Writer’s Never

It must be time to face the music. I’ll never be a talented or successful creative writer. I don’t have it in me. All I have are fleeting ideas and spotty daydreams. I should learn to enjoy that at least, instead of wishing I could make something out of it.

I spend so much of my anxiety times thinking about how I waste my time doing things that don’t produce anything. What’s the point of watching TV and playing games when you have nothing to show for it, or haven’t learned from it? You can show that you’ve completed crossword puzzles and once I’ve finished a Smithsonian or NatGeo magazine I can recycle them. I can update my GoodReads followers when I’ve read a book, I can fill up a journal with thoughts and poems, etc.

Now, I want to turn daydreams and the weirder, less violent/sad dreams into creative writing even just for personal use. But I can’t make longer than a page before I’m out of ideas. Not to mention the focus it takes to write even this much is crippling. My brain isn’t meant to make stories. Not good ones, anyway. Or long ones.
Just gotta face facts.

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Checkmate

My cat and I have spent all day in bed so forgive me if my words are overly muddled. I wrote a poem the other day; it was the first time in years. It wasn’t as good as they used to be. Funny. I guess the use it or lose it thing applies to everything. Journaling and blogging and doing anything besides idle, mindless tasks have gotten so hard. And now on to the obligatory my food/body issues part of the post:

I read a book about learning to abandon the dieting frame of mind, and how that should free me into only eating when I’m hungry. Joke’s on you, book! I’m lacking the appropriate enzymes! My weight keeps going up along with my feeling of helplessness and I swear I’m trying. I saw an article online today that suggested “Amphetamines may help binge eating disorder!” Well no shit. I’ve been trying to convince my doctor literally for years that I need a magical pill to make my jeans fit better. Not to mention the fact that I’m always tired or sleeping. Maybe this drug can cure all my woes 😀

When people talk about retiring early or winning the lottery or whatever they always talk about how they’d volunteer or work part time or something because they’d be bored. If I were unemployed right now, I would NEVER be bored. Imagine the books I’d read! The cats I’d pet! The games I’d play and the blogs I’d post! I’d FINALLY have time to craft again. I’d FINALLY have the energy and wherewithal to teach myself things I’ve been dying to learn. I could be bilingual. I could be healthy. I could go for lunch with people once every 2 weeks to switch it up a bit, remind myself that there’s a world with humans in it.

I literally day dream about this life.

Damnit, world. Quit making me work. I hate the people. Did you know it’s VERY difficult to have a job as an introvert? When you want nothing more than quiet solo work or whatever people make you talk to people and there are those jerks that insist on talking to you when you’re CLEARLY reading a book in the breakroom etc. Oh, what’re you reading? I’m reading SHUT THE HELL UP I’M READING. Damnit.

GAHHH.

I need a vacation. A very long vacation.

Foggy sick brain is done rambling now go back to your candy crush and LOSE 60 POUNDS IN 60 SECONDS articles.

Look at this Photograph

Okie dokie so I’m taking the plunge with today’s topic. Belive it or not, I don’t enjoy sounding like a whiney whine-face. I do like whining, though….

Damnit.

Anyway I wanted to blog about my issues with my mom and my dad’s divorce. This really ought to be old news by now, seeing as they  divorced almost 24 years ago, but I feel like it affected a lot of my personality and traits and important skills like coping and knowing how to trust and all that and stuff. Mostly because I was around 1 year old and I literally grew up with it. (And I still had to deal with fighting, damnit. So much fighting).

There’s a lot to the story because they both got remarried within a year, and I have what I would call “a curious history” with all 4 of my parents. It’s mostly because I turned into a crazy bitch near the end of high school. Plus there are the (half) siblings and the ≈20 living arrangements I’ve acquired on top of the occasional verbal bloodbaths that ensued between 9 of the possible pairings of these 4. Maybe even more so if you take into account the incredibly tense vocal-almost-phsycial-half-the-time wars between just 2 of them. And if you include my yelling and being yelled at 🙂

Basically from the time I started developing a clear memory my mom was dating/engaged to my stepdad. Then, by the time I was 6, my dad married my stepmom out of the blue. Surprise! My mom and stepdad married less than a year after that. I only got to be at one wedding. But boy did I look good in that flower girl dress! And somewhere there is VHS video footage of me stealing swipes of frosting from the wedding cake during the reception. And I thought I was sneaky. Imagine all the fun I’d have had at 2 weddings within a year! If I could turn back time… (is my issue with this apparent yet?)

