Keep That Cougar Spirit Up
A little known fact is that I got Most School Spirit in my junior high year book. Yeah. Me. Carrie. I'm not kidding.
Is this Wednesday, already? Is it time to blog again, already? I suppose it is...
Things have been gal dern hectic, I say. I just keep throwing out that word. I don't know how else to convey what happens for me internally in response to what may or may not actually be happening externally. Anyway, I got some perspective today. I saw people who know me to be happy and healthy and offer support. And while I was there today as someone who is essentially unhappy, unhealthy, and in need of support, I realized I am not my fucking problems. I have had so much of my sense of self worth entangled in circumstances and my reactions to them, that I lost sight of my...me-ness. Being listened to, cared about, and hugged was brilliant. I do apologize that I have been a bitchy bitch from the depths of Bitchitaw. I am going to just shit list it and see if you too, wouldn't be...me. I mean iffin you were in my britches. K, reasons for cracking under the pressure so far this summer:
shitty doctor visit
took final exam for penis head
conflict with best friend (who is TOTALLY stressed)
yelled at by ex (who I'm still in love with)
had to see him a bunch (he doesn't even live in this town any more?!)
cool neighbor moved
other friend went out of town (meaning lack of support)
friends generally stressed (meaning don't have much to give)
mom depressed and other forms of mentally ill (in Michigan)
dad stubborn and can't hear
owe parents and THREE best friends money
TMJ and tongue thrust (OUCH!!!!!!!)
gray weather daily for a month
threats (ALWAYS THREATS!!!) to lose water, gas, internet...
dealing with government agencies
job hunt/interview/training progression
intense pain from job
injured foot off the job
house guests as favor for friend
house guests, again
house guests wake me like the fucking gestapo at 2 a.m., knock plant over into knitting bag, and flood bathroom with poo water. twice.
care about and writing to someone wrongfully sentences to life in prison
other medical problems
fucking anxiety and insecurity
the gift basket fiasco (which I think needs it's own post, so I can fully heal)
Pretty Andy sucking
Pretty Marc running
lack of sleep due to ON-GOING sounds of industry (what is this? New fucking York?!)
The thing is, my family is of the disfunctional variety. The gift that keeps on giving. You don't just have disfunction in a family, and then that clears up, and you move on to other ways of living and being. There are always reminders, disappointments, pressures, and new reasons to grieve. My brother and sister are being raised by an evil man. Nothing short of that. My mom is a bundle of diagnoses. I don't actually, technically even know who my biological father is. There is more, but my point is, and I've mentioned this before, that I live my life very near my threshold for what I can actually tolerate, in terms of stress. It doesn't take much to push me over, because I am already, and always, coping. I am never not in coping mode. Coping with the trauma of who I am and where I come from. Physical trauma, emotional trauma. So, to the rest of the world, it's like "So you have a shitty little bagel shop job now, what is the big fucking deal?" Not so simple my friends. The big deal is, well, I'll just find a way to post a picture. That is going to help a lot. Those of you who've seen it can attest to the horrors of the polaroid of my dangling foot. I think motherfuchers at work would think twice about how they view me, if they knew what I am over-coming to not just be there, but smile, and god damn attempt to care about people's special, "extra toasted with light amounts of cream cheese, double wrapped, with chives on the side" needs.
In fact we're over due for a picture anyway. I will randomly post one of Jason Lee. It makes me feel better, and that's a good enough objective for right now.