Purposefully Seeking OCD

I’m going to admit something.. you probably already know, but something I’ve kept hidden from myself. Its how I process, I know this.. I just… well.. its hard to see what you’re hiding from yourself, because… well.. you’re hiding it from yourself.

See how that works?

I’ve been trying to re-build my life for years, with the most progress happening this last year since the divorce. I may or may not have had a “breakdown” years ago. Its hard to say, and never was diagnosed. But looking back, I have to wonder.

All I know is that somewhere along the way, I forgot how to be a functional human being. I honestly blame my ex, but in reality I should blame myself. I stayed where I should have fled.

I’m discovering little things on my road back to humanity. I forgot what it was like to take joy in doing something for absolutely no reason other than I wanted to. I forgot what it was like to actually get a real paycheck for real services rendered. I forgot that pride.

People used to call me “Monica”.. remember Monica from friends.. she was OCD, reserved, a great cook. Everything had its place. It drove her crazy when something wasn’t where it belonged.

Thats how I used to be. Seriously. Everything had its place. Somehow during the battle with my ex (who believed that everything went wherever he decided to leave it, and that fairies would move it back to its spot), up until even today, that particular OCD has gone away. (not fully, but for the most part yes.)

I was actually having a conversation with my best friend where she began to talk about how she now has my OCD… well not exactly, she’s much more of a clean-freak than I ever was. I started looking around my apartment and realized that.. I no longer have any of the “functional” parts of my OCD.

Seriously, its like apathy has taken over OCD. Like I am (was) functioning defeated. Like I’d given up.

So I’ve decided that I’m going to get it back. I’m happier with things in their place. I’m happier with a cleaner/neater apartment.

And so, I’ve been slowly digging myself out of this hole I’ve built. I can almost see my dining room table again.

I’m making a new list of “rules” and will be practicing doing them until I get back to where I was… ok maybe not the insane OCD crap.. but functional. Where I can have someone over maybe without saying “Oh, umm.. just close your eyes.”

(Btw, I have managed to rid myself of my “I need this” hoarding OCD, which I am not seeking to take up again. Thanks but that’s one I can do just fine without.)

**** For you that are grossing yourselves out with your imaginations, please understand that my mess is clean mess. I don’t have left over food containers all over, or crumbs everywhere. Its just old things to get rid of, papers to file, clothes to give to goodwill.. and some canned goods to put away.

Just A Good Long Cry

I’d been getting worried about myself the last week or month really. I began wondering if I was turning into some kind of sociopath or something as I couldn’t seem to access my emotions.  I wanted to cry sometimes but couldn’t. Things that should have had me rolling on the floor would merely make me smile or just not phase me at all.

I’d been thinking about the ex often. Not in a romantic way, but more so in an angry wishing him harm kind of way. I found myself containing volumes of anger and bitterness, and I didn’t like it one bit but also felt powerless to do anything about it.

To be honest what really scared me the most was that night with Hock. He’d be sweet and thoughtful.. giving actually.. and instead of triggering the same in me, I found myself getting angry. It was sweet stuff that threatened to melt my heart, and I resisted it. I didn’t want to feel anything, and I found myself angry at Hock for making me even try to feel anything.

All this last week, the slightest kind thing on TV or clip forwarded to me from Youtube, and I’d get choked up.

Then last night’s Glee. The dam burst and I cried like a baby through the entire show. At first, it was the small little touching moments of the show that got my tears flowing, but somewhere in the middle I just broke down and cried, a hard uncontrollable sob-fest.

I think its the first real big cry I’ve had since we’d started the whole divorce process (well once I knew it was really divorce), let alone the first big cry since the divorce.

All that anger, resentment, stress, fear, etc… finally bubbled back to the surface and let itself out.

After the show was over, I cried a little more then dried my tears. I felt better. I felt human.

It really was a good long cry, and something I truly needed.

Gimme A Naked Man

So I went out last night. It was a friend’s birthday party, Crissy, and so it was an obligation as well as I needed to get out.

I’d love to pretend for you all that I’ve not written because I’ve been extremely busy dating and going out and meeting people, but that would be lies.  Instead, I’ve been battling some very painful sickness, which at one point had me seriously considering suicide. I know, scared the hell out of me too.  So I’ve not really been out much at all, and have been hermitting to a point of extremely scary. When you’re sick, you just don’t feel social unless you’re one of those girls that likes people to feel sorry for her and bring her soup and fluff her pillows. I’m much too independant for that. My arm could be cut off and I’d still want to do the tournequet myself. You actually know I’m desperately ill (aka get worried) when I actually request help or let you do things for me.