Ahem.

I lived with Mom mostly forever, then at 16 I did that thing that teenagers do and decided to switch parents. Then my mental breakdown really happened and I moved back in with Mom because I make no sense and wanted to be 3 again cuz I was a hopeless dipshit and everything sucked and suddenly I was 23 still living with Mom. That simply wouldn’t do. Now you’ll find me in (how funny, in’t it?) Matt’s mom’s basement. Almost 24. No big deal, right? RIGHT?!

After all this time, and all this history and all of these parents having to (try to) cooperate at least sometimes for school stuff and music stuff and stuff and I only own 1 physical picture of my mother, father, and myself.

One.

It’s from my baptism in 6th grade. Though I wasn’t the happiest camper that day (another story; I won’t bore you more than what’s necessary for this 1 post ;)) I insisted that I get this photo.

I believe I got one at my wedding, but I can hardly remember because I was such an anxious wreck and I got really drunk that night so I only remember the more wedding-related things.

(Like the fact that Matt was really trying not to cry but he’ll never admit it. Or were his eyes peeing?)

Even when I made a card for my mom and my dad after the wedding as a “Thank you for Birthing Me” present, it physically felt weird to write “Mom and Dad.”

Call me weird, but I find that weird. It’s uncomfortable to put my birthers next to each other even on paper, for biscuits’ sake!

Now, I’m not saying I wish they were back together. No offense, Mom and Dad, but you would kill each other off. Honestly I don’t even remember really wishing this getting back together. I had my “father figure” from the time I was around 2 years old (thanks Darrin), so I never really felt like I was missing out? I just got bonus family on Tuesdays and holidays and stuff!

Then came the step-mom-into-the-story days at age 6 then I got to go on a plane by  myself 654,665,465 times a year and that was fun. Plus all the presents. I even got to miss a lot of school around the holidays. School hated me. And I, it.

(One time I got in trouble on a test because the teacher was reading us the questions and then we were supposed to answer, but I was 3 pages ahead of everyone, because DAMNIT woman I was in FIRST GRADE I KNEW how to READ.)

How many tangents does it take to make me feel like I’ve made a good blog post?

Like, a hundred.

I wish I didn’t hold this divorce grudge. Or rather, I wish it didn’t affect me as much as it did. And I wish divorce wasn’t so fucking prominent.

Matt, I swear to potato, you’re stuck with me.

 

 

My Singer/Songwriter Career (Pending Approval)

I’ve decided I’m going to write a song. Maybe I’ll upload it to YouTube and be a viral hit. Probably not. I’ll probably just keep it in a notebook under draft status forever.

It will be called Privilege.

It’ll be a satirical account of the ridiculous things we care about.

Don’t worry. The phrases “I can’t even” and “frappe” WILL be included.

Lyrical genius and my big head.

Ok bye.

Maybe This Isn’t The Best Time to Post This

Don’t know if you all know this, but I work extremely hard to make sure people like me. I try to please everybody. I aim to be neutral in disagreements. I am to not piss anybody off. I aim to be as helpful as I can and act with as much tact and poise as I know how to; especially at work.

I have nightmares that all of my friends, or coworkers, or family, have pretended to like me all this time and have plotted against me. I’ve woken up in a cold sweat because I felt like my inability to make/keep friends was going to be never-ending.

Nightmares really do come true. Well, in a sense.

Tonight I found out that several of my coworkers talk about me. Bad. Like, they don’t believe me when I’m sick, and they call me lazy, and they say I have an excuse for everything.

I have one of the best work ethics I know. When I call in sick, maybe I don’t have food poisoning. I’ll admit it. But when I throw up, it’s usually anxiety related. I will make myself so crippled from anxiety and worry and stressing about the assholes I’ll have to serve seafood to throughout the day that I just can’t handle the thought of going in.

It gets to a point where if I had to step into that restaurant, I would find the nearest cliff to drive my car off of on the way. I’d forget to turn my car off or open the garage door with my running car in the garage. I’d accidentally cut too deep. I’d accidentally overdose. I’d accidentally go off on somebody and end up fucking up my chances of getting good references from the job I’ve stayed at the longest.

Apparently, even though I thought I’ve made huge strides in my work ethic and my mental health regarding work, it doens’t mean a thing.

I’m not trying to say everyone should pity me and my anxiety.

