Dear Catie, the older I get, the less I care.

I’m not talking empathy. That is still high and I will always feel unmeasurable pangs of guilt, sorrow, sympathy, empathy, happiness… etc. That’s part of BPD. I’ll never be ‘mellow yellow’, but you get used to living with that after a while.

What I am talking about is the older I get, the less fucks I give about things like:

  • How someone other than me parents (as long as it doesn’t hurt the kid)
  • How someone other than me loves another person (gays, bisexuals, etc)
  • How someone other than me lives their life (as long as it doesn’t hurt someone)
  • What I eat, what I weight, and have I told you how much I love my body lately?

  • Where someone lives and the pictures of their ‘life’ they allow us to see on social medias
  • Keeping up on my own ‘social media’.

I try to post enough to let my grandmother not freak out, but honestly, I have found the tools on Facebook considering who is allowed to Follow you, See what you post, etc to be very helpful. I can now feel comfortable that I won’t step on any toes and other bullshit like that when I post things about how I feel with friends who are like minded. My family is southern, conservative for the most part, and not as… progressive? And that’s fine. I’ve learned that I don’t want to change them at all. Let them live how they always have, cause it’s not hurting anyone. While they disagree with gay marriage, they aren’t going out of their way to kill, abuse, or otherwise hurt gay people. *shrugs* And I know that I give less effs about what other people think, but Facebook is full of little ways that people can pipe up with their opinions and disagree with mine and make me feel like, in general, using facebook to share my opinions is a waste of time because they will be shit on every fucking time. (Which is why I hide a good majority of it now from those who do that.) (I’m looking at you, Joseph. I hope he reads this with the same humor as me, but damn, that guy is as much of an instigator as ever. AGAIN, THOUGH, WOULDN’T CHANGE ‘EM.)

  • What people think of me.

A good part of social media for me, way back before I left it, was I put way too much stock in to

  1. What people posted and how their lives that they let everyone see must be all there is to it.
  2. What people see of my life must be perfection, just like theirs, and wtf, why isn’t my life perfection like theirs?

A great part of learning people are full of shit and all about The Game of fronts and perceptions is that I don’t give a fuck to play a game I didn’t realize I was playing. Fuck the rules, fuck the ‘my life is perfect #blessed’ bullshit. I don’t care. I’m glad everyone’s so happy, but they got nothing on my life. Sorry ’boutcha.

And I mean that. You ask on the regular how I am doing, and I feel bad and like a parrot when I repeatedly state: “I’m good. We’re good. Everything’s groovy.” — But it’s the truth. Matthew and I are —

Oh wait. The readers have no idea about that. Oops. Summary recap.

Matt and I split up last summer in July 2014.

We were fantastic apart. We were nothing but nice and friendly to each other the entire split.

The worst part was divorcing not only him, but his parents. — And that’s a lesson we learned. We were married, but his parents were a heavy portion of our marriage. While, in their own lives, Matt’s grandparents were a huge part of their marriage, they felt that was the norm for everyone – so they including their lives so heavily on ours. I don’t mean ‘come and visit me once an a while’. I mean, where we live (apartment vs house), how much we pay, the city we live (was 7 minutes from their house), how often Elijah sees them else we hear about it, the things we spent our money on, keeping up appearances and visiting extended family at functions, going to the lake and outdoorsy things all the time when the weather allows.

None of these things are awful traits. They honestly do it because they care and that’s how they know how to care. They have always wanted what is best for Matthew and I, and if it worked for them, it must be ‘best’, right? I used to be so frustrated and angry with them and the way I feel they personally drove more stress and anxiety in to my life – in to Matt’s life – and then, in to our marriage because they ultimately ended up pinning Matt and I against each other on the regular. It was so unhealthy — but they aren’t solely responsible.

Boundaries are important, and if Matt and I never speak up, and never hold up to our end of the fence post, then they would never know where the boundary began.

Anyhow, so they were hard to divorce because they were hurting and I was the one to blame and blah blah. It was pretty ugly there, but I remained trying to be as nice as humanly possible because that’s how I was raised, and I didn’t want Elijah to think Nana and Pops were some horrible people. They’re not, and I don’t want him ever to think they’re anything than super heroes in his eyes.

Matt and I dated other people. Our paperwork wasn’t filed yet, but damn, do you know how expensive that crap is? You do, cause you’ve done it, but we agreed that we were both divorced, that neither would use in court some adultery charge if we were to date before we filed, etc etc. So we agreed to date others. We didn’t live together, we dated, we would occasionally update each other on how that was going, and we became best friends again. It was amazing.

