Because if you read anything I write, you should consider yourself warned it might evoke uncomfortable feelings. It is my intent to do that. It is not my intent to hurt my loved ones and it shouldn’t if you know me and you know you. The discomfort comes from something you don’t want to know. Or, it’s something you know but don’t feel allowed to say because you are constrained. I get it.

My parents worked very hard to stuff me into an appropriate box that all children are supposed to go into. Obey. Speak only when spoken to. Do not emote. Do not be controversial. Play the same sports the neighbor kids play. Don’t stand out. Get good grades. Be good. Be behaved. Be same. Same is safe. Same does not cause embarrassment or require explanation.

I am not same. I could never be and I raged against it my whole life. It’s actually remarkable to have such a strong kid weed her way right through the roots and up no matter how many times you pick at her to go away. If only every child were encouraged to do that. Imagine who they might grow up to be when encouraged by sun and not hidden in shade.

You can’t put me in therapy by the age of six and tell me not to tell anyone and expect me to end up same. It was never possible. Like all parents, it wasn’t I’ll intentioned. It was meant to keep life from being too hard on me or unnecessarily hard on me, I suppose. Didn’t work for my sister, she still wound up gay despite behaving appropriately.

I would argue that growing up with depression, being raped as a young adult, surviving a bombing, struggling with a weight issue, having PTSD and a number of other poor experiences were not at all caused by me being a sensitive kid who didn’t want to play sports. A lot of that stuff was caused by assholes being assholes…criminals in some cases. My emotional shit, some just in my genes and some environmental growing up with an emotionally damaging father. Who I was, who I am didn’t make those hard things happen to me. In fact, I would argue my differences have been my strengths and made me infinitely more resilient than peers in similar situations who are “same.” Same isn’t allowed to fight back. Same isn’t allowed to speak out. Same isn’t allowed to have hair out of place. Same would have killed me.

I see all my loved ones in the form of stories. Some of my friends are same. Some are different. The different ones are faring better against their adult tragedies than the others. I write my truth for all of them in the hopes they find something in what I say they can attach to as safe haven in a world where they aren’t supposed to tell anyone they don’t know how to swim.

I have multiple friends who lost parents at young ages. One of them has made a comment to me about how lucky I should feel to have both my parents. Oh, I know. I cherish them, flaws and all. Losing them will be the end of me. But I can still talk about them and air our dirty laundry and still feel lucky. I don’t have to be told that.

All of my friends have problems. I don’t need to be reminded of that when I tell my own stories. I have not ever forgotten their stories. It’s just I am only allowed to tell mine. I do so in their honor. I bet I even pray for them more often than they pray for me. That’s ok.

I have a friend who was molested multiple times as a child and sexually assaulted as an adult….by the same guy who did mine. In fact, had I not been trying to be same right after, she wouldn’t have experienced that one. In fact, I have many friends who have been sexually assaulted.

I have a friend who lost her one healthy family relationship being her mom. She then Lost her best friend, brother and father all within a year of one another. She has one kid who is always ill. It would not be normal if they weren’t in the hospital once a month.

Another friend – a woman born to be a mom had 2 abortions before being physically, mentally and fiscally ready to have the lovely husband and 3 boys she has now. Those young adult choices were made of the same love she shares with her family now. They were incredibly painful but not remotely shameful. She was right.

Another friend found out in high school her father was HIV positive and she spends a lot of time looking after her mother who is often mentally ill and incapable of leaving her home. This friend’s husband (who I introduced her to) also wound up with one gay parent and also found out about a sister he never knew he had.

One friend was adopted from Korea into a family which later split up, the mother being somewhat mentally incapable of parenting. From what I can suss out, seems like some kind of narcissistic disorder. She has now been adopted by her stepmother and her first adoptive mother doesn’t know. This friend will soon be a mother herself. She’ll be phenomenal. But I think she’s lonely sometimes.

Last year, one friend’s father wasn’t feeling well, went to the doctor and died days later. No preparation. No build up. Not that losing my father will be easier but he’s had cancer 4 times so I have had a slight hint.

I have friends and family members who are gay. I think they are the most mentally healthy of all of us. They also live every day with some level of profound fear the rest of us can’t comprehend. Well maybe a little of those with PTSD. We too go through life looking over our shoulders for snipers even when happy.

