Jerks & Jailbait

I last left you to go to bed for a 5am wakeup call. I managed to not get too distracted after I left the computer and actually fell asleep before 11. Not only that, I actually got up at 5! The night wasn't without the usual awakenings (I hardly sleep through the night anymore), but I didn't feel too badly when I got up. And I was even cheerful when I arrived at my destination. You'd never know that some days I can't get out of bed because I'm so depressed.

Ok, so why did I get up at 5? I was invited to a meeting for a group called BNI. It's a business networking group that works on a local basis to help refer the business of others while receiving that same type of referral. It was pretty neat. Only one type of occupation/profession is in each chapter - for example, in the chapter I visited, there was a lawyer, a painter, a realtor, a graphic designer and a photographer, just to name a few, and there were no duplicates of anything. I really liked the congeniality between everyone and the respect everyone had for everyone else's business. I don't know many lawyers that would level with a tree cutter and treat them as a professional equal. Since I'm looking to start my own event planning business, I was invited to check it out (they don't have an event planner yet haha). The person who invited me does search engine optimization, and from what I can tell, is pretty good at it. Maybe I'm biased because he does work for both of my jobs...regardless, if you're in the market for someone to make your company visible on the internet, check him out: 1st Search Optimization.

That was probably the most exciting thing I did this week. I spent tonight cleaning the church building (with a few others) where a 12 year old boy scout asked me if I brought cupcakes. He had one of my cupcakes once, and now he seems to think I should carry them with me everywhere I go. I guess it's nice to be appreciated, even if your biggest fan is a 12 year old with a sweet tooth. Eh, that's not true. My best friend's little brother-in-law is probably my biggest fan. He's 9. Why is it that I seem to only attract jerks and jailbait?

The answer to half of that question is obvious - I've attracted jerks in the past because I haven't had solid footing in who I am. I've always had terrible self esteem and low self worth. I never believed that my thoughts/feelings/opinions ever meant something and I let people take advantage of that. It wasn't until someone took it all away that I realized how important those things are. I'm finally learning to like myself and I'm working on just being me no matter what others may think. I think that will do wonders for my judgement. At least I hope so. When I met what's-his-face, he was nice and charming and geeky...all good things, but it was such a tightly woven cover of what he really is - abusive, manipulative and controlling - that I'm not sure that even if I was in better shape mentally, that I'd be able to tell that there was something wrong. I just pray that I will never, ever make that kind of mistake again. No really, I actually pray for that. I'm convinced that as I take better care of myself spiritually as well as emotionally and mentally, that I will be able to make better decisions in regards to all facets of my life, not just my relationships.

As for the other half of the question...I really don't know why a 9 year old thinks I'm the best thing since Playstation 3, but it's ok, it's cute.

Nothing very exciting to report in the fashion department today. Except that I bought a pair of orange, t-strap, espadrille wedges. I liked them, but I actually had to be talked into buying them...by my father, of all people. I talked him into going to Kohl's after cleaning the church, and he talked me into buying espadrilles. I guess it's just more motivation for me to get a pedicure already.

Ok, my brain hurts. I'm going to bed. But not until this song is finished.

Now playing : "Bloodstream" by Stateless

A Rather Useless Post.

I hate it when I have thoughts of stuff to write about later...but then when later comes, I go blank. Grr.

I have to get up at 5am tomorrow anyway, so I think I'll just go to bed. Details tomorrow.

Night!

For the Love of Everything Holy

Please make the screeching child downstairs be quiet.

I feel awful and I'm not in a very good mood. I also have a headache. Just drink whatever it is you're supposed to be drinking and not throw the bottle so we can all call it a night already.

I did Job #2 from home today. I've been sick to my stomach again. Last night I didn't feel well, and then today my anxiety kicked it off; this morning I was so upset over a blurry Twitter photo (don't ask) that I was promptly sick afterwards and haven't felt right since.