And then, one night we decided to take Elijah out to eat together. And then we took him back to Matt’s place. And then I didn’t leave, and we fell back in love. It went something like this:

The most important thing I took from this separation is: We grew up.

We were not so focused on the other person, and would they still like the other person if we liked this or didn’t like that, or had a preference to this or that. We weren’t able to grow up healthily in our former relationship, between each other and his parents. I wasn’t allowed to feel comfortable, and feel like I wasn’t some freak because I didn’t like fishing like the others did. Or that I preferred to read. Or whatever.

We got to grow up when we were apart, and dating again was complete and total new territory. We were different people, who loved ourselves, and we went in to this relationship like this:

-Do we feel the same religiously? (Because I gained way more faith when I discovered I was Super Mom as a single mother)

-Can we communicate? (A huge problem before, where Matt would rather bottle things up than speak up about them at the risk I would blow up at him — and I would definitely blow up at him at every chance, with tensions so high.)

-Can we be our own people, but also still love each other? (I’m sorry, Matthew, but Grunge was so hard for me to pretend to like. While some is fine, I just can’t get behind Sound Garden. It’s not my jam, mannnn.)

-Can we be us, and not let anyone else intrude on our relationship? (We decided, if this would happen, that this time around we would gently let everyone know that it’s us against the world. Just us.)

Naturally, we came to an agreement. We dated in secret for a while, because while we can forgive each other and fall in love all over again as new people — everyone else that we knew in our family would likely be confused, hurt, and not know what the fuck was going on. I was definitely worried for his side of the family, who had every right to be bitter I feel. I was never worried for my family, though. They’ve always loved him and his family. I half expected a celebration — one that will come.

When we eventually came public, Matthew told his parents and informed them as gently as he could that it was he and I, and that this time, while he knows they love him, he would do his own thing with me. They didn’t quite understand, and he tried to explain, but again. That may be something that never changes, and that’s life. Gotta let it go.

Sooooo. Long story short, we’re happy. Still. I wouldn’t say it’s ‘honeymoon’ phase, because we’re smarter than that. We know there’s hardship, and we struggle – but our struggles are easier now. They seem so easy. Communication has been key. We both make more money, and love our jobs, which is huge. We live in Frisco — which is perfect for our lifestyles. We go on dates, with or without Elijah, weekly and without having to plan it.

I tell you, spontaneously asking the other person if they wanna go see a Movie tonight and knowing you can afford it without having to skimp on some bill is the best feeling in the world.

But, despite how amazing we are, I don’t like to go in to detail anymore. Why? Well..

  • It’s my life. Our life. And that’s between us. It’s a boundary.
  • Life really is great for us, but rather than post all the damn time about it on social medias, I’d rather people witness it if they’re curious if we’re just as happy as we seem.
  • I don’t have time any more to post on the regular about my life when I’m busy trying to write my book and relax on the small amounts of times I have. I work pretty heavily now (which I love), and Matt works opposite schedules, and Elijah is on a schedule, and while there is always time for the three of us – we don’t back burner each other, and that means things like this and gaming are not prioritized and it’s just hard to keep everyone updated.

I know you ask because you care, and because you can’t just ‘come over and chill’ and witness the glorious harmony yourself, but believe me when I tell you.. Things are groovy. We’re so lucky. No one I know has the love story we do, and let me say, just because it worked out for us, doesn’t mean it will work out for everyone going through divorce. I’m not one of those blindingly positive people who thinks people need to try harder. Not at all.

Also, just because he and I ended up never getting an official divorce on paper, we do consider ourselves divorced in our hearts, because we dated other people and truly attempted to live apart.  We fell out, definitely.

Which means as of today, we consider ourselves Boyfriend and Girlfriend, or dating. Someday, when we decide this is forever, and Matthew asks me to marry him again, we will have a ceremony in which we reconfirm our love for one another — but this time, with God involved, and on a personal scale. But that’s the future.

We’re enjoying the now.

Love you, Pot.

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Dear Catie, I’m starting my new beginning before the new year. #becauseican

So, allow me to apologize and thank you at the same time, my darling Kettle.

I apologize, because I have been rotten the past few months. I’ve been hurting in my own way, and that made me more bitter than I care to admit – but will anyway because admitting my feelings is more healthy than pretending they didn’t happen at all. I sincerely thought this would be my new life, this not caring, being sassy, and bitter thing.

But, it was not meant to be. And, while I was doing it all, and writing out in my darkest moments, I truly appreciate you for responding with haste, with compassion, and with humor. You and I speak on a level that is secret to our own nature, our own way. It’s a language people can see and hear and understand, but they may not fully comprehend the depth. You reached me. And I thank you so much for it. I’m surprised you didn’t just:

 

 

I mean, I would have taken it.

