Oh look I’m back here again

So for those following along at home, our intrepid hero went out on an adventure of self-discovery only to disappear for an undetermined amount of time. What happened? Did she find herself? Did she achieve enlightenment? Stay tuned for the answer:

No.

(Yeah, I don't like the answer either)

Great, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up (#PrincessBrideIsMyBible). At the time, I thought I was at a breaking point. Oh, how naïve I was. So I packed up and hit the road on a dream RV trip of fulfillment and answers. I came to realize that I was staring down the barrel of a divorce, and I didn’t see a way out. So I asked, and the next word out of his mouth was, “Ok.” After that gut punch, it was trying to set up the next steps. See, I had come back with a plan. The only problem; those plans quickly turned out to be dreams of grandeur. My insistence on keeping all the harm to myself has left me shattered in a way I never thought I would feel again. Suddenly, I’m that 13-year-old on the bathroom floor trying to drop the bottle as it rattles in my hand. I thought I remembered what breaking was. Ooooh, how wrong I was!

So now you’re caught up with the general idea of events, let me begin to extrapolate. I forgot what the point of this blog was in the first place. I started to think of it as content and not a tool. Like everything online these days, it was for the world outside, no longer for me. And after I made the decision to get a divorce and move out, I just wanted to live, not talk about what living was like. So therapy and journaling became chores not and were thrown to the side. And as anyone could guess, I broke. I was luckily cognizant enough to ask for help. The only problem is the first person I would call was indisposed, and I felt like it wasn’t my place to interrupt. So I called the next on my list, who hurried me off the phone to finish baking … twice. The woman I picked up off the floor heard me break in real-time and then told me she had to go to finish baking. I threw the phone. I screamed, I begged, and I pleaded for help or death; it didn’t matter. I called another friend, and I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t form words; he just heard distorted sobs. I panicked and hung up. It took a bit to convince myself that karma wasn’t making me pay, that the world wasn’t making a statement. I texted him and Salvation. It’s sick how quickly I can pull it together when someone is in front of me. The need to seem ok, to not be the problem, it’s like this thread tugging on the back of your mind. A bit of dark self-deprecating humor, a few laughs, and “Don’t worry, I'm ok; it was just a bit of a freakout.”

Everyone says call me. Reach out. But it’s not that easy. Sometimes we don’t know how to ask for help or are scared that you’ll judge us if we do. Will they become suffocating and not let me rest? My parents are excellent at that. It’s constant input and though heartfelt at times, more damaging. I know it’s hard for some to understand. But if you don’t have that parent that can say the worst possible thing with the best of intentions, I can’t explain it to you. Especially when sometimes it’s just the narcissist in them trying to redirect attention or refuse to acknowledge past traumas. I’m rambling. It’s the first weed wine Wednesday. Though at this point, it’s turned into whisky cause I forgot the wine.

I’m probably gonna get fired. And though I hated the job, it was the only thing I had. I have no home, no sanctuary in either person or place. And now I lost my job. And I don’t know what I could have done to prevent it. Don’t get me wrong; it was a cushy job that I gamed the fuck out of. But I did my job efficiently and well. But I was surrounded by idiots. And I know that sounds pompous, but have you ever been in a situation surrounded by so much stupidity you think to yourself, “There is no fucking way. I have to be the dumb one. Like statistically, that’s the only logical explanation,” but then you look at your coworker, and they shake their head as if to say “no sweet summer child. Tis true, such stupidity does exist”. Like, holy fuck, I was so mad I had to leave the office and finish the day at home. The angry bitch face was so strong there was no fixing it. And if you can’t fix your face, get it the hell out of the office during the executive symposium.

(Originally written April 26, 2023)