I wish I could sleep for the rest of the week. I've been having a hard time getting up. I just don't want to face the day anymore.

I've been really bad with the pictures this week, I'm sorry. Bright pink tights, t-strap flats, denim pencil skirt, black heathered t-shirt, grey shrug. Pinkish eyeshadow, black liquid eyeliner, and a combination of orange and pink lipgloss that looked kinda cool. There you have it.

Just Another Panicked Monday

For once, that's a good thing.

I am now the proud owner of 4 brand new, shiny, SQUARE cupcake pans. I was going to bake something as soon as I got home with them, but then realized that I had no frosting, and I wasn't in the mood to make it. So no baking this evening. Anyway, my tendency to panic is the reason I was able to purchase the pans. Over dinner my dad and I were discussing the logistics of the reception for which I am baking. I remembered that Target had the pans I needed and all of a sudden I had this terrible sinking feeling that if I didn't go NOW they would be out of stock. So after dinner we headed to Target and sure enough, there were only 4 left, and they were on sale! And I have my panic to thank. Weird.

I'll admit it. I looked like a shapeless hag today. I worked Job #1 in pajamas and was very, very tempted to do the same for Job #2. Instead I stayed in the black t-shirt I slept in, threw on the denim maxi I wore Saturday, my yellow hoodie, some sloppy kohl eyeliner and the Batman chucks. It was bad. When it became evident that I'd have to go out for dinner, I swapped the hoodie for a better-fitting sweater and actually put some makeup on. I guess it was a slight improvement, but let's be real, who am I gonna impress at the Chinese buffet?

It's been 4 days since my 90 days were up. My attorney is waiting on his attorney. That makes me nervous, but I'm trying not to let it really affect me. He would want and expect me to be upset, it's just the kind of passive aggressive mental manipulation he excels at. So, I'm not upset. I'm just living my life a day at a time. Any more than that and I think I'd collapse under the pressure of just being alive.

Yes, just one day at a time. Monday is almost over...what will Tuesday bring?

The New & The Nostalgic

I sewed for the first time today. Nothing fancy, just a couple of basic seams and a dart. It was fun! I can't wait to learn more. It's the perfect kind of mind numbing repetitive activity that gets me out of the cesspool of negativity I usually refer to as my brain.

I bought a denim maxi skirt last night. Not usually my style, but I liked it, and honestly, who's keeping tabs? I wore it today with a t-shirt I bought a week or so ago. I also wore the coral lipglaze that I had intended to wear yesterday. Obviously, I'm in a better mood.

I was feeling nostalgic tonight and looked up Park, a band I haven't listened to in way too long. Listening to them takes me back a few years...specifically to the summer where all I did was listen to music, find new music, go to shows, hung out with my friend's band, worked for the aforementioned band...everything I did had to do with music. It was one of the best summers I've ever had.

I'd like to be as happy as I was that summer. I was surrounded by people I loved and music that made me happy. I was living my passion. That's what I need to be doing with my life - living my passion. I just with I could make up my mind as to what that is, exactly.

A Grave Reality.

Buried deep as you can dig inside yourself
And covered with a perfect shell
Such a charming, beautiful exterior
Laced with brilliant smiles and shining eyes
Perfect posture, but you're barely scraping by
But you're barely scraping by

This is one time, this is one time
That you can't fake it hard enough to please everyone
Or anyone at all...or anyone at all
And the grave that you refuse to leave
The refuge that you've built to flee,
The places that you've come to fear the most,
Is the place that you have come to fear the most.

Buried deep as you can dig inside yourself
And hidden in the public eye
Such a stellar monument to loneliness
Laced with brilliant smiles and shining eyes
Perfect make-up, but you're barely scraping by
But you're barely scraping by...

Well this is one time, well this is one time
That you can't fake it hard enough to please everyone
Or anyone at all...or anyone at all
And the grave that you refuse to leave
The refuge that you've built to flee,
The places that you've come to fear the most,
Is the place that you have come to fear the most.