So I’ve not been social lately, partly because I didn’t want to, and partly because I didn’t want people to see me like that. Yes, I have my vanity. So I haven’t had much to write about or much want to write really.

But I’ve been feeling a little better, and for the last few days, had an extreme need to go out and be social… if nothing else have a drink.

So I went to Chrissy’s birthday bash. I get there just in time to see Chrissy in a conga line with several others. Yeah, it was gunna be a good night baby!

There were about 20-30 people there as part of Chrissy’s group and I met maybe 10 of them. A few of the girls I knew from before and were ok, but a couple of the new girls.. well.. lets say wow. (yes, thats not a good wow)

So the “cool” people were all hanging out and catching up on each others lives. Whats new.. whats old.. and Ooo did you hear.. While listening to music, doing a jig, and drinking.

We then moved the party over to the karaoke room. A few of us gathering at tables to watch the show. We’re joking and laughing and parts of the party were staying for a few then leaving then coming and leaving..

Then this attractive man shows up. Sees me. Smiles, and comes over jokes with me and sits down next to me.

He’s dressed well, showing he has some taste other than tshirts and jeans, but not dressed well enough to set off my douchebag sensors.

For Chrissy’s birthday, someone had given her a small leather flogger. Getty was holding it and playing with it next to me and Wade (the attractive man next to me).

Seriously, introduce a flogger to a group of drunk people and you’ll never look at any of them the same way again. I promise.

I teased Getty about her being a masochist since she kept hitting herself with it (not hard, just tapping it against her side), and she informed me that she had one at home. Boggle. Though I really should not be surprised, I was.

I do not have a flogger yet, but I assure you I will soon.

So Wade jumps in the conversation, half teasing Getty, but full on flirting with me. After my month or more of hermitville, I was surprised and flattered, and more than willing to flirt back.

This broke out my evil side. Most people don’t realize (at least right away) that I am truely evil. Sure sure, I may sound and look a little too reserved or be a little too goody goody.. but I am all about encouraging others to do things they shouldn’t.

Wade watched in amusement as I prodded Getty into using the flogger more seriously, and on other people. Random men walking by.. “Oh he looks like he’s been a very bad boy.. Getty, you know he needs a little spanking..”

The evil glimmer in my eye was sparkling brightly and Wade was eating it up. Then I turned Getty on him. Telling him that he looked like he needed a little something, that he wanted to be spanked. I even teased that I could do it properly.

He squirmed in his chair and discouraged Getty and pleaded with me to stop encouraging her. I just grinned evilly, and winked at him.

“I’m sorry, I’m evil. I can’t help it. And you do look like you’re in need of it.”

He flashed me a smile, and a look that said “If only I could put you over my knee.”

Then Mr. DrunkenPants happened, and Getty went to help him. He was supposedly part of our group. He was about 30? and so drunk that he was nauseated.

This interupted our sexy banter, but also left Wade and I alone to talk. The song turned country, and I mentioned to Wade that I found it strange how much of the karaoke picks were country music. (Most Austin karaoke seems to be rock btw) He responded that he liked country music and asked what I liked. I flirtingly responded that I liked a bit of everything.

I told him that I grew up on country music (I did) and had a bit of nostalgic love for it. He wanted to know what kind. The old twang or the new more rock-like country. I said both, and told him about my college years going to country bars to dance two-step.

He heard two-step, and insisted that I go dance with him. There was no saying no (Seriously sexy),  despite my pleading that I did not have dancing shoes on. I had on purpose worn flipflops that would make dancing difficult so I wouldn’t be tempted to go club dance with Chrissy and injure my knees. I didn’t expect anyone showing up to like to country dance.  Next time I’ll know better.

So he whisks me off to the dance floor. I’m stepping on toes and having trouble following.

1. because I’m rusty with my two-step.

2. the song was two-step in double time (like two-step on fast forward)

3. I’m concentrating on not losing my shoes.

But I managed to pull it off, and we had a great dance.

As we walked off the dance floor, he held my hand, moving his fingers to interlace with mine. I did not want to return to our group. I was all “take me home now buddy”. (yeah its been a while since I’ve had sex, stop judging me) 🙂

As we get a few feet off the dance floor, we both seem to realize that we’ve just met and realize we’re holding hands, fingers interlaced, and we stop holding hands. It was one of those moments.. like being drunk in a dark bar and kissing someone, and then when they turn the lights on to go home, you realize just how much you’re in public.

