Hot tub

It’s freezing running from the hotel room to the hot tub. We’re laughing as we run, barefoot on the concrete that is wet with dew. He opens a beer and jumps in, splashing me. I slide in next to him, self-conscious in my swimsuit. I’ve seen his wife. She’s not big like me.

“Do you believe in aliens?”, he asks me, looking at the vast, starry sky. “How could there not be life out there? We can’t be alone.”

We talk for hours, until three, or four in the morning. Even though we have to be to work in a little bit. This is what we always do.  Talk and talk. I gaze up at the night sky too. Huddle next to him. He puts his arm around me lazily, sips from his beer.

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Naked Suicide

She was sitting naked on the balcony wrapped in a blanket, overlooking the vast ocean.

He handed her a beer, cracked it open. She listened to the hissssss of the pressure releasing.

“Do you think you could love me?”, She asked. Standing up, looking deep into his eyes, as blue as the sky was that afternoon. He kissed her and walked back into the room without a word.

She didnt cry. She just drank her beer and listened to the waves crashing against the cliffside.

That night, after he was asleep, she left the room and walked down to the ocean access stairway. It was railed off, but easy enough to crawl under the rope.  She walked to the edge of the ocean, let the biting cold water lick at her feet. It was dense fog and mist. Not another person anywhere close. She could barely make out the hotel from where she stood

How easy it would be, she thought.  To start swimming out, and let the ocean take her away from all this.

It was the closest she’d come to suicide. She stayed there for a long time that night. Sitting in the cold, damp sand.  Not feeling anything really. She was too numb. How easy it could be indeed

September 9, 2013

I thought about you today
and yesterday
and the day before that.
I know I’ll think about you tomorrow
and the next day
and the day that follows.

I think about kissing you
and tracing my finger along your lips.
I think about kissing you in the rain, in bed, on your doorstep.

I think about your arms, holding me in the dark of night.
How your heartbeat feels. Your slow breathing.
I think of you.
Every second of every minute of every day

I think of you and only you.

One night stand

“I was warned about men like you”, she said, her voice thick like the whiskey in his glass.

“what kind of men?” he asked.

“Dark, strong. with voices like honey. They promise you the world, make love to you and then leave you as empty as that glass.”

“Maybe I’m different,” he said.

“Maybe you’re not, and maybe I don’t care.”

A letter to my abuser

I am 27 years old. It has taken me a long time to write this. You are not allowed in my life. I allowed it for too long. What you did was not acceptable or excusable. It shouldn’t be forgivable either but carrying that kind of anger in your heart can tear you apart. So I do forgive what you did to me because you are sick and fucked up. But that does not make it go away. That does not reverse the years of damage or make it somehow more tolerable. The hard truth is that every time I was around you after I told what happened, you made me sick. I never want to see you again. You took my innocence. My path in life could’ve been so different had you not done what you did. I will not be there when you get sick.  I will not be there when you die. I will not be at your funeral. I will not cry for you. I realize now that the relationships I’ve had up until this point were directly related to how you, and my father, treated me. Though I highly doubt you do, I hope you regret your sick choices and decisions and I hope you know that I have no love for you, only pity and disgust.

from, the girl you almost broke.

Shop till’ you drop…

I like to shop. I know a lot of people like to shop, but I like to shop a lot. Too much. I have a shopping problem. While I don’t want to say I have a shopping addiction, I might. I shop when I am happy. I shop when I am sad.  I shop to celebrate, to relieve anxiety, to socialize, when bored, and sometimes just because there is money to shop with. In my twenties I refused to acknowledge this may even be a problem and whenever the thought briefly came into my head, I pushed it out immediately and would not allow myself to think about it.

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New job, new purpose.

So, I started a new job today and it feels amazing.  I feel like my energy and motivation has been renewed! I am invigorated in my own self! I love the company so far, the job is challenging and different. I love the person I work with (yes, you read that right, as in one person). I finally feel like this will be my year. I have goals that I think I can actually accomplish, a good job, a wonderful husband, a great place to live, an awesome support group, and my medication is finally in order.

I feel like I can breathe again. Sigh.

Also, can we talk about one of the best feelings in the world for a moment? I just got home, took a shower and put on clean jammies. THE best feeling is clean jammies on clean skin. Now I’m doing laundry, running the dishwasher, and obviously blogging. I just feel great today. I know this post is short and probably very boring, but I had to share because it is so very rare that I feel this happy…I just hope it isn’t an episode of mania coming on!

Rainy days and Selfishness

It’s raining. Fat drops like tears falling from the darkened sky. I’m sitting at my desk, gazing out the window and watching them fall. Thinking about the selfishness of man. The greed some people carry in them. Trying to understand how death tears families apart instead of bringing them together like it should. It’s so very sad. God is ashamed of us I think. He looks down and sees his people and the way we let money control our lives, and it shames him.

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PCOS My light at the end of the tunnel

I have finally decided to write about the last part of my PCOS journey. The decision that my husband and I have made about having a baby, or not having one, as it were. The thing is, as you know if you’ve read part 1 and 2 of my PCOS journey, is that medication, treatment, doctor appointments, tests, procedures, were all so incredibly hard for me. Not just physically but more so mentally.

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Encapsulated (old poem)

Encapsulated in the fibers of my brain
are the memories of you
some of my happiest and saddest times
so innocent it all was
and in a moment it all could have been so different
so much more
than a breath
and a glance
and a kiss
a warm hand in mine
and a goodbye
there’s a tiny piece of my heart, always missing
and you have it.
I gave it willingly that day you had to leave
so that you would always know me.