Reflecting

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.

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Hello

WHERE IS THAT KEY?!

I am incredibly stressed out. I’ve lost the key to my luggage. My luggage that is locked. I kept it locked because my mom puts the smaller luggage in the bigger luggage and if she did that then I would have an anxiety attack and refuse to use that luggage again. Just in case she would forget, I kept the luggage locked. I have not seen or thought about that key in the last year and a half. How the heck am I going to remember where I put it? I’ve looked in all the obvious places it would be and it’s not there. I thought at the time if I lost it, ho hum, M has a key too. But apparently his is missing too. 

I have no idea where either key is!

And without the keys, I can’t pack. We have less than two weeks before we leave and I needed to pack that luggage like, 3 days ago. I’ve searched the hallway, the kitchen, my purses/bags and argh. I have no idea where it is. This is not how I imagined this would go and it’s making me very very anxious.

I have a feeling I won’t be going to sleep tonight until I find this damn key.

Literally.

Reflecting

“Real me love Jesus”? So what does that make the rest of us?

On my way home today, we were stuck behind a truck that had a bumper sticker on its back window that said “Real me love Jesus”.

Just a bit of background, I was raised Roman Catholic (yeah, seriously) and while I let go of that religion almost 5 years ago, I respect the fact that my parents and family members still believe in God (I just wish they respected the fact that I don’t in return). My subconscious thinks there could had been a God, only because it was drilled into my head for so many years but my conscious does not. Letting go of a religion is a lot harder than you might think it is even if you strongly feel like that religion isn’t meant for you.

I never felt like believing in God was for me. Even when I was a kid stuck in CCD for all those years, I never really understood what everyone was feeling. I always looked at it as fiction story time. And as I got older, I could understand what everyone was saying but I didn’t feel it. Because my parents are so strong in their religion, bringing up the fact that I didn’t think I believed in God would had be like, suicide back then. But even when my mom brought it up a few years ago, what was it that I believed in, she wasn’t happy with my response.

Here’s my deal with people who feel the need to tell the WORLD they believe in God…

You don’t see a Buddhist with a bumper sticker that says “Real men believe in Buddha” do you? You don’t see an Atheist with a bumper sticker that says “Real men think for themselves (fuck religion)” do you? It’s only the people who believe in God that are quick to come up with some snarky offensive quote and pass it around like it’s the church collection basket to those who don’t believe. Then they come up to us and say that we’re “too scared” to believe. That we’re “lost”. That weNEED to be “saved”. Are we not free to choose a religion other than YOURS? Are we not allowed to admit that we feel out of place or disinterested in something?Are we less of people because we don’t believe?

I want to say that I find these bumper stickers offensive because while it’s your car and it’s your life, there’s a difference between that and someone putting a bumper sticker on their car because they’re gay and they want to show their pride or a parent who’s kid is in the honor roll. They are showing their pride within their lives, but you’re showing your pride by making someone else feel like shit. And that’s just not right.