Birthdays and Dresses and Weddings And Throwback Thursday

Hi Blog!

 

First, one of the hottest girls I know posted a great Throwback Thursday and it's just so awesome that I wanted to share it: http://omgheyliz.tumblr.com

 

Second, remember that post with the letters I did a few weeks ago?  (If not, I totally provided the link, silly.)  I'm wearing the dress from that entry and here it is:

 

Third, my birthday is tomorrow and that means it's been a year since Greg proposed to me for the umpteenth time.  However that time I totally got a ring with the deal.  It's super pretty.  I'm in the market for a band to go with it.  My last minute wedding meant getting last minute bands since my fingers are very large.  My band doesn't match my engagement ring and while I love both rings I prefer them separately rather than together.   I wonder if I should wait for the big wedding in 2016 I'm planning for the new band?  Greg and I will have been together ten years this year, but I think I can wait for something special.  I hate having to wait, though.  Not just for the jewelry, but part of me really wants to do something special right away.

I suppose I just have this fantasy of everyone I love being in the same room like a family reunion.  I feel like I have these isolated patches of family and friends, but I worry what it would be like to combine them together.  Not sure I can handle the awesomeness.  The idea makes me super nervous!

 

BYE BLOG. <3

Happy! For reasons!

A year ago I moved to Oakland Hills, but almost immediately hurt my back. First, I hurt it moving because I was out of shape anyway and moving is hard.  Then I was in a car accident a month later that hurt it even more. 

Well my back is better.  My life is better because of this for reasons:

Reason #1: Sitting

After my car accident the only way I could sit was like this:

At first it was glorious, but when I'm sitting I'm usually doing other things like swiveling to get files or grabbing a book to read, so the donut wasn't always helpful.  At school I couldn't sit on it and fit under the desk, which made going to class extra annoying. Plus it got dirty eventually and I felt embarrassed about that, as if it looked like I was farting in it all the time and that was why it was grubby instead of just dust from my clothes. It wasn't even washable, and the dinginess just got worse when I tried cleaning it. I worried if people thought it was dirty because my butt was dirty. And after a while it didn't do much to relieve my pain. I got tired of carrying it around. So I chucked it. 

Now I can sit on anything as long as there's lumbar support.  Sometimes I can achieve this with a lumbar pillow or a rolled towel, but other times whatever chair I'm in magically already has lumbar support.

Reason #2: I CAN VERB NOW!

It would seem like the worst thing in the world is to feel pain when you're not even doing anything but sitting or laying down.  However, the real worst thing in the world is not being allowed to do anything besides sit or lay down.  Feeling severe pain the small of my back kept me from enjoying my life. The only thing I took comfort in was eating, and sometimes even eating wasn't enough. I'm a woman who likes to dance, leap, run, play with animals, attend parties, show affection, and go places.  I like to go places!  And for months all I was allowed to do was sit still.

Whenever I did get up the bravery to do anything but sit still, the pain in my back immediately throbbed and stung, stopping any motion I was able to do. 

However, each day I would try again.  And again.  Like this guy:

I would walk with my chin up, shoulders back and down, chest and heart lifted, and abs tight, as fast as I can, over and over and over. Soon my body let me live my life again with perfectly aligned posture and I got to feel something amazing: Pain from being active!

So last night I got to go walking with pibbles and my friend Joey! (pit bull terrier mix puppies!)

He is super strong and just beginning to train his pibbles so the pulling of the pibbles, which was massive, only made him feel like he was workin' out.

Where as I was kind of like this:

"JOEY! WAIT! WAIT JOEY WAIT! HELP ME UP! :-("

But, I did it!  I felt sore for a few hours but that was just last night and I woke up not feeling sore!

Reason #3: Making up for lost time

There are so many things I missed out on in the last year.  Now that I'm able to verb again, little things I missed out on and get to do now fill me with  joy. To me, walking a doggie is a big thing, but so is unpacking my bedroom, cleaning, rearranging my closet, and going grocery shopping by myself.

I can't believe how much enjoyment I'm getting out of doing laundry this weekend. It took until now to be able to do things like carry a load of clothes to and from the washer and dryer and put them away.  All the clothes I brought here were dirty and I've basically been living in the same boring 10 items of wardrobe that I could handle for the last year. It's a terrible feeling to wear the same thing every day for a year. 

So I'm sure there are more reasons, but that's pretty much it for now. I'm thinking of doing a fashion show with all of these clean clothes and maybe I'll upload it here for you guys to see!

Running Away

Hi Blog,

I'm having one of those days again, blog, where my brain has completely shut down from stress and worry, and I suddenly feel very giddy, blog.  I feel like I can write anything into this little box if I want to, but then I eventually have to press publish and the world will know, once again, how little I have to say.

I go to UMUC and so far I enjoy the online class format.  However, the administration is not my favorite.  I've been jerked around, blog.  When it comes to financial aid, I was told I qualified.  Then I was told I didn't qualify.  Then I was told they wouldn't accept my billing.  Then they dropped me from my classes, blog.  Then they said I could get back in if I pay $50.  It was dizzying, blog.  And then, blog, they couldn't decide which classes transferred over and which didn't. Was it 84 credits, 78 credits, or 71 credits?  Isn't that illegal, blog?  Can they really do this to me? I'm tired of being jerked around, blog.  I'm spending more time trying to get situated with my new major and classes than I am actually studying, blog.

