just a little crazy

So, I didn't fall off the earth as you may have assumed.  Just been silent for awhile trying to get some shit together.  And, I can proudly say now, that a lot of shit has been put together.  And quite well I should add.  At least, in my opinion.  My family would tend to disagree since I'm not a bible-thumper, but I say, fuck 'em.  It may sound harsh to you loving family people, but I don't have a loving family.  I have a grandmother who disowned my mother, a father who disowned me, and cousins who learned nothing from the death of another cousin.

Point: I'm back bitches!!  Better than ever I feel.  You can bite me if you don't agree.  I'm no longer living to make anyone else happy cause bitches will turn on you.  Even family will turn on you.  So, I'm gonna make my own family from now on.  Which I hope to have already started.  I've met some awesome people in recent weeks and I hope that they don't flutter away as other friends have in the past.

...
well, I think that's all for now.  Just wanted to update those still paying attention.  I'll be back sooner this time. Promise.  All my crazy, bi-polar, tendencies intact and ready to be shared.  I am, after all, an open frickin' book, which, let's face it, also bugs the hell out of people.  But I don't care too much about that either.  If you're not interested, then don't read it.  And if you are, then you're probably a little crazy, too.  LOL.

screw the eggshells

Haven't written in awhile.  Rob Thomas once said that he doesn't usually write when he's happy.  When he's happy he's out living life.  He saves writing for when he's not so happy.  Well recently, I can actually tell you that that was the case for me.  I mean, I wasn't bounding over hills of green with gold coins falling out of my skinny jeans, but things were leaning toward the pleasant. 

So, as you may have already guessed, since I am writing now, something must have gone wrong.  Why of course.  Because I'm in a fucked situation that can't unfuck itself because no one in the situation with me has the means to unfuck it. 

I think I'm still afraid of him.  I think she is too.  I think she's also afraid of me.  I think her and I walk on eggshells all the time.  And I think he hates himself because he knows we do.  I want to have more normal conversations.  I want to talk about books and movies without everything turning into a battle of epic proportions.  I want to know that after she dies, I won't die too. 

I want too much I guess. 

outward appearance

It's hard for me to write honestly about the topic of body image, but I suppose it is time.  While I was in my group sessions I only brought it up once and even then it was glossed over.  It's hard for me to talk about how badly I feel about my outward appearance.  But if I can be kind to myself for a moment - and I really should at least give myself that - I've gone through a lot in the last 5 years that would make anyone a little out of sorts. 

I was raped, which put on the pounds.  Because usually girls go to one of two extremes after a rape: they become very sexual and do some things they never thought they would (which I admit I dabbled in) or they become almost completely closed off (which I am leaning towards more).  I gained a lot of weight simply because I didn't want anyone to look at me anymore.  At least, not to see me as a sexual being.  And sadly, now that I'm getting over the rape, the weight gain has worked so well that I don't feel like anyone's looking.  Not that that's completely true of course.  I've been looked at.  I know this in my head, but my heart is crying and broken that I not only let the fucker rapist violate me, but I let him screw me up for years afterward.  I let him keep me in that prison he had me in while he was close to me.  Only now he's not so close, and the prison isn't really a prison, but a big, fat body with a really pretty girl inside that I think I once remember being.  And I can't help but feel like it's all my fault that I let him have so much power over me for such a very long time.

Also, there is the bipolar of course.  A very wicked disease with very wicked symptoms.  In order to curb the symptoms (which I totally do not want) I have to take medicine.  Probably everyday for the rest of my life.  Just so that you fully understand the exact nature of my drug cocktail, I will explain... I take 4 medicines: one to stabilize moods, one to stop the paranoia and help me sleep, one for anxiety and one for depression.  Now, I currently need a new anxiety drug, but the others seem to be working well.  But of course, there's a downside to everything isn't there?  The downside here is that my mood stabilizer is a very powerful drug which of course causes, you guessed it, weight gain.  So, add a few pounds more for good measure and you have the me I am now.  The me who will not be telling you my weight or anything, but trust me, it's more than it ever has been and more than I want it to be. 

