mental health

February 12, 2025

Notes From the “Other Side”

Well… Yesterday was sure “fun!”

I ended up leaving work early for a mental health break. I cloistered myself on my BF’s couch, pillow over my head, and listened to the muffled dialogue of Golden Girls while trying to sleep. As time wore on I started to feel better and was at least able to have a normal conversation that wasn’t laced with conspiracy theory or paranoia. It’s weird being an observer within my own mind. Sometimes the crazy person gets control and I just have to watch as all of this plays out, completely out of my control. (Sound vaguely familiar? Oh, the irony.)

At least I have my self-awareness to keep me humble. That was a gift my husband gave me. He asked me so many questions about my feelings and thoughts that it triggered this process in my brain. The only downside is that I question everything I do. Which is fine… as long as it doesn’t keep me from living life. This level of self-awareness can be crippling.

But… so can mania.

Luckily I have two people in my life that can act like Charlie. The BF even told me he started talking to him yesterday morning asking him what to do. That was really touching. Even if it was regarding my “episode.”

What stood out to me were two things that happened before and after this manic episode.

After I had already gone to the bank to get out money (Y’know… for when banking collapses because the government coup has already happened) I woke up my brother and told him how I thought I was having a psychotic episode. Right then, the Woody doll I have propped up next to my husband’s urn (and is a representation of him) talked of it’s own volition. In my mania I thought it was Charlie agreeing with me but I think it was him saying “calm down, dear.”

Then last night I dreamed of him, which hasn’t happened since he passed away. Tony has had more than a fair share, but his tend to be Charlie without his wheelchair and mine was him in it. So, I wonder if he doesn’t visit me because I put him in it… Anyway! In my dream, he and Tony were returning from a long road trip and I was so excited to see him that I ran to him and covered his face in kisses to annoy him.

It was wonderful… even if some parts of it were also stressful and totally unrelated to Charlie. I enjoyed having him back for a little bit. However brief it was.

Today is 10 months since he left. I thought it was 9 but I did my math wrong… as usual. In both instances, it feels like it was just yesterday and at the same time like it happened ages ago. Regardless my want of him has not diminished. In fact, it has just grown.

February 5, 2025

Solo Cruise Retrospective

It is super humorous to me how I begin each of my posts (as of late) like I’m a fucking Carrie Bradshaw. Like some mega corporation is paying me to write about my adventures, pretending it’s not just me putting out my own fucking “brand.” (God that’s ridiculous: brand.) Each of these posts I start off as professional as I can, as if my editors want pizazz and intrigue to hook my readers. Like I have any…

I get about two paragraphs in and I feel so inauthentic. I don’t like how I sound or how I will be perceived. Then I delete whatever bullshit I typed out and drop this bizarre facade I don and then write how I truly feel; how it exists in my head.

Maybe this is just my technique? I need to broom out the cobwebs before I can get to my real “shine.”

Despite my prior post “waking up panicked,” the cruise was fantastic. I made some very fast friends (who I lovingly referred to as my Homo Homies) the first night on the ship at the LGBTQ meet-up/mixer. They accompanied me on my misadventures and I on theirs. I did lose my shit in one of the ports because I had reached my limit in regards to noise and being bothered. What I learned is I am not a “Vacation Port Town” person. I wish I could be like my cruise companion Christian. He gave zero fucks. His casual existence was so refreshing. He just went with the flow. As much as I tried, I have a point of being “over” whatever we may have been in the midst of doing.

I told my brother when I got home that I was at least proud of myself for knowing this and removing myself before my new pals got to see the ugly side of me; the spoiled only child that WILL throw a fit when he’s had enough. I like to think that is growth. Unfortunately for those who have been permanently adopted into my inner circle, I do not offer that luxury. They get me at my ugliest. Sorry, gals.

I would absolutely do another solo cruise. It was fun being by myself. I didn’t have to worry about anyone else. Just me. My own fun. Not like I don’t already do that. I seem to surround myself with those who cater to my every whim. It’s weird. Without them I didn’t have the worry/anxiety that I get that they’re just agreeing with me because they don’t want to upset me or give me what I want. Y’know, to avoid seeing the side only they get the “pleasure” of witnessing?

My only real regret was not recognizing my “friendly personality.” I genuinely thought I wasn’t going to make any friends, so I signed up for my favorite writing competition. As a result… I ended up stressed about competing and completing my assignment. I shouldn’t have, but I can never say no to the chance of flexing my skills. I love writing. (Clearly… ) What I don’t love is that this wasn’t my best. It was done for the sake of “getting it done.” Which means that it didn’t get the attention it deserved. If I place in the Top 15 it’ll be a fucking miracle.

One of the port towns I want to go back to is Puerto Vallarta. I’d love to spend a week there in the “gayborhood.” However… with the way shit is going I might not be able to. God… I hate this fucking place.

December 24, 2024

Rainy Day Ruminations

I like when I try to write a post that comes off more as a school essay than an artistic piece pouring forth from my soul. I prefer the ones that come in uninhibited. They exist to exist and serve no purpose other than to impart how I’m feeling in the moment. Think of them as literary snapshots. Little photographs I can look back on, if I ever decide to re-read anything I’ve previously posted, and say to myself “Man, I was feeling it that day.”

Today I started some ridiculous piece about how if the government banned tiktok it would do a huge disservice, other than breaking it’s only fucking laws. With the app I have learned so much about myself in this very roundabout way. Most of the videos that scroll across my FYP have to do with trauma. Haven’t a clue why… But the algorithm knows all, I suppose. I never thought I was one who had responded negatively to it. However one evening, wading the sea of my thoughts, it occurred to me that I have.