And you can't fake it hard enough to please everyone
Or anyone at all..or anyone at all
And the grave that you refuse to leave
The refuge that you've built to flee,
The places that you've come to fear the most,
Is the place that you've come to fear the most,
Is the place that you have come to fear the most.
 -The Places That You've Come to Fear the Most by Dashboard Confessional.

The first time I heard this song I was a sophomore in college. My friend Johnny was trying to get the chords right on his guitar. I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember thinking how absurd it was that this guy (the songwriter, not my friend) knew exactly how I felt...how I've felt my entire life. That was ten years ago, and it's still the story of my life.

Let's take today, for example. I was invited to lunch today with a group of ladies from church. I woke up so anxious I felt sick. I worried about what I was going to wear, how I would do my hair and how I was going to do my makeup. I even practiced the makeup the night before. Is that sad or what? I ended up changing everything I had planned. I was going to wear colors and a fun coral shade of Revlon lipglaze...but my mood dictated that I wear something more appropriate to how I felt, or I'd just end up feeling worse. So head to toe black it was, complete with the usual liquid eyeliner and red lips. I always say I feel better when I wear red lipstick...I wish I could say that was the case today. Instead, I panicked so badly I made myself sick to my stomach. Once the group arrived, it was all charm and smiles as usual, and as soon as I left, it was back to feeling terrible.

A charming exterior, a brilliant smile and perfect makeup. It really is a grave. When you build such high walls, no one bothers to look over them to see what's inside, and what's worse, if you tell them, they don't believe you. FYI, comments like "You don't look bipolar" and "You?! You're so normal!" can ruin a person.

I tried. I really did. I didn't want to accept the lunch invitation in the first place, but I did, and I actually showed up. While I'm somewhat proud of myself for that, it was so painful that I don't want to do it ever again. Trying hurts. I want to stay buried. I don't need anyone, I don't want anyone, I'm so much better off alone in my little hole.

When I was little I used to bury myself deep in the blankets and cover my head but just left just enough space to be able to breathe and take a peek around if I wanted to. Part of the reason was because I'm a little claustrophobic and was afraid of suffocating, but the other reason was because while I wanted the blankets to make me feel safe and secure, I still wanted to be able to connect to the outside world if I had to.

If that's not some kind of crazy psychological foreshadowing, I don't know what is. I just want to feel safe and secure, with the world close enough (but not too close), just in case I need it. Somewhere along the way, I began to dig my protective grave. I feel like I'm hanging on to the edge, feet dangling and nose poking out into the world.

I hit the pj's before taking a picture tonight. Sorry. The makeup's not so perfect anymore, and I probably have bags the size of New Guinea under my eyes.

Uh...

It was a beautiful day today, so I walked home from Job #2. About halfway there, the bottom part of my left heel broke. The nail wore right through and the sole came off.

How's that for symbolism? I wore my wedding shoes as a celebration of the end, and one broke. I'm pretty sure it was a sign that I need to ditch the shoes and move on with my life.

There's also a good chance that someone was telling me that my un-pedicured feet are not worthy of peep toes.

I normally don't blog during business hours, but...

It's Day 90. I no longer have to wait for my divorce. When all of the papers are in order, I can march right up to a judge, have him/her sign it, and be on my merry, SINGLE, way.

Today I am wearing my wedding heels as a celebration of the end of my wait and a statement that I won't let him ruin perfectly cute shoes.

Pandora is playing my wedding song. Again.

The good news? Every time I hear it, it's less of a shock.

I win.

Dear Readers

Some days I wonder why I bother because it's not like I say anything of real substance. Occasionally I have a profound thought, but I wonder if the profundity is negated by its narcissistic nature. Can narcissism be profound? Let's face it, right now I'm the queen of narcissism. I have a blog thats sole purpose is to discuss and analyze myself. It's therapeutic though, so does it count? I'm not sure if there's a place for me in the "blogosphere." I don't fill my time baking, or decorating, or refinishing furniture, or anything that useful people blog about.