Many of my friends have dealt with suicides and drug overdoses. There’s nothing like losing someone you weren’t supposed to ever consider losing. I have been permanently altered by the death of my friend from an OD to the point I’ve had to give in to some level of religious belief because he visits me in such obvious ways. I actually think it would make me crazier to deny than to just admit it. Truth be told, I could never survive being on this earth without him so I have to believe he checks up on me. You never overcome these losses. You spend your life looking at empty furniture differently.

I have a friend whose parents were separated in high school which was a big secret at the time. They got back together but it seems like it was mostly because her mom may not have felt she had other options. Sadly, her parents have been hard on her…judgmental of they way she lives her life. I don’t think they believe a chiropractor deserves the same respect any medical doctor does. My parents would be insanely proud of me if I were this friend so it makes me sad for her. My parents are proud of her and grateful for her place in my life. She’s freaking amazing. She’s a warrior on all fronts. She is my glue. Her father is an alcoholic who has driven her kids while under the influence. Yeah. That’s her story. Its really sad.

So when you read a Facebook post you don’t like, you don’t need to tell me that other people have problems because I am fully aware. I hold all their stories in my heart. I remember the moments they broke. I remember the moments when they got back up and dusted off. I have not judged them. Not ever. I have loved them and collected them in my little pile and hold them safe in my arms even when I am not safe myself.

When I write about me, you are woven into my words. Maybe you can pick yourself out, maybe not. Maybe the fact that you can’t makes you think I don’t think of you when I say what I do. Oh, but I do. I think about you all the time. Some of you I am just waiting to see again when the kids grow up because I’m tired of asking and being turned down now only to see all your Facebook posts on all the other people you find time for. Some of you require an airplane to get to so it doesn’t happen often. Some of you are too far away for a frequent dinner. I get it. But you are always with me, even if you forget me….always.

Late this week I saw a motivational speaker who floored me. One thing she said is that when people attack you, it’s not about you. It’s about them. Something they are lacking which you might have. Something which makes them sad they don’t think they can talk about and they are aching that you can write about your pain and they can not. She compared it to when married friends keep asking why you are single and you think you must be missing out on something until you realize how much you get to enjoy travel, read, go to concerts, have expendable income for whatever you want. You realize you are happier than they are.

They want you to be married like them because then they don’t have to be reminded of what they are missing out on. They wouldn’t trade their families for anything in the world. That’s what they are trained to say and feel in their hearts most of the time. But just a little bit, once in a great while they are wishing they had had the whimsy to try being you before they settled down. They might trade their families in for a few days at least just to experience some of your freedom and joy. They can’t tell you that so it comes out another way…some kind of criticism of you. The way you spend money, the way you date, the way you drink, the way you talk, what causes you stress, what makes you sad or how you handle your own depression and anxiety because they feel they would handle theirs better than you. Yeah, more secretly because they believe the lessons of conformity. My rage against the same sustains me. I am alone. It has to. I have no distractions from myself.

Luckily for me. Most of my friends are actually happy about my travels and fun times. They feel genuine worry and sadness when I experience worry and sadness. They stand by, they wait, they don’t judge….they try to make me laugh. They check in a lot. They make up a part of every day….their presence is there every day…at least one of them a day. They are my tribe. We know each other’s written word, tones, humor, sarcasm, pain. We don’t check out on each other because we are too busy. We just don’t. When tragedy strikes, the group text starts and we pull together. So when I do get hit with a stray bullet, it definitely knocks me down. It’s unexpected and it never comes from the tribe.

Whenever I do get the random online attack, there are 10 texts/emails coming in from the tribe and my sister asking me why I have any friends who attack me because they think it’s odd and uncalled for. And then they remind me to keep speaking my mind because it helps them. And I collect them into my arms too.

I am a trigger warning. I’ve had a hard life. I’ve had a beautiful life. I’ve been blessed with the elite of friendships, an emotionally elevated group of people who bear no resemblance to any of the evils in the world. I’ve also lost some of them too. But just because I don’t speak my blessings out of the other side of my mouth when offering my criticisms and angsts doesn’t mean I am not aware of them in technicolor. You don’t have to tell depressed people they have nothing to be depressed about or that other people have problems. They know. In fact, if they are an empath like me, your problems are tattooed inside them alongside their own. They just aren’t my stories to tell. But I keep them all on my bookshelf when I finish reading them and underlining the most poignant passages.

Plus, be careful telling depressed people what they should and shouldn’t feel. It further isolates them and some may make unhealthy decisions which cannot be undone.

