How I Met Jane

This is to.This is for.

This is to every person that told me that I had a split personality.
This is to every person who told me that I was a mess.
This is for those people who told me I needed help.
This is for those people who didn’t help.
This is to the guy who said I was playing the victim.
This is to the girl who said “She doesn’t know what she wants.”
This is to the guy who used me for a bit.
This is to the girl who decided what I wanted.
This is for the people I hurt along the way with my anger.
These are for your memories, I apologize…I was young.
This is for the past for taking a bite out of my soul.
This is for my soul, not letting me rest, we wanted more.
This is to the hotel for never letting me sleep comfortable again.
This is to that boy who let me sleep comfortable again.
This is to the innocence that was stolen again and again.
This is for my lover who will make me feel again and again.
This is to the doctor who said “it’s all in your head.”
This is for the nurse who said “I believe what you said.”
This is for the school counselor who said “you can’t do it all.”
This is to my mom, who said “you can do it all.”
This is to doubt, fear, and sorrow.
This is for doubt, fear, and sorrow.
This is for every lost soul.
This is for every person who wants more.
This is for your courage, this is for your struggle.
This is for your determination, believe me, it’ll show tomorrow.
This is to every mile I ran, every tear I tasted, every thought I had, to every thought I lost.
This is for every ill remark thrown my way, every assumption that was made, and stab that was saved.
This is to me.
This is for me.

Standard
How I Met Jane

Holy Sh*t

This still exists.

Want to know something?

I’m still the same.

Within the last post, I’ve done things that I can’t express all at once. Karma came back, and why, it wasn’t the best meeting. Cycles of depression, and worried thoughts, and the never-ending fear of the treacherous, “What If’s?”

I wouldn’t change it for the world.

I wouldn’t be here typing if it wasn’t for those events.

I wouldn’t be here lying to you if I said I wasn’t afraid of the next relapse.

But I am here.

So, let’s meet Jane again.

She can control her whiskey, but now she steals beer out of bars.

 

Standard
LIfe Journey

DBA- Donkey Balls Anonymous

In a crowded elevator

“Can I give the Doctor pot to speed up my blood test results?”

small chuckles. Weird looks. A woman answers after the silence.

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“Well, I think it does, it’s been a while and now they have my pee. How long is this gonna take?”

“Not sure, I’m not a doctor hun, maybe about a week.”

“..hmm…what about cookies? I’ll deliver in a short skirt.”

Going down from the 5th floor. Small chuckles. No more responses.

To my surprise, my blood work is fine. My pee is fine, which I must add that peeing in a cup without a penis has got to be the most difficult thing in the world. Thank God for squats.

Yet, my thighs of steel are not the issue here.

No one knows what is wrong with me.

Everyone tells me something different.

Or

Everyone tells me it’s in my head and the pain isn’t real.

I’m going on my third doctor this week. Back to regular doctor the week after to punch him in the face, and then an eye doctor to see if my wonky eye has a blood clot.

Pain and numbness that comes and goes for years, blurred vision when I get in this state, complete fatigue, and I lost 13lbs in a couple of months without changing my diet. Yeah, I’m fine right? I can’t really feel my toe here and there but I’m insane. The pain is so bad I missed 5 days of work…oh and my gums bled by themselves too while I was having this “attack”..but hey, those blood tests said I was fine.

I found so many people thanks to Google who have my same symptoms and no cause. That have thought it was their heart, like myself, that thought they were diabetic, like myself…and nothing.

Well, to all the people out there that live in their own body, they know what they feel.

These people are not crazy.

To the people who have been misdiagnosed several times, keep searching.

To the people who are skeptical why we keep looking: It’s not that we want something wrong, we just want answers. Peace of mind to prove our sanity.

To the people who think nobody believes you, well…I believe you.

Just because you can’t see it or prove it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.

I’ve named the support group “Donkey Balls” for whatever anybody has and has no name, just say “I have Donkey Balls”, say it proud, then eventually they will shut-up.

To the people who come up to me and ask me how I lost so much weight and keep poking how sick I look, well I’m fine, I just have Donkey Balls.

I honestly think if I gave my doctor pot he’d tell me what I wanted to hear.

Standard
Blogging, How I Met Jane, LIfe Journey

Name Tag: Insert Dreams Here

I was proud today wearing my name tag and small blue knapsack that some elder Indian man gave me. I walked in line with a small gathering of people who tried going to school, failed, and came back for another chance.

This was my 3rd school, and 5th chance. This was also the furthest I’ve ever gone.

Like I said, I was proud with my name tag on and to sit next to veterans returning to school, mother’s who had children too young, and men who made some dumb mistakes in the past. It didn’t matter today though.