We walked back to the group together. Talking and flirting. When we’d returned, Getty shot me a look like “you go girl”… then drunk girl happened.

This girl who honestly looked trashy, was drunk and Getty had witnessed her doing a full on makeout session in the other room with some guy, returned to our group and latched herself onto Wade pushing me away. Wade looked at me pleadingly to help him.

I tried, but she would not be swayed. She was quite intent on owning Wade, and he was nicely trying to extract her. The more I tried, the more closely she clung. Wade all the while appologizing to me, and complaining about her.

It was then that I was informed that our group was being kicked out because Mr. DrunkenPants had puked on the floor. (Seriously, it was like college deja vu)

We were all meeting at another place. A strip joint.

I’d been warned about this prior to going to the party that the night would end at a local strip joint. Since I’d never been to one before, I decided it might be a good time to go check it out.

Wade was being responsible and trying to arrange rides for those who were too drunk to drive. Since I was stone cold sober, I offered my services. Mostly I offered them because I didn’t want drunkgirl trying to go with him in his car, and partly because I was hoping that he’d take up the offer himself. He unfortunately was completely sober too, but he did jump on my offer to take drunkgirl. He was very consistent in his not wanting to be with her.

So after what seemed like hours of trying to manipulate drunk people.. drunkgirl got in my car (put there by Wade himself) and Getty drove the Mr Drunkenpants car to his place about a mile away and I was to pick her up there.

As I take off, Drunkgirl starts telling me about Wade, revealing to me that she and Wade are good friends. She and Mr DrunkenPants are also good friends. It was myself and Getty that were the new people to the group.

At this news, I was no longer very happy with Wade. If she was really his friend, it was his responsiblity to take her drunk ass home.. not mine. The more she talked, the more I realized. I am quite certain that Wade and her are FWB friends, and his displeasure stemmed less from revulsion of her and more of being pissed that she’d f’d things up for him with anyone else.

I really try not to judge people, but I fail all the time. After seeing this girl, I’m not sure I want any penis that’s been near her to be anywhere near me. I’m quite sure Wade has no idea what hill he’ll have to climb to get back on my good side. He may even need a full delousing as well as a note from his doctor.

Drunkgirl also entertains me with stories about how she’s not that drunk, despite claiming that she doesn’t know where she lives, and that she walks like the world is tilting from side to side. She was dressed in clothes that were obviously too small for her that made me wonder what industrial strength thread was holding up the seams. She tells me got divorced 3 yrs ago as proof that this is just a one time thing, an emotional release. I refrain from telling her that my ex left me a litttle over a year ago, and I just signed papers letting him sell the house so him and his girlfriend can go buy a new lovenest closer to the city.

She repeats that she’s not that drunk. At least 20 times on the way to pick up Getty.

At Mr DrunkenPant’s place, Getty is still trying to pry him out of his car. She’s being too damn nice, I think, but thats Getty.  So I get out and tell Drunkgirl to get out and help her friend into his house. She doesn’t move.

I am by this point lividly pissed at the entire situation.

Mr. DrunkenPant’s is complaining about me that he doesn’t know me or Getty. (Dear Mr. DrunkenPants, When getting drunk, make sure you have at least one friend who’ll drive you home. And don’t complain about the niceness of strangers. Thanks)  So I go get Drunkgirl and tell her that her friend is complaining that he doesn’t know us and I point blank tell her to get her ass out of my car and help him.

She does. Finally.

She leads Mr. DrunkenPants to his bathroom, and I try to snag Getty to get her to leave with me so we can ditch both of them there. Getty insists she needs to obey Mr DrunkenPant’s wishes and calls the place where his daughter is staying asking them to keep her overnight. (Its midnight, I think they’ve already figured that out. But she calls anyway.)

So as soon she can, Drunkengirl runs back out to my car and plants herself in it. No choice but to take her with us.

We finally take off to go to the Cabaret, and half the ride there Drunkgirl is telling us she’s not that drunk, and that she’s a responsible person. I stop myself from telling her she’s overselling it.  She then gets out her phone and calls Wade. (Yes they are good friends. Asshole.) She then proceeds to bitch out Wade for putting her in a car with strangers.

I correct her “No no.. we’re strange bitches.”

She tells him, and continues on her rant calling us strangers and how dare he…

I correct her again.. “No no.. we are psychotic crazy women”

She tells him that exactly. (Hey I have to get some fun out of this)

We arrive at the Cabaret and she’s still on the phone with him. She doesn’t exit the car.

“Please get out of my car so I can lock it.”

