The Darkness Continues

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Today is the day before Thanksgiving in America. I am not sure if anyone is aware but the holidays and I do not get along. ‘Family’ is almost synonymous with ‘holiday season’ and I have already mentioned that my family and I are at opposite ends of the soectrum.

Right now feelings of supreme paranoia, stress, depression and anxiety are raging inside.

I really just want to use a time machine to skip tomorrow and all the darkness that will come with it. While I am at it, I would like to skip tonight as well.

All these negative thoughts and feelings I tend to hide from people. Especially Mike.  I put all my pain and sorrow on him after the miscarriage and it was too much after everything else he was already dealing with.

I also try to not put too much on Sassy even though she says it is okay, I don’t feel it is okay. I don’t know what I did but I think I upset her tonight. But I am probably just being overly sensitive and paranoid as usual.

Tonight I noticed I don’t leave my house. My room, even. Unless I absolutely have to. If I have an engagement or appointment the days leading up to it at agony as I battle not to cancel them. My funds and lack of gas are my excuse usually but I just don’t want to leave. I don’t want to be here though either.

Like many others, I just wish there was a fairy godmother/father or guardian angel that will just magically drop down and make everything better. Either get me in school or help me be able to function even minimally so I could work and move out and run away. I have lost all sense of independence or will to thrive. But that doesn’t happen in reality.  I only have my nightmares when I do sleep and then this lucid nightmare when I am awake.

I started research on birth control. I have never been on any form of it nor even have I ever been to an gynecologist.  I feel like I need to be on birth control just so 2012 never happens again but there is so much I am scared of. Everything I have read points to it being a nightmare and really expensive to be on birth control if you are Bipolar. I am horrible with taking pills on time so there’s that issue. And the end note is my parents would have to pay for it. How the hell do I justify that?

I don’t see this ever getting better. I am Timmy stuck in the well with no Lassie to be found. I just know what to do or how to go on.

Drafted and posted using my Samsung Galaxy SIII. Please do forgive any typographical errors.

As Usual

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Let’s see. Since we last spoke I have quit my job, my meds, been to Jersey, got back together with my ex-boyfriend and more than few times nearly gave up on trying all together.

On a calm day, I will usually suffer an average of two panic attacks a day with a heavy dosage of depression and self-hate. I am not sure what to do about this as my psychiatrist seems to be at the edge of his abilities in trying to decide what to prescribe me since I refuse to attempt Lithium or Depakote and quit the Latuda due to costs.

Since he wasn’t willing to put me on medical leave, it quickly came to the point where I was given little choice of either quit my job or be fired due to attendance. So, on October 23rd of this year I quit my job at Walt Disney World. This is what everyone told me to do. This is what everyone including the medical professionals said would be best for me. And yet after I quit, everyone is immediately hounding me to get a new job. Even though literally two days before (it was on my birthday I got the lecture) I had quit my job due to being too mentally unstable to be able to even leave my house most of the time.

The week after my birthday I did a double duty of dog sitting and house sitting at two houses on opposites sides of town. I was promised payment for my services, and yet I did not even receive a thank you from either family. Later on I learned they were spreading rumors that I had trashed one of the houses and front yard. My sister, ladies and gents. The same older sister that had hosted me for my 23rd birthday and made me feel special for a short bit.

Know my family is very manipulative and scheming. We all know each other very well and how we all work. By hosting me for my birthday, I feel too guilty and uncomfortable confronting her on this. Good job. You win this round.

That weekend I was dog sitting I also had a countdown on my phone for a spontaneous trip to Atlantic City, New Jersey. See, on New Year’s Eve this year twenty minutes after the clock struck twelve a very important person to me passed on. Pop was the paternal grandfather of my ex boyfriend. While Mike’s parents (just his mother, really) and I never got along – his grandparents and I hit it off. Gram and Pop are and were so sweet and nice. Cliche amazing grandparents. Since Pop passed, Mike moved in with Gram to help watch after her and take care of her. Up until maybe  September our communication was very sporadic and I had a very clear line drawn in the sand to protect myself. I treated every text as if it was the last just in case it was the last. Then I don’t even remember what it was but we started talking again.

Oh, that is right. Chairforce (the coworker also named Mike) had been agitating me and Mike called me on the phone when I texted him while on the phone with Chairforce thus giving me an excuse to hang up. They both get off at work at relatively the same time and have usually an hour drive.

