The Omni-Directional Pull of Who I Want To Be Vs. Who I’m Supposed To Be When I Don’t Even Know Who I Am

That’s one hell of a title, ain’t it?
It’s not exactly what I was goin’ for, but it’ll have to do.

As usual this is going to be broken up into parts. If you’re wondering why, it’s because I feel like it makes it easier for you to follow, it makes it easier on me because I can quickly find a thought to expand on while I’m writing this, but mostly because I can’t keep a straight line of thought even if I tried. Just in case you didn’t already figure that out.

The first subject that I’d like to bring up is not knowing who I am. I don’t mean that in a literal sense, I don’t have dementia, everything is fine. I’m referring to a sense of dissociation with who I’ve become as a person. I don’t seem to have hobbies or skills outside of obedience and fucking up everything I’ve ever tried to accomplish. I’m good at faking my way through situations I don’t want to be in, but I think instead of “resourceful” that falls under “compulsive liar.”

This all kind of ties in with the next part, who I want to be.

I find it hard to pin down what I wanted to be when I was a child, which makes it hard for me to decide which path I need to take to get…. Where?

When I was younger, I always had grand ideas about who I would be when I grew up; I would picture myself as a loving, organized soccer mom, a successful powerful businesswoman, a teacher, the leader of a big socioeconomic movement, an actress. Even the not-so-accepted stuff like bank robber, cartel boss, mafia associations, professional escort, even a coma patient/car crash/burn victim or insane asylum patient…. *spoiler alert* It didn’t matter, I haven’t accomplished anything like that. Not even close.

In my “old age” I’ve come to feel that I should have found and stuck with something. Because now I’m sitting here not knowing what the hell to do with myself because I don’t know who I want to be. Being me now kind of sucks, by the way. I mean, I guess it has its perks, but it’s kind of lame and shitty too. I’ll explain.

I live with my family but I pay rent, my bed is in the living room because the two bedrooms are taken up by my mother in one and my grams and my little sister in the other. My mother is a kind of emotionally abusive selfish hoarder with a superiority complex and jealousy issues, my grams is just the best thing in the entire world, and my little sister just whines and bitches about how hard her life is and she doesn’t even know how to boil water and has never used public transportation in her entire life.

I have a small group of friends who constantly call me an inspiration in spite of the fact that I’m the human equivalent of trash. I’ve got my girl squad. Their opinions have an impact on the decisions I make. I’ll describe them individually but change their names for privacy’s sake.
First up there’s Millie. I’ve known her for quite some time, I’d say about thirteen years now. She’s kind of a crazy person, but I love her nonetheless. She’s got a strange living situation, three of the cutest, derpiest damn dogs I’ve ever seen, and a… nice? Fiance. I don’t know, that’s not my dirty laundry to air. She’s the one I vent to about my insecurities, we workout together (or not, usually not), we do crafts and shit, and come up with crazy schemes that we’re never going to actually do.

Then there’s Kim. She’s been in my life about eleven years now. From the outside she seems quiet and uninteresting. Ooh boy lemme tell you that is not the case. She’s a phenomenal artist and one of the kindest people I know. She worries about me constantly and is definitely the distant mother figure I always wanted. Her boyfriend is sweet from what I can tell, seeing as I’ve only met him once and have maybe only had one or two interactions with him outside of that. I’m confident he’ll take care of her. We go to the mall or the park and just talk. We seldom do anything else. She’s the one that knows I have an unhealthy obsession with potatoes and isn’t ashamed to be seen in public with me.

Amber has been in my life about six years at this point. It certainly doesn’t feel that long, but oh man time is flying. She’s funny, she’s laid back, she’s cool. In addition, she’s probably one of the most beautiful human beings I’ve ever seen. Her man is awesome, I’ve known him just a couple years more than I’ve known her. They have a beautiful baby boy that I regret not seeing as much as I should.

In addition to my small group of friends, I also have an incredibly supportive, passionate boyfriend who I’d do absolutely anything for. He takes care of me even when I’m mildly capable of taking care of myself.

I had a crappy job working retail sales management. Even though it wasn’t great, I was good at it and everyone in the company knew my name. I made decent money, but I got fired three days before Christmas because my direct supervisor decided that my doctor note (that I got because I took ONE sick day in three years) was a fake and that she couldn’t risk the integrity of her management team. It was in fact not a fake, I had strep and the flu. There was absolutely no way for me to get out of bed let alone drive 45 minutes into town to try to see a doctor. If it weren’t for my incredibly amazing boyfriend I’m sure I would have died on the road and I definitely wouldn’t have made it to see a doctor.

So now I’m unemployed and I’ve never had a harder time trying to find a job. Up until this point, I’ve received an offer from EVERY interview I’ve ever attended. Since I lost my job? I’ve had four interviews and I still haven’t gotten a call back.

This all ties into who I’m supposed to be. I’m supposed to be independent, working hard, enjoying life. I’m supposed to be responsible and stay on top of cleaning the small bit of the house I reside in. I’m supposed to be doing something more with my life.

How am I supposed to accomplish anything when I don’t know anything?

Normally by this point in my writing I’ve come to some sort of conclusion; I have some answer for the few of you who read this and think “Hey! Same.” Unfortunately this time around I don’t have that for you. I don’t know how to give you an answer to something I don’t understand myself.

I wish you all the best of luck.