She grumbles and gets out. I lock the car and run off toward the entrance with Getty. Drunkengirl follows, but never actually enters the establishment.

We presume she doesn’t have the $10 cover.

Due to all the shenanigans, Getty and I are late and we’ve lost half the party. Wade is no where to be seen, so I can’t even bitch at him myself.

So Getty and I find our own corner and sit down. I watch the show trying to simmer down and have fun. This is my first time at a strip club, so I wanted to relax and watch and see what all the commotion is about.

What I’m seeing is a combination of gymnastics, high heels, and no clothes.. plus a few moves you can see on any club dance floor anywhere.  A couple girls were talented and impressive, but most were merely flexible girls showing their goods. B O R I N G.

Now I might be more entertained had there been a couple nearly naked men doing it, but if I want to see tities shake I can do that in my mirror at home. Thats at least more fun because I can challenge myself to get them to shake in different ways or do different things.. But there was no challenge and no fun to be had.

It didn’t help any that I was tired I’m sure.

Getty however was all into it. I really think she’s gay (for more reasons than just this btw), but she has to realize that herself. She was oohing and ahhing over the girls.. or at least some girls.. and even got a lap dance. Even though the lap dance was happening right next to me, I got distracted by the lights or something, because I only saw a bit of it and then when I looked back the girl was putting her clothes back on. It has become glaringly obvious to me that women are not my thing.

Despite my family’s confusion once in thinking that I and my best friend were lesbian lovers, and despite that sometimes men piss me off to the point of wanting to give up on men completely… I just have never had a thing for women. My friends and I have never had girly snuggling sessions. I’ve never kissed a girl nor have I been tempted to. The closest to gay I’ve gotten was when I was 8 or 10 or something and a girlfriend came over for a sleepover. She convinced me to play a doctor type thing, where we sucked on each others nipples. It seemed weird at the time and meant absolutely nothing. It felt like the equivalent of being licked in the face by my dog. A little bit of Eww.

I’ve never really understood some girls’ draw to each other for physical affection, kissing, teasing, playing, or sex. I’m just not wired that way.

Now.. give me a naked man.. Thats a whole different story.

Guys Like Psycho Chicks

I feel horrid. I’ve neglected this blog.

So where have I been?

First, I actually tried to take some time to do some real job searching. I know. I am amazed too.

Second, I got sick. Not normal sick, but scary sick to the point where I did not go anywhere or do anything, or even really talk to anyone.. Thus nothing to write.

I am starting to feel better.. that and I’m putting off going to bed because I now associate sleep with unpleasant sickness and pain. (I’m sure this psychosis is temporary)

*****

Anyway, I was talking today with my best friend.  She was telling me all about her ex-boyfriend who suddenly showed back up in her life acting as if they’d never been apart.

They’d split months ago. He left her with a whirl of psycho-ness burning all bridges. Aka he called her many unpleasant names and told her she was bad in bed among other things. He then left the country for work, and I guess is now back.

He IM’d her. She said “Hi” to be polite then quickly told him she didn’t have time to talk and walked away.  He then showed up at her apartment and asked her if she wanted to go for a ride on his motorcycle.  She said no.

“What you don’t like motorcycles anymore?”

She replied, “No, I just don’t like you.” and closed the door.

Chatting on the phone with me, she sounded off.

“What in the world could he possibly been thinking? What kinda crazy does he have to be to break up with me like that, leave the country without a word, and then come back and expect me to fall at his feet?”

It was the crazy that we began to discuss.

She’d told me enough of this man’s past to know that he liked to date crazy. No no.. not just normal crazy women, but “Wow psycho” women. It was obvious to us now that he helped drive them there.

I have a policy not to date men who like to date crazy women. Its that whole drama thing that I find they’re drawn to.. and if I’m not drama enough myself, I tend to find these men will drive me into it.. until I wake one day and I’m homicidal.  So yeah, I don’t date guys who have a history of dating crazy women, mostly because I don’t want to go to jail.

Anyway… I got off track…

We got to discussing this trend we’re finding that men seriously like crazy chicks. I don’t know what it is.. but they do.

I’m not sure if they’re just so used to crazy that they don’t know how to function in a relationship without it… or if its hardwired into their programming.

Just so you all know.. there are a few girls out there who can be rational most of the time. I know.. you don’t believe me. *sigh*

If this trend doesn’t fix itself though… My BFF and I are going to start “psycho chick” training classes.  I mean.. if you can’t beat ’em.. join ’em.. right?

Insecurities And White Coats

First, I’d like to thank everyone for their helpful advice about Mac and for not outright calling me psychotic. 🙂

I’m not going to write off Mac yet, but I’m still leery.