Flashbacks of being asked, what I wanted to be when I “grow up” flooded as Deans spoke. In elementary they told you the sky was the limit. By middle school they brought you back to  earth, and sadly by high school they demonstrated that you needed to be this tall to ride the coaster to the sky.

I went from being a doctor to a writer by 5th grade and haven’t really changed much from them. The people have though or maybe it’s the more than 5 year gap I have after high school.

“No you need to choose something that will be in demand. Something smart.”

“Why don’t you choose something fast, like medical billing?”

“Take this test and see what careers are good for you.”

This wasn’t the same speech that anything is possible. These were plan B’s ready for a failed plan A.

Then I remembered my journalism teacher who admired my writing.

Then again, he was crazy.

Surrounded my morons in a public school who didn’t want to learn shouldn’t be bothersome at all. Occasionally he threw a chair across the room. May have punched a wall, and didn’t believe in the grading system to be fair, and once drew how his crack addict ex-girlfriend use to cook narcotics with a light bulb. Makings of a great teacher, he refused to teach those who didn’t want to learn.

In the end it was me, a boy who was in the closet, and a very overweight girl who would write love poems about her crush then cry in the night, that stayed writing.

We had a lot in common.

It was the only sanctuary I found though when I lived in a hotel.

Writing.

It was an amazing invention that perplexed me at the same time.

These were thoughts, opinions, emotions, facts, all in shapes and forms that would bring out something out of a reader and something out of the writer.

I zoned out for a while thinking about all of this, then someone read my name tag.

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to write. I want to write anything, everything, and maybe even blog.”

“Sounds great.”

There wasn’t a  “take a test and see where you land” option, none of the salary questions, and not even a simple ‘no.’

I knew I was in the right place at the right time.

3rd time is the charm.

It’s never too late to go after what you love…

Except meeting Elvis Presley, he has sadly passed.

Rest in peace King.

A cropped photograph depicts singer Elvis Pres...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Standard
LIfe Journey

Destroying the time machine!

Since the last time I woke up in a stranger’s bed and wanted to jump out the window, I really haven’t been drinking…that much. I actually was sick in bed for a couple of days with a fever, sore throat,earache, and other disease ridden symptoms. This all being right before NYE.

How did I spend my NYE, you may ask?

Well, I was high off my ass on cough syrup cursing at the world from the confinements of a hello kitty blanket. My mom told me that “God didn’t want me to party.” You know, since my recent debate on this God subject, if he really didn’t want me to party, then I thank him because I’m pretty sure something disastrous would have happened.  If I was well and able to attend this party, the guy that I “woke up” to was there, and in all honesty I am not ready to look at his dumb face. This isn’t embarrassment to some secret crush developing inside me. Hell no. This is disgust that I am and was so stupid.

In other news it’s  “that one guys” birthday today. The one that so elegantly told me to “fuck off.” To continue the psychotic world babble he invites me to a BBQ tomorrow.

Dear guys of the internet, why are you like this? Why are you so fucking confusing. I’m ok with this, I was mad and I’m over it because I know who I am. All I want is a damn apology. That’s it. For him to admit he was wrong and sorry. I am a George Costanza. I don’t care for the issue, don’t care for the person, but care for the principle. If I don’t go down the path of crazy cat lady, then I’m headed down a spiteful path lead by a short, stocky, bald fictional character. I shoot for the stars.george-costanza

On the other hand, I over analyze everything and didn’t want him to think that I am a child holding a grudge (when I’m holding on for an apology),  so wished him a happy birthday. Again, he invites me over tomorrow and in my head I am weighing so many factors. Pride, self-worth, friendship. which weighs more? If I go and pretend nothing happened, like always, I’ll be in the same exact situation. I want change. With change you need choices, and chances. This is my choice and I’m taking a chance of losing a friend, again.

With all of this, and being sick, it hit me that this is the first time in years that I am 100% without a male. I’ve always had someone, whether it be some 3 or 4 guys on the side or a handful of friends,  I always had someone. Someone that I used and they used me and it was fine and dandy.

I cut off all ties and it’s weird. I don’t even want to talk to old friends. I’m over them and feel like every time I reunite with someone I’m thrown down this time machine. A machine where I compare, contrast, and end up depressed. I just don’t care anymore what people think anymore (minus spite situation with “that one guy”).

I’ve gone cold turkey from guys, dicks, and even girls (I’m not gay, not that there’s anything wrong with it.)

I am alone and have to face this dependency that I have thrown on every guy I met that I thought was going to invent something new.

Who needs a time machine when you can discover something new?

Time to depend on myself…

and vodka.

Cheers!

Standard