Saddest part of all this is that I remember hating myself in high school and the early years of college.  Hating the way I looked.  Most likely because I was trying to define myself while choosing the absolute wrong company.  Company that told me I wasn't pretty and that I was fat and that I was wrong.  Only now do I see that he was wrong.  The whole time he was wrong.  I look at pictures of myself back then and I was beautiful.  I was thick, but not fat.  I had curves in all the right places.  I had a pretty face and a pretty smile and eyes everyone complimented and still compliment because they are two of the things you can still see that are right about me. 

I've decided that I'm going to get back there one day.  I think I've mentioned that before.  I even took some pictures of myself recently and I look better than I did just a few months ago.  Still, I hate it.  I feel like the weight loss isn't happening fast enough.  I feel like no one will ever love me and worse, I feel like I will never love myself again. 

But I'm going to try to love myself.  The way I am now and whoever I change into.  The first step I feel is to be honest with myself and others.  As fragile as I feel writing this, I think it's more detrimental to my well-being if I keep the thoughts locked away inside.  So, here is my soul, in blog form.  Please be kind.

unconditional???

I got some extremely good news yesterday which is going to help me fix A LOT of problems in the coming months.  Yay me!!  However, right now, my family and I are still treading water.  And I have a bit on my mind. 

First of all, why is it never the people with more than enough who aide you in surviving when you're not sure you can??  Why is it always the people who are in the same boat as you??  Or at least once were??  I suppose it's because they understand what it's like.  But in that case, I thank God that I was not born with "enough" like some of these people because they call themselves one thing and they say they care, but they are hypocritical bastards who wouldn't know Jesus from a jeweler. 

Second of all, why does everyone always tell you you're going to learn something when there's a situation presenting itself complicated??  I happen to be one of those people who believe that most things happen for some sort of reason, but yes, some shit is just random.  And I am going through some random shit right now.  And if you want specifics, email me, and I'll tell you all about that.  But I'm not going to write about anything too openly because it doesn't just involve me.  But trust me, there is no lesson learned from this.  And if there is I think I've learned it before: some guys are total creepers and pervs. 

Third, I am itching right now.  So bad.  Crawling out of my skin.  Just one of the very fun Bipolar Traits.  If I had any money at all, I'd take my brother to the mall and walk around for hours.  I'd go to the comic book store and the regular book store and then hit up Starbucks.  I'd drive around and see where the gas took us and then I'd stop there and buy a burger.  But right now, I just have to sit at home and itch.  Because I have no money.  Not yet.  I have friends that aren't really friends at all.  I have people who look down on me and think I caused this all myself.  And I have creepers that would only take me out somewhere to try to get into my too-goo-for-them pants.  UGH!!!

Oh, and a big PS - if you happen to be one of those negative people that I just mentioned above, you can kindly remove yourself from my planet because I officially DO NOT GIVE A SHIT!!  If you can't ride the bus with me for unconditional support, than you certainly don't deserve to get inside my limo that's about to pull up. 

epic fail

First, some quotes:

"All of old. Nothing else ever. Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter.  Try again.  Fail again.  Fail better."
-Samuel Beckett

"It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all - in which case, you fail by default."
-J. K. Rowling

"If at first you don't succeed, redefine what you did as success."
-Stephen Colbert

And lastly, my personal favorite:

"If at first you don't succeed, try, try, again. Then quit. There's no use in being a damn fool about it."
-W. C. Fields

My random thought of the day is obviously about failure.  Or more importantly, the lack of trying.  Sure, eventually every sane person will give up.  Or as the always smart and ultra sexy Stephen Colbert says, they will alter their definition of success.  I personally alter my definition once I think I've worn out every effort to get what I want.  To succeed. 

But what happens at the start of trying?  What motivates you - or me specifically - to try for what I want at all?  Well, usually when the people around me see that I want something, really need it, am almost begging for it, they encourage me.  They press me to be better.  To do more.  To try.  To exacerbate all forms of trying until I am spent.  Then, and only then, will my dear friends and family turn to me and say 'Tara, I just don't think this is going to work'. 

Well, recently I have been in want of something.  A large and complicated something.  Still, my friends have been there for me.  My brother has personally aided me in getting what I want.  Another friend said she would in anyway she could.  And still another gave me a nice 'good luck' pep talk and wants to be kept informed of any positive developments.  So, why then may I ask, has one person in particular let me down?

