experiences

Sometime’s life gives us the hardest lessons…

 

Last Memorial Day weekend the morning sickness of my first pregnancy was kicking my ass and hard. But I had no idea at the time it was morning sickness or that I was pregnant. I wasn’t throwing up, I was just feeling… weird. Like not dizzy but not really well enough to sit up for a long period of time. I’m not really sure how to describe it.

It wasn’t until a week of it progressing, and quickly that I decided to take a pregnancy test. I was pretty sure there wasn’t any way I could BE pregnant but I just felt weird.

Normally, when you get pregnant by someone you’ve been dating for over a year and live with you’d probably assume hope you wouldn’t get the reaction I did.

So I went to take the pregnancy test. I was the first to see it since I was the one who went to check on it, it was boldy positive. And just a huge rush of emotions drowned me. I never wanted kids but I suddenly felt so very protective over it and I actually started crying. No joke, I was crying. I wasn’t sad. That was the surprising part and I wanted to tell my mom so badly. I was actually excited. Scared as fuck, but excited.

He went in after me to check the test.

He didn’t say anything.

He walked out, grabbed his phone and the first thing he said was “we need to find an abortion clinic.”

I don’t need to describe the emotions that came after that statement left his mouth.

He didn’t ask me how I felt. He didn’t ask me how I felt about it. He didn’t even acknowledge my reaction. He blankly walked out of the bathroom and grabbed his phone. That night while I was laying in bed he spammed me with links via text message of abortion clinics he found in our area.

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Do you feel like a man, when you push her around?

Today last year was Easter.

I have a super private “blog” app I keep on my phone that I only write in when either something makes me incredibly sad or angry. I hardly post any happy things in there but lately I have been. So there’s been more happy posts and happy screenshots going on. I have a tendency to go back and read these posts as a I wonder what I was doing one year ago today thing. I did this a lot with my LiveJournal’s back in the day too.

Nick had said we’d go to Disney; it has been a thing I do — spend Easter at Disney. But the night before he had stayed up late gaming with his friends like stayed up till 7am gaming as he had been the whole week and weeks before that. Knowing his pattern, him sleeping that late meant he wasn’t going to get up until 3pm the next day and no matter how I asked he wouldn’t put that into consideration.

So when Easter Day came around I was obviously pretty pissed off about it. I remember being upset and tired of this shit — I hate empty promises and I hate liars. It was pretty much a month and a half of pent up irritation.

He walked over, grabbed me and slammed me into the couch pinning me down screaming at me to quit acting like a child. No matter how hard I tried to kick him or if I tried to push him off he would just tighten his grip and keep screaming at me. It gave me a massive panic attack that he told me to get over.

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Word Vomit | Too Hopped Up on Drugs

So, 3 years ago I went through a pretty massive mental breakdown and despite the years of therapy I was in for my anxiety I made the choice I told myself I would never give in to — I got prescription drugs to help me cope with my sudden spike in anxiety because my marriage at the time was pretty much imploding on itself.

And you know, it wasn’t so bad. I mean adjusting sucked but besides that, it helped me achieve that sense of relief and calmness I needed to stop my mind (and my heart rate) to feel like it was trying to out dubstep each other each morning and night (which believe me, sucks up a lot more energy than you’d think on a daily basis). It helped me control my anger and my emotions and allowed me to get into meditation a little easier until I felt like I didn’t need the help of drugs as much anymore (though I still took Zoloft on a regular basis, I didn’t take Colozo as often anymore).

Fast forward to like a year or two ago; I started dating someone new who I *thought* at the time was a *decent* person. But turned out to be seriously awful as fuck. He forced me quit my meds cold turkey by force and that resulted in 3 months of withdrawal symptoms that he cared nothing about but watched me suffer and throw up constantly. So I’ve been without meds for almost 2 years now.

Fast forward to now — he took back my iPhone and my PS4 along with all the “stuff” he’s been so desperately been trying to get from my apartment that he left here (which turned out to be a snowboard, two speakers he never even wanted, a jar of rice, a throw pillow and 3 dvd’s). He’s been trying to find a reason to get INTO my apartment for MONTHS after I told him that he’s not allowed in my home EVER AGAIN. Yet he still kept trying to find reasons to come to my front door. I told him I’d leave his stuff at the front office so he wouldn’t have a reason to get through the gate but argued with me that I was being “irresponsible” for not giving him the stuff he left here back. Not to mention he didn’t even SAY anything about it until 3 months after he left and when he found out I was flying out to Texas to hang out with my new boyfriend. Clearly he didn’t care about his stuff THAT much if he NEVER SAID ANYTHING FOR THREE MONTHS. But yet, I’m the bad guy. As always. Okay. Makes sense. I guess.