After that it was texting all day and phone calls at the same time every day. I would usually talk to whomever called me first unless Mike called me while I was speaking to Chairforce which then I would hang up. I always feel a smidge guilty but I can only listen to someone toot their own horn for so long. And that is all Chairforce does while talking.

“I shocked someone doing this.”

“I surprised them with my super human intelligence like this.”

“They were really amazed by what I did doing this.”

I am sure you know someone like this.

He is a very nice person and seems to constantly be doing  something for someone else (especially his ex’s finances) so he must talk for himself. And almost all of it is extremely inflated and exaggerated. You don’t take a pinch of salt with his stories, you chuck the whole handful.

Anyways. So, Mike and I were talking again. And he asked if I wanted to come up and see Gram who had been asking after me. He gad gotten an email for a 40% off coupon in Atlantic City so it would be really cheap for me to stay. Since it was so sudden, and I am truly the worst at booking travel, I asked if he would look for flight and book for me and I would pay him back the booking and everything.

So there I was. Just barely over three weeks before I would be getting on a plane to see a place and people I thought I had sworn off for the rest of my life. While the countdown ticked away, we were talking constantly and lots of flirting was happening. I didn’t admit to anyone that I was as excited to see Mike as I was to see Gram. Especially my family and Chairforce.

The night before my birthday I was at the first bonfire being held for my birthday where Mike said something along the lines claiming. I told him only if I got to do the same. He could call me his if I could call him mine. I wasn’t going to play that game again. I was going to demand a real relationship this time with full exposure. He said that was fair and we would talk about it when I came up. Long distance relationships are hard and shouldn’t be taken lightly. We both have trust issues.
It got to be that time. I was at Orlando International Airport waiting for my flight on Spirit Airlines to Atlantic City International Airport. I was doing okay. The entirety of the two weeks prior was filled with constant anxiety. Not over the flight or what would happen afterwards. But before. The airport itself. TSA. Boarding the plane. Would I be in a good seat? Would I find a seat near an outlet so I could charge my phone while I waited for two hours?

Even with all my lists I forgot my toothbrush. Yup.

When we pulled up to the drop off, I took a Xanax tab and another one maybe a half hour before boarding. I ended up falling asleep for the majority of the flight but of course you know I recorded the take off.

For all of what I had heard, Spirit Airlines wasn’t so bad!

I was staying at Harrah’s Casino with a water view.

On the last day while we were walking and driving around waiting for my time to go to airport, all I could think of was the talk we had had yet to have. I was incredibly nervous and worried about the entire thing. If he wanted to have it. Should I even bother. When should I instigate the conversation cause I knew he sure as hell wouldn’t. While we were walking on the fishing pier on the beach I finally came out with it and just asked ‘are we going to do this?’

He told me he was unsure of long distance relationships and a girl had recently screwed up all of his trust by going to back to her ex boyfriend the same day she had said they should try dating. And yes. This was one of the girls I was always paranoid of him messing with before he did his disappearing act. (Little sister, my ass.)

I reminded him I already told him my terms and if he wanted to try this I was willing to.

We decided to give it a try.

It soon after that came to be time for me to go the airport.

It was really fast since the airport is so small. Only ten gates in comparison to O.I.A. (or MCO its airport code) with two terminals and close to forty gates at each terminal. I still got pat down by TSA because Sally, Mike’s mustang peed on me. -.-

That car hasn’t done that to anyone since it happened to me in 2011 and my dad fixed it for him. Of course she had to say goodbye to me. Thanks, Sally. I missed you, too.

Everything was peaches and sunshine until we got on the plane. We’re moving along. I had a window seat on the wing with the seat next to me empty and a pilot hitchhiking in the aisle seat. I was cool and hadn’t even cried. I was ready for the crying but that wasn’t til later. Anyways. Chugging along and boom plane stops. Lights. Engines. Everything. Well. At least we were on the ground.

We get back to the gate and are kicked off the plane. We were told at minimum it would take an hour but who was willing to get back on the plane that suddenly not only lost power but refused to turn back on?

We ended up waiting for over seven hours. We were given a food “voucher” four hours in for $7.00. I had immediately after getting off thr plane bought a bag of combos. Another couple went and had sandwiches and a drink each. My very small bag of combos were five dollars. Their dinner? $45.00. Voucher my ass.

The entire time we were sitting there, what I had dubbed as the “bitch line” was constantly filled. I was avoiding it. I didn’t want to give up my prime seat along the wall where I had an outlet keeping my phone charged. I spent a lot of that time on the phone with Mike who was freaking out.

