Tag: weed

Social (Media) Anxiety

Image result for social media

I hate social media. I have recently renewed my facebook account and started over. I was tired of seeing memories from years ago pop up in my feed. My page was not myself anymore. I am not all about family venues, friends, and adventure. I am all about anxiety, depression, binge-eating, and marital concerns.

I get depressed because of social media. I can mindlessly scroll for hours down my feed looking at what others have posted. For pretty much the duration of my relationship with Jacob, I have been absent from social media. I quit because it was too risky when I had an obsessively possessive new boyfriend. I had no privacy whatsoever; he looked through my phone and got paranoid at every notification, every ding. He smothered me and made me give up all my friends, and I did it because I was going through something in my life. I naturally went down a different path than my friends, choosing to fall into drugs and alcohol. My friends found other methods to cope with their problems, and bully for them.

I’ve been caught up in trying to forget my problems. I have been lazy and trying to get comfy living in my own hole of depression. When my depression is at its worst, I convince myself nothing is wrong and ignore everything fantastically.

Until I wake up one day months from now, and realize I’ve been on auto-pilot. I haven’t been paying attention. Weeks go by and you realize how little you care for yourself, how thinking of yourself and trying to tend to your needs is painful. It’s painful being aware of your shortcomings and trying to accept them. Better to be stoned and not bothered about it.

For a while.

There always comes the moments when you wake up. You look around and realize you don’t live the life you want to have. You realize you’re miserable and you were doing so well pretending otherwise. You didn’t realize you were such a good actor. Or worse, perhaps no one is paying attention.

Are you calling out for help? No, you’re too afraid to be yourself. How can you be vulnerable in front of people and admit you have hang-ups? Today was oddly strange. I worked the overnight shift & had a conversation I may not have otherwise. A girl at work confided in me her struggles getting therapy now and when she was younger. How candid I was admitting I had the same problem. How can you afford them? We talked about depression medication and the effect it had on us.  We talked about psychology. I would normally – never in a thousand years – admit to someone I don’t know well that I’ve dealt with depression before. There’s still such a stigma attached to mental illnesses, it’s daunting admitting that you have one.

No one wants to hear about my problems. I keep them to myself, and I drown in all the turmoil they cause me. My husband doesn’t like me to be honest with him. He would rather me keep things to myself. When I try to expose my deepest hurting to get some relief, he is incapable of providing the comfort I seek. He doesn’t relish me being such a deep feeling individual. His emotional intelligence is not quite on par with mine. He takes things the wrong way and gets defensive. We fight.

He resents my mental illness. He doesn’t understand. He takes my illness personally. He thinks we don’t have sex at long intervals because I’m withholding on purpose. I’m sorry but my libido along with my spirits are DOWN IN THE DUMPS & YOU’RE NOT HELPING.

I have a feeling that my anxiety, depression, and drug use are a question the likes of which came first, the chicken or the egg? Does my self medicating cause me depression, or am I depressed because I am self medicating? Does the weed cause or ease my anxiety? I know that when I quit smoking, I have to take more anxiety meds. My depression is much worse when I am detoxing. I become quite morose during sober periods. I take offense much easier. I am emotionally raw and sensitive to every little utterance. I require more attention, love, and support. I am a pain in the ass when I am sober. I hate myself when I’m sober.

I hate myself now, too, but it’s easier to convince myself I’m okay when I feel like this. I can ignore the self-loathing when I am like this.

About four years ago, my mother admitted to me that my dad wasn’t my biological father. This fact alone is jarring, especially when you have believed he was your crappy dad for the past two decades. A chance to receive your genetic material from someone else! You think it could be someone great, could be someone you would be lucky to know, maybe?!

You’re not that lucky. Imagine my dismay when my mother told me her alcoholic ex gang-banging Mexican lover was my biological dad? And she wants me to accept this, everyone in my family says it’s an opportunity for us to be a family together finally. My mother is over the moon in love and thinks I should welcome him with welcome arms.

When he finds out, he instantly wants to claim me. He suspected I was his all those years ago, but he wrote me off when my mother rejected him. He loves me and is thrilled at the thought of having such an accomplished daughter when he comes from nothing. He treats me like I am golden and stands up for me when my mom says unkind things.