I write my story In deeps and darks. I write it in pen and don’t cross much out. I write it raw and gross. It’s who I am as a person. Truth is my responsibility. I believe that so strongly. Unshakable belief. Sharing my truth saves my life. And once in awhile, it saves someone else’s. I am not sorry for being who I am. I am sorry that your are embarrassed by it or if it shines a spotlight On something you don’t want to see. I fought to be this girl when I was a child. I’m 44 now and nothing has changed with the exception of only getting stronger. I will not apologize for keeping myself alive the ways I know how to. I will not apologize for keeping someone else hanging on either. I will bleed every time. But I will never change. You should never want me to.

Do you know those lists of journal prompts which ask you to talk about your first relationship, the worst thing that happened to you in high school, a teacher who influenced your life in a good way? I saved a bunch of them back in November when I was forcing myself to write every day and needed a push on occasion.

One that I saw on more than one list which always made me cringe was to write about my first childhood memory. I struggle with that one because I think when I look so many years back, my memories are not in any type of chronological order. If I claim one to be the first, another one will be prompted to come through some day and I have no control over that. Plus, most of my memories are not happy ones so I purposely try not to remember childhood.

I do have one very vivid memory I don’t talk about. I may have mentioned it once or twice throughout the years or have manufactured it into some kind of sibling joke about me always being the most responsible one. For example, I know I have told the story about how my younger brother stole my babysitting money off my bedroom dresser. Stealing is a crime after all. But I was the one who got in trouble with my parents as they felt I enticed him by leaving it out. Trust me, then and now, I do feel this is a very flawed argument and not one of their best moments. My parents had a coin jar I could see every day. I never took anything out of it. I don’t think my sister did either. Thievery can be avoided.

My brother was very much the “Divine one” growing up because he nearly died at birth. Every baby before him born with his particular defect had died and my parents were told he had a 98% chance of dying. It was a harrowing experience for my parents and one which I think altered both of their brain chemistries forever after. I completely understand that.

As a child, it was very difficult for me. Every first born experiences challenges of being “replaced” by a sibling but my experience went far deeper than average because he was the miracle baby who was supposed to die. Even though he did make it, he wasn’t expected to have a “normal” life and I lived on the periphery of that which my parents just couldn’t hide very well. Despite that being a one in a million birth experience, it happened to them again with my sister. Hence, my childhood of privileged neglect, decades of therapy and the fucked up mess I have continued to be as an adult because my deformed childhood shaped my brain and the way I viewed the world.

But that’s not the story I am here to tell. My parents sent me to therapy at a very young age as they thought I might try and kill him. It reminds me of a scene in season 1 of Ozark when the parents take a boat out into the lake to talk about their strange son who one feels may be indicating early signs of being a serial killer. It’s actually a very funny scene and makes me wonder if my parents once had a similar conversation about me.

It definitely sucked having the kid around. He was the center of everything in our house and could do no wrong. If he did do something he shouldn’t have, it had to be because I made him do it. I was the bad seed. My parents were actually happy the day he hit me with a hockey stick. They felt I deserved it and were glad he could fight back. No concerns at all that their 2nd child was using weapons to beat people with.

What they didn’t know is that if we were playing with the neighborhood kids and somebody picked on him for having a sunken chest (a leftover consequence of lung collapse as a newborn and the damage done by the machines to keep him alive) I would hit them, bite them or scratch them. He was a shit but he was my blood and no one else was going to take a swipe at him besides me. I was fiercely protective. I knew he was the family prize.

We were playing in the front yard one day when my parents were at work. The babysitter was inside watching soaps and running up our phone bill. My brother was playing in the driveway closest to the street. I was on the lawn. Others kids were there but I never remember who. Had to either be Sally or Kathy/Merri and company if it were my friends…Brian and Jeff if it were his. A car pulled up and asked him if he wanted candy. Yes, just like a cliche after school movie. He immediately approached the car and the door started to open. I must have moved faster than ever before because I remember grabbing him and pulling him away within seconds. The car sped away.

Later that night when my parents were home, the police came to our house to take a statement from me. I didn’t remember much other than that visceral, motherly, protective response of somehow knowing what that man had been there to do and that my brother was about to be kidnapped. Yet, I did remember the color of the car. It was so important to me I get the shade right that I went to one of my arts and crafts boxes where I had all those little colorful beads kids were putting on large safety pins – early 80s before friendship bracelets but probably around the time Mom and Mrs. Jones were making us fancy barrettes with ribbons which was a “thing.”

I knew I had the color bead of the car. I was sure of it. I made the policeman wait while I fished through all the beads until I found it. There it was. Powder Blue.