Partly I’m leery because my alarm bells are going off, which I’m not usually that far off the mark… Ignoring alarm bells is what got me into the marriage from hell, so I’m cautious.

As I got to thinking about it yesterday, after viewing things from other’s perspectives and going back and reading our text history… My alarm bells were set off by two things.

1. His leaving in the middle of conversations and not bothering to text me back a response in any kind of timely fashion. (Change in pattern)

2. We had been playing a subtle cat/mouse game where anytime the conversation got near anything obviously sexual, one of us would steer the conversation away from it. Usually him. It had made me feel safe, and that he wanted to get to know me. Then last week he changed that game by conversing obviously sexual every time we talked. (Change in pattern)

I was told that I’m “over-thinking and overreacting” and I may be. I probably am.

I want to trust Mac. I do. I should just relax and enjoy  the ride, but I’m terrified I’m going to get obliterated.

Partly, I’m insecure because I really like him which ups the stakes.

Partly, I’m insecure because I have no idea wtf he’s doing with me. My own insecurities.

On a scale of hotness, Mac is about 8-9.  If he was a little taller (he’s maybe 5’10 optimistically) he’d be a 10. He’s physically fit, muscular without being body builder yucky, smart, driven, well-traveled, funny, and communicative for a man. He honestly could have any woman he wanted… or at least most women.

I on the other hand, am an acquired taste. Back in my “youth”, I used to be able to get guys to approach me from across the bar.. any guy I wanted. I was also quite a bit skinnier then.  For someone my size, I’m smoking hot.  But thats for someone my size, and with my clothes on.  Clothes off.. is a whole different story.

My friends say I’m too harsh on myself and that I’m gorgeous. They’re my friends they’re supposed to say that. But if anyone knew my actual weight, they’d suddenly “understand”.  I look about 50-75 pounds less than I actually weigh.

I think I’m honest about my “hotness” level.. and would place myself on the hotness scale as about a 6.  For some with skinny-girl-fetish, I’d be a 3-4. For people with a fat-girl-fetish, I’d be about a 8-9.

I just don’t see Mac as having a fat girl fetish.  So I don’t understand what in the world he’s doing with me.

This reminds me a lot of an ex-boyfriend. One of those that “got away” per se. His name was Charlie. (seriously thats his real name – If you know Charlie, please let me know where he is, I’d love to see him again)

Charlie was drop dead gorgeous. He was constantly hit on by every hot girl in town, and could get laid anywhere anytime by almost any girl.  Suave, charming, sexy… He actually bared a resemblance to the “Marlboro Man” with his chiseled features, dark hair, and heart-stopping blue eyes.

And he wanted me.

Back then, I was much “lighter” and pretty sexy, even though he was obviously way hotter than me. (Seriously, the girls were like “Wtf is he doing with her?”)  He and I got along famously personality wise and just being around Charlie was enough to make me smile.

It was actually during my “Waiting til Marriage” virginity phase, so he wasn’t with me to get laid… though we spent most nights together. He actually promised me that he’d never try to have sex with me. He was dead serious and kept his word. (He actually said that when I did have sex I would want it all the time.. he wasn’t far off.) I felt truly safe with him.

He was a functional alcoholic, though I didn’t know it until we’d been together for two months. He’d said something along the lines of being accused of always drinking.

I replied with, “What? I’ve never seen you drunk.”

He replied “Honey, you’ve never seen me sober”

To be honest, while I knew alcoholism is bad, I didn’t care. I loved him, and would have stood by him through anything.

A month or so later he took a job out of state and we broke up. Sadly, one of my best and most healthy relationships ever was with an alcoholic. He always made me feel beautiful and safe and wanted.

While we were together, he gave me one of his jackets. It smelled like him and so I never washed it for years until the smell of him finally left it. I still have it.

I never did understand why Charlie was with me, and if things work out with Mac, I’m fairly sure I’ll never understand why he’s with me either.

But I suppose I should just chill and let the ride take me.. Wherever it leads.

How Do You Fix Crazy?

Mac and I have been texting. Nothing huge. Nothing in depth. But enough that I am getting to know him better and haven’t found his flaw yet. (yes I am currently liking him enough that I am looking for his flaw to save myself from heartbreak, but thats for another post.)

We’ve also texted long enough that my “Crazy” is coming out.

I do my best not to show it, but when I really start to like a guy, I lose all sense of rational thought.