I just want to say blog one more time.

Other than that, I have full faith I will do well in school. I'm also doing pretty good with how I've figured things out for myself  I like that I know what I believe in, know who my friends are and how much they mean to me, my role in my family.

Something feels empty.

I don't know what it is, but it is worrying me.  Amidst all my cheer, amidst the circle of support I've created for myself, amidst the plans I'm making, sometimes I still find my brain automatically creating scenarios where I die on purpose or ruin my life somehow.

I look forward to getting in more shape so I can run away, physically run away, for long periods of time to escape this feeling.  I just want to outrun this. I feel like the more I run the better I get at running and the more I enjoy running.  I look forward to more running and less emptiness. 

Mood Writing

I'm not in the mood to write this week.   I gained back weight I lost last week.  My cat threw up again. Math class has started. I have 7 mosquito bites.  I turn 31 next week and don't know what to do for my birthday.  I have an Ocean City trip to plan.  I have friends I want to see and things I need to do.  All in all I'm very busy, making the stories happen rather than reporting them.  

I invite you to add me on FB because I am very active on there. 

http://www.facebook.com/jen.mccarroll

In the mean time I will be living life by the seat of my pants.  Or perhaps skirt.

New Phone, New Message

Selfie with my new phone.

I picked up my phone this afternoon and noticed I had a new message.

Over the last year my cellphone has been turned off.  After too many times of starting it and having it freeze up or turn off by itself, I decided to keep it in my car for emergencies.  The other day a bale of hay fell off of a truck on US 50, making me about 15 minutes late for work.  I was unable to call my boss to let her know. I spent the whole commute trying to shove a battery in my phone so the damned thing would turn on.  After about five minutes in the traffic jam and pounding my fist on the back of my phone, I threw it across the front seat of my car and watched it shatter into three large pieces.

"GOOD." 

That weekend I picked up a Samsung Galaxy S3 on sale.  It's my first touch screen smartphone and I'm in love.  I've gotten back into contact with so many people this week.  Sometimes it's really heartwarming.  Other times it's really annoying to have someone have access to me again. For instance my mom has called me several times this week asking me stupid questions about her new phone (we got the same phone, went shopping together).  She'll call me in a panic about megabyte usage and I have to keep telling her, "Chill, we get about 2000mb each per month and you've used about 8mb. Please stop calling me, I'm at work." 

"Jenny, I think the phone broke my TV because the cable went out."

"Jenny, I can't remember how to put my phone on Wi-Fi."

"Jenny, a tornado is coming, please don't drive home while it's coming because I'm getting alerts on my phone OH GOD WE'RE GOING TO DIE LOVE YOU."

"Jenny, I figured out how to close all my programs at once!"

Being messaged constantly when my phone dies more quickly can be nerve-wracking, so that hasn't been fun.  However today was different.

When I started this blog I was turning 30.  I wanted so badly to have an engagement ring for my birthday. I had spent 9 years telling myself I didn't want one because the way my last engagement ended left me humiliated and jaded. 

Something about turning 30 and being in a committed relationship with the same person for 9 years made me begin wondering things.  We were growing up.  His little brother had proposed to his fiance and bought them a house.  Most of our friends were married.  People were assuming things about me that weren't true, that I wasn't married because I didn't believe in marriage or that I was afraid of commitment.  Greg was ready and had been ready for years, had proposed several times only for me not to take him seriously.  Why wasn't I ready?

I was ready, but I couldn't figure out the wedding.  I didn't know how much money I was prepared to spend.  I wasn't sure how the wedding should be or what was expected of me. I wasn't even sure I wanted a wedding when eloping seemed so easy. I just told people I was putting it off until after graduation so I wouldn't have to think about it. However, there I was, about to turn 30 and I wanted my ring.

It took me a while to pick it out, but I got my ring.  I was content with that.  "Good, we're engaged.  I'm fine with that."

Then Greg's job raised his insurance rates 400% with no warning and we had to elope to get him on my insurance right away.

I hated that.  I was really happy to marry Greg, I was.  Nothing else mattered, not my dress, who was there, having a ring, what to say.  Nothing mattered but Greg and I and it was a very tender and sweet moment in my life.

What I hated was that it was rushed, and that I didn't even have time to tell people it was happening, and that there were people I wanted there who obviously weren't there because that's what elopement is.  

All this time I couldn't bring myself to tell my dad.  For one thing, at that point it had been more than a year since we'd spoken.  For another, I think he found out from someone else and I felt embarrassed and upset about that. I wanted to tell him!  I didn't want him to already know!

That's really been weighing on me for a good six months. 

I picked up my phone this afternoon and noticed I had a new message. I scrolled to my recent calls and notice my dad had called.  Without listening to the message I called him, hoping to catch him but got the machine.  Left a goofy message and then checked my voicemail.

