Counting down

I need to run my vacuum cleaner. I need to clean J's bathroom. I need to put away the laundry. Go to the grocery store.

I would rather do what I've been doing, you know, laying on the couch in my bathrobe refusing to bathe or eat.

Instead, I will do what I do best: Pretend.

Ok, there's more

I'm alone a lot lately. I mean, whatever. I'm the unemployed slob in a house filled with working people. J is a party boy and only comes home to sleep and do laundry a few times a week. T works 48 hours a week, shift work, either gone all day or gone all night. I went from living, breathing, existing only to bake for those horrible people, busting my ass, going straight from work to see my coworkers and commiserate, straight from commiseration to home where I would see T either home from work and feed him and fall exhausted into bed, or see him off to work and then feed myself and fall exhausted into bed. Now....Nothing. Stasis.

It's a good thing, you know? I know this. I know it's good to take time off to recover from the shit box bakery and the terrorism therein.

But being alone? Makes me think. Makes me think a lot. About stuff I don't want to think about, things I don't ever think about, things that I don't like, that I fear, that I'd just as soon leave in their little boxes on their cataloged shelves in my brain and let them collect dust into infinity.

I understand that you have to think about things, process things, to get past them, to move on, whatever. But I really would just rather not.

I don't want to think about my stepdad, so I don't. Just, you know, don't. Unless it's a funny story about him being silly or doing something funny. I don't think about how he died, I don't think about what that meant, what I had to do because of it. How it changed me. Whatever. We've been over this before.

I don't think about my dad. Same as above. We've been over it before.

I don't think about my mom. I only talk to her in the morning when she's sober, and even then, I don't let her in. I keep her at arms length. I don't deal with her, with the past, whatever. I went down that road while we were planning the wedding and it resulted in T nearly taking me to the hospital.

But there's one thing that's been really waltzing to the front of my mind lately. Over, and over again. Because it really, truly shaped me in ways I don't like. It's changed every relationship I've had since then, and probably every relationship I will have forever.

I trust 2 people. Two. I know that doesn't sound so bad, and it really doesn't, you know? I have my husband and one friend. That's better than a lot of people. I'm lucky to have them, lucky to be able to know in my heart of hearts that they will always be there, without judgement, without reservation, loving me for who I am, never selling me out, throwing me under the bus, playing me. They don't have ulterior motives, aren't cataloging my words to use against me later.

Fuck, it was like, 6 years ago? We've been over this. Over the day I woke up and all my friends and lovers weren't. They hated me, stole my stuff, took my money, tried to turn people against me, put my cat to sleep and sent me the bill after I was gone, tried to trash my credit. Used my words against me and made me the scapegoat. Part of me can see why they would be mad, why they would want me out of their lives. But. I also know things that make me realize that I didn't deserve that, no one does.

But it's made me suspicious. Of everyone. Just because you're my friend today doesn't mean that you won't be tomorrow and for reasons I don't understand. Kindness means nothing. There is no such thing as loyalty when it comes to me. I know that I am being genuine, that I'm being kind a loyal and caring because I want to be, but I don't think anyone else is.

And so when I hear things being said about me, cruel things, untrue things, things that were taken out of context, things that could easily be resolved were people willing to just talk to me about it--it brings it all back. It reminds me that anyone is capable of anything. Just because you've been kind to me in the past doesn't mean you give a fucking shit about me or ever did. Doesn't mean that you wouldn't turn your back on me in a moment.

It stresses me out. I'm really trying to work on it. I need to quiet my mind and not over analyze things. Good fucking luck.

So I don't understand. I don't understand why people do what they do. I don't really care. It basically boils down to the idea that I pretty much believe that just about everyone in my life would be willing to sell me down the river without so much as a second thought.

So, you know? It's not a great way to live, with these walls, these razor wire fences up, but it has been shown to be time and time again that if you open that fence, pull a brick out of the wall--the tanks roll in, the barrels of the guns are thrust in your face.

I'm tired. Exhausted, even. Just, you know? Exhausted, but I can't sleep. Haven't slept. Won't.

Diet Pepsi and Yarn

I have a lot of yarn. Like, a lot a lot. (That's a term of measurement that T and I use often.)

I have a huge rubbermaid container FILLED. 3 cloth shopping bags FILLED. A huge bowl on the coffee table FILLED. And yet...I need more. Duh!

T took me (he had just started to get sick and I was very nearly on the cusp of it) down to the resort where I used to work because a very big deal yarn company and the Yarn Harlot were there. And, you know, I need yarn. And like Canadians.

So while T and I milled around and said hi to my old coworkers (the ones we don't hate, anyway) there was much yarn dyeing and knitting class teaching going on around me.

And as we left the commercial kitchen, I ran into the Harlot. She was supposed to be teaching a class but was on her way to....take a break. So I did get to see the knitting celebrity. That's something. I even managed to refrain from yelling "Thank you for teaching me to knit socks!" at her. Being a stranger and all.

So we went and got yarn and I was happy.

And then we both got horribly sick. Fever. Aches. Chills. Snot. T says that we made SnotTron together.

I haven't exercised for a week. Ugh. That whole not being able to breathe thing, combined with the fact that for a few days walking to the bathroom was not something I could really do alone, and once I was on the mend the exertion of putting sheets in the washing machine was too much for me and I had to go lie down.

Sigh.

So. Thanksgiving. It's on its merry little way. There's a lot of cooking and baking in my future.

Phone bloggers 'r' us

Blogging from my phone again. I have lots to say, really, but I don't know that I'm going to be able to muster the thumb strength to get it all out.

I don't know. I mean, really. I'm really trying to work on some parts of myself that I don't agree with. Like, sometimes it's better to just keep your mouth shut when you're pissed off. Say nothing, move on. So long as you're as to move on and not brood. (that's the hangup. The brooding.) seriously tho? I wish people were nicer and thought more before making rash judgements.

I lost 12 pounds.

They closed the bakery and fired everyone with no notice. Yesterday.

I had awesome knitting time this weekend before the horrible illness fell on me and T.

We are sick

T and I both. Great fun. Blogging from my phone on the couch. I even have good blog fodder for once. Not today, I guess.

Just as I thought

I run. I exercise. I eat correctly and less.

I lose no weight. NONE.

Hooray motivation! Hooray! Hooray for hard work paying off! Story of my damn life.

I'm not asking to weigh 117 pounds again. Seriously. I'm not asking THAT MUCH. Discouraged, I has it.

And

I'm in a really bad mood. Just, like, really, really unhappy with a whole lot.