Unbridled evil is a definition I came upon today when researching feminism to ground myself. I was actually gaslit and mansplained within the same day on the topic of feminism. Despite the fact my body parts alone denote expertise, I did second guess myself for a moment, wondering if it was true. Does my defense of women’s rights reign terror on the entire structure of relationships present day? Is my unbridled evil the reason relationships don’t work out for so many people. Am I, and many of my friends, the Satan of love?

I have a wonderful group of friends. I am convinced I know the strongest, fiercest women and am lucky to have them in my village. But so many are raising children that seeing them with any regularity won’t happen until all children have grown up. It’s a good 18-22 year window I am navigating where I just don’t spend much face time with friends. Plus, most of my friends are not local. I talk to at least one a day. But when it comes to traveling, walking the dog, wanting to go for a hike or to a concert, I have to do all that alone. So these friends recommended I find some local meetup groups where I might meet people in similar life patterns and be able to enjoy activities together.

Google SEO brings up a very well known one which most major cities have. Signing up for it provides a number of offshoot groups which get more specific around activities/interests. In order to become a member and have access to events, I needed to accept a friend request from the site admin. I’m not very comfortable with people having access to my FB page if I don’t know them or I work with them. I have a long list of blocked people and keep my settings private so I have safety in the online community I have curated and keep it as separate from my professional life as I can. Innocent stuff bleeds over on occasion but I am ok with anything that is my choice. In this case, I figure I’d have to take a chance.

Apparently, I fell through the ice into a mucky pond of dark misogyny as the admin of the site claims to be the uniter of Love, simply sharing messages from both extremes of male/ female hatred. Except all messages are misogyny based and guided towards telling women what we need to do in order to attract men. Oh, and by the way, did you know being a feminist means we are all masculine? Yeah, let that sit for a second. Especially in the context of what you know about me. Confident, willing to stand up for myself, leader, smart and articulate. Apparently, only men have those traits. On a woman, they are masculine and unattractive. Picture me shaking my head and doing my gag me face right now.

I made a joke directed to the writer of an article, a 30 something year old woman just discovering how hard it is to find the right guy at her age while balancing career, friends and travel. If that’s important to her, I merely suggested she prioritize it better now because it gets far worse in your 40s. Not a statement of personal despair in being single. Not a request for advice as to why I am single. I know why. I don’t settle and despite having no problem attracting men with my masculine energy, I don’t typically meet ones I am attracted into wanting to see again. I own it. And, finding a man is a nice to have, not a priority. If I were married to anyone I have ever dated, I would be insanely unhappy right now. Instead, I am only unhappy for any stretch of time during the holidays where I don’t see sunlight. Even then, happiness pokes through the colander like errant spaghetti when I see my dog, my family, go to concerts, watch terrible reality tv, read, do crosswords and words searches, travel, shop, get Amazon packages. Quite a bit of happy, actually….even during stretches of depression offset with PTSD.

My idea of a great relationship isn’t based on gender roles or needing to attract a man. It’s about two people with common ground who just enjoy being together, whose unity enhances each other’s already fulfilling lives who are on equal footing with intelligence, work ethic, financial stability, humor and integrity. And yes, must like dogs. There is nothing at all political or ideological about it. If it happens, great. If not, I’m still ok….more ok than probably 70% of couples.

I was responded to with very sexist commentary which was hurting other women in this venue. Men too. There were plenty of men responding that this was idiotic thinking….the belief that women need men because we can’t change light bulbs ourselves or fix our cars by ourselves. FYI, since about the late 90s when cars became mostly electrical work, men and women are equally taking their cars to mechanics and dealerships. I know no men who can fix cars this century which makes them no less masculine and me no more masculine. It’s common sense. The car goes to the shop.

The last time I asked a man for help was probably when I was 23ish and trying to install an air conditioner in an old house so I was confused about how the power might work against the fuse. I asked him to clarify and he had no idea what I was talking about. We are still friends. I figured everything out myself. I think no less of him. He doesn’t think I’m a dude.

This sexist banter went back and forth and was just insults being lodged at me. Basic. All these types can ever do is make fun and call you names. They don’t have an actual debate or fact based argument beyond “I know many women who agree with me.” I’m sure you do. They are white republican women who hang out in bars, pretend to like sports and BudLight to attract men. Or, they are from other countries whose cultures are presently still subsisting on female subservience. Basically, no one my friends or I know. Including my male friends. They are also good for “no wonder why you’re still single.” Like I haven’t had that basic one before. Please. Do better. Be smarter.

