Well this time i decided not to. This time i decided my health was more important. It should always be, but I admit that I've gone to work sick before, I bet you have too.
Why don't we think of ourselves first all the time? I mean why are we so considerate of others feelings first? Too nurturing. I give of myself hoping someone will give back to me. But I find myself always filling others cups and mine is still empty. I've been trying to figure out whats wrong with me, why I still feel so blue, when the time for this has long passed. I've never been one to feel sorry for myself. But I think that may be what I'm doing. And I hate myself for it. I need a distraction, but I don't want to leave my apartment. Netflix is my company. If I could get a company to deliver me change, I'd call them. LOL no seriously, I'd call them. I think the problem is that I don't know what the problem is. I know I need to talk about something but I don't know what it is. I have five good friends and a two children I could call and talk with anytime. But I don't pick up the phone. The thing about depression is that when you have it you are scared to reach out to your friends, even though you know you need to.
Why am I so afraid to talk? Why am I so afraid of what I'm feeling? And why can't I put it into words? The more I think on it the closer I'll come to the truth. I will finish coffee and I will go outside. And I will not stay in this comfortable cage all day. At least it's clean.
Cheers
Sunday, January 10, 2016
A Time To Mourn, And A Time To Dance
I'm grieving this weekend. Giving myself time to mourn a loss. Something I don't do enough of. Give myself permission and time to mourn loss. Not me. I'm too strong for that shit. But, not this time. This time is too important. This time it's a long term companion that I walk away from.
So this weekend I hibernate and feel. This weekend everytime I think of him fondly I'll remember that was the play. That wasn't real, that was him playing you.
And now he tells me its because he can't disrespect me anymore, and he hopes I know that.
So here's where it gets really sticky.
That means that all the other times he was disrespecting me and I thought that he loved me. And now he can't disrespect me which means he loves and respects me the most right now, and I feel rejected and hurt and left.
Go figure.
Oh Geeves...more Baily's in my coffee please
I wish I had a real Geeves to get me things in my studio. But he'd have to be a miniature butler, and battery powered. Reminds me of the Dresdan Dolls song, "Coin Operated Boy". It's about a vibrator. Mr. Charisma thought it was the best song on a cd I made him once. That's when I knew his 'romantic style' was all part of the play. With Mr. Hopeful, I knew when he started sounding like Mr. Charisma and acting like him. Like his line last weekend, telling me he'd be right here, gaming, just let him know when I was finished with my blog. Mr. Charisma used to say that as he lay next to me on a Sunday morning. A time I used to think was very romantic and special and now I realize was probably the only available space in his busy, busy social calendar. That's when I knew that I'd become as important to Mr. Hopeful as I had to Mr. Charisma. And I basically was in shock last weekend as he walked out my door. As much as I have seen, I never saw that coming.
Tomorrow it stops. Tomorrow I go back to being strong. Tomorrow...oh jesus, the theatre person in me is torn between the song from Annie (Tomorrow Tomorrow) and Scarlet's famous line "Tomorrow is another day". And I smile because sometimes I do make myself laugh. And I think that having a sense of humor is the one thing that saves me from depression right now. Or maybe I've just learned enough coping skills to sneak around it. I don't know. But I really thought after how sad I was with Mr. Practical, and Mr. Charisma and I'd only known them 4 and 1 year respectively, that I'd be much more devastated with the loss of Mr. Hopeful. But I'm not. Maybe I'm just so numb right now that I can't feel anything.
Why are the biggest break ups for me always close or on a holiday?
Have you ever been living your life and thought, This is not my life, how did I get here. (Cue Talking Heads) Because I have, more times than I want to admit. But as I look out my window from my internest corner, that everyone seems to take over when they come visit, I know I am happy here. His visit only reminded me how smart I was to move. And a memory is all that's left for you now, you see your gypsy (Cue Fleetwood Mac)
I wonder if there is a special ring of hell sometimes for me.
Cheers
So this weekend I hibernate and feel. This weekend everytime I think of him fondly I'll remember that was the play. That wasn't real, that was him playing you.
And now he tells me its because he can't disrespect me anymore, and he hopes I know that.
So here's where it gets really sticky.
That means that all the other times he was disrespecting me and I thought that he loved me. And now he can't disrespect me which means he loves and respects me the most right now, and I feel rejected and hurt and left.
Go figure.
