I deserve to be happy after what I have lived through

 "Completion comes from not adding another piece onto ourselves, but from surrendering our ideas of perfection."

- Going to Pieces Without Falling Apart, Mark Epstein -

The most challenging thing about therapy is breaking down the walls, uncovering your soul and exposing yourself (metaphorically speaking) to a stranger.  You have to be able to trust that they can help you figure out how to grieve with your past and move on to your future.  You have to be patient, willing, and open to new ideas, new thought-processes and accept the fact that their job is to help you fix yourself.  And find yourself.

From relationships to friendships to family to work - I uncovered my heart and soul to this woman.  I had to if I ever have a shot at recovering from what I have been through.  I told her things I haven't even told some of my closest friends.  I told her how broken and damaged I am - mentally - because I never had the chance to grieve for my parents or cope with my cancer.  I felt downright exhausted after my first session.

Over the weekend, I told someone that I had just started seeing a therapist, and he did the one thing I feared most.

He laughed.

He found it comical that I need to see a therapist because I witnessed my father hanging from the pipes in my basement with a rope tied around his neck when I was 12 years old; Or that for nearly one year of my two year battle with cervical cancer I was facing death in the eyes and fighting for my life.

Nothing about this is funny. 

I have experienced more in my twenty six years of life, than most people ever will in their lifetime.  I have been through hell and back and I'm still [somehow] standing on my two feet. 

I'm stronger than you'll ever be, I thought to myself.  It's not easy to ask for professional help. But it makes it much more difficult when I have people - so-called "friends" - in my life who are being unsupportive of my decisions and laughing at this.

My life isn't perfect.  And I have done some things in my past that have led to my damaged and broken life - but I know that I need help; I know that I need to talk to someone, to get this all out of my system in order to move on and be happy.

Seven years of unresolved grief, sadness, depression and loneliness.

I deserve to be happy after what I have lived through.

And I refuse to let anyone take that away from me.  Not now, not ever.

it's time to fix what's broken

I believe in fixing your my own problems.

Like how I bought wall shelves from Tar-jhay two weeks ago for my sex dungeon bedroom and I wanted to hang them myself, so I screwed holes into my walls without measuring the shelves to find out just how far apart the screws had to go and I ended up with one five too many holes in my walls but I fixed it because I'm awesome and you can't even tell that I totally failed at hanging those shelves.

Or that time I boarded the wrong plane because I was late to the airport  severely intoxicated (thank you, Mr. Lawyer for buying me shots of whiskey that night) and I ended up in Jacksonville instead of Pittsburgh because yes, I BOARDED THE WRONG PLANE and I'm apparently an idiot when I'm drunk, so I fixed the problem by catching a red-eye flight home. (make note of this if you ever have to travel with me and I decide we pre-game at the airport)

OK fine, that's not really a fix to my problem, but whatever.  I still made it home and it still makes an awesome story to tell.  You're welcome.

My point is, I'm a do-er, not a watcher. (TWSS? No?)  I like to do men  midgets  things, not watch someone else do them for me.  This is a result of my fierce independence for the last seven years.  I don't like feeling helpless, and I often feel that way when I can't do something myself or I need someone else to do something for me. 

I have been fighting a lot of internal demons lately, like my depression and loneliness.  I finally reached that point where I could admit to myself that I was depressed and lonely without feeling bad or suicidal.  No, I'm not suicidal.  (I can only imagine how many people are going to come across my blog when they search for 'suicide' or 'suicidal' on Google now)

Last night I kind of had my breaking point with all of it.  I've been trying to fight my demons myself and figure out how to cure my own depression and loneliness.  Truth is, I can't do it and it's taken me seven years to finally admit to myself that I need help.

My first and only experience with a therapist was about seven years ago.  My mother kind of forced me to see one because her and I were having a bad relationship and I was also battling a mentally abusive [which later became physically abusive] relationship and she insisted that I talk to someone.  I've asked my friends who have experienced the whole therapy-thing if it's really worked.  They've all said the same thing: the key to good therapy is finding the right therapist. 

I'm not the kind of person who talks openly about my life because I'm afraid of being judged or criticized for some of the things I have experienced or endured in my past or the mistakes I've made that have left me damaged and broken. 

I stopped seeing my therapist because I felt like it wasn't helping; she wasn't helping me solve my problems or find out why I was battling depression.  Looking back, I now realize that the reason therapy didn't work for me was because I didn't like my therapist.