By the way, while defending women, I was receiving direct messages from women on the site who were very happy about what I was saying and encouraged me to continue. Some of them felt very bullied by this behavior. Thanks to them for reaching out. I now have new friends. Not the way this site was supposed to work but I’ll take it.

In the meantime, because of the tenor and discrimination happening to women, I did report some of the posts as they were highly offensive and very much against creating a sense of community. His idea of community is getting women to defer to men and then everyone would get along. Actually, getting people to give up on some of their beliefs and self esteem to meet in the middle for someone whose basic beliefs are against your own self interest and safety is not how it’s done. That’s incredibly unhealthy. Even if you are a misogynist, you stick to your own kind. And we feminists, we look for reasonable, kind and intelligent men. There is no need for anyone to give up their dignity to make it easier for a misogynist to get a date. There’s a reason that’s an incredibly small niche of available men.

What’s really amusing is that I got so under this guy’s skin, he decided to do a live video to basically try to explain himself and how these aren’t his messages. He’s sharing to create love, man. He then discussed me and used my name and made fun of me in a public forum. That is defamation of character in legal terms. It also risks my safety as people in this forum do have access to my information and can see my last name online to know who he is referencing. He thinks I voluntarily wanted to see his video. All I did was click on my notifications and they automatically bring you to videos. I saw Gretchen Rubin last night too. I wasn’t trying to. But for legal reasons I did view it later while taking notes and trying not to vomit. By the way, the fact he has to do this video proves every single point I make about fragile male ego and white male privilege. He literally proved my point for me and out himself at possible legal risk in doing so. Who knew I had such power?

He explained to everyone how he taught me how to block him but I couldn’t figure it out and that he felt the need to make an example of me because I am responsible for the destruction of love and 1950s relationships. I’m old but I ain’t that old. That was grandma’s generation who got sick of their bad marriages and got this feminism thing planted. It started with one of my grandmother’s deciding one day not to make my grandfather breakfast and the other one wouldn’t get up from the table to get his salt off the counter which was right behind him. Thanks Jean and Barbara. Your kids are phenomenal parents! We had no gender roles in my house growing up and not once did my mother try to tell me how to attract a man.

I know how to unfriend and block people but because he used my name, I need to make a “paper trail” for safety and reputation purposes. I need to be aware of any further public defamation. I also still want to meet up and create friendships with some of the other members of the group. He and his Hitler faction can hide in a corner. The rest of us are trying to make life fun and meet new people along the way. Some people are in the site looking for a relationship but not everyone. Some of us just want to find other single people unencumbered by children to have a beer with or take the dog out with. I go to concerts by myself all the time and they are sold out. That means my people are very much out there but how do I find them? That’s what I’m working on.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about this video and my safety. Like most “attacked” women, I blame myself for starting anything and responding…like because I spoke up for myself. I deserve the attack. On the other hand, even in the online banter of ideology vs ideology, no one should be publicly outed. That’s illegal and dangerous. I don’t want to overreact but I also don’t want to under react. But for safety sake, do know that my dear government attorney friend has his name tucked away in the event something were to happen. She is not someone you mess with. She has a tracker on all my movements, even when I go to Europe. And whoever you are, she can easily find you too.

It was stated in the video that Feminism 3.0 is a fringe group responsible for the death of relationships…he has articles to prove it. Having a Masters in Communication, I am aware you can find documentation to support any argument you want. Check out who sponsors it and you’ll know the bias which supports it. You actually don’t even need a Masters to know that. I just happened to have spent a lot more time than the average joe understanding media sabotage and bots. That’s why we have Trump in office.

Feminism 3.0 is actually the conversation about how having more women on boards and in leadership positions (as well as any diversity of staffing) creates greater financial outcomes for businesses, our government and economy. There is actual data on that. This means even your stock investments and retirement savings have a better opportunity to flourish with gals at the helm. It’s not about “us against them.” It’s trying to help these stale, old all white male boards think a little differently so they can actually be wealthier than they are. There is nothing remotely romantic or sexual about it. That was version 1.0 when women realized they were in complete shit marriages and to get out, they needed to have equal opportunity work and be taken seriously in the workplace so they could provide for themselves. There is also nothing militant about feminism. Version 5.0 seems to include camps to train women how to gather and be ready to march but I never went to camp as a kid so I am not starting now. I don’t like sharing a room or bathroom with other people and I just don’t do the woods for more than a brief hike.