I suppose I don't rightly know the answer to that question.  I don't rightly care either.  I will not give up so soon.  I will not fold until I am darn good and ready to.  I just wish that everyone was behind me on this.  But I suppose that being encouraging may just be something that they fail at. 

rules suck!

Today my random thought is that RULES SUCK!!!  Sometimes I totally think you have to break some of them.  I mean, what would life really be if we all stayed inside the lines all the time.  I'm thinking outside the box today in a major way and I wish everyone else was with me on this.  Or maybe I just wish one person was.  Doesn't matter.  What matters is that - for once in my life - I took a huge risk and I really put myself out there.  I screamed: HERE WORLD!! TAKE YOUR BEST SHOT!!  And you know what, the world didn't actually drop me on my ass.  Of course, I would've liked it to turn out a bit more positively, but at least I can say I tried and didn't exactly fail.  And who knows, maybe God will see fit to grant me this one request if I am patient enough. 

Here I come Captain America!!!

so, so tired

Broke the fuck down in group yesterday.  Just started spilling all kinds of shit that I haven't been willing to say aloud.  In about 30 minutes I had talked about my father being in and out of my life and royally screwing up my head.  I talked about my rapist and my relationship with him.  I even discussed aspects of the rape itself that I have only ever openly shared with like, 4 people and 2 of them were therapists.  And lastly of course I talked about my current stupid situation that I got myself into.  The one that has my heart all confused.  I sobbed I'm telling you.  Sobbed!

And today, I feel tired.  I needed to get it all out, but boy, it took its toll.  It's really actually astonishing how tired I am.  Tired mentally, emotionally and physically.  Also, tired of people.  So, so tired.  As a matter of fact, all of my random thoughts seem to be amazed at how clueless and thoughtless people can be.  I mean, please, please, will the next person that talks to me just take a moment to really think about the words that are coming from your mouth??  Because I can't take much more of this!

amen to that!

Still going to the outpatient program.  Still doing well.  My family and I have had several blessings recently that have gotten us over this hump of rough times.  Also, we're fighting less, which is always awesome. 

I have also been getting out of the house more.  I've gone out with friends recently and not cared so much about what I looked like or the weight I've gained since finding out I was bipolar.  I've also started walking to try to take off some of the weight.  It'll be a long exhausting process I'm sure but I am determined to look the way I looked a few years ago again. 

Bad news:  The thoughts racing through my head right now are fucking crazy.  I think part of it is that I'm leaving my treatment soon and have no idea of what I'm going to do after treatment since my therapist does not want me working until I'm completely stabilized.  Which could be a freakin long while. 

Also, I have created my own little dramatic situation.  I have so much drama in my life as it is that I really don't need to be creating more.  In my defense, I feel that I can not help it.  The heart is a crazy thing.  And the heart does not care whatsoever if you're brain is trying to deal with a crippling mental disorder.  So I will allow my heart to feel what it feels for the time being and then when I have a firmer grip on my head I will whip my heart into shape. 

Good news though is that this new situation has taken focus off my deceased ex and my rapist who I am currently writing about for therapeutic reasons.  Amen to that!

in the interest of honesty

A whole month without writing... wow!  In the interest of the honesty that I value above all else I'll tell you all that I've had a horrible month.  This bipolar thing is really kicking my ass right now, as is life.  I recently spent 11 fun-filled days in a psych hospital.  I am not ashamed to admit this.  It is part of my disease and I seriously doubt that this will be the last time I enter a facility for care.  Bipolar people have to face such things as this. 

I'd like to tell you that I learned so much while in the hospital and that I'm feeling so much better, but that's not the truth.  The truth is that it's hard out here.  In the real world.  I'm going to outpatient treatment and making some friends, but it's still hard.  Money problems don't help.  Family problems don't help.  But for the first time in weeks, I actually think I'll make it out of this severe fog that is my depressive episode. 

I've had some people take a real interest in what's going on with me and I thank them all for that.  They know who they are and I don't want to mention anyone's name who may not want the mention.  Still, to them, thanks for listening.  Thanks for understanding the drama that surrounds me.  To everyone else, fuck off.  I've been making it without your help for years. 