I am not sure if you remember but I have severe Agoraphobia. Fear of crowded and open spaces. And here I was locked in one for the unseeable future. I was eating Xanax like candy. Not really. But seeing as how I try to rarely if ever take it, taking those two tabs sure felt like it.

I called each of my parents (dad first of course) and Chairforce who was going to be my ride.

About two hours in a couple whose phone I watching for them whole they waited in line came over and warned me that the flight was probably going to get cancelled entirely and the flight to Ft Lauderdale leaving in forty five minutes was quickly filling up.

That’s when the real panic began.

Was I going to be stuck in the airport for the night?

Would I have to get a hotel?

How would I get to the hotel?

How would I pay for the hotel and cab?

I had and have zero money. I had some quarters left over from tolls in my purse and the two pennies change from my bag of combos and water bottle.

At that point I knew I would have to get in line. I explained my situation to the attendants at the desk when it was my turn and did my best to keep my voice level (trying not to cry. Not anger. They had no control over the situation. You learn that working in customer service your entire career life) and explained my situation. I was informed that unless the flight was cancelled they would not comp hotel or the rebooking of the flight. They possibly were going to be bringing a plane up from West Palm Beach that would be getting there around ten hopefully, a pilot that was with the girls informed me. But until that plane landed and they decided they were going or not going to use that plane, the flight wasn’t technically cancelled and thus I would have to wait.
Back to my seat on the wall I went. I had to lend out ny phone to a couple people. One’s phone wasn’t working and another didn’t have service. One had a three month baby by herself and another was an older woman who was utilizing a flip phone.

I had become queen and angel of that little charging podium.

I was doing my best to remain calm and just keep the mindset that I would eventually get on that plane and I had a place to charge to my phone.

I know it is very first world but some of my worst oanic attacks are when I lose my phone. Whether it is signal or if it dies, I freak. Every single possible emergency situation I could think of where I would need to be able get in contact with someone starts running through my mind.

Close to eleven pm we board the plane after I had been holding the three month old baby for almost an hour while the mother took a much needed nap.

The flight was fine. I fell asleep after taking another Xanax and after a little over two hours we landed at MCO a little after one in the morning. Chairforce was awesome and took a nap while waiting for my plane and came and got me. I gave him twenty bucks that my parents had stashed in the taurus for when he dropped me off at the taurus at a middle ground so he was more than reimbursed for his gas eco car and tolls.

I got home just ready to collapse in my bed and just compartmentalize this weekend. But my mother was in my room. With a trash bag. In her night gown. My bed was gone. My shelves and dresser was gone.

“So are you going to blow up the air mattress or am I?”

I hadn’t even said a word nor had she besides that sentence. I just turned around and walked away and downstairs to the laundry room where the love seat was for Timber and collapsed there.

I was down there for about an hour. I had cooled down and little and say to her “I am trying very hard to not be mad right now but I expect wherever you put my bed it will be back in my room in one piece tomorrow.”

With that I turned around gathered my blankets from the laundry room in their pile and made a bed on the floor. I can’t sleep on air matresses. With my arthritis every time I do, I can’t move afterwards. I prefer to sleep on the floor. Not an exaggeration or dramatization, I truly prefer it.

So for the next two nights I slept on my floor. I had found my bed in the dog pen and bleached the living hell of out and let it air out. I was angry in a very unsual way. A very physical way. I was throwing things. I broke a mirror while the house was empty.

To be honest that anger is still simmering but just bubbling below the surface.

My brother is now here on leave and why I am writing this post actually. As with every year whenever my brother comes home, I become the shame of the family. Not sure if you picked up on that by being made to sleep on a trashed floor.

Yesterday when I came home from a friend’s after a day of baking with Olive Garden left overs and a ton of pizelles (Italian cookies), my mother was in near tears. She couldn’t decided what to make dad dinner and didn’t know what she would eat. So I just quickly gave her my chicken parmesan, dayquil and tissues. Letting her think I believed it to be allergies otherwise she gets worse.

I made Dad dinner and explained what was going on with Mom.

I hadn’t spoken to my brother yet, he hadntw even been at the house as usual with some girl, but I texted him while I made fish for Dad.

I said I wasn’t trying to be snarky or nasty but was wondering if he would spend a day with Mom while he was here. It would help her feel better.

He showed up that night.

And he didn’t even do anything wrong today. But as usual my mother showed her preference. Today every moment I came out of my room and James was in the same room. “Your room stink. You need to take another shower. What is wrong with your hair? When are you getting a job. You need contribute. Go do the dishes (again. I wash them but she always puts them back in the sink).” So I was petting and playing with Moses and blows up on me.