He is surprisingly more like me than I want to admit. He is sympathetic and generous with his words- and who am I, but a fool that wants to listen to pretty words?

I’m starved for sentiments of love, out loud declarations of how great I am. No one tells me I am beautiful or amazing. No one appreciates me. No one wants to know the real me. But he does, and I hate him for it.

I would like to hate him, but really I ache for him. I want his sentiments to be true, for his actions to back up his words. But I have yet to feel it. I doubt it. I doubt him.

My father keeps invading my life. He sends me a message one day weeks ago and I still feel bad about it everyday. How to beg someone to leave you alone and spare their feelings?

Consumed by guilt and resentment. Want to forgive and move past things, but then I find myself taking one step forward and three steps back. I was willing to talk to him and have a relationship with him and now I am stingy with my time again.

Why should I make time and spend mental energy on you, what do I owe you? Why do you shit on my life and make me feel bad? You were absent for so many years, why don’t you just keep doing that?

I don’t want to expose myself- fuck you, you’ll only hurt me in the end. I know you’re not worth it. I know I will regret knowing you.

This is the stuff that is really on my mind. People think I am a cool customer, that I never get mad and just roll with the flow. I try to appear that way, but really I am eating myself up inside. I want to talk about my shitty marriage, depression, and dad issues but who wants to hear it? Who will be my friend when I am just so utterly down? It is my habit to turn away from depressed people, so I expect to be rejected.


Goodbye (?)

I was watching this video today and the comments on youtube were kind of thoughtful in some ways. One woman commented how she was 7 months out of a 6 yr abusive relationship and her sister told her it was her theme song. Another person commented that they felt that way about their depression for the song.

It occurred to me when I was watching the video the symbolism that I saw. The video is about transformations. The black fruit in the beginning- drugs. Eating something bad for you. Indulgent behavior. The pins in Christian’s back are what the girls are holding and using to walk with- crutches. Vices.

She was trapped in a box with blackness. Mindlessness. Darkness. Blindness. Refusing to see. She busts out of the box!!! She staggers away, the black billowing around her. The pins stick out of her back, and the more she staggers on, she’s able to pull the pins from her back and throw them away from herself.

I have felt this way about my relationship with weed. It is a relationship. I have been an everyday user for the past NINE (9) YEARS. It is officially the longest relationship that I have ever had. Boyfriends have come and gone, and still yet weed has remained.

I started smoking when I was 18 years old. I was in college and dating my first boyfriend. He had been smoking and hiding it from me and I was not happy about weed being in his life. I thought it made him stupid. I thought only bad people did drugs. I tried to make him stop smoking, and he would not give it up for me. I tried to issue an ultimatum and he would not have it. I didn’t want to break up with him, even though he was doing something I looked down.

I decided I had to give it a try to see why it was so important to him. He wasn’t willing to give it up for me, so I reasoned it must be…. cool. Good in some way. It was certainly important since he wouldn’t give it up for me. I tried it and everything was funny. We started doing it together until it became pretty much the focal point of our relationship.

We would sit out back in his dad’s garage and smoke. It was our main activity eventually. He was the one who started it for me, and I knew when I started that I started for the wrong reason. I felt pressured to do it. I had backed myself into a corner- give it up for me OR….. and I wasn’t willing to leave my boyfriend for not giving it up. I reasoned if it was a part of his life, I didn’t want to be excluded from that part of his life. I felt like I had to do it, try it.

It wasn’t hard for me to start enjoying it rather than resenting it. I came to love and enjoy it. And even when my first boyfriend broke up with me, I still wanted to do it and kept up the usage. I smoked with my next boyfriend after that, too. I don’t necessarily remember it being everyday in that relationship….

Things changed with my relationship with weed when I got with my first older boyfriend. He was an alcoholic. We both liked to smoke. It was then that my relationship with weed became something different. It wasn’t a fun thing to do anymore, it was a necessity. He and I spent our evenings figuring out ways to get high. It wasn’t optional anymore- I took to his addictive behavior like a fish to water. Suddenly, I needed the weed. I didn’t just enjoy it, I was willing to do a lot of things to get it and smoke it.