And yet, it would appear that people read this. People besides my mother. The statistics just boggle my mind. Any time that I look at the stats and see that the page has had any number of hits (that weren't my own), I'm simultaneously ecstatic and confused. I mean, someone (that'd be you) is reading this! My thoughts and feelings and ramblings and outfits have been seen by people I don't know, and I think that's kinda cool.

You're all getting to know me...I hope I don't scare anyone off. Feel free to speak up once and a while!

Thank you for reading :)

Love, Bekah

Get Away

This weekend my parents and I went to upstate New York. It was nice to get away.

We left yesterday afternoon. Our first destination was a town called Skaneateles (pronounced "skinny-atlas"). On our way there, my mom received the following text: "[niece] is in the bathtub and I was washing my hands and she goes "save me, save me" and I looked at her and she's pointing "right there" and she had taken a dump in the bathtub." You may have figured that out from my last post...just thought I'd give the details.

By the time the hilarity, shock, and digust wore off, we arrived in Skaneateles. It was quaint; right next to a lake, and chock full of small shops that could've kept me entertained for days. The main attraction was this antique store (I forgot the name) that had two floors full of stuff, though I never made it past the lower level. In fact, I didn't make it out of a corner on the lower level...because I found a stockpile of cheap, vintage clothes in nearly mint condition. After perusing the racks and weighing my options carefully, I ended up buying a furry black dress coat from the 70s for $17.50. It's in immaculate condition. There's just one thing...after buying it, I noticed that the label says to clean "using furrier method only." There's no other label, so I don't know what it's made out of! The wording of the label makes me nervous...because there's a chance that I just bought fur, like, real fur from who knows what kind of animal. If any of it is real, I think it would only be the collar. The rest of it is kind of a soft, matted woolly type of material and I can't imagine what it would be from, so I've decided that it's fake. But the collar...who knows.

After Skaneateles, we drove up to the Palmyra area, where we were staying. We had dinner in a nearby town; it was good but made me sick. I had facial/mani/pedi plans last night and because I felt so ill, I didn't do any of it except pathetically have my mom paint my nails.

This morning, we went to the Palmyra temple, and afterwards walked through "downtown" Palmyra, where we found more treasures. I bought a neat looking jump rope for $1, a red American Tourister makeup case from the 60s and this:

Fact: I collect teapots. This one was screaming my name the second I walked in the store.

That about sums it up. Now I'm home, and it's loud and lil' niecey-poo won't go to bed. There is nowhere in this house that is quiet. It's really starting to wear on me. It really is motivation to get my stuff together so I can move out.

Good night.

Seriously?!

Few things in life are as distressing as finding out that someone pooped in your tub.

I don't care that it was a very small someone, a turd is a turd.

As if I don't have enough to worry about.

It Feels Weird to Type "I Love You."

A funny thing happened today. Out of the clear blue, my niece yells out, "Bekah! I love you!"

Um, ok.

I think I said that out loud, too. Closely followed by "thank you."

If that seems like a strange interaction, I guess I should explain.

I can probably count on one hand the number of times I've said "I love you" to any member of my immediate family in the last ten years. I have a hard time with it. It's not that I don't, I just can't say it. I feel stupid and vulnerable and self-conscious and like I'm being judged. I don't really care for the whole lovey-touchy-feely-brady-bunchy thing. It's most likely from the fact that I don't (and haven't ever) deemed myself worthy to give and receive love, blah blah blah. *sigh*

I'm not a horrible person, I swear. I just have issues.

Sorry family, don't take it personally. I probably need a lot more therapy to break through that one.