Waiting; A Short Short Story

I’ve found myself in this office time after time again; this was the third time this month. I sat in the corner of the waiting room with my hood pulled up over my head and my feet tucked under my chair. They were bouncing rhythmically, I couldn’t control it; I’ve been sitting here for over an hour waiting for results, I was getting anxious.

Shit, I wish they would hurry.

This is something I’ve been dealing with for the last three years. Just last month my doctor told me he thought everything was cleared up; yet here I am again. Waiting. I’m always waiting.

How long does it take to look through a damn microscope?

I pull out my cellphone and start mindlessly scrolling through Facebook. Memes, click-bait, sign this petition for something unimportant, poor quality filtered pictures of half-eaten meals, the same crap I find here every single day. At least it passes the time.

It’s been three hours now. I’m the only one here. What could possibly be taking them so long?

I sigh and shift my legs, I don’t think I’ve ever been this uncomfortable before. Back into my phone, there’s got to be something that I can use to distract myself. Deciding on a trivia game that I haven’t played in months, I settle in and begin proving that I am in fact smarter than everyone else.

Another hour in. Christ, this is taking forever. Maybe I should ask the lady at the desk—

“Ms. McEntyre, we’ll see you now.” About damn time.

I follow the nurse back to one of the consultation rooms, she’s uncharacteristically quiet; that’s not a good sign. Room C, I resign to sitting in the chair next to the desk; there’s just something so demeaning about sitting on that tiny hospital bed with the crinkly paper. “The doctor will be in shortly.”

Waiting. Again.

Twenty minutes go by, the doctor finally saunters in. “Morgyn, I’m afraid I have some bad news. I’m very sorry, but…”

My mind starts to race, I tune out the doctor. I only pick up key terms; radiation, six months, unfortunate circumstances, I should have come in sooner, blah, blah, blah. I couldn’t stand to listen to the drone of things I’ve heard three times before. This can’t be happening again. As soon as the doctor finished speaking, I ran for the door and started driving.

If there’s an expiration date on my life, I can’t waste any time not living it.

The Dive; A Short Short Story

I had no idea where I was going or why I was following the directions left for me on a napkin in a dive bar, but I continued on regardless. I shouldn’t have gone; it was the worst decision I’ve ever made in my recently ended life. That’s right, I’m a ghost, and this is the story of how I ended up here. My life was simple and boring, I was a run-of-the-mill student with average grades and virtually no personal life. I was a dancer, a writer, a musician – you know, one of those creative types that doesn’t thrive in social situations. You’d think after twenty-five years of life I’d have a little more to show for my “creativity.” Anyway, I promised a story.

After a particularly horrific break-up, I decided to pull myself out of my comfort zone and try a dating site. That was my first bad decision. I met a guy named Dave. He had only lived in town about a year and he was settled in and was looking to meet someone special. He was a surgeon by day, a late-night philosopher, and pretty damn attractive. We had a lot in common: he was an artist, he liked photography, and he was ready to settle down. Or at least this is what he told me. After about a month of conversing, he asked to see me in person. I reluctantly agreed to meet him at a shady local dive bar I usually avoided. Bad decision number two.

As I was headed to the bar, I received a text from Dave telling me that he had left a note with an address he wanted me to go to instead; the bar wasn’t exactly “his scene.” I wouldn’t normally go through with this kind of thing, but against my better judgement I went anyway. This is where I stop counting my mistakes: it’s all downhill from here. The address was a few blocks further; upon my arrival I knocked, and the door swung open from the force. There were no lights, not even light from outside filtered through the windows, and I could taste dust thick in the air. It seemed as though this house had been abandoned for years.

I cautiously walked into the pitch black darkness to search for Dave. I couldn’t see him, but a single lightbulb flickered on at the other end of the room. I remember thinking “this is how crappy horror movies start,” but I continued. I was nervous and called out for him. No answer, so I hesitantly walked toward the light. That’s when I saw it: a table covered with various metal tools with sharp edges and points. My heartrate increased and my breath grew shallow. I called out asking if anyone was there, my voice faltering with each syllable. Still no reply. I edged myself closer to the table, and my feet froze in place once I noticed traces of blood on a few of the tools. I couldn’t tell how fresh the blood was, but I was smart enough to know that I shouldn’t be there. I urged my feet to move, begged my eyes to turn away from the instruments. I needed to run but I couldn’t even move, I was paralyzed with fear.

I abandoned all hope with the echo of a step behind me. The next thing I know, there’s a ten-inch blade being forced through my abdomen. There was no pain, it was like a hot spoon fresh from the dishwasher, plunging into freezer-burned ice cream that had been in your freezer for as long as you could remember. I only felt the blade cold and wet like ice water as it tore through my insides.  Still, it wasn’t nearly as cold as “Dave’s” eyes as the corners of his mouth twisted up into the most sadistic smile I’ve ever seen while he stood over my fallen figure. The sickening sound of his moaning in pleasure from killing his prey will forever resonate in my mind.

That’s my story, no “once upon a time” or “happily ever after,” but it’s realistic enough. Something similar could happen to you, no matter how smart you think you are. So, don’t follow a stranger’s directions sloppily written on a napkin in a dive bar on a bad side of town. You’ll find yourself as every horror movie cliché you could possibly recall, even if you saw it coming the whole time.