We would go to his brother’s house and beg him for balls of resin if we couldn’t afford weed. Anything to get that THC. We used to carefully transport it back to his house and he devised clever ways to smoke it and make it last. We’d put just a tiny speck of it on the head of a needle embedded in a piece of cardboard and light it, putting it under a glass and inhaling as much as we could from the trace amounts that we had. I didn’t just want need, I needed it.

I used to criticize him for his drinking problem, and he in turn told me, “You smoke weed like I drink.” I wasn’t willing to admit that I had a problem, that I had an addictive personality as well. I was addicted. I needed it. I threw away all my old friends during this period of my life. I gave up my old friends for drugs and alcohol. I told myself they were boring and lame, liking board games and never wanting to get drunk. I wanted a fun life, high life, drunken stories. My friends were not going down the same path as me, so I left them behind.

I didn’t just want to get drunk or high, I wanted to forget myself. I smoked and drank to excess. I didn’t just drink for a little buzz, I wanted to be black out drunk and not remember anything the next day. I thought I was having fun, but I was running away from my problems.

My granny had passed away and my mother’s depression was deep. I couldn’t face the depth of my mother’s depression. I used to sit in my room and listen to her shuffling cards in the living room and her loneliness was suffocating to me. She needed me in some way I couldn’t provide. My mom needed someone to take care of her, and I resented it and ran away. She was supposed to be taking care of me, but instead at every turn she tried to put me down or make me feel bad about myself. We had a bad relationship that was toxic to me.

Partly why I tossed my hat in with Joshua so much is because I was needing a mother really bad. He lived with his mother, and she was spiritual and nice to me. She only saw good things in me where my mother never wasted an opportunity to try and make me feel stupid or inadequate in some way.

When I met Jake, I still had a bad relationship with my mother. I was mostly living in my car and off the kindness of my exes. I hated going home. I hated being around my mother. Her loneliness killed me, I had to get away. I couldn’t make her better, she only ever got worse. I didn’t like to go home so I would spend nights using wifi in Mcdonald’s parking lots or I would stay the night with Hakim or Joshua, bouncing back and forth between the two. There were nights that were question marks to me, not knowing where I could go but home. I didn’t want to be there.

When I got with Jake, there was FINALLY someone to take care of me. There was finally someone who wanted to possess me and keep me and do right by me. He bought me clothes and he took me away from my mother. He welcomed me into his life and his home and he let me bring my weed with me even though he no longer smoked himself.

Through all those years, I kept on smoking weed. I’ve tried to quit smoking weed in the past and I never felt the way that I do right now. The first time I tried to quit cold turkey and I was a basket case, extremely emotional. I couldn’t quit. My compulsion was too strong. I needed it. I went back on it after only 5 days.

The next time I tried to quit, I actually went over a week without it. I went 12 days. That time I threw away my pipes. I don’t remember why I started back when I did. This time, I believe I have actually hit the 12 day mark and I feel differently about it.

I’m not necessarily quitting cold turkey, I have went like a few days at a time and then had a smoke of resin that I have still laying around. The problem before is I would have that compulsion to smoke and I had to go out and buy a bag of weed, and that was history. Having a bag of weed meant I needed to smoke it all. I couldn’t control myself. I couldn’t sit down and just have a little, or only every once in awhile. If I had weed, the goal was to smoke it all consecutively until it was gone and get more.

My one year wedding anniversary is next month. I got married when I was 26 and part of the reason why is because I recognized I wasn’t getting any younger. I wasn’t 23 anymore, if I waited around I might end up old and alone. I looked at Jacob and I told myself, you know by now if this is going to work out. If you don’t want to marry him, then you need to leave him. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him, so I married him.

This time around smoking feels different because my motivation has been more adult that I could ever have imagined. I’m 27 now and when am I going to have children? When am I going to grow up? I can’t smoke weed forever.

I have had urges to smoke, have romanticized my relationship with weed. I thought I was missing the joy in my life by not smoking. I wasn’t happy not smoking and I thought about how good I feel and how much more I smile when I’m smoking, but I’m not really living. Smoking is the same thing as when I used to want to get drunk all the time. I thought I was having a good time, but I wasn’t— I was trying to forget myself.

You can’t forget yourself, though. Like I said, my motivation for quitting is entirely different this time. I looked at my life and I realized I was not happy. All my friends are fictional and I never see my family. I spent all my nights watching TV and all my days off sitting at home smoking weed. Weed is keeping me from being the person that I need to become.