Dear Men… if I’ve ever pulled a “OMG she’s paranoid and jumping to conclusions” on you.. I’m about two steps from showing up at your door naked begging you to let me be your love slave. (Though that feeling usually lasts until you actually take me up on it.. then for some reason I come to my senses.)

I honestly thought I’d gotten over my marriage and divorce better than I seem to have.

Mentally (and emotionally) I’m in a significantly better place than I think I’ve ever been in my life, but I’m finding that I still need work.

There’s this one huge flaw my ex had that really did a number on me and how I interact with men I want to date. (Men friends never get to experience this, just those I want to date)

My ex was very withholding. I’m not talking just some things… but with pretty much everything. Emotionally. Socially. It didn’t matter.  If something was wrong, he’d be silent until I either needled it out of him, or guessed the problem myself.

Communicating with him was a lot of work on my part, and something I’ll never ever do again. If talking to you and you sharing with me.. isn’t easy and open.. I’m just going to walk. I just don’t have the patience in me anymore.

I hadn’t really noticed just how profoundly this had affected me until this weekend texting Mac.  There were a few instances where he’d get quiet and not reply. I began to panic and analyze.

I knew it was crazy, but I couldn’t stop my mental programming from going.

Why is he not replying? Did I say something offensive? Am I boring? Is he really just not that interested? Thats it.. he just doesn’t like me… or worse.. I’d jump to.. He hates me now probably.

I’d do my best to cover it up or word something in a way that it wasn’t screaming “Hi, I’m Maruska and I need a straight jacket.”

But he’s smart. He caught on.. and even called me on it. He didn’t seem too upset by it, and joked around.. but we all know that “insecure crazy girl” is a red light.

Sadly, I see this only being the tip of the iceberg. I can totally see myself devolving into “Where are you now?” texts and other stalker desperation.  Wanting to know where he is all the time, who he’s with..

Crazy.

I know its crazy. I hear the thoughts go through my head and I know its crazy.  So I try to ignore it.  I remind myself of who Mac is, and that so far things have been easy with him, and I’ve not completely scared him off yet.

I’m still dating around, and not taking things too seriously.. but I know crazy when I feel it.

Scared and Crazy.

I think I need a Mac-Timeout. Put my head back on straight.  Sadly.. he’s not the only man with the capability right now to push my crazy button, he’s just the one with the most immediate promise.

The thing is that I … well I think I’ve come to the conclusion that my ability to trust a man in a relationship is broken, and I’m afraid the only way to fix it will be with the patience of a good man.  I’m not entirely sure any good man on the planet is that patient.

So how do I fix it?

Why I Hate Football…

I didn’t mention it the other day… nor did I really mention this to the person who kick-started the whole train of thought which is this post.  Friday night’s conversation about why I have a deep seated loathing for football, opened up some old wounds that I had forgotten. I almost broke into tears while on the phone, and almost cried about it when I got off the phone.

It honestly shocked me this sudden emotion about something so silly as football.

So I thought about it. I have good memories of football. I have great memories of football. But I also have many many horrid memories of football.

I have never watched football for the game though. Ever.  Dear Ex’s.. no matter what I told you, I never ever watched football because I actually wanted to watch the game. Never. Not Once.

I grew up in Nebraska as most of you know by now. Its a huge football state. College Football. The NFL is for losers and douchebags (hey its how I was raised).

So most of my childhood was entire fall seasons of football games. Watching them on TV when televised (rare) or listening to the game on the radio while watching or helping my dad putter around in the garage.

One of my favorite and probably earliest memories of watching football was sitting on my grandfather’s lap in my parent’s basement. Everyone else was doing something else. Mom & Grandma were talking something boring (I was like 5, all adult talk was boring) and my sisters were doing their usual doing something beyond my young kid skills or otherwise ostracizing me.  So I went to see if I could sneak in some TV since I was bored (we were limited to 2 hours only a day and we didn’t have cable).

There was Grandpa watching the game. I knew enough to know he wouldn’t let me switch the channel, and I was not rude enough to ask. But he offered to share his easy chair with me, and let me watch the game with him. He even took the time to tell me what was happening on the screen.

I have other random memories of watching with my father and other family members. It was a social time. A bonding time. But for me, it was never about the game.

In college, one of my guy friends who I’d always wanted to date (and whom everyone else thought we were dating.. and whom ended up being gay) invited me to some Husker game parties. It was just a fun time with food, and cheering, and bonding.  But it was never about the game.

Then came my ex.

He’d gotten turned onto football a couple years earlier, and said he liked the Saints. It was the first and only team he’d ever watched live, and watched the games with his ex’s father.