Winter’s a lot Colder When You’re Alone; A Short Story

It was the dead of winter. Outside, the streetlights cast strange shadows across the snow that glittered beneath their beams of illumination. The snow was only disturbed by the tracks from one brave vehicle and a few footprints along the sidewalk. It had been awhile since any activity had occurred in this winter wonderland, the inches of snow that now covered these tracks indicated this. There was still some smoke lingering in the air from the last few flames being extinguished; most everyone else’s had been lifeless for hours. Everything seemed at peace.

The scene inside was much less pleasant. Smoke of a different kind hung heavy in the air, the whole house smelled of dust, sweat, and ash. Most everything was still, even the arms of the clock that stood to measure the time passed stood at rest. She removed the batteries the day he left.

She sat alone in the silence of the conservatory; the trails of mascara streaked down her face comparable to the scars left in the earth once a river dries out. Hidden underneath coats of days-old mascara and eyeliner that valiantly held its place on her eyelids through the floods, her eyes were bloodshot and devoid of all hope.

Who am I without him? I was just adapting to the arctic temperature he put off; I bundled up whenever I was around him.

Her fingertips lightly rested upon a black marble Rook, the accompanying pieces placed strategically across the chessboard in front of her. This game had gone on for days. She was determined to finish what she started, even if that meant she had to remain conscious until the game ended.

My tastes grew accustomed to the severity and insensitivity of his callused reasoning. Every time I fought him, he fought back. He struggled to stay on top, causing me to sink the faster and harder I tried to keep my head above water.

For just a moment her glance shifted to the stool situated across from her. Nicotine-stained court paperwork, the final decree for the dissolution of the marriage to the man that she believed she would spend eternity with. Placed carefully on top of that was a small rectangular mirror, covered in scratch marks from moments her need exceeded her patience and she cut a little too deep. Just a small amount remained of the delightful white crystalline substance, it took all of her strength not to lunge at it then.

Not yet.

The shroud of voices that singed her ears and mind was made up of excerpts found on bathroom walls and one-night lovers’ sweet nothings and empty promises. The monsters that hid in the darkest crevasses in her mind were ready to strike, they waited for the signal. They knew if their stomachs growled enough, she would soon feed them. She couldn’t let her babies starve after all, they were all she had left.

Not yet.

She pulled her gaze away from her sweet lady in white and returned focus to the game in front of her. She examined each piece’s position carefully, determining which move could finally end this prolonged engagement.

He blinded me with reassurances, I see that now. Point to point, things don’t match up. He never stayed late for work.

Her eyes scanned the board, her breathing growing shallow as she felt her throat tighten as she held back more blackened tears.

If I were to mark for every scratch on his back that signified it, my bleeding heart would be blackened from the ink; and if I were to add every breath I withheld while listening through the bedroom door, the house of cards he hides in would surely come crashing down around him in the most ravaging manner. He always found a way to accomplish his objective; I once admired that.

The lump in her throat began to swell and she felt her stomach tie in knots. The tears burned behind her eyes, then flooded down the ravines in her makeup like flood waters. Her body convulsed violently as she choked back her sobs.

I should have never left; I should have seized the opportunity when it presented itself. Now conspiring glances are shared, none of which I am surprised. I am at fault.

She stood for the first time in hours, her bones creaked and her muscles ached. Every convulsion sent needles down her spine. She gasped for air, bawling, begging herself to stop. Shivers coursed through her body and her shoulders and chest heaved with every gasp. After what she could best describe as forever, she had finally calmed herself.

Her eyes fell on the mirror; it beckoned her, seduced her. She approached it carefully, as if in fear that even the slightest quick motion would cause her white mare to flee. She slowly knelt beside it, her fingers grasping a razor that sat on the edge of the chessboard. With mastered skill she drew the remainder of the powder into a thin rail. She took a moment to admire the work of art she had created, and took a deep breath.

This was the signal.

It hit her instantly, she never felt so awake. Her face went numb, and she could feel remnants sliding down the back of her nasal cavity and into her throat. Her thoughts raced on the backs of demons, coursing through even the darkest parts of her mind. Her depression melted away, and fury began to consume her thoughts.

After all that I undertook and faced with him. I transformed the entirety of my soul, reshaped my future. All for him. He abused my emotions, neglected my affections, betrayed my trust.

She stood, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror for the first time since she began her game. It pulled her from her anger as she recognized the same distress that she fought so hard to free herself from. Her eyes were wide and dilated and surrounded by smudges of black makeup. Her cheeks appeared hollowed, and her skin was pale and covered in a sheer layer of sweat. Her dark hair was oily and tangled, it hung haphazardly across her face. She noted that she looked a bit like a rabid raccoon. She couldn’t keep this up much longer.

She centered herself in front of the chessboard with new determination. Still standing, she examined the board from a new angle. She found it hard to focus; her eyes kept flicking back and forth between the opposing pieces as she played through each potential move over and over again. She had to find the move that made perfect sense, the move to end all of the inhibitions that he harvested in her mind.

He planted seeds of doubt and took years to cultivate them into the disaster I’ve become. I’ve no one to blame but myself. I allowed him to wreak havoc among my thoughts, permitted him to establish what was acceptable in our partnership, I convinced myself that was how one behaved when they were in love.

That’s when she saw it, the move she’d been looking for all along. She sat in the chair she had been in for so long, promising this would be the last of the bout. She carefully maneuvered the pieces across the board, removing one by one with fierce precision. There was a spark in her eyes as she placed the last piece.