But apparently now he’s telling my roommate that I did nothing around the apartment we lived in together (even though all he did was complain, trash the place and failed to do the only TWO chores I ever asked him — take out the trash and clean the cat liter), didn’t pay rent, didn’t pay bills, didn’t buy groceries, didn’t even pay for his own gas even though he was the one working (4 hours a day for 4 days a week but whatever) because I was too hopped up on drugs all the time.

Uhm… what drugs?

I’ve never been prescribed Xanax. I never had Zoloft in that apartment and the only thing I had was a bottle of Colozopam that I couldn’t even find until after I moved out of that apartment. But apparently those two drugs make you into a zombie that makes it so that you lay around doing nothing, right? Yeah, that’s TOTALLY what those two drugs do. I don’t see where people get their info from considering it’s not from doctors and they don’t give a shit enough to Google things. They just make up some sort of excuse or reason for things and RUN WITH IT into a fuckin wall because it makes no damn sense.

To which my roommate countered saying that I finish her laundry for her and fold her pants for her when I put them in her laundry bin when they’re done and place them in her room, I clean the kitchen, I make sure the cats have food and water, I do the dishes when she works too much and try and make sure the place is as clean as my anxiety allows me to.

Thanks Harmony <3.

To which he had no response for.

He also dared to say he missed my cat Sophie and how much he loved her. Except he would grab his cat Jane by her neck (I wouldn’t call what he did scruffing because she was clearly yelping for help), throw her on the couch and scream at her when she did any little bad thing.

But I. FREAKIN. GUESS.

I know I shouldn’t let it bother me. People will always pick and choose things about you to say to other people to make you look bad and them look good. Doesn’t mean it’s true. And even if they do tell others, the people who KNOW YOU (and the people who should MATTER) know better and know the real story. So the fact he’s going around saying things like that shouldn’t matter. Everyone knows what I do and what I don’t do. I don’t need to justify or defend myself. Not to mention he’ll tell anyone who listens that his mom has a “severe mental illness” when in reality she has anxiety and she just keeps to herself.

You can tell a lot about a person by what they say about their mama.

My blogs and social media are a timeline of my every day life. Go ahead, tell people this and that. But that’s not what the time stamps on my social media say.

Fuckin idiot.

What’s deep in yo heart?

SPiNNiNG: I Care About You by Babyface + K-Ci & JoJo

I talk a lot of crap about being married. And even though I’ve been married for three years and to the most fantastic person I’ve ever met (except when it comes to cleaning up after himself… the dishes won’t do them selves) I still think the idea of marriage is crap. And I’ve talked about this before.

The truth is, once the “newness” of a relationship fades, I panic. I’m not someone to stay with long term. It’s true; I get bored. I think you get bored. I’m insecure. I have demons that haunt my mind. I can flip the script and be someone you wouldn’t even recognize but the truth is it’s always been there. And I think keeping that “newness” gives me a chance over and over to start over. To be stuck in that “impress them” phase and I can pretend that all the fucked up shit about me don’t exist.

I’ll admit, being married — being in a long term relationship prior to that — irritated me. Because when you’re with someone for ten years, there is no “newness”. There really isn’t a legit way to get that real deep “newness” back. The falling in love part where all those chemicals in your brain go fuckin crazy and you’re so absorbed in this person and you put them in this light where they’re like ahhh (*cough* angels singing). And for a long time, I was addicted to that newness. I needed it like a caffeine addict needed coffee in the morning. If you get what I’m sayin’.

Now don’t start assuming things; I’ve been faithful to my husband. He’s the light of my life (whatever that means). He’s the quirky sayings on my Sweethearts. He still smells like home. He still is home.

But I think, no matter what, there will always be that compulsive part of me who’s obsessed with fucking up every good thing in her life as building a wall who wishes she could go out and experience that “newness” again. Except for when she tries to claw her way out these days I pick up a book or watch a chick flick and fall in love with fictional characters.