I decided to go back to school this fall. I quit college almost 4 years ago, and with the decision to go back I started thinking more about my future. Jake says I am not healthy enough to have natural children. I weigh too much. I smoke too much. I’m not responsible enough. Weed has done a lot of things for me over the years, but now I am realizing what I always knew.

Weed keeps me from;

  • cleaning house
  • having meaningful relationships with my family
  • making friends/strengthening friendships
  • working out
  • caring about myself
  • attending to my husband’s needs/a better marriage
  • making more money

I’m sorry weed but I can’t keep doing this. I want all the things I just listed. I don’t want to surrender to mindlessness anymore. I don’t want to not care about myself. I want lungs that are healthy and I want to get healthier, eat better, go to sleep earlier. I want more money in my pocket. I want to be better than I have in the past. I want to do something that my future self will thank me for. Weed, you are keeping me from realizing my full potential. You are holding me back. And when someone holds you back, you either let them go and move on, or you resign yourself to your fate.

I don’t have to resign myself to this fate. I want more for my life. I want to like myself. I want to have friends. I want to have a better marriage and more money. I have to leave you. I can’t be with you anymore. We had a lot of good time together, and there’s nothing wrong with you in small amounts, but this life where you are the only thing that matters is not working anymore. I don’t want you 16 hours of the day anymore. I don’t want you to be my everything. I want a life.

Progress Not Perfection


I’m so full of love I could barely eat

There’s nothing sweeter than my baby

I’d never want once from the cherry tree

‘Cause my baby’s sweet as can be

She give me toothaches just from kissin’ me

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I’ll crawl home to her


My baby never fret none

About what my hands and my body done

If the lord don’t forgive me

I’d still have my baby and my babe would have me

When I was kissing on my baby

And she put her love down soft and sweet

In the lowland plot I was free

Heaven and hell were words to me

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I saw a commercial today for Gatorade. Michael Jordan asked, “Do you want to know what the key to victory is? Defeat.”

There is something to be said in rising every time you fail. I was/am trying to quit smoking and I am making slip ups. If my goal was to give up smoking cold turkey, then I have failed my mission.

I feel so much happier when I smoke. I ask myself, “Why am I denying myself this? It feels so good.” It feels so good to not care. But god dammit, not caring is a slippery slope. I feel care-free right now and relieved from smoking some dirty resin. But how quickly care-free turns into a bottomless pit of despair that you’re sitting at the bottom of, smoking to forget where you are.

It’s terrible living in such despair. I have to stay away from it. I did a bad job lately when it comes to my self-reflection. For the past week and a half I have been neglecting to journal in my One Day at a Time journal and it’s fucked me up missing those days.

I have been participating in Al-Anon privately. Unfortunately, I’ve only ever went to one actual meeting and that was years ago for someone else’s problem. I realize I need to go to the meetings, I just haven’t made it a priority since I am trying to be dedicated more so to the literature. I’m on Step 4 right now which is to make a “fearless and searching moral inventory of yourself.”

That is a hard enough step without moving onto the next one. Step 5, “Become willing to admit these faults to another human being.” I made an appointment with a therapist. I could go to free meetings, but I’m too intimidated to go into a room of other people. I feel like I have to start small and admit my secrets to one person. Maybe she’ll be able to help me, but I can’t be sure. Then perhaps I can move onto the group meetings, I just feel not equal to it currently.

It’s hard to care about myself when I’ve spent so much time perfecting not caring. One nice thing about quitting smoking is that my dreams are coming back. I’ve been getting better sleep and feeling more rested. I’m not late to work because I’m smoking. I’ve been showing up to work earlier.

I have had to take more anxiety pills. It’s been 10 days since I’ve smoked actual weed. I have refrained from buying more. Technically, all I am doing is getting rid of the last of my stash. I just have a little resin left. I know I should throw it away. I have considered asking my husband to hide it for emergencies. I can’t bring myself to let him hide it, or throw it away.

Even if I’ve smoked resin a few times since Day 1, my habits are drastically improved. In my past life, I came home at 11:30pm and sat down in front of the computer and I smoked until sun up. Then I would wake and bake before work the next day. About 7 hours of the day is what I was averaging sober before. I am making progress, even if I’ve fucked up and indulged some. I just have to have a stricter resolve.