For the last few months, I've juggled back and forth about seeing a therapist again.  In the back of my head, I keep thinking that seeing a therapist won't help me find answers.  What do they know about my life?!  But realistically, I need someone to talk to - a professional - who can help me sort through all of the internal things I am going through.

I'm damaged and broken and I need someone to fix me.

I finally made the commitment to see a therapist.  I have two consultation appointments with two different therapists (because I whole-heartedly believe that if counseling is going to work for me, I need to find the right therapist).  Of course no one told me that mental health costs so much!  Goodbye, $145 that I will never see again!

But in the end, it's not about the money.  It's about working through my demons and finding myself again.  It's about re-telling all of my damaging stories and experiences so that I can fix what's broken.

I just hope this works.

"Doesn't matter how tough we are, trauma always leaves a scar.  It follows us home, it changes our lives; trauma messes everyone up, but maybe that's the point.  All the pain and the fear and the crap.  Maybe going through all of that is what keeps us moving forward; it's what pushes us.  Maybe we have to get a little messed up, before we can step up."

- Grey's Anatomy -

on friendships: letting go and investing more

 "Save your face, you've only got one
Smile like you mean it."

One of the hardest things [for me] to accept is letting go of a friendship that is sinking/ending/fading.  I tend to blame myself when I lose a friend because I feel like I didn't fight hard enough for them.

Three years ago I lost a best friend.  OK, so he didn't die on me, but it felt like he did.  Granted, we didn't have a perfect relationship, but he really was my best friend.  He knew me better than I knew myself.  He was everything I wanted and needed in a best friend and it has been very difficult trying to find someone to fill that void.  I don't think I'll ever find someone who can make me feel that same way.

This weekend I attempted to learn the true meaning of friendship and figure out which friendships are worth having and which ones I need to let go of.

Friday night I met up with my old roommate to watch some March Madness.  We reminisced about the good times we had at our old apartments together.  Like how he found a dead mouse under our couch that had been there for four months and stunk up our entire apartment.  Or that time that our upstairs neighbors clogged their toilet and we had piss and shit water pouring from our kitchen ceiling (that was the straw that broke the camels back and made my roommate buy a condo for us).  Or that time he bought a fig tree and it died three days later because neither one of us watered it, yet we kept it and turned it into our Charlie Brown Christmas tree.  Those were the days, I thought to myself.  That was the first time, in a long time, I laughed and smiled like I meant it. 

I spent Saturday with my two favorite girls.  The day was absolutely perfect - sitting outside of Starbucks, drinking coffee and talking about friends, relationships, boys, girls, social media, jobs, careers, books and traveling, and then getting manicures and pedicures together.  It was the first time in a long time where I felt completely happy. I haven't felt like that in three years.  

Confucius said:

Wherever you go, go with all your heart.

Jim Elliot said:

Wherever you are, be all there.

This weekend I learned that I need to invest more into the friendships that really matter to me and make me completely happy and let go of those friendships that are sinking/failing/ending.  I need to accept the fact that I can't hold onto every friendship I make; sometimes you just have to let people go and hope they find what they are looking for.  I need to continue following my heart and being all there with those friends who matter most.

"After a while, you just want to be with the one who makes you laugh."

Mr. Big, Sex and the City

it never turns out the way I envisioned it would

I always envisioned that important milestone in a relationship when those three words are said:

Let's get naked.


I love you.

Sometimes I dream up scenarios.  Like saying it at a fancy restaurant over a candle-lit dinner.  Or walking through a park on a warm, summer day.  It's something that you want to be able to remember and smile when you think about it.

Of course, I also envision saying those words to someone who I can fall madly in love with and actually mean it.

But if there's one thing I've learned about big moments in my life (and my relationships), it's that it never turns out the way I envisioned it would.

Case in point:

It's Friday night and I'm sitting on my couch watching Role Models.

("You know what I had for breakfast this morning?  Cocaine!  You know what I had for lunch?  Cocaine!")

I'm sexting  texting with Mr. Wolf-man, asking if he shaved his back yet how his work party was going.  He replies with his usual, predictable comments:

"I miss you." 
"You're amazing."
"You're beautiful."

Now, normally a girl would swoon over comments like those.  But considering he says those things to me every five seconds of every day (literally) I pretty much ignore them.

But it gets better.

Then he whips out the big [hairy] guns and says:

"I love you."

Aaaand, vomit.

Not exactly how I pictured hearing those three little words. And instead of getting giddy and butterflies in my stomach, I got nauseous. 

Awesome, right?

So I replied back, by telling him I was taking his friend as my date to a wedding in June.  Probably not the best time to confess that, but I had to change the subject, else I would have puked all over my phone.