Speaking of family, I wore one of my grandmother's necklaces (Mima, my mom's mom). It's a silver bib necklace. I know the whole bib necklace thing is "in" right now but I didn't really know how to wear it. I had a hunch, but I'm ashamed to say, the other day I googled how to wear one. Turns out, I was right, you either have a low enough neckline to not interfere, or a high enough neckline to make your shirt a backdrop. And you keep the accessories to a minimum. I tried it:

And here's the whole outfit. Shoes and shrug provided by my sister. Although she didn't know that when I got dressed.

I need sleep.

Gotye!

No, that is not olde english for "gotcha!" It is the name of my new musical love affair.

The song "Somebody That I Used to Know" is amazing. Take a gander at the lyrics:

Now and then I think of when we were together
Like when you said you felt so happy you could die
Told myself that you were right for me
But felt so lonely in your company
But that was love and it's an ache I still remember

You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness
Like resignation to the end
Always the end
So when we found that we could not make sense
Well you said that we would still be friends
But I'll admit that I was glad that it was over

But you didn't have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened
And that we were nothing
And I don't even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger
And that feels so rough
You didn't have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records
And then change your number
I guess that I don't need that though
Now you're just somebody that I used to know

Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over
But had me believing it was always something that I'd done
And I don't wanna live that way
Reading into every word you say
You said that you could let it go
And I wouldn't catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know...
But you didn't have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened
And that we were nothing
And I don't even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger
And that feels so rough
You didn't have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records
And then change your number
I guess that I don't need that though
Now you're just somebody that I used to know

I used to know
That I used to know

Somebody...
-Gotye (aka Wally De Backer)
----

The bold/italic verse is sheer perfection. Especially since it's rare for me to capture the pernicious existence of his ex-girlfriend in most songs I see my relationship in. Oh, haven't I mentioned her yet? Long story short, if I wanted, I could've had a divorce handed to me a gold platter last year because someone (hint: it's not me) is an adulterer. This verse, appropriately enough, is sung by a female.

Even though the rest of the song is from the male perspective, I still identify with it...I was going to pick out sections, but really, it's everything. Except the parts about being ignored and treated like a stranger. I'm happy about all that. I don't ever want to know about him or hear about him ever, ever again. I'm making myself ill just thinking about it. He is just somebody that I used to know.

I saw my psychiatrist today. He's great. He asked me about any future plans for husband and family, and validated/agreed with me when I promptly said I don't trust anyone and that at least for now, life is all about me. I'm working, saving money, and trying to get my head together so I can get my life together.

You know, I've never lived alone? Ever since I was a little girl, all I wanted out of life was my own apartment and a cat. I have the cat. Now I need an apartment. With red walls. And a room I can dedicate to the creation of art. That has been my vision since I was a kid, and I'm going to accomplish it and many other things before I get all wrapped up in this whole "love" bit.

Perfecting my cat-eye eyeliner is fairly high on the list:

This was yesterday. It was a good eyeliner day.

Actually, I've been working on that since my discovery of eyeliner, and I'm just getting it down now. Sad.

Today, I showed the world my love of diet coke.

 I put this picture on Facebook and it caused a bit of a stir...probably because no one's seen me post anything on my own page since last year. I'm proud of myself for taking the plunge and posting it, but I'm a little nervous that something bad will come of it.

On my bottom half was my black pleated chiffon skirt and t-strap flats. Nothing like mixing casual, dressy and comfy.

That concludes tonights edition of Skirting My Issues. Where will my exciting life take me next?

The kitchen. (To clean, not to eat.)

Uggghhhh

I just realized that tomorrow is Monday, and that makes me sad.

Scenes From an Italian Restaurant

Tonight I went out to dinner with my dad. We went to an italian place that reminds me of a place where I used to work. We both order meals that come with soup or salad. About 2 minutes after the server leaves, she returns with my salad and tells my dad that his soup will be out shortly, that they make it as they go. 10-15 minutes go by. No soup. Just as my dad is reaching is soup/patience threshold, the server comes back and says it'll be right out. Thankfully, the soup arrives minutes later, steaming hot, with a basket of garlic bread to accompany it, but before we finished our soup/salad (and I got a head start...I eat slowly), our meals arrived. My sauce had a slight skin on it and my dad's wasn't that hot.