At last, I can put this all to rest. No longer will I allow his opinions of me to manipulate the manner in which I view myself. My being has been cleansed of his influence.

Checkmate.

Watching; A Short Story

A heartache wrenched girl waited for the opportune moment to express her feelings. She wanted to shout it from the rooftops, break all the sound barriers; but she was holding on to a useless vision. She had fought and fought to break herself from the ties of her previous captor; it took everything she had. She had spent years simply trying to fix the damage that was done; wondering when the light in her life was going to come back on. Lately, she’s only realized that tragedy is a reality waiting for a contradiction. I wanted nothing more than to tell her…

Stop… Don’t breathe…

It hurts less if you don’t breathe.

She continued to wait for her opportune moment; many came and went. I observed this whole time, watched her be torn and tossed like a ragdoll every time she tried to open herself up to someone new. I heard her cries in the middle of the night every time her date never showed up. I heard her talk to her friends about how she knows she deserves better every time she let one of her dates push her too far. It was all an act. She hid her tears from everyone, but she could never hide them from me.

I watched the confusion that was implanted in her mind, the way she would let them look at her and manipulate the truth. It killed me to watch as she would wrap herself around the fingers that had caressed so many girls’ faces before hers. I’d seen their type before; their eyes sparkled, like a candy laced with the deadliest of poisons. I couldn’t stand to watch her throw herself into their arms only to end up devastated seemingly moments later; no longer could I sit by and watch as she wasted away into the abyss. Her love was a disease, and it was eating her away.

The years went on, I kept watching. I wished that a cure would come; that their games would end. I hoped against all odds that someone would finally look beyond her past and see the full glory of her soul. Someone needed to see her for who she was; such a sweet, soft human being. Only I saw her behind closed doors. No one knew what she put herself through to deem herself good enough for them. She wouldn’t show the ways she bent and twisted herself into everything that she wasn’t just to make them happy for a night.

Their “love” was a game, strategically moving across the playing board that is her body. They always seemed to play exactly the right card at the right moment to catch her off guard. They took advantage of her weakness, which was simply that she loved too much. I wanted so badly to pull her from this sick version of Candy Land, “everything is her fault” was how the spinner always landed. She just needed to know….

Stop… Don’t breathe…

It hurts less if you don’t breathe…

Oh, how desperate I was for her to notice that I was there. I wanted nothing more than to save her, to give her the love that she deserved. But she didn’t even know I existed. She would face me every single morning. Her eyes sparkled like candy, much like the poisoned sweetness in her prospective partners’ eyes. But there was always more, more depth. Every morning I stared into her eyes, begging her to realize how much she was worth to me. Pleading for her to hear me.

Each year the sadness in her eyes grew more and more. If I could have just got her to hear me, see me, anything… I could have saved her. I did everything I could; I would draw her pictures on the glass while she was in the shower, I would turn the radio on before she came home from work so she wouldn’t be hit by the silence she normally lived in. I needed her to know I loved her. She needed to know…

Stop… Don’t breathe…

It hurts less if you don’t breathe…

I wish I had tried harder – found a way to get to her before she went to such drastic measures. She bent herself in so many ways for those she craved that she finally broke. She had waited so patiently for him to call; he’d promised that he would. I watched her sit in silence in the chair in the living room – staring right at me – as the hours crept by. Her expression never changed, but her eyes grew darker and darker. She still didn’t see me…

After what seemed an eternity, she stood and disappeared from my view. A small panic filled me, and I hoped that she had enough sense to make good decisions. I couldn’t exist without her; she needed to realize that I was there, that I was everything she was looking for and more. We would have been perfect together. She settled back into the chair where I could see her. She had started crying in the moments that I couldn’t see her. She had a small bottle in her hand, I couldn’t tell what it was. I watched her shoulders rise and fall with each deep breath she took as she opened the bottle.

Her tears came faster, her hands trembled. I screamed out to her as I watched her take pills one by one, choking out apologies that would never be heard. She deserved so much better than this. I slammed my fists against the glass partition that separated us as hard as I could. I begged her to stop, pleaded for her to just look up and see me. No longer able to retain my own tears, I watched her slip into sleep. I knew she wouldn’t wake up again. Her form slumped into the chair, the bottle with the few remaining pills fell and rolled across the floor. I was shaking; I would give anything just to see her eyes flutter open as they did every morning.

Not this time. Her body stayed crumpled in the corner, her spirit rose slowly from it. She looked back at the life she had thrown away and I watched as what appeared to be a smile cross her face. This was the happiness she had always wanted.

I pressed my hand against the glass, my throat still felt tight. She turned and looked at me, and for the first time I think she saw me. She looked frightened, but I didn’t know how to help her; I called out to her. This was my opportunity to show her amazing she was. Maybe I could finally be with her. I couldn’t help but smile as she slowly approached the glass. I could tell that a part of her knew that I was always there when she returned my smile. She reached out to put her hand on mine, the glass still divided us. I couldn’t pull her to my side. But I loved her, and I think she loved me too because she stayed here with me.

Although it’s agonizing never being able to hold her and comfort her on the nights when her cries shake the building with wind, I’m glad to have her. Every night, I watch her body collapse into that chair as she relives the moments of her death indefinitely. The torment of her soul keeps her trapped in this infinite loop, and I won’t move on without her. It’s agonizing to watch night after night, but the moment she smiles at me makes it all worth it. At least now she knows I’ll always be here for her, just on the other side of the mirror.

