"Cover up everything. Bathe us in bliss that you can never touch. Knowing that everything will fade as we rise to the rush." -Blaqk Audio
A friend of mine invited me to Buffalo Wild Wings for her twenty-first birthday, which I felt I needed to be there. These are milestones you're only going to experience once. Her boyfriend of a year handed the waitress his phone, and in front of God and everyone, proposed to her. Naturally, she agreed, as most of those stories go.
Another individual, a female, had said she would attend and went as far as to tell me I was her date. Okay, cool. I'll play along. As dates tend to go, not attending counts as standing me up which is precisely what she did. I'm not offended about it at all, but the principle of the matter is still there. People have informed me that she's bisexual, and she's convinced of what I am. Though I deny it tenfold, she's right. I think she hits on me just to see. She gives me hugs occasionally, and I don't know what she's trying to prove with that, and I know I'm overthinking this.
So in the hours leading up to this brief soiree at B Dubs, I allowed my mind to entertain itself with thoughts of her. I had a "date" and amused myself by thinking of it. Unfortunately, the conclusion I came to is not what you would think. She's full of herself and a tease, and thinks she's above everyone else. I had her pegged as a heartbreaker from the start, and that turns me off. If I think you'll hurt me in the end, I'm not letting you in from the start. If nothing else, her "standing me up" proved that in the end, I won't chase her.
I've told people several times I don't have feelings and they look at me like I'm stupid. They've seen me happy, mad, upset, and so on. Emotions, I have. I experience them to such a high extent that at times, I'm not sure how to deal with myself. Feelings, though. I don't have them. Not for me, and not for you. Whenever I come across someone I think I might have them for, the walls refortify and my mind tosses and turns until the attraction is no longer there. Sometimes it takes a great deal of time for the refortification to commence, and sometimes it's fairly quick. I entertained the idea of pursuit with this one woman, and almost instantly removed it from my thoughts.
My stepmother has reminded me time and time again: "Everyone has someone, even you. You just haven't met yours yet."
I am convinced mine isn't there. The one meant for me had to have been killed in an auto accident or something. While I'm finally beginning to embrace who I am, I have not embraced the idea of acting on it. Okay, you're gay. Now what?
I'll tell you what. Absolutely nothing. Sometimes I am jealous of what people have. That love. That connection. Sometimes I actually want it, but then I remind myself I don't. And I continue to do without because I've convinced myself I don't need it.
And then I've convinced myself I am incapable of needing it, hence the "I don't have feelings" ideal.
In closing: Love isn't for me. I am almost incapable of embracing it. I apologize for all the negativity, but you don't have to read this. I also apologize for the length. Short blogs are better than no blogs.
-DCV-
I don't even know why I'm posting a new blog post right now. There's something on my mind, but I can't seem to pull it forward to process it. I feel funny though. I've discussed with a friend of mine what this particular feeling is, and we've both chalked it up as anxiety. I never figured myself as one who suffered from such until it was brought to my attention.
It feels like a weight on my chest. Like someone took one of those weights you put on a barbell and placed it ever so gently on top of my chest. I feel like there might be duct tape involved, but I can't be sure. Usually for me it's a sign that the world I thought I knew is about to shift. I've said before that change is not something I am fond of, good or bad. In fact, I hate it. I like the luxury of falling into a routine and sticking with it, but here lately I can't even have that.
BOOM you're gay. Now you get to deal with that.
BOOM you have to tell people. Now you get to work on getting it out.
BOOM some sort of something at work has changed and your normal work routine has shifted. You get to readjust again.
Ugh. This post is annoying.
I give up.
-DCV-
I am currently watching Captain America while attempting to clean my disaster of a house. The other day I had an appointment to be, and when in the process of leaving, I had a mental breakdown because I couldn't find my keys. I looked everywhere. My dad eventually came over and they were in the fold of my recliner...where I had looked several times.
So I'm going to talk about peeves. And not just any peeves, but my peeves. This is my blog. I get to talk about whatever I want. I don't care about your peeves.
Unfortunately, I have several peeves under a wide variety of topics, most of which were formed through working at Walmart.
Little plastic hand cart for convenient use? Place it on my register belt and give me a look like I'm your slave and I better empty it for you. I overturn it. Gets quite a few dirty looks, but hey.
I'm sorry, ma'am, I wasn't aware that the belt monster that just ate your change was supposed to process your money into the register. I just always assumed if you wanted me to take care of it, you'd hand me your money, and not the hungry belt monster. Nor is that nifty place for signing checks or the center of the bag carousel going to handle it.
Yes, I see the case of water, or drinks, or dog food etc underneath your buggy. Yes, I will ring them up. Pulling your buggy around behind my register to make me do it immediately will not only make me grumpy, but will make me adamant about ringing those items up last.
Don't get mad because my current customer is taking her time and you're in a hurry. You're in Walmart at 0300. I'm only one person. You've just ensured I will take my freakin' time.
I am not a sir. Or a him. Or a he. So, don't get mad when I confuse your inability to see the massive growths on my chest as a game of "Opposite Day."
It goes on and on and on.
However, here recently I've come to find that one of my peeves that keeps hanging out close to the top five list is as follows: Texting.
I understand people are busy. They sleep, they shower, they do whatever. I understand that I can't expect them to converse with me 24/7 via text. However, I was always under the impression that upon sending a text, once the receiver has an opportunity to reply, they will. I also understand that maybe my conversational attempts are fairly subpar. So I saw this guy in walmart today... <--That text usually isn't responded to. I don't ever say Hey or Sup. How ya doin? Because that's annoying.