Sound familiar?

Here's what happened. My dad thought that perhaps she forgot about the soup, but not so. She was writing our order on a guest check, the kind that has duplicates; one copy for the kitchen, and one copy for the server to give to the guest. She wrote down the kind of soup that was ordered. That slip went directly to the kitchen, there was no computer to enter anything into, no middleman of any kind. When she came out with only my salad and said that she makes it herself, this tells me that she has nothing to do with the soup, that the kitchen really does heat each order as it comes. The inordinate amount of time for the soup to come out tells me that the kitchen most likely ran out of that particular soup and needed to get more from the walk-in cooler or wherever they keep the extra soup. This means that they would have had to heat it up from being cold, instead of the warm soup that's kept on hand on the stove or a steam table. While the soup is being heated, they continued to prepare our entrees as if the soup was going out in a regular amount of time. So when the soup finally went out, our dinners were finished and under a heat lamp. They weren't there long though, so it wasn't too bad. And they brought them out in the nick of time or they would've gotten pretty ugly.

It's totally acceptable to heat soup to order. It's not ok to start cooking that table's entrees when you're scrambling to find more soup. As for the server, she was nice and polite enough, but you never bring out only one person's food if you can help it. Being as she makes her own salads, she could help it. It would've also been nice if she told us what was going on. Customers like to be kept in the loop. I appreciated the fact that the entree came out quickly because that means it wasn't sitting too long.

The moral of the story? I'm not sure. Probably that I was in the restaurant business for too long and now I can pick out anything that's going on around me when I'm out. Oh well.


Even with the hiccups, it was a decent meal. Lobster ravioli w/ vodka sauce...yummy. And my dad still tipped 20%. I've trained him well.

Oh. And I hate Billy Joel.

Tolerance.

I know that God exists.

You know that he doesn't.

I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree.

This doesn't make me (or my family) unintelligent. I am not stupid, or a less important person than you, no more than you are more important than I.

That is all.

Epic Fail.

First off, this morning, I had bouncy, curly hair. Now, it's just hanging there, with only the slightest hint of curl at the end. You'd never know I spent 20 minutes in hot rollers this morning. They never work and I'm not sure what I'm doing wrong. When I pin curl my hair, it stays all day. I don't get it.

Second, I sat in a parking lot for 10 minutes before remembering that I do not, in fact, have therapy today.

Third, I spent my afternoon creating a label for urine remover. Welcome to the carpet cleaning world, folks. Pee is a problem.

Fourth, fifth & sixth, I have a headache, I haven't eaten dinner yet, and I'm cranky.

Black & White Photos Hide Blemishes...

But not under-eye bags caused by inordinate amounts of anxiety. *sigh*

I spent some quality time with my hair this morning.

Here we have a big barrel roll. Behind the bandana, it's just up in a bun. I attempted a big puffy ponytail, but my hair was too thin. It was fun to do, and not that hard! With a little practice and the right products, I could probably get it a little less fuzzy.

My outfit today was pretty basic. Black shirt with ruching on the sides, denim pencil skirt, stockings, black heels. You should congratulate me for not wearing head to toe black. Go ahead, I'll wait.

Oh, and you can bet that's bright red lipstick. There's something about red lipstick that makes me feel like a million bucks. Same thing with my hair...I feel so great when I play with it and create different styles. I especially feel accomplished and that I'm doing something that is just for me, even though the rest of the world can see it.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm reclaiming myself. You can't have it anymore.

16 days. There is a light at the end of the tunnel...freedom awaits.

Beauty Rituals

Due to a blog-related crisis, I didn't take a bath because it got to be too late. (The crisis was resolved) I did take a quick shower though, and painted my nails as planned.

I also did a peel-off mask treatment. That was like all the fun of sunburn without the pain. It was awesome.