Return of The Empress

It would seem I’ve spent far too much time away from you, my precious blog. We have oh so many things to discuss. I’ve noticed that I’ve lost quite a few followers, but that will not stop me from providing you with the bitter insight that you normally get from me. In my last entry, I mentioned the “mess of marriage,” and I explicitly remember stating that I didn’t believe my marriage was a mess. Oooh boy was I wrong.

Shortly after my last post (you don’t get a time frame, sorry, it’s depressing if you do the math) my now ex-husband and I separated. We had… Creative differences.

A lot was learned from the experience, and it’s been over a year and I gotta say…. I couldn’t be happier. Ask almost anyone, I’m in a really good place right now. I’ve lost almost another person’s worth of weight, I’ve become more self-aware, I’ve set standards not only for myself but for the company I keep as well, and I’ve started learning how to tell people no.

On top of all of that I’ve met the most wonderful boy. He’s beyond adorable, so incredibly smart, and just the absolutely sweetest person I’ve ever met. All while being cynical, dark, morbidly depressed, and a bit of an ass sometimes. I believe I can say I think I’m falling for him, he’s perfect. And I’ll never let him find this blog because I’m pretty sure he likes me too and I don’t want him to see how much of a mess I am.

In my time away, I decided to go back to school. I’m continuing my degree in biochemical engineering, as well as pursuing a degree in English Literature. It’s kept me very busy, and I’m still managing to maintain my 4.0 GPA. Last semester I made Honors Society, so this semester I’m taking all honors classes and I honestly feel like I’m dying. I’m taking a Utopian/Dystopian thought course, physics II, Bio III, Early American Literature, and a philosophical thought course. Oh, and I’m also working approximately 60 hours a week.

All of this and I still make time for him. I always will.

Anyway, school reminded me of something. Last semester, I took a creative writing class. I’ve elected to post a few of the pieces I submitted last semester. Very soon you will see a part of me that I don’t show very many people. Please be kind.

With that said, I was just intending to do a quick catch up without much detail. The Empress has returned. Much love darlings!

The Last Goodbye and an Analysis of a Truly Mad World

I’m sure you’ve heard the song “Mad World,” if not, there will be a link at the bottom. In my younger years when I first heard this song, I found it depressing and didn’t understand it; it didn’t make sense to me. I heard the song earlier this morning after a particularly strange dream and in the middle of one of the worst fits of depression I’ve ever dealt with. I’ll be honest, I cried. It was a rough morning for me, and it led to a rough day, and an even worse night. As we speak I’ve been in bed for hours simply unable to fall asleep. This isn’t what I wanted out of life, and this is far from what I was expecting my early twenties to be like.

I’m not writing this post simply to bitch about my life, but in the hopes that someone may read it and relate, and learn from my mistakes.

As of right now, I think the biggest problem in my life is my self-esteem, closely followed by not being able to manage my depression and mood swings. Let’s be real here, I hate myself, and I have since about 2006. I wake up in the morning and all I want to do is pull out my hair and crawl out of my skin. I’ve had problems with my weight for as long as I can remember, and I’ve been determined to do something about it. My problem comes in that shortly after I resolve to change things, depression sets in and I lose all motivation to live let alone get my ass to the gym.

This causes a lot of difficulties with my relationships. I’ll start with the easy one to explain: my friendships. I have a network of extremely amazing friends who are usually very supportive and generous. I love them more than anything and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. Like most people my friends like to make plans with me, and unlike most people I blow them off completely more often than not. It’s not like I do this with malicious intent, I feel awful when this happens; and I just don’t know how to tell them that I’d rather kill myself than get out of my bed. There are old friends of mine that I’ve blown off so frequently that they’ve dropped contact with me completely, which really doesn’t help the depression. Worse than ruining friendships, I feel I’ve destroyed my marriage. Granted I know I’m not the only problem, but I’m sure my self loathing doesn’t help at all. According to my husband I’m selfish and nihilistic and part of me is starting to believe that he’s actually right and not just mildly emotionally abusive. There are days I look at my husband like he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, but most of the time I see him as someone I’d like to suffocate with a pillow. That’s not a healthy relationship. For either one of us. Sometimes I dream about leaving, but I really don’t have the guts or the financial stability to do it. In addition, I really do love him, and I couldn’t imagine living without him. The thing is, I don’t feel like we’re in a relationship anymore. I feel like we’re glorified roommates. We’re at a point where I don’t know what to do to fix us, or if there even is a way to fix us. I just.. Can’t let go.

This also has an effect on my work relationships; I rarely want to go for fear of screwing everything up. I have a less than part-time job at a corporate gaming store, and I like it a lot. I like my boss, I like my coworkers, I like my customers (for the most part), and I even like the menial tasks that I have to do because I’m the least experienced and the newest in the store. It doesn’t even feel like work. This is rare, and I would give anything to keep this job. The problem is that I don’t get nearly enough hours to pose as a responsible adult. I need a second job, and I just don’t know where to look. I’ve been applying to quite a few places and haven’t even received a call for an interview. This makes me feel pretty worthless, but I’m trying my hardest. My husband thinks I’m on drugs and that’s why I still don’t have a job (drug tests); how do I tell him it’s because I want to die? It truly is a Mad World in my mind.