He was thrilled with the personalized mug.  I heard a big smile in his voice and I got so excited that I danced all over the living room.

I love that he can still light up my world just by being him.

I love my dad.

***

I'm not sure what kind of blogger I am.  I'm an over 30 woman blogger, but I don't know what that means or where I fit in.  I'm married, but I don't think of my identity as someone's wife.   I'm not a mommy, and there seems to be a real mommy blogger niche.  I have one cat who I am crazy about, but I'm not a crazy cat lady.  I'm not all that religious.  I do attend church, but it is infrequently and sometimes I think I am an atheist.   I don't have any art to share and I'm not famous for anything. For whatever reason, though, people who I think are hot, smart, and flawless in any way are my friends, relatives, readers, and fellow bloggers, and I get to hang out in your club. 

My Queer Trust Issues

I hear people say things about others who post personal things on their Facebooks. "That person is such a Debbie Downer, always whining about things.  I'm unfollowing them!"

 

I suppose that's OK. I usually unfollow people for reasons too.  For instance, I don't like people who post political things that have an Us Vs. Them theme. I have a lot of friends who post political topics that manage to be able to generate a dialogue with their friends and family without making their followers who might disagree feel alienated and mocked.  That's one thing.  However, we all have that bigoted uncle who thinks they're right about everything.  Some people feel the need to keep following them regardless.  I feel no such loyalty on the Internet.

 

I said that to say this: everyone has something they are struggling through.  I like to write about my things.  I know I'm not right about everything, but when I write about what's wrong it's because I'm trying to find ways to change it.

 

I have depression, sometimes really severe.  I'm one of those rare individuals where medication makes my depression even worse, so I've yet to find any chemical comfort.  I try exercise, but sometimes I need a rest from it and the depression comes back immediately.

 

Sometimes my moods do not match what's going on around me, which leaves me trying to act as if I can still have reactions to things.

 

However sometimes I'd upset about legitimate things.  Most of the time I don't talk about it because those things come from ugly places and I feel ashamed.

 

Despite the fact that I believe in equality, that I voted for equality, and that I continue to support equality, I feel ashamed of who I am.

 

I'm ashamed that ever since I was little I've been attracted, romantically and physically, to girls, boys, and people whose gender does not fit those binaries.  I mean, when I was little, all crushes were embarrassing, but then there were the ones I wasn't even allowed to talk about which made it ever so much worse.

 

When I was little I used to think I was the only one, even when I was thirteen and couldn't stop staring at the girl who sat next to me in eighth grade language arts who looked a little bit like a boy.  When people spread around the school that I was a lesbian, I didn't know what that meant--only that it was supposed to be an insult and that I would never let anyone insult me.  So I'd make up fake boyfriends while secretly wishing to be cool and never knew what to do with my feelings for anyone except bury them.

 

As an adult I still experience this.  Even though I'm married and totally in love with my husband, I get crushes on people's personalities and looks, just like in eighth grade. First comes the shame of liking someone else, then the excitement and burning lust for liking someone new, and finally a crushing sadness that nothing will ever happen between us. 

 

Before I was married, each person I dated seemed kind of appalled at how much I'd flirt with their opposite sex friends and feel threatened by it.  They'd shame me and I'd feel dirty and worthless. So whenever I meet someone new or become reacquainted with someone from my past, I go through periods of feeling dirty and worthless and not knowing why.  Why would anyone want to hang out with me? I was sure people only wanted something from me besides my company, so I kept to myself.

 

I feel like I have to protect others from me, that they'll discover I'm perverted and terrible.  Sometimes I feel so hurt and angry by what I perceive other people might think about me I begin acting the part of the type of whore that my ex-boyfriends accused me of being, even if it's only in my mind.

 

It wasn't until my late twenties, when I was already with my husband, that I could even admit out loud who I was and what I liked. And even now, in my thirties, it takes a while. I've spent so long burying my feelings that when I have a feeling now it's hard for me to just let it ride.

 

I regret a lot of things.  There are endless potential relationships that never came to be simply because I was too ashamed to realize what I was feeling. Sometimes my depression stems from feelings that suddenly come up that I crushed in my teens and twenties.

 

I just have to remind myself how much I love my husband, how I've always loved him, how even in my teens I told myself I hated him when I didn't because that's how I dealt with things. I loved him, even during my early twenties when I tried to break things off regularly out of fear and how he always, always, always came back to me. 

 

And me to him.

 

What we have is the most beautiful thing in my life and I'm so thankful to have it.

WELL HOWDY

Hi, new readers! And old readers! And mom ... HI MOM!

I first started this personal blog because I was turning 30 and starting a brand new life.  It used to be called Oye Mami to represent my love of Aqua Zumba. Now it's called At Oakland Hills because I moved last year and got all excited about it.  I'd like to call it Candle Hoarder but I'm too lazy to even get the snowflakes off my top image.

I used to live in squalor as a morbidly obese hoarder with PTSD. Then one day I woke up and said, "Nope." That was back in 2010.  I told myself, "I'm not going to be a 30 year old with no close friends, a bad relationship, morbidly obese, and a close relationship with nothing in my life but the junk mail I'm too afraid to throw away."

