i am happy

i haven't written for awhile. i haven't really needed to.

i met a man in a parking lot when he was driving wildly. he waved. i waved back. the next day we met.( as in, not just through glass windows). we met across a parking lot, shook hands, and he apologized for almost hitting my car.

we talked. we talked all night. about everything and nothing, and topped the night off with pancakes ( i ate, not him), and hopes to see one another. he forgot to ask me for my phone number.

next day i met him again. coffee shop. he asked me for my number. i asked him to the beach. twice. he came. i have seen him every day since. and i love him more than i ever thought i could love anyone.

it is like a fairy tale.

he is an artist, a writer, my second half. a loving man. a spectacular partner.

he always says he is lucky to have met me.

but really, i am the lucky one.

lip service.

I often wonder if people practice what they preach. Or if continual lip service is standard in society. I tend to believe that the latter is the truth, and it is a constant disappointment.

I wish that people were not such a perpetual let down, and at some point people will be who they say they are.

The old saying goes, however that "you can wish in one hand and crap in the other, and see which one fills up the fastest". My bets tend to be on the hand filled with shit, yet I am not willing to dive in to an exploratory research project of this matter.


I finished my graduate school application last week, I ought to be finding out in the next two weeks if I have been accepted. I truly hope so, as life, as I know it has gotten quite boring. I need my plate to be toppling over, as opposed to the usual status of being completely filled.

I really told myself that this year I would blog more often, however there has been a continued disconnect between my mind and my methods of expression. I miss my friends back home. I miss back home in general. To say I am homesick is an understatement, but in reality there is nothing for me there that isn't here besides my family, and soon enough they will be here as well.

I miss having friends that are so down for me that they will drop whatever they are doing and hang out with me. Most people have their own agendas, and their own crap. This I can respect. A lot of stuff I can't. I loathe how so many people call people friends that are not their friends. It seems so juvenile, I know, but hanging out with someone one day a month, or even four days a month, does not make that someone your friend. Plain and simple. There are people on this earth I can call at 3 am on a Wednesday that will pick up their phone. Those people are my friends, every one else falls into the acquaintance category. Perhaps this is harsh. Perhaps I don't give a shit how harsh that is, because reality is never an easy pill to swallow. There are people I trust until the end of time, and there are people who will smile in your face and turn around and talk shit. I find it bothersome that the majority of the acquaintances each and every one of us make are in alignment with the second group of people.

I think, that this all may sound rather negative. It isn't, I am usually quite a bright and sunny person, I have just grown up a lot, and have started to see people for what they are, not who they want to be. The rose colored glasses stopped working a couple of years ago, and the clarity by which I assess most things is startling.

If you would have asked me 5 years ago what I would have been when I grew up, I would have told you a civil rights attorney. Now I am headlong into the financial services sector, and loving it ( mostly). I see a lot of bullshit in my line of work, but I am fairly convinced that is just how the real world works.

mental vomit.

I have nothing to say. I have everything to say. This continual paradox haunts my soul . So do the decisions that I made. I struggle with somethings that many have no idea about with demons tormenting me daily, nightly, weekly, yearly, and with the only sword to battle with being my mind. Yet my mind is weak at moments when my heart has time to stop and think.

Darkness shrouds me often. I try to dance my way out of it, but am currently failing. To say I am depressed is not quite a description that I would use for the feelings I have. I go to therapy often, yet learn that the more I speak, the more I realize, the more I remember, the more I want to forget.

How is remembering supposed to make better? Forgetting worked but forgetting made me act not like myself. Sometimes though I can't remember what myself is because I forget so much, so often. I forget big parts of my life. I don't remember much of my past. Anything traumatic is forgotten. Anything.

When Eric left me. I remember coming home to nothing because my Mom reminds me. I can't remember the pain. I can't remember the hurt of it. Or of anything. That is called disassociation. Disassociation is my best friend. My greatest friend.

My worst enemy are Triggers. They are everywhere. Television. Touch. Sights. Sounds. Thoughts. I can't escape them, even when I try. Disassociation battles Triggers and leaves me numb without memory.

In case my cryptic post has left you puzzled I am going to speak in a journal, public for open eyes something that I tell almost no one. I don't know why I have made this decision, and may change my mind tomorrow. I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and it rules every part of my life and every decision, bad and good that I make. I don't remember exactly why I have it. I don't exactly know what happened. Part of me wants to keep it that way, but part of me wants to know. Part of me knows exactly what happened later in life, which I have PTSD from as well, but the real "meat" of my disorder stems from things of my youth. I have compulsions, I act impulsively, I (used to) seek attention. I work on all of these daily.

I sit at home by myself almost every night and think of all of these things. Having ruined friendships intentionally, for reasons that my therapist calls "normal to PTSD", I call idiotic and thoughtless. I miss Arizona because I miss having friends. Out here I have no one. But in reality, out there I really have no one too. Just my mom. Even she doesn't know the truth. She just helps me not feel so lonely.

I thought having a corporate job making good money would help me. It doesn't, It just means I buy more stuff and have money in a retirement account.

My boyfriend and I got back together, which is great, but he is far from me and has his own thing going on, and in effort to not be a super clingy girlfriend, I am trying not to sweat not speaking to him as much as I want, trying desperately not to disassociate because it is hard. I fight my best friend everyday. Because my best friend is really my worst enemy.

This is just the surface. This is just a glimpse of "me", but most people will never try to find out more. Most people just don't care. They pretend well, but they don't truly care. They will whisper of this behind my back, if they catch word, as they do everything else, and never truly look me in the face and talk to me about anything. I think that is sad. But I think all of this is sad. People that get second chances are willing to give none. People make judgments off of what other people say without speaking to the person they are judging. I hope I have grown out of that. But sometimes I do it too. I pray that I don't do it one day.

Maybe one day I will be okay.