Just because we still don’t want to be in shit marriages with the ideals of Mad Men pre 70s doesn’t make us militant or unreasonable or preparing for march and warfare. We are not destroying relationships. We are just choosing not to date misogynists. What they do about that is their problem.

Supposed to be on a date with a 43 year old man. His suggestion. His time. His location. Sure. I’m depressed. My back hurts. The dog cried when I left. I would have preferred to take a rain check tonight and stay home. But all these social media posts about how you have to take chances or that good things only happen to people who believe in good, blah, blah.

So I drove 20 minutes away to grab a drink at 9 when I am normally in bed reading. He bailed. He deleted our conversation and dating profile when I was parked in front of the bar. I wanted to just leave assuming that meant I was about to be stood up. But, no. I chose to be optimistic and open to an explanation. Perhaps he was still going to show up and I didn’t want to miss out or risk being the asshole. Friends would criticize and tell me my negativity manifested this situation. But I wasn’t being negative. Every move I made was done with optimism and positivity.

Outcome? I am drinking beer alone. He stood me up. Social media would have me believe I caused this somehow. Rational thinking would tell you I have a lot of bad luck despite coming from a place of optimism every day when I let my actions override my skepticism.

Nope. People are just assholes. Life is unfair. There is no rhyme or reason as to who gets what and God doesn’t give you what you can’t handle is bullshit. I am overflowing with things I can’t handle but everyone thinks I can and that I just don’t see it yet. Nope. I can’t. And don’t get me started on God.

What over 40 person stands someone up? And what kind of people need to tell me this is my fault? That’s really starting to fuck me up, to be frank.

“Time May change me but I can’t trace time.”

I have my writing topics I visit and revisit often…love, dating, politics, feminism, mental illness…whatever is orbiting in my moments. There are a couple other topics which fill my thoughts of which I don’t write or speak. One of them is around mortality I guess….watching the years go by and trying to figure out my purpose. I know, sounds a little weird at my age. Just hear me out for a second. You may be going through something similar or maybe it just sheds clearer light on why recent personal disappointments have so deeply affected me when you think they aren’t quite as big a deal as I do.

I don’t know who I am yet. Like, who will I be when I grow up? I have a career I landed in by accident and have done well with despite the early rantings of a nonconformist 18 year old stating I would never participate in a Generation X cube farm (see Douglas Coupland. Monumental book 25 years ago) and now I actually cultivate one. I’m a farmer of cattle. Not the head one…an extension….the pig shit cleaner for the most part. But what do I really want to be? Can’t have it.

I am no one’s wife, no one’s mother. My life revolves around me. I have no complaints about that. I enjoy the solitude of my home and just petting my dog in the dark; the only illumination supplied by an oil diffuser and Himalayan salt lamp. Most of you with kids would give anything just to have 30 minutes if this. I can have it whenever I want. I can travel too. I still have to work hard to scrap the money together but I can get on a plane and leave the country. With kids, I’d be lucky to get to Great Wolf Lodge. I can go out to eat anywhere I want and don’t have to wait because I can grab a seat at the bar. You have kids….you have to wait for a table and you are stuck to basic chain restaurants because you will be one family of many not disturbing anyone with crying kids and food getting thrown on the floor. That’s happening at every other table and your joy comes in being able to leave feeling like your kids are better behaved than others.

When I am at work, I am not worried that I am letting down kids or a spouse. I can put 100% to my work and leave it at the office when I get in the car. You are on non-stop and this work life balance you have been begging for you have actually won. But you probably actually work more now than you thought you would because you feel like you have to when everyone sees you leave 30 minutes early for a soccer game. You aren’t losing your job for choosing your kids like used to happen years ago but you definitely pay a price. You are constantly wondering which side you are letting down so you are amping up on both sides to cover your guilt.

If you are a woman with kids…you are in a desperate race to accumulate as much money and promotions as you can pre-40 because you have to start that momentum early to keep it going, or at least land in a sustainable place for your family if the growth has to stop. If you wait until 40, the start line passed you and you don’t get another chance. You know because you work with that sad, exceptional working woman who you know outperforms you with her eyes closed but never gets her due. You feel sorry for her and terrified of her at the same time. So, if you have to step on her, take credit for her work, suck up and lie….you will do it, even if you say you would never want your kids to do it. You are forced to. It’s not who you want to be but it’s who you have to be.