I was waiting for some magical moment…

When I was sixteen, I was hanging out in an AOL chat room one night (like I did every night) and a boy who frequented the same chat room sent me an IM which I thought was weird because he hardly ever talked and I couldn’t figure out why he decided that night to IM me (not to be creepy but I legit still have that first conversation saved in one of my email account archives somewhere). We got the talking and after about a month or so of back and forth, tug and pull, does he like me or does he not like me — I finally asked him out on May 29th 2001. True, we hadn’t met yet, he lived in the city which was an hour away. We didn’t meet until maybe a week or two after that. My good friend (who’s still a good friend) dragged me with her the next time I was in the city to meet him and it was… weird. For someone who had daydreamed of their first kiss their whole life it was just… strange. If that makes sense.

After that seeing each other was a little complicated at first until he came over the first time and met my parents, after that it was a little easier to make it out to the city. For 16 year olds we were pretty crafty with hiding our long distance relationship from our parents prior to you know, not hiding it. Insane is the word that comes to mind when I think back of all the ways we tried to see each other.

Our romance only lasted about 5 months (but it felt like foreverrrr) and there was a lot of drama, mostly from my end. I was a bat crazy psycho (sorry dude) over everything. And the heartbreak that came from our final break up was so painful I didn’t know what to do with myself for literally a year. It was bad. Really bad. It literally destroyed me bad. But looking back it wasn’t just the relationship itself that destroyed me, it went on into things much deeper than that. I think I pretty much just used the relationship as an excuse to let all of the hurt from everything else surface and at some point it all got so mixed up I couldn’t tell what from what anymore.

I thought I’d never get over him.

But now, twelve years later (holy crap I can’t believe it’s been that long!) I can honestly say I barely think of him. I do wonder how he’s doing when his name pops up on a mutual friends Facebook status or what he’s up to or if we could still be friends today (then I think… no. Why would I want to do that?!). I can’t say I think back to our good times because I don’t remember them. I do remember he use to make sure there was Cherry Pepsi for me when I came over and he’d buy me Cherryheads (which was my favorite candy then — and now).

I do think about how he was the perfect person to destroy me. We didn’t have anything in common, we got along on a pretty shallow level and honestly there was nothing I really liked about him. Isn’t that strange? To be so in love with someone at some point of your life, think back and realize there was nothing even there to begin with? Love is truly blind as shit. We weren’t even friends while we were dating. He didn’t support anything I wanted to do with my life and he gave crappy advice. But I grew so much from that point of my life and I think that’s what really matters to me.

Everyone worries about their first kiss being perfect or losing their vee card to the perfect person but honestly, when you grow up and you get down to experience, your first anything sort of just fades into the background. It’s almost as important as when your first tooth fell out.

It becomes irrelevant.

Dear Zel…

I know right now, at this point of your life things are complete and utter shit. I know you feel helpless, stuck and afraid and I’m sorry that I wasn’t strong enough to remove you from the situation you’re in now. I’m sorry that you’ll still be living the nightmare within the next six months and I’m sorry that it will only get much worse from here.

If I could tell you anything, right now, it would be this: you will lose your friends. You will lose the one person who is the most important to you. When this will be over, you will have no one and nothing. You will also lose your best friend, and that will kill you. Even ten years later.

But despite all that, everything will get better. You won’t understand why these things are happening or what it’s all suppose to mean and it will be hard to pick yourself back up but you will. You’ll make mistakes along the way and hurt a boy who never had the intention of hurting you because your guard will still be up and well because let’s face it, you’re a bitch and sometimes you like making mistakes. And that’s totally okay. But the boy will forgive you. Though he’ll do a super jackass thing that will hurt you ten times worse, but let’s not get into that now… we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Or well, when you get there, cause I was already there and all.

I’m getting off track, we tend to do that, don’t we? Can tell you right now, ten years from now you’ll still for the most part be you. The parts of you that save your sanity but other parts… the parts you might like the most about yourself will be muted. I’m still working on how to unmute them.

Point is, right now sucks. Summer will suck harder. But you’ll be okay.

I know I said earlier I was sorry for not being strong enough and a part of me is sorry. A part of me wishes this never happened. A part of me wishes I had known better. That you had known better. But who were you going to tell? Who was going to understand? Everyone already had their assumptions and that was bad enough. What if everyone had known the truth? What good would it had done? To this day, I still think none. Because everyone would think the *duh* solution would to leave, like it would had been that easy. Like you weren’t scared for your life. No one understands that until they’re in that themselves. I’m sorry in general that you had to go through that — no one should ever have to. But I can not say I’m sorry it happened. For one, let’s be real. You kinda deserved it. And second it made you into a stronger person. It will take a lot of time, but you will be a stronger person because of it. That’s not to excuse the mark and mental issues it left you with but still.