I just walked out of the room. And here I am.

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View from the room

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I still don't understand the appeal of gambling.

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Mike snuck this into my bag cause he knew I loved it. I feel a smidge bad but love it too much.

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Pizelles

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First time I had worn this apron in four years.

Drafted and posted using my Samsung Galaxy SIII. Please do forgive any typographical errors.

Another Dream… Thing

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Yet another house. But this time I have a younger brother living with me. It has always just been the two of us. My ‘memories’ never mentioned a mother, or even one that had ever existed. Brief thoughts of a father passed when the younger of us was just an infant.

But all of a sudden every morning on our porch, a man began showing up with an old school revolver and gave it to us keeping one of his own. Each having a single bullet in the chamber. He would then aim for us while we ran for cover. When he missed, he left, leaving the gun he gave to us behind.

It had like this for about a month.

Never had we tried to return fire. Until one day this gunman grazed my arm. It was decided hide and seek was over. For some reason it was we were going to shoot him, not that I was going to shoot him. I mean, this younger brother of mine was maybe ten, if that.

So the next morning I’m supposed to say that we were ready for this stranger. Had the gun, and I was ready. But I definitely wasn’t. Guns terrified me. I was even more terrified of failing. That I would miss and lose our only bullet and this nightmare (ironic) would continue. Even with all my nerves, I was standing on that porch at ten in the morning when the sun lined up with plants I had hanging from the beams. Then this (idiotic) brother decided he was going to shoot the gunman. I don’t know why I handed the gun over but I did. He misses, of course. I grab the gun back and we run into the house. When the door slammed, that’s when splinters and gun shots started going off everywhere. I guess when we shot back, it kinda got rid of the ‘one shot off’ courtesy.

Eventually they stopped. I don’t know if the gunman had an automatic strapped to his back but bullet holes and resulting damage was everywhere. I placed the gun with zero ammo inside on the floor and look for this necklace. It was actually quite pretty. On a delicate silver chain with a patina, hung a pendant or amulet. It was around the size of a silver dollar with an amber and red resting amongst the silver filigree that was its resting spot.

At that point, I just closed my hand around the pendant and thought of the need for help. The need for someone to help me fix this. An image of a small river that was nearby surfaced amongst my thoughts and I figured if the heebeejeebee magic worked, that was the best sign. No, there were no special lights or blowing wind. Just me standing there looking like an idiot with my eyes closed in the middle of the room.

So I grabbed my brother and dragged him the few miles or so to this river bed. Of course this is a dream that for once kindly allowed me to skip a part. Murder? Nope. You’ve got to ‘see’ this. Rape? VIP seats! Suicide? You have the starring role.

We get to the river bed and there is a small ship waiting. Ship, not boat. Ship. Think yo ho, yo ho. There is a woman in the water standing in the shallows while a man stood on the bow of the ship. They seemed to be nice. They did offer to clear out that nasty river grass I cannot stand. And I mean, cannot stand. If there is river grass, whether it is in a spring or lake or whatever, I will not swim there. No sir, no thank you.

At the back of my mind I knew something was up because so far everyone and everything had been much too nice. Too freaking nice. Gunman giving us a gun and bullet of our own. Only shooting once and leaving. Easily finding help and now the turn down service.

The grass is gone so I get in the water to talk to them. She was standing but the water was well over ten feet where she was. Cheating, obviously. So I swam just a touch further to where a log happened to be for me to stand on near here. No, she was not on a log or rock herself. She’s just a magical fairy princess thing with a pirate ship that reminded me a lot of Mulan. Accept it.

So we came all this way, I’m soaking wet and we get to the part where they were going to help us. At this point all that magical ‘Oh yeah’ moments start happening. Where you remember a lot of important bits. Like the fact your father is or was some kind of godly royalty and his mother, my grandmother, wanted him dead. As far as she knew, he was.

Their big help was… nothing. Really. Yeah, I was confused, too.

It has nearly been an hour since I woke up and began writing this so details are starting to fade. I hate it when this happens.

We get out of the water and where the little Prince sits all nice and dry, he reiterates he needs to be the one to shoot the gunman. Who may or may not show up again the next day or choose to pick us off with a sniper rifle.

This time I say no. You’re funny. Ain’t happenin’.