Growing up I was a very emotional child. My parents never were one to stop me from feeling them. The outside world on the other hand did not agree with this parenting tactic. So for all my mother’s efforts to make me emotionally mature, the populace had other machinations. And they will do everything to make sure they perpetuate the myth that everyone will and should fit into a mold.

As I grew up, my peers and mentors would tell me that I was being too emotional or over-dramatic. Whatever I felt or expressed was brushed aside. As a result, I chose to hide my feelings instead while suffering in silence. Regardless of my attempt my body refused to hide anything. It manifested as something else. Always. I imagine it is the same for most people. It’s why some turn to addictive substances. It’s numbing. Only then can we ‘fit.’

In the early days of dating my husband, I was already spiraling into alcohol addiction. He saw it VERY clearly. He even made a deal with me that if I stopped drinking, so would he. So, I got sober. However, without recognizing the trauma I was drinking to escape I instead to turned to sex. Having a chemical dispenser in my head, ever at the ready to dole out my own make of dopamine, was much easier to conceal and carry out.

This behavior was my husbands and my biggest hurtle. I regret so much of my past and how much I hurt him with the lies… He’s forgiven me but I can’t. I don’t like that I ever betrayed his trust.

This is the moment where I realize that this is why I write. I clack out my thought because I have all of these “big emotions” that society otherwise would tell me I’m being annoying or I need to get over. Here, on this blank page, I get to be myself. I can share on an open platform where someone, just maybe someone, will read it and I will be validated. I realized this last piece today. Finally all the points connected and I understood.

All it took was my husband dying.

So many people have graciously given me the space to share my emotions. Ones in which I thought I did not feel. Every day I worried I was some kind of monster, as if I was happy he was gone. Even though I know that is absolutely not the case. It is just that I have spent my entire life pretending to have no emotions because I was “too much” for some. And obviously I wasn’t meant to be around them, because the people who genuinely care about you will not feel that way.

When I hide my emotions they always, ALWAYS manifest as anger. Absolutely every time. Boys/Men are allowed to have anger. Anything else is unacceptable. The biggest flaw in that, especially with me, is as someone who feels things deeply my rage is worse. It’s compounded with my anguish/sadness/grief with the anger I feel with all of those in my past that told me I was too much and at society for forcing me to be a “man.” What was just a small fire has turned into an inferno.

The one person who understood all of this about me, who let me have my fits of rage, with patience, sympathy and grace, is gone. I am once again left to handle all of my feelings alone, or in blog posts, because I will always fear isolating myself with my feelings.

Merry Christmas.

November 7, 2024

Death and Destruction Await

My life has never been wonderful. On that same note it hasn’t been terrible either. I would call it balance. Any trials I have endured have only made me stronger. However… I am waiting for the moment that my only trials are “am I going to have enough time off for my vacation” as opposed to “are they going to round me up into a camp because I’m a degenerate?”

There was a brief moment at the beginning of 2019 where everything was looking up. I had finally passed my exam to get my license (after a 6 year journey) and I graduated with my AA from the community college Summa Cum Laude. Everything seemed so achievable. Then in July the world took a nasty fucking turn and all of it slipped through my fingers.

It began with the chaotic path my mother led us down. Her “kookiness” became more severe and we took her back to the neurologist who had previously claimed she was just “stressed.” The second effort produced her alzheimer’s diagnosis. The friday after my father fell, hit his head on the bathroom counter, and died. I had to figure out what to do with my mother who could very clearly not live on her own, and who INSISTED she would not live with me and my husband because we weren’t “christians” as she put it.

That august when my husband returned to teaching he was starting to show signs of his ALS. It would take an entire year, during a fucking pandemic, that would reveal his terminal diagnosis. So I was left to care for my dying husband and my mentally incapacitated mother, all during a fucking pandemic that could have been avoided if Trump hadn’t been such a giant piece of shit.

And here we are… in the face of all of this people voted for the convicted felon over the prosecutor. Voted for the man who has said repeatedly he would weaponize our government to suit his needs. For his own benefit. Yet… “when he was president things were affordable!” Jesus, people are fucking stupid.

Because of his win I have entered, what I lovingly refer to as, my villain era. I have gone through emotional hell, all on my own, only to watch my friends and family betray me for their own self interest. I genuinely hope he does everything, EVERYTHING he said he would. I want him to burn this fucking country to the ground. Make everyone suffer. Don’t hold back trumpy. Do it. Fuck them. I no longer care about my own self preservation. I eagerly await the christian nationalist hellscape he WILL create. Because at the end, I’m fucked regardless. Might as well enjoy some popcorn before the entire theater burns to the ground.

I will have zero, ZERO empathy for anyone. And the moment one fucking person says “I didn’t know” I’m going to shove them to the fucking ground and say, “yes, you goddamn did. Because I fucking tried to tell you. Everyone did. But you were just too fucking selfish to think of the bigger picture.”

In the face of all of this turmoil and sadness throughout the last 5 years of my life, I have found the peace to accept and welcome death. My expiration may or may not be dictated in the stars, but I like to think that it is. Through all my soul searching to comprehend all of this chaos has brought me to the belief of reincarnation and that everything is genuinely happening all at once. There is no such thing as time, just the prism in our mind that refracts and reflects it into a single finite moment. So, as I am typing this I believe I have been born and have passed. And ultimately, the world will go on without me. I was such an insignificant part of the overall tapestry of existence, but knowing that means I can be and do whatever I want. Whatever brings me joy.

My final thought on life is that, we are here to find understanding to the human condition. To comprehend life and it’s static fragility.

Everything I have loved has been taken from me (apart from the BF) and I’m still here. Life goes on…