I have to remember that my discomfort is TEMPORARY. IT WILL PASS.

Steve Carell is known as a funny guy, but he has some excellent romantic roles in him as well. My hubby and I just watched;

Related image

He had some fucking killer lines. My heart broke for them. Some of my favorite lines-

Image result for seeking a friend for the end of the world quotesPenny: I wish I’d met you a long time ago. When we were kids.

Dodge: It couldn’t have happened any other way. It had to happen now.

Penny: But it isn’t enough time.

Dodge: It never would have been.

Penny: I’m scared.

Dodge: I… am madly in love with you, Penny. You’re my favorite, favorite thing.

Penny: I thought that somehow we’d save each other.

Dodge: We did. Penny. I’m really glad I got to know you.

Life of Recovery? Not so much.

Reminder of the Day from Al-Anon book

Sometimes when we hear of our loved one “falling off the wagon” or having a “slip,” we admit that we’re angry at the person themselves. We’re mad at them for wasting our time and how they make us feel—

That’s the trick, not letting this person and their addiction have power over you. Even as the addict experiences a relapse, you must remind yourself that you yourself are not faultless. Sometimes even I stray from what I know is good for me, and choose to do harmful things to myself out of wrecklessness. I have to realize my relapse is just as involuntary and forgivable as theirs is.

How do you think?

You Think Creatively

Your brain works best when you let your intuition be your guide. You like to imagine, speculate, and fantasize. You have fun playing with ideas.

You are interested in theories. You enjoy studying and developing them.

You are drawn toward art and philosophy, and sometimes even math. Almost every subject is interesting to you.

Speaking of which, I did experience my own relapse if kinds. Every couple of weeks, I start to doubt myself and think to myself that I’m tired of weed, sick of needing it. I tell myself half heartedly that I am going to try and quit. The last 5-6 days, I haven’t had any and the result is I am a not very care-free or nice. I’m sullen and moody. I can barely tolerate myself, hate being in my own skin.

I can’t blame my mom for trying to avoid the same feelings; for wanting to avoid facing reality. We do the same thing, just on different scales and I am realizing that as I spark up for the first time in what feels like ages. It’s amazing how much more bearable I find myself, and it was weird, I started looking up research on line for marijuana addiction/anonymous groups and found some information that caught my eye:

Symptoms of withdrawal:
More frequent dreams

Usually these feelings can persist up to 3 months since marijuana is stored in your body’s fat calls and therefore takes longer to detoxify from.

I was like BULL SHIT. I knew right then and there that quitting wasn’t for me. Jake even said to me, “You’re just not ready yet to quit yet, babe.” Because I was explaining to him my wanting to crawl the walls feeling and how anxious and upset I was. He said regretably that it’s normal for it to suck at least as long as the website said :(((( I couldn’t stand it, 5 days was bad enough. I don’t even like my after 5 days without it. My father used to tell my mother,

“Beg, borrow, or steal, I don’t care what you do,
but I don’t want to talk to you without it.”

I guess I’m the same way. More like her than I like to admit.

Happy 4-20!

What color is your psyche?

Your psyche is blue

You are deeply emotional and very connected to everything (and everyone) around you. By simply understanding other people, you are able to help them heal and let go. While you are a very deep and thoughtful person, you do have a very silly, superficial side.

When you are too blue: the weight of the world’s problems hangs over you

When you don’t have enough blue: you lack perspective and understanding

Image result for weed ecard

Lacy’s Resignation Letter

To Whom It May Concern;

I regret to inform you that as of 3/2/2014, I will no longer be employed by the Tower Hotel. I have a chance to start at the Renaissance as soon as possible and I hope you will understand that I feel I must jump on the opportunity. I have appreciated my time here and enjoyed all my co-workers, as well as all the learning experiences I gained in my employment here. I wish you and the rest of the team the best in these times of business build up.

Best Regards,
Lacy R.