But being mean to me? We’re all inconvenienced sometime. How many times have y’all inconvenienced me? This entire job has inconvenienced me! I’m am FAR TOO INTROVERTED to do this job well. Yet here I am. I even got employee of the month, for biscuits’ sake.

Even the manager I thought liked me (the only one I thought liked me) makes snide comments about me.

And this all just came down the grapevine to me tonight.

How the hell am I going to face these people? I want them to feel guilty, but I know they won’t care.

I don’t know what to do.

I wish I had some decent coping mechanisms right about now.

No one fucking understands and I’m fucking tired of being paralyzed by my stupid neurotransmitters.

And I’m fucking tired of being judged for it.

And I’m fucking tired of being blamed for saying it just as an excuse.

I just

I just

Fuck. Fuck it.

And all of you?

Fuck you.

(Except for the readers that have some compassion. In which case, thank you. I love you, too. Have a good evening.)

P.S. The funniest part? Through all this turmoil tonight, I thought “This wouldn’t be such a problem if I were skinnier.”

I’m just a failure entirely.

Community College Papers 101

So I wrote my final reflection paper for my final graduation-required course in about an hour and a half last night. It was a 5 page paper. It was done while some scary show was on TV behind me and I was still slightly tipsy from beers at dinner. I thought the teacher would read it begrudgingly asking herself why she ever became a teacher because she hated crap poured into keyboards like this, but this was her real response:

“GRADE: 250

Your first paragraph pulled me right into your paper!  Very honest, from the heart paper.  I liked it a lot!  Your last paragraph, While it’s one thing to want to learn as much as possible, it’s another to put it into practice. And the practice makes perfect. Most importantly, I think college has taught me self-motivation. I learned what it takes to be successful, at least the first steps I can take and resources I can utilize along the way. It was all worth it.” needs to be something ALL students in college need to think about.

Well done Ashley.  You should be so proud of yourself.  I am proud of you.  You are a role model for your family showing them how hard work and determination got you to where you wanted to be today!”

And here I thought the instructor hated me.

Well, I must’ve learned something in college.

Oh, and that “It was all worth it” sentence made me physically cringe as I typed it. I’m not sure what this teacher was thinking giving me 100%, but I’ll take it!

To Have and To Eat

The last 2 months have been full of experimenting. Not the fun kind with the beakers and the BOOMS, but the brain kind. I switched to a cheaper SSRI because of the beginning of the year/deductible thing, and this new medicine has me in kind of a funk. It’s annoying. I feel tired all day on my own, thanks. I don’t need a pill to multiply that fatigue by a bajillion (which is what it feels like).

One of the most frustrating parts is that I don’t fall asleep near as quickly as I’m used to. Though, that could be because I started by taking it at night; usually an hour or so before bed. Now, I take it 12 hours earlier in the day. It’s helped a little. I get a rush of energy when I need it during the day instead of when I should be sleeping. That late night rush was helping me get a lot of reading done at night, though… One thing I was hoping it would help was the appetite. I still get the cravings in the morning for ALL THE FOOD, and I still wake up with wrappers under or around my pillow. I still overeat, and I just can’t make myself ditch the soda. Soda is disgusting. I love it so much.

The reason my doctor prescribed this was not primarily because of depression, but instead it was supposed to help my anxiety. I stated that my grades had slipped because I can’t make myself focus (don’t get me started on trying to write. All of my blog posts end up as train wrecks. Can you imagine my essays?), so this was supposed to do the job when I couldn’t afford to take Xanax everyday. It hasn’t really been helping. I feel like I’ve avoided a lot more social situations than before, and I feel like my outlook on the future isn’t as bright as it may have been previously. I haven’t been on it for very long, though. I’m hoping it all evens out and does what I’d like it to do.

Yes, I’m far better than I was around the breakdown days, and even 3 years ago, but I feel like I’m very slowly, steadily, slipping again. It’s almost like I’m trying to fool myself. It’s weird and I hate it.

And this ain’t my first rodeo. I know I can’t take “happy pills” and expect immediate improvement with no effort of my own outside of my wallet. I’ve been sleeping as well as I can, doing things I enjoy doing, and trying not to 100% avoid people.

I’ve had 2 panic attacks this month, when it’s been several months before that and almost a year before that… Okay now I’m getting pessimistic. I guess we’ll see what happens.

Happy Wednesday.

Fun fact: this particular drug is supposed to be good against one of my eating issues, so that’s neat. Okay bye.