 

Anyhow, let’s move on to the new things.

 

I thought up a few new ideas for a book. Two are in this world. They’re fiction, but it’s like, modern day. 2014. You know. Another is in another world, made up, very steampunk meets victorian.

I moved in to my new apartment. Tomorrow, my father moves out of his house and stops sleeping at my apartment – and Elijah and I will be completely and totally alone. I love my father, and this isn’t a jest at him or the old, “I’m so glad to kick my parents out” joke. I am seriously thankful for the opportunity to be in my own home. My own. Just me (and Elijah). And more so, that I can magically afford it somehow, like a grown ass responsible and independent woman that don’t need no man. Huzzah.

I’m also kind of thankful that Dad’s gone because I could not get the man to cook healthy. I mean, come on. I am trying to lose weight. Stop making potato-cheese-bacon melt casserole, jeeze.

I also no longer have to deal with toll roads. Hallelujah. It takes me 20 minutes to get to work, even from Dallas, because every time I drive the highway is against traffic rather than with, and thus I don’t have roadblocks. I’m sure they will periodically happen. I’m not daft, but it’s a much better situation.

Oh, by the way, I am in the center of everything. I love the city, and have always wanted to live here. I’ve lived in suburbs, but this is my first in the actual city where sirens are a daily occurrence sort of deal. I love it. There’s 3 malls around the corner, a million bookstores on my block and my walmart is two stories tall. (Three stories with the Sams Club attached. Oh yeah.)

I read an article the other day about people who want to travel to go on their ‘soul-searching’ journey – and the author was like, “Quit coming to my country looking for your peace. We are not for you tourists pleasure. We do not magically fix you. You fix you. You will not be ‘fixed’ unless our mind and heart and soul are in the right frame. If you have to come here to ‘get away’, fine, but do not assume we are miracle workers. You can do this at home. Just find a place inside to sit and ‘get away’ and find yourself. It’s frightening, but cheaper!”

My apartment has become this. Granted, I pay for it monthly, but I’m on my own. My own rules. My own decisions. My own life. I am so thankful.

I know that this may be backwards, but after many disagreements and arguments with my cousin who is very devout in Christian faith, I have decided to take the label off of my faith. I believe there is a God. I believe whatever this God is is fair and just and lovely and fascinating and has to exist because this world, nay, universe is too much for chance. I believe in paying respects. I believe in thanking each part and piece of nature and our natural world for it’s existence. For thanking calm as it washes over me. For thanking worry as it reminds me that I care about something so much to be anxious over it. But I will no longer call myself of Christian faith. It was the hardest decision I’ve made recently, and one that broke me down to tears. It’s a long story, but it has been brought to my attention that my way of life was hardly anything to do with Christianity, and if that is the case, then fuck it. 

I’ll do good and be a good person because I am a good person.

I love you so much.  I may write smaller pieces here and there because there’s more I want to write to you but have momentarily forgotten. I love you. I love you. I love ou.

I appreciate you. I see you. Thank you.

Miranda

 

 

 

 

P.S. I got a text from my mom as I was closing this and my mom announces, “No breast cancer!! Just cysts!” Yeeeeehaw!

 

Dear Catie, I have to Let It Go.

(See how I tried to make a joke because this depression and reality is too much for me to take?)

There are very few things in life that I don’t want to talk about on my (or this) blog. There are very few things that I won’t put in to words because I like honesty and I like expressing pain and happiness when it comes. I seldom care if it’s humiliating for others to read and what they will think because it’s already out there, off my chest, out of this tight cage where I keep all things hidden. However, there are still a few things that I just can’t talk about.

The worst of all about this is that it’s the one thing I want to talk about the most, but I know it would cause too much harm to anyone it is about (including myself). Thus, I have to be as vague as possible.

My biggest pet peeve in the entire universe of pet peeves is people who are given ample opportunity to fix or have a solution to a conflict they complain about, yet they don’t take it. It bugs me to no end when the universe is working in such a way that all they have to do is to take a step forward, but they continue to stay in the past.

I don’t know why this is my biggest pet peeve. I don’t know if this is some allusion to myself and hating myself because I am just like them, or if it’s because they are truly the most annoying and difficult people in the world because their step could be the next big thing. If they would just take that step, it could influence the world so much around them, and the world wouldn’t be such a shitty place to them or others… But alas.. They won’t take it.