I have to watch you, with less talent, but better HR friendly check boxes move right past me and I have to spend my days humiliated by that in order to pay my mortgage. I don’t ever have the safety net husband who says “if it’s so bad, let’s crunch some numbers and figure out how to get you out of this and into something else.” You insist that’s not the case for you…..that you are both scraping to get by but it really is a choice you have. I’m at the lowest housing price….you can still go down a few clicks and reduce your mortgage if you have to. You just don’t want to live in a townhouse like me. I have the cheapest car already. You have an SUV. You can get by with 2 car seats in a Corolla but just don’t want to.

The biggest concept of all of this I grapple with is that if I’m not a wife, a mom, or promotable being, then what is my purpose? What is my life? You are a parent. You always will be. You are defined. Your life is probably about 85% defined whether you are comfortable admitting to that or not. I’m not saying you don’t have regrets or “what-ifs.” I’m just saying, you know who are. You don’t feel like staying home on a Friday night means you may have missed a once in a lifetime opportunity. You already got your once in a lifetime. Friday night is like any other night; you want to get home to have dinner with the kids. Same with Xmas Eve, NYE, and all 3 day weekends. You can also have date night whenever you want. You might not always like your spouse but you have access to one so you have access to companionship.

Growing older for you includes visions of children and grandchildren. They will pitch in when you need help. Worst case, you may end up in a Nursing Home but will have visitors. You have a cushion and a legacy. I just want to be certain I am living in a state where I can pull my own plug when I recognize my definition of my life quality is about to diminish. My options are far more bleak and terrifying since I am alone. If I miss the critical decision moment, I get institutionalized without say and never again the opportunity to make my own choices. Living that way is not ok for me. I will have less money than you by then which means my retirement will be a darker challenge. My access to help won’t be too great when I need it the most. I have nightmares about this.

I definitely fill my time well and enjoy a lot of freedom. I know you sometimes wish you could do the same but you would never give up being a parent. You feel, ultimately, you have made the best choice and have the best life. You have purpose. You are defined. There are people in your house at the end of the work day. There’s an entirely whole other life you transition to when work is over. You have a second identity and it’s the more important one so it builds armor around your bad work days. I am just me, naked against my bad days. Work me isn’t my second me. There isn’t a priority above it so when it goes bad for me, there is no reprieve from it. I have to suffer it. I have to suck it up. I have to wave the white flag to it every time because I have no choices. I have no second me and dying without that scares the living shit out of me.

Death really scares me. I have so much left to do….more than you honestly. And I have so little time where some of you have a 20 year head start on me. My parents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary last year. I won’t have that. They have grandchildren. I won’t even have children. I’m too old and don’t have the income to be a single parent. Sure, I probably have way better travel photos than you do. But we are aging and we are aging fast. I’m making the best of my time but I’m still waiting for my life to start. That’s where we differ so greatly and that’s the edge of every conversation where I lose anyone’s ability to empathize. It’s a thought which will never actually have to occur to you. You wanted to be a spouse and parent. You fulfilled that. Everything else is a bonus. I have fulfilled nothing. Everything else is survival.

I have been on vacation from work for the last week. I am approaching the completion of nearly 200 word search puzzles since then. I have spent most of the time at my parent’s house in the same chair with the same red blanket over my feet being too lazy to get socks from the other room. While I spend hours in that chair, Fergus spends hours shifting positions but never not touching me in said chair or on attached stool. Normally quite vocal on social media, I have said and posted little…shifting to a quiet mode of observation. I also knew I couldn’t leave their house until pay day yesterday because I didn’t have enough money for gas. I have said very little to my family over this week as well. It’s easier to watch the kids and know any meaningful conversation would easily be interrupted by their needs so better not to even start one.

It’s not that I have a pent up demand of things to say. I am eerily out of words and also being very, very careful which words I do choose to use. In order to explain my latest defeat could inadvertently hurt the feelings of others or invite criticism of others I am not intending to do. I declare right now that very negative things have been said about the individual who got something I thought I might get and those things will continue to be said both within and outside my presence but not by me. Towards me, it’s well meaning. It’s to make me feel better and to validate my friends think highly of me and not to assume I am less than or not good enough. But anything negative which is said will not be said by me. I have never claimed to be an expert at knowing how to play THE game. I only ever play the survival game….keep my mortgage and head down game. In terms of adding or thriving, I am rather unskilled at that and tip my hat to those women who have found ways to advocate for themselves and win. I can’t get mad at that. It’s a skill I wish I had.