I’ve always disliked the Saints. I honestly don’t give a rats-ass about most teams. Never did. I could care less if you’re a Packers or Steelers or Bears or Redskins (are those all NFL football teams?) fan. But I’ve never liked the Saints. (I’m serious.. cheering for the Saints to me is a lot like cheering for evil or poison.. I don’t know what it is.. but I just have never liked the Saints.. You know if they changed their name to the Zombies, I’d probably like them)

He said he didn’t have to watch the Saints.. he just liked football. (Total lie)

One lie lead to another really. I’m not going to say its all his fault, as I’m sure I’ve got a hand in this too.

But what he’d told me was just a one day a week thing, suddenly became 2. Then 3. Then 4.  Anytime I wanted to go somewhere, there’s a game.  It started with “I have to watch the Saint’s play” to “I have to watch everyone play because it all ties into how the Saint’s will do on…blah blah blah”

Sundays were completely wasted because there was the pre-pre-game, the pre-game, the introduction to the game, the game, the exit of the game, the post game, and the post-post game.

Combine this with being able to walk into the room wearing nothing but a piece of lingerie, and not be noticed (even during a post-game or pre-game show).. I began to really hate football.

Just the sound of the game in the background got my hackles up.

Soon regular NFL wasn’t enough. There was the sports packages, the NFL packages, the no-one-cares old NFL game packages.. and then he got into college football. He wanted to decorate the living room in Saint’s football stuff as well.

Football played 24/7 in the house. I honestly half the time didn’t know if the game he was watching was “the game” or just some rerun or not.  So I didn’t know if I should be nice and not interrupt or if I was free to interrupt. I was supposed to just “know”.. you know..

So now there’s a crapload of pain and anger about football and the good memories were drowning in it.  But I am healing.

At the start of this football season (and even before that) the mere mention of football, and I’d tense up. I’d get twinges of anxiety, anger, and hatred.

The other night on the phone, when asked about the SuperBowl, I discovered I wasn’t angry. I really hadn’t been angry when football was mentioned in weeks.. or maybe months.

I still don’t like the Saints, but I now can hear that word and the “Who Dat” without wanting to punch something.

Baby Steps.


Dark Days

I am having a dark day. These kinds of days should motivate me to be better, do better, and fix the things in my life that make me sad. Should anyway.

But right now I’m overpowered by a complete sense of failure.  No not just a sense of having failed in the past. But a sense of having failed, failing now, and no hope of not failing in the future.

Like I said. Dark Day.

I woke this morning with tears in my eyes. Tears brought on by the mere thought of “What am I going to do with my life?”

Followed by more tears and anxiety with the next thought of “I don’t know”.

Normally this would not get me down, and events like last night would be motivational.

Unfortunately the combination of last night, and yesterday’s experiment with something I’ve not tried before (mild allergic reaction) has caused today’s chemical alteration.

I have days like this. Just days. I know how to prevent them, but sometimes the urge to try something new gets the better of me. (Come on, who doesn’t like to try something new?)

Technically, today I’d pass as clinically depressed. I’m not suicidal, don’t worry. The darkness is never that ambitious. It merely likes to taunt and torture.

(funny, I feel it lifting as I type this. Hmm maybe I should keep a dark day journal)

Don’t Have The Time

Yesterday was interesting.

First of all, I “won” this trip (hotel stay) to Hawaii a month or so ago, and I had to list someone as going with me. Now preferably, I wanted to go with someone I’d be able to enjoy myself with and could afford such a trip. That alone narrowed it down greatly. I could have invited a girlfriend or … Well I decided to invite Luke.

I figured a week in Hawaii. 24/7 together. Should be enough time for both of us to work through whatever was still between us. Most likely we’ll either spend the entire trip having sex, or attempting not to kill each other. This will be the most time that we’ve ever spent together, alone or not. Sink or swim. (I’m very much expecting us to sink)

I told him about it after the fact, and to say he was overjoyed would be putting it mildly. He’s a little too excited for comfort.

****

Then there was the friend-request from my ex-bf’s (almost fiance, now one of my best friends) little brother. The kid was still in HS when I dated his older brother. He’s a nice guy I suppose, but he has a long history of addiction. Drugs, Booze, and smokes like a chimney. He’s not good looking at all, though that may be partly due to the addiction and lifestyle he leads.

I’ve never liked Jord, and him and the rest of his family is why I forced his brother to do several things… like get the fucking hell away from them and visit only on holidays. (It was one of the best things his brother ever did btw. He now has a successful career, a happy marriage, and a kid.) Sure sure I was nice to Jord when I saw him, because for a while he was my little brother too. I actually added him on FB because of that sentiment. Harmless but troubled little bro.