I find myself hoping they will take it every time. I build up expectations and standards for everyone who ever needs to take that step, and I get so pissed off when they don’t do it. Genuine anger. That’s my anger, my problem. And I have to learn to let… that.. go.

That’s what’s holding me back. I literally have to

let it go.. 

And I don’t know how. It is the hardest thing in the world for me right now. I have been in a depressed rut for over a week. I literally wake up and struggle to get out of bed even though I’ve slept already for 12 hours. I have skipped Tuesday –  Thursday classes just this week because I can’t decide if it’s worth it in the grand scheme of things. It won’t change the person I love, and it won’t make them be proud of me.. And if disappointment is what I get from them the most, it’s still an emotion, right? It’s still something?

I am trying desperately not to eat because I feel like it’s only counter-productive with what I want to do with my weightless. Yet, after not eating, I end up binge-ing out…which is counter-productive to my weightless. Dum dum dum. And everything around me just seems so dull.. even though I have reason to celebrate. Up until this week, I was doing fantastic in school. I have a new job opportunity at work which is actually fantastic. It will provide full-time hours and benefits. I’ve never had either (officially). Oh, and vacation time. Health insurance. (Also never had before). I am at a gym that is just about costing us nothing every month. They just announced in April that they will be expanding – which includes child care. I will pay $10 a month for a 24-Hr gym with child care. There are a lot of good things going on lately, but because I can’t let this one thing go.. Even if I realize that I have to let it go.. I can’t enjoy any of it.

I sit here in a pool of depression because letting go of this one thing, means letting go of the people I’ve cared most about, the people I’ve hoped the most about would change so that things could be easier between us. I hope that it wouldn’t have to be so hard anymore. I have to let it go because I’ve become that person that all I have to do is take one step and it’s fixed. But because I refuse to take that step, I have expectations and standards of them, the people I care so much for, but they will never meet them because my expectations are not their own… And they may never be. And thus, I’ve become the problem.

I’m causing the problem between us. I want too much, and when I get disappointed – no, when my world gets shattered… That’s it. Why live anymore? I don’t want to hide the fact that last week, I almost did it. I almost left the world, but… Something in me told me to call someone. Message someone. Do anything. There are people who care about you right at this very second who are available to take your plea of help. They love you, and won’t see it as a burden. They just want you safe and alive and to hear that you’ll be okay.

It is the hardest thing and most depressing thing in the world to be the very thing you cannot stand. I’m also taking a group-therapy session that is going to cut me open a lot more and make me realize my denials and hopefully in the end, recover from it. After the first week of answering questions, that’s when I made this realization. I also realized if I continued with this study, I am going to be opening every wound that I’ve tried so hard to hide in order to be a normal functioning member of society. I am going to get back on medication, even though I’ve hid from it because I want so much to be just like everyone else and to not be over emotional in the negative ways that I am.. But even when I did hide everything, I still had outbursts of anger, manic depression, and fits of rage that almost split me in to another persona that I began to call Her. I would watch Her do all of these awful things because I didn’t want to admit that I was making myself worse, and that it was me that I could no longer stop in it’s path… I think Her is gone, now, though. I admitted that it was me who was the monster, and not she. I think that destroyed her.. But it also destroyed me. I was not getting better, and I was not hiding it very well. And everyone close to me was beginning to notice.

So I guess I’ve been lying so much that now I realize I’m going to need to take the medication again, and just like you, I know it’s the biggest pain in the ass to find a doctor under your insurance, to make sure you can pay the ungodly amounts for the psychiatrist, the prescriptions, AND the expensive counseling. And you have to try all the damn medications, and the one that works best for you, and to do that you have to be on them for a couple of damn months and possible feel WORSE than you were before, and then when you change you have to wait another few damn months to get off the effects of whatever it used to be, in order to feel what might come.

And then you have to find time in the middle of everything else in your life to go to the damn things, to sit in the appointment rooms waiting for your appointment which started two hours ago to finally call you in so you can be in and out — and late for work, or class, or picking up your kid. Thank God school will be done in May 15th. My only goal is to reach it.

I feel you Catie. I really do. The line that scared me the most of your last blog post was that you were going to fight this if it kills you, and I don’t want to end on that note because lately that thought has been way too close for comfort and all I want to do is get help. I know it will be a pain in the dick to get there, but if I hadn’t buried it so much, I might be there by now and that much closer to being as ‘normal’ as I can be while drugged. I’ve been trying to take the cowardice and easy way out for so long, and it’s caught up. I can’t anymore. I can’t. I’ve got to go and take it… Otherwise, I may never be able to truly let go. Really let go.

So… Good luck to both of us.
Miranda