I was recently ill, and spent a couple days at my home, away from where I work. I am 4th generation to own this house, it was built by my great-grandfather, when the town I live in was being incorporated in the late 1800s. I grew up feeling all the comfort and the love that my grandparents could provide, and have always equated that house with happiness. It was my comfort spot. My place to escape the storm. My sanctuary.
I was standing in the kitchen, looking at the beautiful cabinets my grandfather had made, most likely plain for their time, but elegant and modern for ours. It hit me, I haven’t felt comfortable here for some time. Since my synapses started going haywire, over a year ago. I take no interest in fixing it up anymore, making it nice, it’s just a place to crash when I don’t have to be in SF. Why can’t I take comfort from this place anymore? What the hell has gone so wrong in my life, in my brain, that the one thing that I loved, the physical symbol of my long-dead grandparent’s love for me, brings no peace anymore? What went so wrong…
I have already talked about my penchant for young men. I use them to bring some relief into my life, but of course, it’s all false. It’s a couple of orgasms, a warm body for a bit, and the enjoyment I get from pleasing another. Doesn’t last long, and there always seems to be drama. I had a favorite that I was with for quite a while, a college student who was on a full ride football scholarship until he did something so idiotically stupid, and lost his scholarship. He was forced to move back home to MN and is now playing for some shitty junior college up there. But, I digress…
I have a type. I like a very large man, overweight but muscular, broad shoulders, linebacker build. I have a certain face I tend to gravitate to. Hard to explain without a picture, but just bear with me. Usually a babyface, light haired, facial hair, not a lot, but scruffy. Quite a few of the young men I’ve slept with over the past year have all been similar in looks. There have been a few variants, but I tend to stick with what I like.
The other night, I was looking through old pictures, when I came across some pictures my husband and I took when we were out in the hills. They were about 15 years old, and I gasped, I was so stunned. We were so young, just married, and my husband then looked exactly like the guys I’m banging now. He was so gorgeous, and I immediately started bawling like a baby…I don’t know why I didn’t remember that he had looked like that…at the time I was so in love with him, found him so unbelieveably sexy, he was so strong, and I am a big girl. We were just both so in much love…he was so happy I was his, I was so happy to be his…
I don’t know why I never realized this before. This is the shit of a therapist’s wet dream, I know. My husband doesn’t look like that anymore, but it’s still there, just older. Like me.
What the fuck am I gonna do? I feel like I’ve gone past the point of being able to find happiness in anything for very long. I lose interest in things so easily now, find no contentment in anything for long. I run through men like they’re candy. I get tired of them, or there’s drama, and I run. I have no girlfriends…I have friends, tons of them, but you know what I’m talking about…that woman that knows you, and doesn’t judge you…I did, I had 2, one died, and the other, well…that’s another story for a day I’m not already having trouble seeing the keyboard through my tears…
We flew in another man that hung himself last night. This one was so utterly selfish. He texted his wife a picture of the rope around his neck, then waited for her to get into the garage before he kicked the bucket out. She had called 911 already, but tried like hell to keep his body up in the air in a panic until help arrived. Well, just knowing that he was flown to us, you know…well, you know.
9:41 am • 22 September 2012 • 2 notes
Don’t be a douche…
I do have to share a work story from tonight…3 guys came in after getting into an altercation at a local bar. The one that was hurt the worst was a real dick, kept calling us “dudes” and asking for the stupidist shit. He had a head wound, and his shirt was all bloody, so he decided to throw it away. When it was time to leave, he asked for a tshirt…one of my co-workers found an old Hurley shirt, but no. HELL NO. I went back to our clothes closet, and found him a button down women’s cardigan. Very pretty, and silky fabric. Cause that’s what you’re gonna get if you treat us like we’re your personal bitches. His friends laughed their asses off, and the cameras were a’poppin. Unfortunately, I was buttoning it up his chest when they were taking the pics, and I’m sure they went straight to facebook. All attempts to stalk his page were unsuccessful, or I would post one here, but be sure…it was EPIC. We couldn’t stop laughing at this jackass…in his pretty sweater and stitches in his forhead.
yeah, that’s the sort of professional I am…
(I really should take my picture off this site now that my filter is gone)
8:55 am • 8 September 2012 • 2 notes
Here I am, got off work early. Put out the call of need, no one could help. These are the times where I feel so isolated…it’s the middle of the night, no one awake, I’ve had a bit too much to drink, and I’m all alone. In my beautiful apartment, seemngly the only fucking soul around. Well, and my keyboard. And fingers, I guess…
on to the next day of my life…
8:27 am • 8 September 2012 • 2 notes
I am married.
However, not in the sense that I have someone to come home to. Have someone to kiss goodnight, share my day with, share my nights with, and everything that entails. This situation I have created has caused me more anguish than I can convey, but I don’t know how to fix it.
Backstory: When I first went away to college, I was a sheltered small town girl from South Dakota going to a huge university. I was so thrilled with all of the new experiences, and in time was thrilled to have the attention of one of my professors. He was much older than me, but so dynamic, good looking, and from a wealthy family. I was star struck at his attentions. Long story short, I became his 3rd wife at the age of 23, a trophy wife. Things went downhill quite quickly, but I was raised that you do what you have to, make it work. My family had been outwardly supportive of my decision to marry this man, so I felt trapped, nowhere to turn. My friends never cautioned me that maybe I was making a mistake. He turned out to be an alcoholic, mentally unstable, abusive, and a chronic womanizer. After 7 years of marriage, I had enough and told him I was through, and I wanted a divorce. He was shocked, did not want that, and did not make it easy. He plied me with expensive gifts, tried anything he could to make me stay. I moved back to SD, but he stalked me relentlessly, involving anyone that he could think of to help his cause…old high school friends, my priest, neighbors. It was just insane. He regularly called up a national radio talk show to whine about what I had done to him…he was an interesting guest to them, I guess, and I had no idea until the show called me one night he was on air with them, asking me if I would rebut. I hung up, but was sickened. This went on for over a year, lawyers involved, he lost his job, and then I stopped hearing anything. The divorce was finalized, and I was done. Free.