So I asked him how things were going? (I’d not talked to him in years)

To which he replied:

hey im doin ok i got 4 DUIs now i just got outa jail in aug. thats what i get for bein a bad boy but anyways u r lookin really really good damn u look like u lost weight cuz u take a real good picture and of course u have always been pretty but how are u i seee u still live in austin the place where i was born so are u involved got a man dating married kids whats up whats the scoop sorry i dont use periods or commas its too much of a hassle but anyways chat back if u wanna

Sadly, unlike most messages like this, my headache was not due to the lack of punctuation or bad spelling. I already knew he was relatively unschooled. My issue was my schock in the amount of balls he had to actually hit on me, not to mention the skin-crawling. My guess is that he’s still on something. I honestly don’t even know how to reply. I feel like forwarding it to his brother and have him smack some sense into him.

I’m actually a legend in his family, which is one of the reasons my ex’s wife hates me. His mom loves me like a daughter, and treats me like a goddess.  She, I, and my ex all know full well that had I not stepped in and forced my ways onto my ex that he’d have been dragged down by the family as well.

Wow that last paragraph sounded so full of myself didn’t it? Its not really.. ok kinda.. I am proud of how my ex turned his life around.  But also, he and his mother credit me with it as well. His mother actually asked me to give the “best-man” speech at his wedding.

I used to be really big into “Fix-er-upper” relationships, and I was amazing at it. Moms and friends loved me. But often when the fixes were done, I’d get bored. Because the primary draw for me was to fix them. Once fixed, I actually had to think.. “Do I want to be with this person?” the answer was usually a resounding no.

Which is why I don’t want anyone I feel like I need to fix. If I find myself thinking, “Oh, he’d be better if” or “I can train him to” or anything even remotely like that.. I either dump him (depending on how bad it is) or take a step back and think.. Can I deal with him like he is right now for the rest of my life? If I can’t, I move on.

I want someone who is my equal, not a child, not a dress-up doll, not someone who needs fixing. Actually, after my ex-spouse, it might be me that needs the fixing… and I think I’m going to be too busy working on me.

Apres Wigout Perspective

Yesterday, I wigged out. I have a million and one reasons why, including yesterday’s post topic, but most of those reasons are solved with a little pill called Benadryl.

What I did learn from yesterday is that:

1. Religion is much more important to me than I originally thought.

2. I’ve neglected my own spirituality. Partly because I really do not have many spiritual people in my life.

3. I should probably try/attempt to find a church in town again. If for no other reason to judge for myself if its nostalgia calling, or something thats right for me now.

Yesterday, I was very disproportionally concerned that Mr. Christian did not like me and that I’d offended him by a sarcastic email (meant to be humor).  It consumed me.

At times, I can be a complete mental case and lucky for you all, I was one! 🙂

I drove myself crazy. I wasn’t living in the NOW.  I didn’t ask myself the Four Questions that can change my life. Instead of seeking self-understanding in a productive way, I chose to drive myself nuts with “What is he thinking?”

Now had Mr Christian any idea of what I was thinking, he truly would be justified in getting out a restraining order.

Luckily for me, I came to my senses before actually doing anything rash.  Yay me!

(special thanks to my friends for bearing with me)

About half way through my wigout yesterday, I got a call from Mr. A (from Monday night’s costume shop event).  We’d met Monday and went to dinner.  Tuesday night he called me to say Hi and ask me about the iPhone. Wednesday night, he calls me to ask me out for Saturday.

Its been a while since I’ve seen such dedicated interest and planning in a man, which is why I said yes, despite my reservations that things will not work out.

It was this that knocked me somewhat back to my senses.  Mr Christian had not asked me out nor had he called.  Granted, Mr Christian has my email address and Mr A does not.  Still, Mr Christian hasn’t stepped up… yet anyway.

I wondered to myself what in the hell had happened to me. A few weeks ago I wasn’t even sure I wanted a relationship at all. The mere thought of having to give up something or change my habits at all in order to accommodate another person into my life nearly had me breaking out in hives. And now I’m freaking out and obsessing over some guy (really great guy nonetheless but just a guy)??  I gave myself a time out, and watched TV.  No thinking. No brooding. No obsessing. Total mind-numbing TV time.

I woke today back in Sanityville.  Hopefully I stay here for a while.  In the meantime, I do need to work on me and address my own spirituality issues.

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