Of course I screwed that all up.  I went hog wild that summer, started drinking and eating a lot and decided to run away from my problems instead of facing them.  Still, I became closer to many wonderful friends, saved my relationship, continued attending University of Maryland Baltimore County.  In 2011 I lost 50 lbs and in 2012 I quit drinking, threw away all the stuff I was hoarding and moved to a new, shinier, happier apartment called Oakland Hills near Annapolis, Maryland. 

Then I turned 30, got a cat, got engaged, got married, regained all my weight and dropped out of college. (See? I told you I screwed it up.)

Where am I now?  I'm still here!  So far this year I've lost almost 15 lbs, restarted classes at University of Maryland University College at Adelphi, got out of the house, and began writing like there's no tomorrow.   

This is my personal blog.  I'm not classy, am not and never will be a mommy, I'm questioning my religion, I'm not family friendly, and I'm pansexual.  Despite all that nonsense I manage to eek out words on here! Hot damn, it's a miracle! Some people think I'm hilarious, which makes me glow, but I just think a lot of stuff is funny and/or terrible and enjoy sharing it.  I like the word fuck, no. I love the word fuck and I like talking about bodily functions and sharing my poorly written observations on life. I have a big love/hate relationship with life and you're along for the ride. IF YOU FALL OFF DON'T SUE ME.  

Did you call your dad?

No, I haven't called my dad yet. However, I have sent him a secret gift in the mail. It's pretty lame, but I think he'll like that he was thought of.

 

In the past when I could not get up enough nerve to call my dad I sent him letters, invitations, cards.  One time to be nice I was putting his folded laundry away and I found that he kept all my letters and things, so I know they mean something to him. I haven't even done that lately so I figured I could send him something more tangible than a letter.

 

Of course then I ruined it because I couldn't think of what to put on it.  Oh well.  I hope he loves me anyway because this looks terrible.

 

Father's Day

I think it's funny how when it's sunny out I'm all MENTALLY ILL but when it's all gross and rainy I'm in a great mood!

I think some days sunny weather puts too much pressure on me to "make a day of it."  When I start thinking too far ahead I think of all the things I should do rather than things I want to do.

Should Do:

*Call my Dad

*Confront my past

*Redecorate my bedroom

*Send a care package to Rochelle

*Disinfect entire house

*Go buy cardigans in attempt to dress less like a slob

*Apply for different job

Want to do:

*Throw away my phone

*Dance nude in the mirror

*Go to sleep

*Eat things

*play with my cat

*dress like a slob and cuddle with Greg

*imagine smacking annoying coworker with brick

Some of these should I deep down want to do but am afraid to do.

I want to reunite with my Dad.  Just thinking about it makes me teary-eyed. I miss him so much.  However, it's just not easy.  When I'm off, he's working.  When he's off, I'm working. Most of my holidays I spend with my husband's family. We miss each others' phone calls.  Phone calls seem futile, and we stop calling because it's always answering machines. And then you become the kind of family where, "I haven't heard from him in years" becomes the norm.

Personally, I associate families who don't see each other as families who are estranged, who aren't close, who are angry with each other and possibly don't love each other. 

We love each other.  I know we do.  However, sometimes bad memories try to scream otherwise and when you go years without speaking the bad memories begin to define things.

My relationship with my dad hasn't always been great.  I spent most of my childhood screaming at him because I was a difficult child. I was just super difficult, the kind of kid who was really good at questioning authority.

Most people don't realize this about me, but I wasn't always a very wishy-washy people pleaser. I got into fights with kids at day and summer camp. As a kindergartner I punched a first-grade boy in the nose.  Hard.  His nose bled everywhere. And I wasn't even a little bit sorry or guilty because that fucker started it by pushing me out of my seat on daily basis.

I used to yell at both my parents and challenge them all the time. Eventually we were able to relate like normal human beings, but that didn't happen until my teens, honestly. I cussed my parents out when I was two. (Thanks, little Ricky Listman, for wrongly teaching me at age two that the word "fucker" meant "crackers" and that saying "fuck a truck" meant milk and cookies.  You little shit.)

When I felt my parents were wrong, I told them so.  I was just really smart and a spoiled know-it-all and it was hard for me when my parents took me down a peg, by being, you know, parents.

Then my parents separated.

When my Dad left us (or my mom kicked him out, depending on how I'm feeling about that on certain days) I tried to be real understanding at first. Within a few weeks I really felt it was bullshit.  His new family had the son he always wanted and I was mad jealous. I wrote him hateful letters in pink and blue pen with swirly teen handwriting, letting him know I thought he was a big, big asshole for leaving me and replacing me with some dumb Full-House watching idiot boy. It took several months for me to forgive him and I was mad for a long time, like a full month and everything.

But I forgave him.  Hard. I met his new girlfriend and her son and daughter and we all got along amazingly well. And soon I just wanted to spend all my time with my dad and his new family, which made me feel guilty but it was how I felt. I loved the five of us and it was everything I ever wanted. 