Oh Geeves...more Baily's in my coffee please
I wish I had a real Geeves to get me things in my studio. But he'd have to be a miniature butler, and battery powered. Reminds me of the Dresdan Dolls song, "Coin Operated Boy". It's about a vibrator. Mr. Charisma thought it was the best song on a cd I made him once. That's when I knew his 'romantic style' was all part of the play. With Mr. Hopeful, I knew when he started sounding like Mr. Charisma and acting like him. Like his line last weekend, telling me he'd be right here, gaming, just let him know when I was finished with my blog. Mr. Charisma used to say that as he lay next to me on a Sunday morning. A time I used to think was very romantic and special and now I realize was probably the only available space in his busy, busy social calendar. That's when I knew that I'd become as important to Mr. Hopeful as I had to Mr. Charisma. And I basically was in shock last weekend as he walked out my door. As much as I have seen, I never saw that coming.
Tomorrow it stops. Tomorrow I go back to being strong. Tomorrow...oh jesus, the theatre person in me is torn between the song from Annie (Tomorrow Tomorrow) and Scarlet's famous line "Tomorrow is another day". And I smile because sometimes I do make myself laugh. And I think that having a sense of humor is the one thing that saves me from depression right now. Or maybe I've just learned enough coping skills to sneak around it. I don't know. But I really thought after how sad I was with Mr. Practical, and Mr. Charisma and I'd only known them 4 and 1 year respectively, that I'd be much more devastated with the loss of Mr. Hopeful. But I'm not. Maybe I'm just so numb right now that I can't feel anything.
Why are the biggest break ups for me always close or on a holiday?
Have you ever been living your life and thought, This is not my life, how did I get here. (Cue Talking Heads) Because I have, more times than I want to admit. But as I look out my window from my internest corner, that everyone seems to take over when they come visit, I know I am happy here. His visit only reminded me how smart I was to move. And a memory is all that's left for you now, you see your gypsy (Cue Fleetwood Mac)
I wonder if there is a special ring of hell sometimes for me.
Cheers
Sunday, January 3, 2016
But, Wait a Minute...What?
It's one of those mornings where I was sure I knew what I was going to write about by late last night, and again at 3 am when I woke from a very accurate dream, it seems. One I remember now as having had before, but that's not what this blog is about.
It was going to be, but now it's about hearing something you have never heard from a man before, and didn't realize what was missing until you hear it. It's a phrase as different for each of us as we are different. But we all have one. Like in the movie Waiting to Exhale. Only that's not my phrase. Mine, it turns out is, "Don't worry, I'll be right here, gaming, just let me know when you're finished with your blog."
Wow. I had no snappy come back. I had no armor for that attack...
"Geeves..."
I had no defense for THAT memory...
Hold up a bit, its been a weekend of first steps down paths that, I believe, will take us further away from each other than we've ever been before, and at the same time, in many ways, closer.
I just have to write.
I have to revisit.
All the truths we held
All the attractions
Still there
So I should have listened to the dreams, I should have listened to my gut, I was right.
And yet, I've learned so much about myself in the last three days. I've surprised myself. Because I really have been one of the best representations of me, ever. And I know he sees it. And I know it's not enough. But we'll always have the internest. Hey...my play was almost right. Should have listened to my gut, but I wanted it to play like a comedy, instead of a tragedy. Which I feel, well, both. Which I suppose is the best you can ask for.
I'm a hopeless romantic that happens to be a closet realist. Fucks with my outlook. I see goodbyes so much sooner than most. If you are observant you'll see, I run when I see them. I go far enough to make it necessary to see me. And I'll forever miss you.
And I have way too much booze left over...
Cheers
It was going to be, but now it's about hearing something you have never heard from a man before, and didn't realize what was missing until you hear it. It's a phrase as different for each of us as we are different. But we all have one. Like in the movie Waiting to Exhale. Only that's not my phrase. Mine, it turns out is, "Don't worry, I'll be right here, gaming, just let me know when you're finished with your blog."
Wow. I had no snappy come back. I had no armor for that attack...
"Geeves..."
I had no defense for THAT memory...
Hold up a bit, its been a weekend of first steps down paths that, I believe, will take us further away from each other than we've ever been before, and at the same time, in many ways, closer.
I just have to write.
I have to revisit.
All the truths we held
All the attractions
Still there
So I should have listened to the dreams, I should have listened to my gut, I was right.
And yet, I've learned so much about myself in the last three days. I've surprised myself. Because I really have been one of the best representations of me, ever. And I know he sees it. And I know it's not enough. But we'll always have the internest. Hey...my play was almost right. Should have listened to my gut, but I wanted it to play like a comedy, instead of a tragedy. Which I feel, well, both. Which I suppose is the best you can ask for.
I'm a hopeless romantic that happens to be a closet realist. Fucks with my outlook. I see goodbyes so much sooner than most. If you are observant you'll see, I run when I see them. I go far enough to make it necessary to see me. And I'll forever miss you.
And I have way too much booze left over...
Cheers
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