So then this is it.

The Last Goodbye.

I don’t even know exactly what I want to say here.

I suppose it’ll be a letter.

To my friends:
Don’t blame yourself. There’s no one to blame for any of this. You’ve been there for me through so much and I wouldn’t trade any of you. I’ve learned so much from all of you, and I hope I’ve done something to better your lives. I love you guys, please don’t miss me too much, I’ll be fine wherever I am.

To my husband:
I know things haven’t exactly been great between us and we spend majority of our time fighting. You’ve supported me more than I ever expected and I can’t tell you how grateful I am for that. I’m so so sorry that I’m not good enough for you and that all I evet did was nag you and tell you that you weren’t good enough. I’m sorry for pushing you away and telling you that you’re always wrong. I’m sorry for complaining constantly and I’m sorry for every lie I’ve ever told you. I really do love you, and I’m so so sorry.

To my Mom and Grandma:
I’m sorry for this, I know this can’t be easy on you. Let me start off by saying this isn’t your fault, you did nothing wrong. I’m sorry I wasn’t the best daughter/granddaughter. I bit off more than I could chew with debt to both of you, I’ve mooched off of both of you, I’ve lied to you, and I’ve stolen from you (not recently). I was a pathetic excuse for a human being. I’m sorry I never accomplished anything worthwhile and I’m sorry I’ve set such a terrible example for Catheryn. I love you both so much.

And finally,
To my little sister Catheryn:
Cat, I’m sorry I wasn’t a better sister. I’m sorry I was always so unfair to you. I’m sorry I did nothing at all to help you and that I practically always yelled at you. But most importantly, I’m so so sorry I wasn’t strong enough. Please please please don’t blame yourself for any of this. I need you to be strong and continue on the path you’re supposed to take. Keep going to school, keep making friends, go on to get a job, a degree, a husband and family of your own. You’re so much better off than I ever was and now it’ll be even better now that I’m not around to drag you down. Please don’t follow my example, life has so much in store for you and I don’t want you to miss out on any of it. I love you Cat.

I love all of you, and again, I’m so sorry.

…..

*to anyone who happens to read this, I’m not anticipating hurting myself, this is just how I organize my thoughts and get it all out. I’ve been beyond stressed lately, and I really needed to put it in front of me and just breathe. Normally I wouldn’t publish something like this, but I feel like it’s going to help me in the future. I’m hoping this is something I can look back on in a few years and see how much I’ve grown. I want to get better. I need to get better.

The Millenial’s Guide to the Woes of Work, the Mess of Marriage, and the Density of Depression

It’s been quite some time since I’ve written anything deep and insightful (or written anything at all for that matter), but I’m going to give it a shot due to having so much on my mind and not knowing what to do with it. So here goes nothing.

I’ve often heard my generation be referred to as “Millenials” or “Generation Y.” After some consideration, I’ve determined that a better suited name would be “Generation WHY.” Allow me to explain; our generation questions everything, and constantly worries about what’s in it for themselves. Why do I have to work? Why do I have to pay outrageous sums of money for college tuition? Why won’t my parents support me well into my 30s? Why can’t I do what I really want? Why do I have to do what authorities tell me? Why won’t my parents buy me what I want? Why do I spend so much time worrying what’s happening all around the world while my own life and society is crumbling around me? Why should I care? Some of these are valid points that I agree with, while others are simply idiotic and disrespectful; I’ll let you determine which are which.

Now that the brief description is out of the way, let’s start with the Woes of Work. Work can really suck, can’t it? No matter which shift you work, there’s a high probability that you feel the prior shift is incompetent and simply enjoys making your life a living hell. I assure you, this isn’t the case. Well, most of the time at least. If you work for a giant corporation (as I do), you begin to realize a few key things about work:

1. The harder you work, the more capable your superiors believe you are, the more they’ll give you to do. Even if that means they give you more tasks than you are physically capable of completing in a standard eight hour period.
2. No matter how hard you work, there’s always someone who is more qualified than you.
3. If you work with primarily women, the WILL start rumors and try to make it impossible for you to look better than them in any way.
4. You have to absolutely focus on yourself and your work. Remember, you’re there to make money, not friends. If they insist on gossiping and dragging you into it, have the common sense to keep it to yourself.
5. You’ll begin to notice that the associates who have been with the company for an extended period of time go one of three ways, they become bored and less productive due to familiarity of their work. Two, they’ll become stressed to the point of becoming a seemingly constant angry, detached entity. Or three, they retain their constantly cheery, outgoing behavior and are viewed as an over-achiever that no one likes.

These kinds of situations have become increasingly normal, which (in my opinion) is depressing and almost pitiful. Simply walking into an establishment, you’ll be able to identify what’s happening with the associates, who holds resent for another, and who really does their fair share of the work that needs to be done. This is a result of associates being unable to separate their home lives from their work lives. This isn’t simply an option, no. This is something that NEEDS to be done, not only to increase productivity in the work place, but also to increase happiness in your home life. Don’t take your work home with you, you’ll regret it.