So when his fiance suddenly died a year later, nobody was more traumatized than I was. And nothing was worse than watching my Dad go through the grieving along with me.

However, then I had to move in with my Dad (it was either this or be homeless) in 2001 and we didn't really get along that well. He didn't seem to like me anymore, and neither did his next girlfriend. I didn't want to be there taking up space in his bachelor pad and my dad lost his patience with me on almost a daily basis. He'd become enraged at me over stupid things and when I'd try to get him to open up and get to know him sometimes he'd be biting, critical, and rude.

I don't want to get into specifics, but our fights were legendary and terrible.

And sometimes he'd scream at me.  Or worse.

At first I screamed back like I did when I was little, but eventually I just took it and became alienated.  My whole life isolated itself inside the bedroom he let me sleep in and I made sure to stay in there all the time while he was home to avoid him. The entire time I was panic-stricken and terrified. I told myself when I moved out that I wouldn't spend any time with my dad, either. I was pissed with him and his stupid girlfriend, who'd also scream at me and worse, for several years.

But I'm not pissed anymore.  At all. At either of them.

See, eventually I moved out and each time I got to see him and his girlfriend they were both completely thrilled to see me. They took me out to eat, bought me presents, completely opened up. Our conversations were long, calm, and interesting. There was plenty of laughter and joy. My dad let me hang out with him and his girlfriend and they were enjoyable to be around. They loved my husband, and they let me in on all the great vacations they took together and their wonderful life together.  We shared great stories.

So the last time I saw him was Christmas 2010.  The three of us went to breakfast and I blathered on about my Major Of The Week at UMUC. We talked about music and work.  It was wonderful, as usual.

And I called him six months later, but it was right after my mom's mother had her stroke and I spent my whole summer in and out of the hospital and nursing home to see her. So I never got to see my dad that year. 

And then my mental illness crap happened and for some reason all I could think about when I thought about my dad was the times we fought and all the terrible feelings and memories came rushing back.  Suddenly I didn't want to see him.  Hell, I didn't want to see anyone.  I just wanted everyone to go away so I could die in peace, most days.

However, before long, I got better and now all I want is to see him again.

But I just don't know how to go about doing that.  I want it so much, too much, that any time I let myself think about it I instantly begin sobbing my eyes out.  So I don't let myself think about it, you know, so I can do things other than cry.

So as I'm crying at my desk right now, here is what I want, deep down.

Tell him I love him and that I think about him all the time.  Have us go to Down's Park and let me tell me stuff about nature.  Try my best to crack his ass up, because he is super hard to get comic approval from but once you get him going there is no better sound.  Ask him if he's OK with me being child free.  Tell him I'm planning my wedding, my real one, and I'm struggling because I am overthinking it. Tell him I struggle to stay alive every day, but that I'm happy at the same time. Tell him how I want things to be, that I need to figure out a way for us to hang out more often but that I don't know how to do that. Tell him he never did anything wrong, ever. (I don't even care whether that's true or not.  It's just something I want to say.  I think he thinks he does everything wrong, and I know for a fact there's at least a billion things he's done right.)

Maybe that won't happen.  Maybe something else will happen, who knows?

I won't unless I call.

I have weird-ass depression.

I have weird-ass depression.

 

It's not exactly bipolar, but the depression isn't ... consistent.

 

The depression for me isn't always ever-present.  I mean sometimes it's so there that the self-loathing keeps me in my house just laying around with sad eyes for weeks on end.  I go long periods eating junk food and not bathing or doing any chores and not enjoying anything.

 

However, sometimes it slips into my subconscious so I can focus on other things.  Sometimes I even have good feelings, or normal emotions for situations, especially when I exercise. Endorphins don't lie.  Plus, I really really like eating, especially bad for me food. I have moments, daily, or at least weekly, where I genuinely become excited about dumb things like animals or rain or something I'm reading. However, there are also times where I'm numb, so numb, that nothing can excite me.  Going 100 miles an hour and swerving?  Nothing. Food?  Nothing.  Cat? Yawn. Suspenseful movie?  Whatever. Stabbing myself in the foot? Who cares?

 

My therapist seems to be a huge fan of medication for me.

 

"Remember when you were on Zoloft?  You never interrupted people and slipped into states of panic when you were on Zoloft!"

 

(She didn't actually say that.  She said, "There were times where things were easier for you on the Zoloft."  But she MEANT the first quote.)

 

Okay, though, I was on Zoloft to control my anxiety from August 2011 to March 2012.  I had severe depression the whole time that I did not have at all before the Zoloft, gained weight, could NOT stop eating. BUT I DIDN'T INTERRUPT YOU WHILE YOU WERE TALKING SO OBVIOUSLY THE MEDICINE WAS RIGHT FOR ME. >:(

 

Then after I went off the Zoloft, I felt better for a few months.  Between March 2012 and June 2012 life was amazing.

 

Right after that I hurt my back in a car accident, had to go to physical therapy almost daily for weeks.  I couldn't even do anything around the house until this month. (Our house is so messy!  It feels great to be able to clean again but there's so much cleaning to do that it's frustrating me!)