There's something very soothing about these little beauty rituals. They make me feel great. I really need to get into the habit of doing stuff like this more often.

Plague!

Well, not exactly. Everyone in my house is sick with a massive cold...except for me. My sister is just getting over it, my dad just got it again, my niece got it the other night, my mom succumbed yesterday, and here I am, completely healthy. Physically, at least. It's quite obvious that my mental health needs work.

A while back I had said that March was going to be a big month for a bunch of reasons. Well, the first reason arrived on Thursday, March 1. Baby best friend was born at 11:40, perfectly healthy, without so much as a birthmark. I realize it's 4 days later, I apologize for the delay. I was actually at the hospital when she was born, keeping one of the new Grandpas and the little uncle (he's 9) company in the waiting room. It was a great day, but exhausting, and I wasn't even the one giving birth!

Next up on the list of March events - other best friend's baby hits 6 months! It's funny, because these two best friends are 8 months apart, and now their kids are almost 6 months apart. I think that's neat.

The most exciting thing to happen this month? I CAN GET DIVORCED! 17 days until the 90 day waiting period is up. My papers are eligible to be seen by a judge on March 22. I am praying that it happens quickly and smoothly. I can't wait to be free.

This morning, I put on my black pencil skirt, net tights, mustard yellow tshirt with the embellishment on the neckline (tucked in), black patent belt and heels. Straight hair, neutral makeup, simple gold jewelry. I thought I looked decent, but then I got home from Job #2 and looked awful...from the shoulders down at least. My makeup was still flawless. I've gotten pretty good at it, if I say so myself. Anyway, I didn't like what I saw, so I didn't take a picture.

I'm excited to try new hair ideas tomorrow...but right now, I'm going to take a bath and paint my nails. Maybe not in that order.

Finally, Some Real Introspection

So, it's dawned on me that when I named my blog "Skirting My Issues," I wasn't just being cute. Of course, I didn't know that at the time. Back in December when I set the whole thing up, I thought I was the wittiest girl ever. Turns out, I'm just a nitwit.

See, the reality is, I actually am skirting my issues. In the 4 months that have elapsed since my escape from the hell I sometimes refer to as "marriage," I have conquered very few of my issues. As a matter of fact, I'm getting worse. I cover it up with a red-lipped smile and sparkling, perfectly mascara-ed eyes, and if I didn't tell you that I was crumbling on the inside, you would never know. In fact just this past Tuesday I panicked my way through a church activity that I not only was deemed "team leader" for, but won the challenge against the other team, and then afterwards, was given a new assignment (to be disclosed at a later date) that I was completely unprepared for. It all happened with a smile and a giggle, but if you looked closely, you may have been able to tell that I was having trouble breathing and couldn't stop fidgeting. Or maybe not. I don't know. I do know that no one called me out on it.

So how do I do it? I haven't the slightest idea. I'm really open about my mental health, my anxiety and my PTSD and people admire that but, I'm so calm when I'm talking about it that chances are, they don't believe me.

I know how to analyze my behavior. I know all the right psychobabblejargon to describe myself. I even know my diagnosis number. But what do I do with that information? Sure, I know that when I'm overwhelmed I short circuit and go absolutely crazy. So what? Time after time I prove that I'm useless when it comes to positive coping mechanisms. Why go for a walk when I could just bleed and get it all over with, right? Wrong. I don't want to be like this anymore, I don't want to be "crazy." I don't want to be reminded of my failures as a daughter, as a sister, as a wife, as a friend, as a person...the only function in life I haven't failed yet is being an aunt. Give it time.

Forgive me if I don't want to hear my sister arguing over the phone with her husband - yes, husband, not ex, not soon-to-be ex (because there isn't even a lawyer involved yet), husband - about who knows what. You know what, I don't care. I'm sorry. I'm trying to reconstruct myself as a person because my husband destroyed me, and you're fighting about diaper rash?