I was so mad to have to write this letter though! I have been implicated in a scandal! It is the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen, because I never even left the lobby level that evening. This is how I played it off to everyone:
IT’S ALL GOING VERY WELL NO PROBLEMS AT ALL: I am simply leaving the job I have had for over a year because I am starting a new, better flashier job downtown at the glitzy Renaissance (Marriott). It’s closer to home and the property is more recent and gorgeous and close to everything big downtown. The only reason I had a meeting with Josh was just to make sure I wasn’t actually up on the floors last night, I played it off cool to all the girls on the AM shift, even Sara said so.
IT’S GOING VERY BADLY IT’S A TERRIBLE DISASTER: I did not mean to quit with no notice and therefore forfeit them as a respectable reference. I meant to submit a formal one week’s notice. According to the professional HR manager I trust, Mrs. Spitter , says that I have effectively burned a bridge instead. The good thing is Blake has assured me that I can retain him as a personal reference for my work at the Tower, even if the higher ups cannot/should not be reached.
The story behind the story is that when Josh the manager of the hotel called me up to his office, it was for a fatal swoop I did not forsee. When he said my name tag had been discovered under questionable circumstances, I thought my name was being linked to theft in the hotel (such is common) but instead, I take a seat in his office after he politely asks me to shut the door and he reveals to me that my nametag was found with paraphenalia.
It was bogus!! I was dumb founded. I explained, “I lost my nametag sometime during the evening on the lobby level between the front desk and parking lot. I exited the premises for lunch,” I said. “We haven’t had nametags in awhile (indeed, I’d had mine for maybe 3 hours tops before its disappearance) and I accidentally brushed it off when I was carrying my computer bag. I’m sorry, but my only crime is being air headed and irresponsible with my property. I have no idea how my nametag ended up in that room, sir.”
He proceeded “to beat around the bush without beating around the bush,” and therefor told me that since my nametag was discovered with the evidence (some weed), I was being required under reasonable suspicion clause to take a cheek-swab drug test and have it be mailed by Monday. This is when Lacy’s Ace-up-her-sleeve comes into play and I calmly stated to my manager, “Here’s the thing, Josh, I was coming in here today to turn in my one-week’s resignation. I was going to give it to Blake this evening. I have been hired on at the Renaissance downtown. And you see, since I was going to be leaving in a week anyway, I don’t see the need to pursue this matter.”
Josh proceeded to proclaim all my great qualities and what a loss it was to the hotel for them for me to leave since I am well-liked by all and do exceedindly well at my job (thank you, I appreciate that.) Josh would do anything to keep me, I explained that dowtown hired me on full time, and Josh tried to persuade me keep them on part time status. The thing is, if I wanted to keep working at the Tower Hotel, I would have to submit to a drug test. Standard protocol dictates this must be true, no matter how exemplary an employee that person may or may not have been.
I did not see the need to pursue a drug test with that company. I did nothing wrong, I was never on the 8th floor that evening, and there was no reason for my nametag to be associated for that room except by chance or spite, and who can know which it was? I have those who would vouch for me that evening as for my whereabouts, and that I never entered the upper levels of that hotel that evening. Everyone (front desk girls) thought it was funny and air-headed of me to have lost my nametag already, but who would guess that my own friggin name would be the letters that spelled my own doom the next day? ? ?
The incident involving my manager happened on Friday. It felt kind of tense to me when I shot straight from the hip and asked him, “If I refuse to take this test today, am I fired?” My voice may have shook as I asked it, but I asked him nevertheless. I thought I would have to walk back down to the lobby a defeated woman before my peers and say, “I have resigned as of right now. I am out the doors, goodbye everyone.” That was my fear as I sat in the office chair before my boss’ desk. He grinned at me and said, “Well now, I don’t know what happens if you refuse.” He left it vague, floating in the air between us. And then he launched into a secret deal, and I walked out of the meeting feeling like my hand had been forced.
My last day either had to be the next day, or Sunday a.k.a. the Day of Reckoning (test day). I could not best decide my course of action so I decided to wait until the next day when I could speak to my assistant manager (whom I trust). I also managed to get ahold of a former co-worker that I heartily adored, a sweet old HR lady for Marriott and she was kind enough to give me a ring back on a weekend, a Saturday in the afternoon to be exact.