Anyway, as I continue the treatment and look forward to May with optimism, I remain sad about a couple of things.  One is that my ex died almost a year ago and I can't seem to shake my thoughts of him.  He's even been in some dreams lately and every time I wake up reminded that he is no longer here, it makes me sad.  Beyond sad really.  Sometimes he could be the sweetest, most understanding boy and I really miss that in my life. 

The other thing is that I am 2000 miles away from my best friend.  I can't grab coffee with her.  I can't sit and stew about the good ole' days.  I can't watch endless My So-Called Life episodes and cry because Jordan Catalano is so stupid sometimes.  I know that I had to move down here for my mother's health and that's the best reason in the world, but of all the things I miss from NJ, I miss her the most. 

Anyway, I'm trying to use my coping skills to get through this depressive episode and writing is the one I like the most.  So, I don't plan on staying away for this long again.  Be back soon.  I promise. 

needed: advice

So, I'm scared right now, but I guess it's a good scared.  I finished my novel.  The first one I've ever been interested in getting published.  But the process of just trying to be published is intense and scary and with the bipolar I think I may go crazy. 

But, I'm going to try regardless.  Even if it takes me 10 years.  And I will start a new story now and write every day because I don't know what to do when I'm not writing. 

Does anyone have any advice for me?  I could use whatever you have. 

bottom line

I think I care too much.  About everyone.  I mean, I know that it's only human to care about other people, but I think I extend well past the reasonable limit of caring. 

Right now I find myself a little upset that an old "friend" didn't clean up his act.  He was a druggie who ended up in jail for a while.  Now he's out and he's right back to it.  I don't know what I expected, but it makes me sad.  Sad for many, many reasons. 

Bottom line:  I'm going out on a limb and saying drugs... never the answer.  And I'm beginning to think that druggies themselves are my drug.  I need to learn to just say no. 

shut up!

Random thought for the day: shut up!!  Why do you have the right to judge anyone?  Isn't everyone supposedly created equal?  Gay, straight, black, white... why hate someone for something they can't control??

I just personally feel that there are way too many hardships in life to go out and create more where there really shouldn't be any.  But, hey, maybe it's just me. 

Spidey-senses

I hate these kinds of nights.  I feel bad for no reason.  Like something horrible happened when it didn't.  Normally, I'd say that maybe my Spidey-senses were tingling, but they haven't really tingled in years. 

I did have a bad dream last night though.  Maybe the feelings from that are finally catching up to me.  Maybe I should talk to someone about it.  But it's been the same thing forever.  Most people are tired of hearing about it.  I know I am.  I wish I could forget it.  I wish I could go back and make different decisions.  Then maybe I wouldn't be so haunted. 

It really scares me to think that I'll dream like this for the rest of my life.  That even if I'm 50 and happy as ever with a really nice husband and a couple of kids, that every so often, I'll dream like I dream now. 

I know I'm being a bit vague and possibly even cryptic, but I don't really want to talk about it.  I'll just cry if I do.  I think I need to get into some therapy ASAP.  Maybe a support group or something.  It can only help right??

wonder

I am in the process of making the most difficult decision of my life.  No lie.  Sometimes I wish that God or even frickin' Santa Claus would just tell me exactly what to do and when to do it.  It's not that I'm scared of the responsibility of the decision, I'm just scared that it's not only my life I'm impacting. 

I feel trapped.  I feel like hurting myself on a daily basis.  I'm pretty sure I'm of no use to anyone while I'm like this.  But moving on from this may hurt people too. 

People say that it's never too late to start over.  I think maybe it's only people with exorbitant amounts of money that say that.  What do us little people do if we fuck up?  Wait around until the price of a plane ticket plummets?  Hitchhike home?  Can you even go home again? 

I'm 28 years old.  The scars on my legs are getting new friends these days.  I'm crying every few hours.  I'm being told that I am stupid and worthless by the people I care about most.  So, what do I do?  What do I do? 

I'm reminded of a time long ago when I was spending outrageous amounts of time and energy on a boy that no one thought was good enough for me.  I'm reminded of how small and insignificant he used to make me feel.  I'm reminded that before it ended, people asked me why I stayed and that after it ended, people said that I was strong and courageous and that I'd done the right thing.