I don't want to do it anymore! I feel like my niece. I want to stamp my feet and scream at the top of my lungs and tell everyone "NO!" and to go away. I had the house to myself for a little while tonight...it was blissful. Cupcakes (baking, not eating), some Florence + the Machine, and Bride Day on TLC, and I was happy. Enter my sister, an angry brother-in-law, and a rambunctious niece and the peace was gone faster than a prostitute's morals. I wanted to crawl into a dark hole and never come out. I'm so tired.

Therapist thinks the pressure will continue to built until the divorce is over. I hope not. I freaked out a week ago and have been depressed for weeks now...it's ridiculous. I'm happy about this divorce, thrilled even! I mean, I threw myself into traffic, overdosed and sliced open my wrist, all in attempts to get away from this guy and his torture...I jumped out of cars and stayed with perfect strangers to get away from him. He tore me apart and played mind games...I didn't deserve it, but...

Why do I still feel like it's my fault? Like I could've done something different, you know? What if I hadn't tried to kill myself in August? Or July? Or May? What if I had done something differently in 2010 that didn't result in the first separation? What if I had left the very first time he hit me? What if I had never met him in the first place? I wish I had never met him. There isn't the tiniest shred of light left in him. I don't know what happened, but he got darker as a person from the time I met him til the time I left. And that brings me to Florence.

There is a song on the album "Ceremonials" that sums it up. It's called "No Light, No Light." It covers it all - the darkness in the other individual, the desperation to try to make it right, the demanding for a resolution from the other person...here are the lyrics:

You are the hole in my head
You are the space in my bed
You are the silence in between what I thought
And what I said

You are the night time fear
You are the morning when it's clear
When it's over you'll start
You're my head
You're my heart

No light, no light in your bright blue eyes
I never knew daylight could be so violent
A revelation in the light of day
You can't choose what stays and what fades away

And I'd do anything to make you stay
No light, no light
No light
Tell me what you want me to say

Through the crowd, I was crying out
And in your place there were a thousand other faces
I was disappearing in plain sight
Heaven help me, I need to make it right

You want a revelation,
You wanna get it right
But, it's a conversation,
I just can't have tonight
You want a revelation
Some kind of resolution
You want a revelation

No light, no light in your bright blue eyes
I never knew daylight could be so violent
A revelation in the light of day,
You can't choose what stays and what fades away

And I'd do anything to make you stay
No light, no light
No light
Tell me what you want me to say

Would you leave me,
If I told you what I've done?
And would you need me,
If I told you what I've become?
'cause it's so easy,
To say it to a crowd
But it's so hard, my love,
To say it to you alone
No light, no light in your bright blue eyes
I never knew daylight could be so violent
A revelation in the light of day,
You can't choose what stays and what fades away

And I'd do anything to make you stay
No light, no light
No light
Tell me what you want me to say

You want a revelation,
You wanna get it right
But, it's a conversation,
I just can't have tonight
You want a revelation
Some kind of resolution
You want a revelation

You want a revelation,
You wanna get it right
But, it's a conversation,
I just can't have tonight
You want a revelation, some kind of resolution
Tell me what you want me to say.
-Florence + the Machine

I'm in love with the song. I need to dance to it. It describes everything, THAT was my relationship. He demanded the impossible from me, I couldn't do it. I did everything I could imagine to make him happy, nothing worked. I finally gave up and just asked what he wanted me to do/say. That didn't even work.

I'm so tired of picking up pieces of things I didn't break.
To tie it all together, I've been skirting my issues for a long time...and it took deciding to wear a skirt for a year and starting a blog for me to figure it out. All this time I thought I was making progress. I used to think that my freakouts and mental deterioration were merely consequences of my life's decisions. I've changed my ways and habits...but I'm still a mess. And that's a lot to swallow when you think that you're all better because you have a few pills and life is pretty tame. This whole healing process hurts, and is uglier than the current state of my eyebrows.

Good night.