 

Then after the car accident I broke off a friendship with a childhood friend because she kept criticizing me all the time.  We'd get into fights each time we were around each other, mostly because according to her I was too loud and giving her a headache, or I offended her sister in law by just being myself, and other things.  I was always in the wrong and she was always right. However, she would try to make up by saying that she loved me anyway.  However, it didn't really seem true that she loved me at all if I was always wrong and she was always yelling at me for it.  We couldn't work it out, so I ended it.

 

A month later, I really broke it off with her because she said unforgivable things to my best friend Joey and his husband about their impending marriage. 

 

(Note to people: when your friend tells you that they're getting married the proper response is, "Congratulations! When's the big day?" Not, "That goes against my all my beliefs and principals and let me tell you everything else about my boring stupid middle-aged white woman politics because I'm a big snorefest who only talks about herself!") 

 

I kind of took them under my wing after that, and the blessing turned out to be that I made the kind compassionate, funny friends I've wanted all along.  But for a long time the three of us felt like shit, because that's what a breakup with a childhood pal feels like no matter how much living well is sweet revenge.  Like, for a whole month at least, we were sad face.  Only, for me, that lasted until about a month ago.  And, I don't know, maybe I'm still pretty sad.

 

Then last fall I took a class in Child Welfare where we studied forensic evidence that proves whether or not a child was really being abused or not.  Each week there were stories of children with scabies, children abandoned in wet diapers while their mom was on meth (same children), children held down in boiling water, molested children.  And on, and on, until I just ran out of tears to cry. By December final exams, part of me was seriously, seriously, seriously considering ending my life.  It was the second December in a row that I'd felt that way.

 

Instead of ending my life, I dropped out of school and tried really hard to make my life better for a few months. Without meds, but with a lot of therapy and a lot of goofing off.

 

Now I'm on my way to acing my first class at my new school and my new major, incorporating some healthy habits, cleaning my apartment, going out with friends.  I feel like I'm starting to really get my life back.

 

However, at least every few days, I have mornings where I wake up and just cry on my bed because this kind of stuff happens:

 

These are the comments where I don't hit post.

And I realize I don't have my life back.  Not really.  I'm just going through the motions of my life in hopes, much like Allie Brosh, that in between everything that a) tortures me with too many feelings b) kills my feelings dead and c) the cycling of those two states of feeling, I might trick myself into not having depression and anxiety so I don't have to try a medication that makes it worse.

 

And don't even get me started on my Misophonia ...

Switching Places

About five years ago they opened a Caremark pharmacy for employees at my work location. It's pretty convenient when you want to pick up a prescription, but they also sell a small variety of medicine, vitamins, and personal hygiene products.

 

Well today I needed maxi pads because I forgot mine.

 

Isn't it great that I can hop next door and get them whenever, because that's pretty convenient.

 

I walked in and the pharmacist was on a call.  I picked up the package of maxi pads and plopped them on the counter and then smacked my payment down next to it, because I am a maxi pad buying bad ass.

 

When the pharmacist was finished the call, she went to ring me up.  I swiped my debit card and followed the directions and pretty much answered whatever question she needed without looking up.

 

"Last name?"

 

"McCarroll."

 

Some silence. I pressed debit.  "First name?"

 

"Jennifer."  I entered my pin.  Type, type, type-type tap tap type.

 

More silence. I continued through the menu options to finish my transaction.

 

"Is this for you or your husband?"

 

That caught my attention. I picked up the maxi pads and waved them in front of me. "Just buying these."

 

"Oh, sorry!" She quickly put them in a discreet brown bag, deftly folding the tip over, handing the bag to me with her face flushed.

 

"Although if he'd like to switch places and have his period instead, that's fine with me." I said, flatly.  I got no response, so I left with my receipt and my bag.

So What! Wednesday - Bananas and Flaps and Trader Joe's

I KNOW TODAY IS SO WHAT! WEDS BUT I KIND OF WISH IT WAS LAURA'S FAB FRI BECAUSE I'M FEELING PRETTY FABULOUS OK.  My weight loss is beginning to happen, my butt seems to be a prettier shape already, I had an avocado this morning, my cat had a good vet visit and is in excellent health, and my husband and I like to sing like stupid idiots in the morning.  Hilarious stupid idiots.

Alas, I will once again try hard in the name of meeting new blogs and become reaquainted with the blogs I've recently added!



So What! if I remembered just now that I have my period when I first got it 6AM this morning and now just realized I have not one item to protect my outfit from the onslaught of my monthly evacuation? Ewwwwwwwww!

So What! if I honestly have no filter on what I write about and frequently write incoherently. Actually, that might be a problem and cause me to lose readers. Oh well, you'll just have to deal.

So What! if I have a weird belly flap that's kind of bigger than my actual butt? IT'S MY FLAP.



So What! if I wrote tl;dr article rambling about how the history of the Internet since 1995 is comparable to human life-span development? I mean, would you agree with that assumption or do you have your own theory?

So What! if

I JUST REMEMBERED WE LIVE NEAR A TRADER JOE'S.  

I know I've been living here for a year and have been shopping either at the store down the street from me or the one closest to my job. Still, I'm going to get Greg to go get us snacks from there more often.