This is the beginning of the end. But you’ll be okay. I promise. ♥

The beginning of the end…

o309o3 is a date deeply buried in the put of my mind. Where it should stay. But it was the beginning of an end and ten years ago today was the start of a series of life changing moments that would hit me full force and take everything and everyone away from me.

It’s crazy to think that one person would have the ability to flip your life into chaos before your own eyes. It’s crazy to think that it could happen to you. And when you find yourself trapped in that type of relationship — that type of situation — it’s far too late to do anything to fix it. It feels like there are no secret escape routes, there are no exits and there is no one to help you. It feels like the only way out, is to kill yourself. And to find yourself in that type of situation? It’s hard to explain, it’s hard to make others understand and trying to reflect on it, ten years later? Everything is hazy at this point. There are bits and pieces that spark up the most intense emotions for me and there are other things I struggle to remember because I’ve wiped it from my memory.

Ten years ago I was reckless and regardless of what anyone says, I still say I had this coming. I tried getting over someone else by moving on to someone else. To someone I barely knew and rushing things. Maybe that was the biggest mistake of all, the rushing of things.

And while this whole thing changed and destroyed my life and the me I knew, I’m thankful for it. I grew because of it, it guided me to my husband and now, ten years later I’m doing what I’ve always wanted to do. I’m happy, I’m accomplished and while I’m not yet fully stable, I know I’m getting there and that’s better than still being destroyed.

So to you, thank you. For ruining me. Thank you for six months of hell. It showed me what love REALLY looks like and it allowed me to rebuild myself into a better stronger version of who Zel was.

On eye opening experiences

I’ve mentioned before I’m reading Beneath The Glitter by Elle & Blair Fowler right now. And if you don’t know who they are, they’re sisters who are big time makeup guru’s on YouTube. I’ve been watching their channels ever since I made makeup videos back in 2009. The whole concept about them writing a book is just weird — but that’s not what this post is about. Well, it is, sorta.

Hubby and I spend a lot of time talking about books. Which is sort of strange because he hates reading. He doesn’t hate books, just reading. His eyes can’t concentrate long enough so he usually does the audio book thing if I won’t shut up about a book. But even if he doesn’t read the books I read, he’s still really interested to know what I’m reading about. Which makes me a pretty lucky girl. Haven’t had many significant others really care about my hobbies that much (especially reading).

We were discussing how it was possible for them to land this book deal (even though I found out the whole them approaching the publisher before writing the book thing) considering this book is just EVERYWHERE. And I do mean everywhere. There are entire paragraphs in all caps for pages and there’s a lot of this going on “!!!!!!!!!!!!!” seriously, that many. And it makes us wonder… WHAT WAS YOUR EDITOR THINKING? Hubby blurted out that maybe the publisher thought of it as an easy hit sale. Both girls have thousands of followers on YouTube and there are hundreds of their fans defending the book like nuts on GoodReads already. But the book itself? Is pretty low quality. Like they just shoved stuff together.

And it made me think of when we went to Chris Colfer’s book signing. We were in line for an hour (after the event started) and everyone around us had no intention of reading the book. We overheard so many conversations of people with their friends saying, “hah, no I’m not going to read this. I just want to meet Chris Colfer!” and there was one girl who even said, “this isn’t about the book, this is about meeting Chris!” uh you’re at his BOOK SIGNING.

And it was just sad. Okay yes, Chris is a celebrity but he put this book together ten years ago before he was a celebrity. He’s such a nice and humble person and it’s just sad that his fans (the ones surrounding us anyway) have no intention on reading a book he put a lot of effort into. Have no intention of reading a story he wants to tell. That the only reason why they bought this book that means so much to him is because he IS a celebrity and they just wanted to meet him.

And it just sucks. Is fame worth it? How do you know the people who gave your book positive reviews really liked it or they just want to be in your good graces?

I don’t know, an experience like that just left a bad taste in my mouth. As someone who goes to book signings all the time and is usually surrounded by people who have read the books or really want to read the books and people who legit love books… that experience was just a really wow moment.