Will this be the same way?  If I leave now, will people congratulate me.  I wonder. 

ms-cl kinda night

Can't write today.  Can't even think in a straight line.  Everything's all messed up in my head.  Part of it is cause I'm worried about leaving the house tomorrow.  I don't really know what choices to make.  I wish it was as easy as right and wrong.  As easy as some people think it is. 

I just don't feel loved right now.  Or maybe just not as loved as I want to feel.  I don't know.  And I'm not sure that people can deal with who I really am.  Maybe that's why they don't love me.  Because I scare them secretly.  Or confuse them.  I'm so much work. 

But am I really so much more work than everyone else.  I mean, everyone has issues.  Am I so much more work than the guy sitting next to me or the girl down the street?  I don't think so.  I would like to not think so. 

I feel like drowning.  My Lord, do I feel like I'm drowning.  I think tonight is a "watch My So-Called Life and cry at all the good parts" sort of night. 

boys vs. girls

For all the bullshit girls spout about being awesome and kick-ass and just generally better than boys, I'm beginning to think it's not true at all.  Boys seem to be - aside from the rapists and such - the friendlier, more outgoing sex. 

That's my random thought for the day.

a shell

Sometimes I wish that no one depended on me.  I feel like a shell of a person.  A shell of my former self.  A shell of who I could be. 

I want to curl up most days and do nothing.  I leave my house to go to church and that's it.  Most of the time, I have to force myself to do that much.  And even when I get there, I have to force myself to believe the kind words that anyone says.

I eat too much because I hate myself and I hate myself when I eat too much. 

I do not wish I were dead.  I just wish that the world would stop. 

a forward direction

Had an iffy day today, but in the end it launched me in a forward direction.  I've decided that I'm finally going to do what I've wanted to do since I was a little girl... write.  I will try and try and try until I get published because that's what I want.  It's what I've always wanted.  So, I'm going to finish writing the novel that I've been working on for some time now.  I'm going to force myself to write every day no matter my mood.  And when it's done, I'm going to send it to hundreds of people - thousands if necessary - until one of them wants it. 

Pray for me.

absolutely nothing

Had a really horrendous day today.  Found out that Texas does not run like New Jersey in one very important way.  Feeling like I shouldn't be here.  With my family.  On the Earth in general.  Feeling like a worthless piece of shit that screwed everything up. 

What am I good for anyway?? 

A Sarcastic New Year to Me

Happy New Year to me!!  In case anyone didn't catch that, I was being sarcastic.  

I didn't do much last night, which was fine with me.  I mean, I was with peeps I love, I had a few drinks, but I didn't go and party or anything.  Although, partying hard has never really been me, so whatever.  Point is that I had an okay night....

Until bed that is.

This morning I woke up after having a horrendous nightmare.  The kind of nightmare that you don't realize is a nightmare so you feel like it's your life and you're trapped in that utter suckiness.  The thing about this nightmare is that I've had it before.  I've lived it before.  It was my ex, of course.  The rapist, of course.  The one-who-shall-remain-nameless.  

He came to Austin.  Why?  I don't know.  But he did.  And he just had to see me.  And so I see him and it's the same old bullshit.  He tells me he loves me and that I'm beautiful.  The same lines as before.  You know, whatever he ever needed to say to get into my pants and seal the deal. 

Well it happens, of course.  Just like it did in real life.  Cause I'm gullible you see.  Then there's a little cuddling.  A few hours of him being all family-oriented and sweet and kind and lovable.  Then he gets a phone call. 

The end part of the dream is what I did in real life for soooooo many years.  I'm screaming at him and begging him not to go at the same time.  I'm calling him a liar and a druggie and a criminal.  And I'm telling him that if he leaves, it's over.  But I secretly want to tell him that he can ALWAYS come back.  Because not-so-secretly, he can.  He did.  Whenever he wanted.

I may have moved 2,000 miles away from him.  I may have told everyone on Earth what a bastard he is.  I may have a best friend and brother and mother that would die before they would see me with him again.  But is it really done?  Will it ever be?

As much as I don't want to... as much as I hate him with the smarter parts of myself... as much as my pulse races with fear at him touching me again... I still care.  It's the one thing that truly makes me feel sick about myself. 

So as I said before, Happy New Year to me!  May this year be the year he fades completely.