The scene ends and the new chapter is that the mother found us. She came through the portal by the river with the whole shebang. Soldiers, banner holders, people to carry her. I’m sure if she had a fourth cousin, third removed, he’d have been there. Anyways, before unknown, was that there was a sort of festival/downtown between the house and the river in a country faire. She had sent ahead a band that was stationed all over the area to take us out. Akin to lone gunman it was more a game for her than admiring. She was like the Evil Queen of Candyland. I was having caramel apples shot at me through cannons. Which freakin hurt by the way. A solid apple with a nice rock coating. You take one to the ribs then talk to me. I’m racing and hiding (now we are back to usual) and I have pieces of solidified caramel shrapnel embedded in my skin. Wrong day to wear shirt and shorts.

Eventually I make my way back to the river figuring to go back through the portal she left in and face her head on. On the road to the river, I am tired. I am wounded. And I couldn’t run anymore. But I had to. So I grabbed a nearby guy that was apparently (I hoped. Really hard) was on my side and told him to ruin while holding my hand so it was either run or be dragged. So he does. But she’s gone. The portal is gone. But she left plenty of crazy people with bats of both the wooden and aluminium variety to beat me to death with. I was trapped with no where to go. One caught me on the back of my leg and down I went. By this time I had been waking up and falling back asleep continuously for the last six hours or so and decided enough was enough. When I was taken down and woke up soon after, I stayed awake. I’m not falling back asleep the ‘live’ (cause y’know, I’m going to die) through the experience of being beaten to death.

Bloody frickin’ houses.

Drafted and posted using my Samsung Galaxy SIII. Please do forgive any typographical errors.

Dreams of Home

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I keep having this dream. In small variations. But it involves this large, grandiose house in a remote area. Sometimes I’d be moving in with friends or friends of friends. But last night it was for some reason my parents (specifically my mom) said they had to buy it but weren’t going to use it. And showed me the closing paperwork.

So I show up to this house and the drive way is over grown, and there are all these damp cardboard boxes filled with flyers. Almost all of them were of the political variety featuring the same couple on their own respective adverts. But one box was nearly empty with only two or three. These flyers were only of the older man. The other boxes with papers for the wife were full and neatly placed.
Why was the one box almost empty? So of course being me, I consolidated the contents to fit in one box and broke the empty boxes down.
Once I moved into the house and couldn’t believe it was entirely furnished. But just a table and chairs but as if someone had hired an interior decorator.
I dropped my ever present backpack, filled with clothes and necessities in one of the side rooms and began exploring. The theme seemed to be vintage with glass accents mostly. Whites, and creams with mints and burgundy.
All the trash outside was collected and placed into the already present burn pile and started burning that. Eventually, I decide I needed to take a shower so that’s what I did.

Right before I had hopped into the bathroom, I had noticed a van and trailer pull up the driveway but kept following the round about and leave. When I saw the gate lock after it I decided to ignore it for some reason. It was not as if I could chase them down and demand answers.

Anyways, I get in the shower and during it I hear the front door open. And people. Lots of people. With the figuring of ‘locked, and empty’ house, I had left the bathroom door wide open.

There were at least ten or fifteen people by the time I make it out of the bathroom. I recognized some from the group shot on the bottom of the couple’s flyer.

This was their house. But it was my house. Why were they here? How did they still have keys? Did I make a mistake? Was I not supposed to be here?

This entire time I had been waking among them but none seemed to notice me until I approached one and said, “I’m confused. There seems to be a misunderstanding here.”

It felt like being called up to the bosses or principal’s office. I was told to sit and wait for a man they all were scared of.

I was placed in a chair by a window that over looked the front yard and it looked beautiful. The driveway was suddenly not over grown. No dead plants or trees anywhere and that table that held the boxes and flyers was gone, too.

I was very scared at that point.

One by one they all filed into this sitting room where since introduced themselves and others pretended I did not exist. Or maybe they really didn’t know I was there. I dunno.

Eventually the man arrives and he was livid. The same calm and calculated politician from the flyers. He saw it as a three bears and Goldilocks situation.

As he is posturing and yelling that van pulls up again and the driver comes rushing into the house. There had been some accident involving someone they knew and they all had to leave immediately. While they were all running around trying to collect everyone and figure out who was riding with whom, I was standing lost trying to understand just what the hell was going on and what was I supposed to do.

The chaos continued as I woke up.

When I woke up, I realized I had never even looked at the full house yet. If it was my house, why didn’t I automatically go to the master bedroom?

Drafted and posted using my Samsung Galaxy SIII. Please do forgive any typographical errors.