I'm pretty sure I crushed his heart when I told him that.

Now I just have to pray that my Canadian Crush doesn't have a hairy back or I may swear off men for the rest of my life the summer.


Am I crazy, or is back hair (a lot, not a little of it) a total deal breaker in a relationship? 

wise words:

 

"This is an important lesson to remember when you’re having a bad day, a bad month, or a shitty year. Things will change: you won’t feel this way forever.  And anyway, sometimes the hardest lessons to learn are the ones your soul needs most.  I believe you can’t feel real joy unless you know what it means to fail. You can’t know what it’s like to feel holy until you know what it’s like to feel really fucking evil. And you can’t be birthed again until you’ve died."

 - Kelly Cutrone, If You Have To Cry, Go Outside -

A Guest Post Poem

POP.

Did you hear that?  Do you know what it was? That was the sound of me popping the proverbial cherry of KT’s Guest Blog practices. I don’t know why she’s never had a guest poster. It could only get her more readers. I’m not even so sure why this bish doesn’t have more readers. She’s pretty awesome. Then again, she does have some of the most awesome friends in the world.

Ahem.ME.Ahem.

But in her own respect, she’s pretty cool. Even though that doesn’t sound too meaningful, it is. I hate emotions. They make me want to vomit. That being said, I think its important to tell friends how much you….love them. I tried not to choke on that, but I did. (TWSS.)

So, in honor of emotions and doing things differently in 2010 (That’s the excuse I use for everything these days, like eating more steak,  moving, and not taking a shower.), I present a poem. Dedicated to KT .

Note: I combined lots of Poetry Styles here. Don’t attack my Iambic Pentameter, because I’m pretty sure it doesn’t appear in here.

My Sweet Infected Bladder

By: Katie [Blogs]

We met one day via a Gmail E-mail Chain
We were planning to attend a meetup, right?
Our method of travel was going to be the train,
I must admit it was love at first type.

You told me I was your girlfriend,
I thought this was mega swell,
But then you told me to text you dirty,
And wanted me to have a sex change and become “Mel”.

Though I could not provide you what you needed,
Because I’m severely afraid of erectile penises. Weird.
You explained to me so kindly that I wasn’t a freak and said:
“You just have  Ithyphallophobia, my sexy little reindeer”

We are nearing our 8 month celebration,
Of our initial meeting online,
I demand that we celebrate
Over our favorite Riesling wine.

 Despite our strong bond,
We have had our ups and down,
See-Saw, See-Saw, See-Saw
You’re still my favorite girl in the Bro-town.

If  you were ever in trouble, I hope you’d reach out,
And call on a favor from me.
Like if you were being attacked by a trout,
Or raped by a manatee.(Seriously, they're vicious. I saw one on 20/20 last week.)

Even though my feelings often go unsaid
I need you to know the truth of the matter
If I could name a Crayola after you,
I’d name it something cute that reminded me of you like “Infected Bladder”. 

If we were walking down the street,  And some hoodlum called your name out
Id kick him in the kidney, and whip out my weapon, that I always have with me,
That good old trusty, rusty,
12 inch Machete

When the days are long, and the lights are dim,
And life isn’t going just right,
Always remember I’m a phone call away
Morning, Afternoon, or Late at Night.

Despite all of the crap we've been through (which really isn't a lot, just a little hiccup), you're one of my favorite people, and one of the only one's who can make me laugh. I believe in you, your abilities, and that someday you're going to rock this world., You already rock mine.

Oh, and I'll write YOU a poem, dear readers, for the small fee of $5.  Or, if you ask nicely while licking your lips and blowing kisses my way. (via)

wise words:

"I'm not here to tell you how to get the perfect Margiela wardrobe or the perfect man or the perfect job in fashion.  I've had all these things, and trust me, there's a bigger prize to be had.  I believe the world will change only when we change ourselves.  And that starts with finding ourselves.  And that starts with listening to ourselves, learning to quiet the clamor in our minds and the voices of everyone around us and moving toward what feels right.  It means taking a journey like the spectacular and terrifying and ultimately mind-blowing adventure I've been on.  I hope that you, too, will choose to have a journey instead of just a life.  Actually, I hope it's a full-on expedition."

- Kelly Cutrone, If You Have To Cry, Go Outside -

stay tuned

I have a special surprise for my readers (all three of you) on Friday.  You don't want to miss this.  It's insanely epic and mouth-watering.

TWSS

And all I can tell you is that it involves a sea-saw and a manatee. 


Stay tuned.