So What! if I have a huge brown banana stain on my carpet even after scrubbing? Wait. Help, I have a brown banana stain on my carpet that I've tried to get out with Clorox wipes and it's still there.

Trader Joe's - Correspondence

---

Date: Tue, 4 Jun 2013 15:55:59 -0400
From: GREG

To: JENNY

Subject: RE: Trader Joe's

...
...And apparently I forgot what an enormous deal that is.
How could I be so blindly forgetful to lose sight of such a monumental development?

---

Date: Tue, 4 Jun 2013 15:53:59 -0400
From: JENNY

To: GREG

Subject: Trader Joe's

I just remembered we live near a Trader Joe's.

I JUST REMEMBERED WE LIVE NEAR A TRADER JOE'S.

I JUST REMEMBERED WE LIVE NEAR A TRADER JOE'S.  

How The Internet Graduated High School by Jenny, who is from the Internet.

My name is Jenny, and I am from the Internet.  I love living on the Internet. In many ways the Internet is intangible.  It lives the tubes and we can only access it through a device.  However my favorite thing about the Internet is that it is somehow alive, and it seems to me that the Internet went through development stages similar to human life-span development.

I first moved to Internetland in 1995 on a dial-up connection. This was back when the Internet was a baby. It took 30 minutes to load most websites, and after my friend Nilah introduced me to a bot in a chat room that wanted to rape me with octopus tentacles, "That just means he likes you!" I became afraid of the Internet for a while. Quickly, those who used the internet learned not to talk to strangers, much like preschoolers.

In 1998, the Internet became faster.  Webpages took five minutes or less to load. Suddenly we were allowed to make webpages ourselves using Angelfire, have online diaries, and use social media such as Bolt. Social media wasn't called social media back then and Bolt was considered a zine for teens.  It had news stories as well as forums.  I went to the library each day after school to interact with others on Bolt because the library internet was still faster.  Talking to strangers was fine, but do not give out too much personal information.  Internet was now in grade school.

In 1999 I discovered chat rooms with webcams and virtual world chat rooms and more websites with forums and boards for various interests. By 2000 LiveJournal was popular, and by 2002 drama became a big deal. Internet was beginning to escape its awkward pre-teen stages and was making leaps and bounds in junior high.

After that, because of real life events, I took a break from the internet.  I got on to pay bills, check email, and catch up with friends, but I did not venture onto new websites, and I did not notice the development of social media right away.  I was too busy trying to figure out if I could get a job even though I dropped out of college so I wouldn't have to sleep on a cold basement floor.  I neglected the Internet, and the Internet developed without a lot of supervision and when I returned it seemed to have a demeanor of a juvenile delinquent in a boarding school.

I returned in 2006.  The internet had very much changed from 2002 to 2006. The cool thing was who could be the biggest Internet bad ass.  You'd think that being an Internet bad ass would have to do with who could make the funniest video on YouTube with the most hits or to have the most profitable eBay account, but it wasn't. The best way to be a true Internet bad ass was to try to ruin other people's lives as much as possible.

I'd had run-ins with trolls before; had a good laugh at goatse and lemonparty and disgusting graphics, but trolls seemed to be the exception instead of the rule. The way to be popular was to create funny content with positive observations that others related to, or to run a successful business.  Trolls were frowned upon and all of us wrote them off as the fools they were.

Remember how in high school it mattered so much what people said about you because it felt like high school would last forever and that you would be friends with your friends forever and date your sweetheart forever?  The cliques would always interact in the same exact way and if you weren't in the right one your life was ruined.  Remember that?

And then you realized that the popular people who were well-adjusted and nice went on to have interesting jobs and awesome vacations and hopefully made a lot of money.  And the mean popular people who threw the nerdy kids in the dumpster and had screaming fights with random people in the hallway usually ended up being a parent or a drop out by senior year or something they didn't want.

(Hey, my cousin was a nice girl who was a parent by graduation, and I dropped out of school for three months my junior year, and we turned out OK.  I mean we didn't die or end up in prison for life or anything. However these are probably not things most people aspire to.)

You realized that being cool didn't matter, because the only people you needed to impress were people who already loved you, and maybe the Dean of Admissions or your future boss.

The Internet became that insecure part of high school for a few years, except everyone was an adult, and everyone thought they were Regina George from Mean Girls. As an offline adult you wouldn't go up to someone you didn't know on the street and tell them they were made of fail, but being a smart ass on the Internet was just part of everyday interaction.  In real life if you didn't like someone, you would probably talk behind their back at worst.  However, dissecting someone down to each component in a comment to that person, snarking their looks to their hometown to the dumb things they said, was highly encouraged.

It was all fun and games before some idiots went too far.  Some trolls called up employers and got people fired, or bullied troubled teens into suicide.  Everyone laughed at the idea of Internet court until trolls faced jail time or hefty fines for their antics. Cyber-bullying became a buzzword, something to protect your family from, something reported on the news.