I took 20 minutes away from the desk to seek her council. She said that I would not be able to use them professionally as a reference any longer if I did not want to take the drug test and that is the case. She advised me to walk in and act very angry that my name should be sullied in such a way, because many workers believe the same about me, that I am innocent and it’s stupid, and just turn in my things and leave. I already have another job. The Tower Hotel seems to just be screwing me out of my last week of good pay and I am was so angry to have to leave so unceremoniously as I did. I still have to go back this week to turn in my work uniforms and horror of horrors, speak with Josh the manager one last time. (Please no…*cringe*)
Anyway, I am taking this week to get into rage-inducing petty arguments with my boyfriend, apparently! The last two days have been his days off and he gets terribly upset if I do not want to spend every moment with him. The only thing is, it’s the beginning of the month and I am feeling quite emotional and on edge and he is angry too so I am not all that compelled to spend every waking moment with him and I thought he could run an errand or two alone but of course that means I don’t love him or want to spend time with him and it drives me so crazy I could (and have) rip my own hair out.
March so far has been terribly challenging. 2014 is not a peach of a year so far, sad to report. In just a few short weeks, a relative of mine was arrested and I was forced to bail them out of jail with no assistance. Not to mention, my pocket had already been strained on account of said relative already (by my choice, in some sad twisted way, more later). The next thing I know, I am also getting involved in all the stupid drama of the above paragraphs and ON TOP OF ALL THAT——->
I also got into a car accident on the way home from my last day at the Tower. I had just broke the driver’s side window wiper, the roads were miserably icy, and moisture kept collecting on my windshield making it difficult to see. There was a white car on my right, and I was maybe in its blind spot because they started to merge into my lane but I didn’t honk and I couldn’t stop and they collided with the front right side of my car with the back left of theirs and: there’s the median, I see bright lights, my eyes are wide open, the white of their car so close to mine, but I don’t feel the impact of the median, only their car and the bright lights of my car. I roll to a stop not touching the median, and they are about a mile up the road maybe when they stop.
It is a bunch of bullshit, but I manage to drive my car on the back roads all the way back home on the other side of town. I have emerged from the accident unharmed. Unfortunately, my car is wrecked on the left side for some reason instead of the impact side and it’s probably because of the median I don’t remember actually hitting. Now I have paid for a new tire and wheel, a car part, and professional repairs on the vehicle (as well as a gas cap) which amounts to a total of: $643 because of one side-swiping asshole.
MY LUCK HAS SUCKED. What is going on with 2014??? I need to turn it around. I had higher hopes for this year, and instead the universe throws at me stupid concerns such as these. My life is being so topsy turvy right now and I feel a need to press pause, get away from everyone, and maybe that’s why I haven’t pushed my luck getting started at the new job sooner. If I can only relax a little and get into the right frame of mind for my new job, I can excel at my highest level. Each job reflects your level of dedication, so autograph your work with excellence! I like that quote and I want to do well.
Aspirations for this year:
This is the year I strike out on my own. This is the year I refuse to move back in with my mother. This is the year I have my own place, the year I try to be an Adult not because some man wants me to, but because I am brave enough to do it on my own. I’m not there yet, but I will have to take the first step somewhere, some time. (I guess it isn’t here yet. Tax season is still on, don’t cha know.) Crossing my fingers that I can hold on that long….
Expiration dating at it’s finest. Which also sucks for this month >____< !!! I hate that my relationship is not working out. I hate that he can’t stand it when I contradict him. A real man could stand a little criticism and/or peaceablly offered advice. We get into arguments about everything and he says that I blame him for it all, and really, I do feel like it is all his fault. If he would take a chill pill and/or lower his standards a little, we could all get along a lot better. But he’s not the type to compromise, not even an inch >___<
It makes it impossible for me, but I loathe the idea of temporarily moving back in with my mother, even for a moment. Even if I had to live in my room in the house with her or out back, it makes me feel like maybe I’m in jeapordy of letting her control me once more and how will I get out then??? But I will have my tax return, and maybe I ought to leave with how many fights Jake provokes between the two of us now. He’s obviously not happy, but I guess he prefers not to be alone since he deals with all the things I do to disappoint and/or anger him, which I apparently do frequently. I know I am bound to disappoint him, but I keep trying. And… I guess my give-a-damn is starting to wear down, because I’m about there— quittin’ time.
I’ll let everyone know what the upcoming weeks have in store for me.