Another thing that I’d like to mention about the workplace is interpersonal communication and relationships in the work place. By relationships, I’m referring to everything from friendships, to infatuation with a coworker, all the way to ruining your home life by having an affair with a coworker; but I’ll come back to this in just a moment. I’d like to first talk about interpersonal communication and micro-messages. If you’re unfamiliar with these concepts, I’ll do my best to explain. I’ll also include and excerpt with a link to some helpful tools. Interpersonal communication studies how tone of voice and body language have an effect on productivity and acceptance of coworkers and superiors. Example being, the way you greet an associate that you enjoy working with is going to be considerably different than the manner in which you would greet an associate that you dislike or deem useless, if you choose to greet that associate at all. The trick is to not pick favorites, although this will happen regardless, you need to learn how to control your behavior around the associate that you are dissatisfied with. If that associate becomes aware that their very presence is a bother to you, it will show in their productivity and they’ll either begin to avoid you, or purposefully inject themselves into your course of work simply to make things difficult for you depending on what kind of person they are. On the other hand, there’s affection and infatuation. This is just as dangerous, if not worse. Allow me to explain. At first, things are great. You like each other, you strive to impress the other person, and everything seems to fit into place. Sometimes these things work out and it’s fantastic, but more likely than not, things become twisted and cause problems. You’ll begin to find irritating habits about the other person, productivity will decline, and will eventually culminate with you not wanting to see one another and someone quitting, which hurts the establishment. The thing that most couples fail to realize is that every healthy relationship includes space (I’ll touch on this more a bit later), and working with this person as well as spending large quantities of time together outside of work can be detrimental to your relationship. My advice is to avoid personal relationships in the workplace. If you begin to find yourself in one of these situations, you need to find a way to get yourself out. Whether that means you quit, or attempt to move to a completely different part of the establishment or another location of the establishment, I’ll let you decide. However, just remember that in order to keep yourself happy and productive at work, you need to separate your home and work life.

There’s not much else I can say on the matter, I’m not allowed to affect free will. So, I’ll move onto the next topic I’d like to discuss: the Mess of Marriage. Before I go any farther, I’m not implying that my marriage is a mess, or that your personal beliefs of marriage are irrelevant. I’m simply voicing my opinion and giving advice to the best of my abilities.

So on to marriage. For some, the wedding is the happiest day of their lives until they have children, but for others, it’s a massive expense that causes more stress than it’s worth. Mine was the latter. By no means do I regret my wedding, it was beautiful and I loved it, but it was far from my dream wedding and it just stressed me out constantly worrying about what I’d forgotten. Something to keep in mind is that it doesn’t need to be perfect, it just needs to be what you and your significant other wants. You’ve got to communicate with one another. A lack of communication could result in a haphazard marriage where one person is content and the other is unhappy. This can lead to lies, hiding things, affairs, and neglecting not only the needs of your partner but your own needs as well. You don’t want to do this. A side note, you don’t want to talk to anyone about your marital problems, they’ll only make you doubt yourself and your relationship more.

The best advice I can give you is to have faith in what you love, in who you love. Always, always, always communicate, don’t hide anything. Complete and total trust is what helps a relationship thrive and survive. If you have no trust, you have nothing. If you have no love, you have no business being in a relationship. You need to learn to love yourself before you’re capable of loving anyone else, and that’s something that I was having a hard time accepting when I first got with my husband. He’s made me a better person, but it took me quite some time to get where I am with him. Time. That’s important. Time is everything when it comes to love. Don’t rush into things, and do your best to keep a clear mind. Discuss where you see yourself down the line and make sure you have reasonable goals, not only personal goals, but goals with your loved one. Don’t let others bring you down or interfere with your relationship. That’s about all I can say about marriage and love at this point, but there’s always more to it. There’s always more.

Onto my final point, the Density of Depression.

Depression, in my experience, is natural. It comes when you least expect it, and more often than not it comes with absolutely no trigger. One day you’ll be completely okay, then the next it’s like the weight of the world is sitting on your chest attempting to convince you that the world would be better off without you. You can’t believe the demon that sits on your shoulder and whispers terrible things to you. To be honest, battling depression is no easy task, and it usually never completely goes away. It’s like a crippling blow to your self-esteem and it completely skews your perception of the world around you. It’s similar to looking into the mirror after a hot shower; even if you wipe the condensation away, it forms again quickly and you’re unable to focus on anything very clearly. Now there’s a difference between depression and sadness. Sadness goes away, while depression lingers in the back of your mind constantly and tugs at the corners of your mind, not allowing you to focus on anything completely and leaving you in a constant state of self-doubt. It’s unfair to yourself to allow yourself to feel this way. I’m not saying you’re going to be able to simply magically move past it and wish it all away. It’s going to be there, but there’s always a way to distract yourself. Read a book, write an article, go for a walk, take a nap, color in a coloring book, clean something. There’s always something else to do. You can’t allow depression to cloud your mind, you can’t let it convince you that the world would be better off without you. You’re here for a reason, and you’ll never know what it is if you take the easy way out. There’s someone out there who loves you, someone who cares deeply for you. You can’t destroy their happiness just because you can’t find yours. You’ll be okay, you can make it through this.

I don’t have anything else to say on the matter, so I’ll close this entry here. I’ll simply leave you with this: Find your happiness, and once you find it, you hold onto it. Don’t choke it, let it breathe. You need to breathe. You can make it through anything if you put your mind to it and don’t let the shadows hold you back. I believe in you.