I learned from a sympathetic family member of his that he had ensconced himself in his cabin along the beautiful shore of Lake Superior. Was living off of his savings, and didn’t interact much with anyone anymore. If someone came to see him, make sure he was OK, all he could do was talk about me, and how I had abandoned him.
Then, I received a call from that same family member some months later. He had been drinking heavily for months, had become emaciated, unkempt. Refused help from anyone. I was informed that he had blown his brains out in that beautiful cabin, in that beautiful place. No one found him for days…
His last wishes were to not have any type of service. For some reason I still don’t understand, they were honored. He was cremated, and that was that. As if he never existed.
I cannot tell you how much that scarred me.
So, on to the next one. As I was going through all of this drama with him, my best male friend from high school professed his undying love for me. I agreed to marry him, I loved him, he was a good man, and he was comfortable. He was everything the previous husband was not.
A while ago something happened to us, and we separated. I stayed in SD, he moved to IA, and we began lives away from each other. He does not want to divorce. I seem frozen to move forward. So, I have become what society would call a whore. I seek company from inappropriate men, usually 20 years my junior, who don’t provide me anything other than physical release, and I can’t offer anything to them. If I find someone I care about, fall for, I have to let them go because I’m paralyzed.
So, I’ve isolated myself from feeling anything for anyone anymore. No one is allowed close, no one is to be let in. I have no close friends, or anyone that would have any idea of what was going on behind these eyes. I feel like I’m drowning…
9:49 am • 3 September 2012 • 1 note
I haven’t posted here for months and months, I found I was spending a lot of time here, and ignoring other things in my life that needed to be paid attention to. I found it frustrating, sexually and personally. I started this as a place to write out my feelings, help myself deal with some of the despair that I feel on a daily basis. For whatever reason, I didn’t do that, didn’t want to share. Couldn’t confess. I have realized that I am 10 times worse off now than I was when I started this, only because I don’t have an outlet to scream. I am starting to crack, I can feel it, my co-workers are probably starting to notice, I have isolated myself even further from anyone I cared to try and maintain any friendship with. I have moved up the food chain at work, but could care less, and am actually thinking about quitting my job. I am on the verge of tears at all times, and it doesn’t take much to set me off. I have even started crying at work, and I’ve been known as the even-keeled one, the one who can handle all comers. I have been having anonymous sex with strangers. I have developed a drug habit on off hours, which could put my license in jeopardy. I drink way too much. I entertain thoughts of harming myself, driving into traffic, “what if” scenarios. I have done other horrible things, deceived people I loved or cared for. All of this unknown by those who think they know me, or family. They know I’m under stress, but no one attempts to help alleviate it, as long as I’m there to support and perform as expected. I know I need to go to a professional, hell, I’m one of those professionals, but cannot seem to bring myself to do it, even though I desperately need the help. I remember a time in the not so long ago past where I was so happy, so content, so grateful for my life, and all the good in it. I have been very lucky, I have more than enough, always have. I am physically healthy, and look good for my age. People love to be around me, and despite this post, I love to have fun and laugh. People look at all I have, and envy my life, many times to my face. I just don’t seem to find pleasure in things the way I used to. I chase it, and then I’m let down, and the drama-filled circle ensues. I regret so much, and I never did before. I regret not having children, I regret the way I reacted to certain things in my life, reacted to people, and what they did even though I could have been much kinder…Is this what a mid life crisis is? ‘Cause it’s hell, I’m telling you.
So, I am going to start writing it down. No holds barred.
5:57 am • 31 August 2012 • 1 note
Last night was another craptacular night at work…Some douchebag decided to steal a car, race throught the streets of the city I work in at such high rates of speed that law enforcement actually called off the chase, and then proceeded to ram said car head on into a van with 2 innocent men just trying to get the fuck home to their families.
The driver of the van was killed at the scene. Nice. The passenger, however, became my patient. HE actually seemed to be in pretty good condition (considering) when he got to me, no major broken bones, no parts missing, no head injury. Just discomfort in his chest, a bit of trouble breathing deeply, but airbag had deployed, and Xray showed both lungs were working. So, we’re all breathing a cautious sigh of relief, until we go to catscan.
Shitfuckityfuck. I’m sitting with my patient after CT, talking with him, and the ER MD comes running in, looking for the Trauma surgeon. Turns out he has a tear in his aorta right by his heart. Vitals are stable, but we need to get this guy to surgery NOW. THIS is why I work where I do, why I drive an hour and a half to get to work…if this patient had been in my hometown, he would have died. But, we have a Vascular Surgeon available, and off he goes. Then, I have to call his mother and explain to her that things have taken a bit of a turn and that she better get to the hospital…hate those phone calls, especially when they have to travel to get to us.
But, HE LIVED! Unlike his friend, who was murdered by a jackass on a joyride.
3:02 am • 3 March 2012 • 3 notes
Shock the Monkey - Peter Gabriel
2:10 am • 3 March 2012 • 76 notes
I mean how can you argue with this? Its a power point which means it’s basically scientific fact!
i would let him.
(Source: acoodledoodledooo, via disregardwomenacquirecurrency)
2:00 am • 3 March 2012 • 132,598 notes
Does my dash not let me know when I have new messages? No number popping up anymore, so I don’t realize they’re there…sorry, everyone! :( Don’t know how to fix!
8:20 am • 24 February 2012