I feel like the Internet graduated from its high school stage after that.  During elementary school it created its building blocks and decided its purpose during its junior high stage.  However, after websites made it easier to report cyber-bullying, people flocked to more positive environments.  The Internet became about sharing information again, and the Internet wanted to change the world. The Internet wanted to get its liberal arts degree, become involved in social justice, improve the quality of our food and lose weight.

The internet wanted to make the best content and strove to associate itself with the most powerful, influential content providers.

Sure, the snarking websites are still out there, but their purpose has changed. Sure, people still want to ruin other people's lives, but those people eventually grow out of it.  They become a normal person, blogging about crying her eyes out in front of everyone after her ass was kicked in kick boxing class when they finally step out from behind the screen.  That person who yelled at you and started a flame war? She's likable and interesting and you don't hate her anymore. These people become just like everyone else, because after high school most people are just like everyone else, just trying to get by. 

Random Letters from Jenny: Part One

Dear June,

You're a tricksy bitch. Just when I figure out healthy eating and walking outside, you come around and pull this bullshit. Who wants to go to the store for fruit when you open the door and are knocked over by over 50% humidity and 90 degree heat? How am I supposed to want to leave my apartment and be social with people I haven't seen in FOREVER with your sun fading away my ability to breathe air?

Dammit, June. You're lucky you contain my birthday, you joker.

No love,
Jenny

Dear Extremely Wrinkled Shift Dress I Got For Free,

Ah, we meet again, you gorgeous flawed creature. Remember when you were in that large trash bag some lady at work gave to me after I lost all my clothes in the Bed Bug Incident of 2008? I tried you on and thought, "Ugh, this is what old people wear." Well you've somehow come in style since then.

 I often plan to wear you somewhere like a wedding or an evening with Greg and yet here you are, fresh from the dryer, looking wrinkly as hell. As long as I continue to suck at ironing, I will never get to wear you, asshole. So stop being all my favorite colors, looking so good with your classic lines, and being the perfect length for my favorite crinoline.

 I look like a middle-aged ladies' couch in you anyway. Why are your patterns so grotesquely large? I could fit ten dainty manic pixie dream woman-child wanna-bes inside of you and you'd still have wrinkles and would continue to seem more like curtains than lady-like inspiration wear for the pleasure of depressed white men.

Yet if I got rid of you I'd kick myself. You're so susie-homemaker and most of my clothes don't really fit my age anymore.

However, when I turn 40, I'll consider it again.  So, you're on notice, dress.

Sincerely,
Jenny



Dear Klout.com,

I don't really understand the point of you.  You seem to be a graph of how well I'm doing at talking to people on the internet who happen to have a big audience, but I don't get the point. You say that my influential topics include the Detroit Lions when I don't even watch football. I joined you because someone invited me, but you're just a bunch of graphs about social-climbing which isn't very entertaining. Sure we all like boosts to our ego, but I can't really do anything with you.  You don't have any interesting stories, you won't go karaoke with me, you won't bring me ice cream, and you don't seem very interested in my cat.  You're mad boring, Klout.

Come back to me when I can get some free ice cream though,
Jenny



Dear People Selling Scentsy,

I really want to buy your Scentsy but I don't have a lot of outlets in my apartment and I really like setting things on fire a lot. I know I'll buy something someday as I like to support my friends in selling me nice smells.

Sorry,
Jenny



Dear Facebook Profiles of People From My Hometown Who Post Political Propaganda,
I know a lot of you think I'm a hypocrite for unfriending you for your constant political posts, but consider this! When you constantly post photos of women almost getting raped if it wasn't for their gun it's super triggering as I was sexually assaulted on a date when I was 20 which still makes me feel like a dirty and unworthy person who wishes she was dead.  You don't seem to have a lot of consideration for what you broadcast callously to everyone.

And it's also triggering when you post stuff in favor of smacking children around because that shit's mega-unpleasant.

I respect that you have solidly-formed political beliefs. Even though I don't agree with those beliefs, that is not why I unfriended you. As someone who enjoys reading objective analysis of peer-reviewed data, I get tired of scoffing at how your way is the only correct way, the way you attack and ridicule opposing perspectives, the appeal to emotions over facts, the triggering and inconsiderate vile graphics, and the staggering logical-fallacies.  I realize you are passionate about your beliefs, but when you use your Facebook feed as a constant virtual soapbox, I may as well be reading email forwards from my grandmother. They're less insulting to my sensibilities.

Why don't you get off Facebook and read a book?

You're not even reading this anyway,
Jenny


Dear @soundman56, my favorite David Weaver in the whole world,

I'm sorry that my mom hasn't bothered to develop photos from your birthday/my wedding.  You walked 20 miles in the heat today and you deserve better.

Love very much,
Jenny


Dear @burstmethod, other David Weaver,

Sorry, boo.  It's not your fault that you have the same name as my BFF.  You are my favorite completely bald David Weaver who molested a tree sapling, then. I know I haven't seen you in about ten years, but thanks for keeping me added on social media out of politeness.

Sorry,
Jenny


Dear Peapod:

You should seriously consider delivering the same day.  Some times a girl needs ingredients and it's 90+ degrees and nobody wants to bother with that.

:-(
Jenny