Okay, so maybe you were busy all day and now feel that the text took place in a time frame larger than what you would anticipate an appropriate response time should occur.
The fun part about this particular pet peeve is the fact that my mind gets to twist all of the unanswered texts around over and over until it's processed in a completely inaccurate manner. So honest inconveniences are now "You're ignoring me." or "You really know how to make me feel small."
Moral of the story: ANSWER YOUR FUCKING TEXTS.
-DCV-
Today's blog title is brought to you by "All Within My Hands" by Metallica of their record St. Anger.
Soul searching is something I do frequently. With the same token, it is something I should seriously consider not doing. Ever again. Leave the searching to my therapist and hang on for the ride. Sounds like a good idea, right? Right? RIGHT? Wrong. Thank God with clandestine blogs, because all that soul searching can now be documented for later speculation, and without the cramping a hand gets from writing so much.
In any sort of Bipolar deal, there are always triggers. Something to let you know (if you're paying attention...) that "Hey. You're probably about to start a cycle. I'm thinking you should quit.
I just recently realized that alcohol happens to be one of mine, which is quite depressing. I love the alcoholic beverage as much as the next person. Unfortunately I was never capable of having just one. One mixed drink. One beer. One glass of wine. One mixed drink always turned into two. Three. Four. Several. If I ran out of that, I moved to beer. I don't keep wine very often, but that usually came first over the other two. Wine is delicious, but only white wines (to include blush wines). Red wines are gross, but that is beside the point.
Usually the motivator to take a drink and then two and then several is completely situational. I see something. I read something. God forbid, I feel something. Whatever it is, it's something I don't like. Not at all. I can try distracting myself from it. Think about something else. Read something else. Feel something else. But now that the signals in my brain are firing at a much more rapid pace (I love metaphors!), I am drawn to whatever it is I've seen or read or felt that's bothering me. I let it in. Hey, make yourself at home. We're all friends here. But the relationship between what I've let in and my own personal self is always toxic. Now it's inside, and all of a sudden, now I want it out.
But this thing doesn't want out. Oh, no. So if I can't use simple distractions to make it go away, surely I can drown it right? Smother it? Throw a blanket over it and save it for later?
WRONG. And that is where I make every single alcoholic mistake in the entire world. "Oh, hurr hurr you've lost a little control. Let's drown ourselves in a high BAC and hope it goes away hurr hurr." No. NOOOO. On a physical level, people's bodies generally tend to react the same, but on an emotional level, everyone is different. In my case, every single emotion that in my waking mind I am trying to smother now gets to come forward and smack me in the face. Oh, you don't want to feel a thing? GUESS WHAT? NOW YOU FEEL EVERYTHING.
And there's the second trigger. CONTROL. If I lose it, even a little bit, my mind starts freaking out. If I believe things are going well and I've settled into a comfortable routine and everything's working exactly how I want it, then I'm good. Happy even. But let's throw in a little chaos and send everything completely shifting in the opposite direction. It's like riding on the top of a train holding on for dear life without knowing if you'll make it or not. Control is actually something that I believe leads to the alcohol malfunction. In fact, I feel like control is at the heart of the issue, if I'm being honest with myself.
The third trigger that I know of is actually a combination of two, and quite common in my emotional make up. Anger and fear. Anger is a response to how I've processed a situation...and processed...and reprocessed...and processed again...to the point where the situation is no longer valid and I'm mad about something that doesn't even exist. Anger's best friend is fear, and my lack of an ability to fully feel comfortable with what I've become and who I am is fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of failure. FEAR. I'm afraid to take the next step out into the world because I'm afraid I'll retreat back into my hole. That stigma? I'm afraid of that too.
I'd love to be the happy homosexual woman prancing around in public clad in a variety of bright rainbow colors. Hey, check me out! I'm gay.
But the notion of doing so is completely horrendous to me, and leads back to fear. And if I let the fear of doing something bother me, fear shifts to anger. Anger shifts to control. Control is drowned by alcohol. Now I've lost my mind. Now I get to fight it tooth and nail to get it back. Now I'm exhausted and tired from battling and I retreat back into my hidey hole. Now I'm disappointed that I lost. Now I'm sad. BOOM. Depression.
Couple weeks of a normal life, and BOOM. Repeat everything I've talked about before.
Now I know what you're probably wondering by now. What provoked the last blog? What bothered me that much to feel motivated enough to drown it in a last ditch effort to get rid of it? It was something I read online in response to something I had said. Something I didn't want to read. I didn't want to know this. What I had done was fall into a new routine upon realizing a truth I've hidden for several years, and just as I was feeling comfortable with who I was enough to consider beginning to tell people, BOOM. I was told something I didn't want to hear. AT ALL. And to save any confusion, it wasn't anything in the form of light conversation where the other party spoke in a hurtful manner toward gay people. Quite the opposite actually. For their sake, I'm not going to say what was said. I'm going to end this blog fairly soon, because guess what's happening now?
I'm thinking about what bothered me. Playing and replaying it over again til it bothers me some more. Til my brain says "Hey, do something about it. I don't care what." If I continue thinking about it, it'll get pulled to the front and will eventually stare me in the freakin' face. So this particular post is over. Pray that I am able to put the exact same thing that drove me to drink myself stupid as quickly as possible out of my mind forever.
Until next time...
-DCV-