My Green-Eyed Monster Under the Bed

Everyone has a green-eyed monster, at least to some extent. There’s always someone that you loathe their very existence simply because they exist. It happens, it’s natural. The issue comes in when you let the monster get into your head and start tearing shit up. It always starts simple at first, doesn’t it? Maybe you want that girl’s shoes, or that guy’s girlfriend, or the publicity of that one coffee shop down the street that always seems to have more business than you. Small things, simple things. Then things escalate, and your jealousy begins to rear it’s ugly head and evolve into a three-headed she-devil that spits fire and venom in the form of backhanded compliments and snide remarks.
If you have self control, it usually stops there. If you’re like I am, you find that your jealousy starts to consume you, starts to control how you live your life. That’s when things get really bad. Your jealousy evolves into rage and hate for no particular reason. You won’t wear that outfit because the fat bitch you hate so much would look better in it. You decide not to play RockBand with your friends at the last minute because right before you pick the song, they say how good that whale whore is at singing that particular song. You skip out on huge social events and house parties just because you know she’s gonna waddle in the front door and ruin your whole night. Sometimes you even go as far as to try to eliminate her from your life completely by abandoning the mutual friends of yours and planning where to bury a body (just in case, you know?). 
Here’s where I would normally try to explain how to conquer your jealousy and turn the other cheek and to be a good person and blah, blah, blah. Unfortunately, there’s not much I can offer on the subject because I’m still currently a victim of the green beast (Oh, like you couldn’t tell), and any advice I would give would be hypocritical and fake. That’s not what I’m trying to do here. The only thing I have to offer on the subject is that it will destroy your life. Simple everyday tasks become a competition, you always have to be better, and it will put so much strain on you that it will start to drain you. Every bit of your energy will go into making someone else’s life a living hell while your own life starts to circle the drain. 
So I’ll leave this: If you spend all of your time wanting to be someone else, you won’t have time to find yourself.

Everything With Moderation, a Side of Sarcasm, and a Dash of Humor

Life can be rough. It can be unrelenting and heartless, and at the end of the day sometimes it can make you feel like there’s nothing left to live for. There are days that you won’t want to get out of bed because it feels like things are so terrible, and nights that you’ll lay awake for hours criticizing yourself for everything you did (or didn’t) do that day. There will be long moments of awkward silences caused by a lack of anything genuine to say to make someone else, anyone else feel better; there will be moments where the roar of conversation around you will drown out the very ability to think clearly. There will be mornings when you look at yourself in the mirror and simply crumble at the thought of what your life has become, but there will also be mornings in which you will be confronting your reflection and telling yourself that everything is going to be okay.
The point here is that there are good days and there are bad days for all of us; the trick is to stay positive and always look forward. Dwelling on the past is what makes you a glutton for punishment, and there’s no use crying over spilled milk. It’s perfectly natural to feel sad sometimes, no one can be happy on a constant basis. The key is moderation, this will come up at least once more in this posting, but that’s saved for a little later. If you’re feeling upset, go ahead and cry, scream, punch things… Who cares? You do whatever you need to to blow off steam and make yourself feel better, just don’t let it trap you for longer than necessary. Trust me, you’re fine, just breathe. I assure you, no one is harder on you than yourself.
You have to have a sense of humor about yourself and your environment. Don’t take life too seriously, it’s not like you’re going to make it out alive anyway. You’ve got to take everything with a grain of salt, and don’t be too quick to judge someone before you know the truth. Your mood contributes to an environment just as an environment contributes to your mood. If you walk around angry or sad all of the time, you’re not going to be able to see the joy in life and appreciate what it has to offer. Alternatively, if you walk around with excessive happiness these days people may think you’re crazy or simply ignorant, because for some reason our society deems it necessary for us to feel bad for other people on a constant basis. With a constant barrage of media depicting one threatening or depressing story after another, it does make it difficult to see the bright side of things, believe me, I know. Let me tell you this, though: You have to experience the bad in order to appreciate the good. It’s as simple as that.
A problem that I see frequently among friends, strangers, and even myself is that we set unattainable goals for ourselves. I’m not only referring to unrealistic ambitions, but also when you set a goal with an impractical deadline for yourself. In theory there’s nothing wrong with this, however, there’s a high probability that you’re going to beat yourself up over not being able to accomplish the impossible.These goals can go from the simplest thing (like weight loss or sticking to a fitness plan, for example) to dreams of grandeur (such as wanting to engineer the world’s fastest computer before the age of 40), and both can destroy you if you don’t set up a reasonable achievement plan. The first step I suggest taking is set up a series of small knowingly attainable goals that come together to secure a larger objective. From there, all I can tell you is that you control your life and your decisions. Don’t lose faith, you can do whatever you set your mind to.
Something that has crossed my path more than once is the unfortunate case of addiction and substance abuse. I understand more than most people that it’s not something that’s not easily put out of your life, but take it from someone who knows, it gets better. In regards of marijuana (which is most frequently used in my experience), I don’t believe it’s a “drug.” Don’t get me wrong, there are definitely some people who shouldn’t consume THC because they don’t know how to handle themselves, however, there are so many functioning stoners that don’t seem to have a problem. Here it is again, the key is moderation. The users that stay at home and sap government funds to support their habits are not people I approve of. Alternatively, if you work your ass off for your money and pay taxes like a grown adult, why do I care if you wanna light up after a long day? You do you.

In closing:  Don’t let your life be ruled by deadlines and unhappiness, take the reins, and do something for yourself every now and again.