I can’t necessarily even get mad at the process. It’s one I advocated for and have served on panels to build. Just a few years ago, I was on a panel around modernizing workplace benefits and the one I most adamantly spoke of was treatment of working mothers. I was the non-mother on the panel and also not planning on ever being one. But I was the biggest voice. If we can’t build an American culture of thriving families starting in any workplace, we are doomed. Have you seen how millennials have turned out? In general, (no offense to my millennial friends who have more Gen x traits to them) they are awful, awful, awful people. And it’s not their fault. It’s not even their parent’s fault. The parents have to work so much to stay afloat their guilt has led to massive overindulgence in their children to the point these kids don’t know how to do anything for themselves and when they face adversity, just throw their hands in the air and walk away. But because of their “numbers” our country is forced to acquiesce to them and to spurn others outside that age range in order to afford what it takes to please them which is A LOT.

I digress. My point is, I wanted to be part of a culture which rewards women for their contributions equally to men and does not penalize a woman for choosing to have a family and HAVE to work to provide for that family. I got what I asked for and have seen working moms in my vicinity get deserving recognition. Even if it’s part of a marketing strategy, it still feels good to be part of it. I just didn’t realize all the fighting I have done for others meant I was to be excluded based on my age and lack of mini “mes.” Taking care of barren women over 40 just doesn’t have the sexy appeal of recognizing the up and coming millennial working moms. They just advertise better and it’s clear word from the top is being fiercely adhered to at every level with no exception. I wasn’t even expecting anything for myself either. I got “picked” and lauded all year. It was other people who planted the idea in my head this would be my year. And like all the other chirping that gets pecked at me, I chose to see the best in that situation – that if there was already so much positive momentum in my favor, I could “procure” my own destiny based on the positive I put out into the world.

It didn’t work. So, enough with all your fucking Deepak Chopra and meme platitudes. We go through this multiple times a year. I am a realist. You tell me I am a pessimist and I can choose happiness and if I think good thoughts, good things will happen. I tell you that you are full of shit because none of you are medically qualified to dismiss my brain chemistry or extra highly researched view of the world because I just have more time on my hands than you. But I try your way anyway. You know me, my philosophy is that you should try anything as long as it can’t physically harm you. You were wrong AGAIN! And it’s not like you can tell me I don’t do the happy thoughts into the world right. One could argue I work harder at it than you with my meditative breathing throughout the day, my 3 things I am grateful for every day and a plethora of cute dog pictures. So let’s end the argument once and for all. I am right and you are wrong…and just luckier than me. Got it? Just stop. There’s a new book out there about how to handle knowing the right things to say/do when your loved ones feel like shit. Buy it. It’s at Barnes and Nobles and Amazon and has a yellow cover. I am certain it doesn’t include cat memes that say “tie a rope and hold on.”

So what am I upset about that I cannot speak of? It’s the fight. It’s the fact I know something very wrong just happened and I am a fighter who is not allowed to fight back. It’s not the subject which is the end of the world. Although, I do take massive offense to the Friday afternoon notification meant solely to be done so I can “calm down” over my weekend so as not to infuse the environment with my negativity. Something I would never do if you really know me. It’s the strategy used when delivering bad news, disciplinary actions and terminations….the take your frustrations out at home and come back a few days later in your zen, defeated position without inflicting anger or violence. That treatment is what’s upsetting to me. That I, and others were thought to be no more elevated than the average, disappointed troublemaker who just doesn’t want to drive in the snow. I and my fellow peers are so much better than that. We didn’t deserve the coward approach. At least 3 of us deserved a face to face heads up ahead of time and that wasn’t even considered.

Not being able to fight. That’s the killer for me. When I was 21 and going through a rape trial, my parents suggested I not go through with it for fear of the emotional toll it would take on me. I fought anyway and I won the first trial. Unfortunately, there was an appeal and a second trial. I was faced with making the fight decision a second time now knowing how evil the process is. I still chose to fight. Even though I lost the 2nd time, I have zero regrets about going through it because it was the right thing to do. And, I’m just a fighter. It’s what I do. I bounced back better from that situation because I fought. I’m not saying life has been easy or I will ever be over it. I just know me and I know I wouldn’t have stood any chance of recovery if I didn’t fight. It was the best thing I could have done to heal.

On the outside, I think you all think the fight is a bit of a game for me and a little fun. Sometimes. I mean I am a brat about my big words and emasculating people when I can, on occasion. I own that. But really, deep down, when you are a rape survivor, your fight is always about trying to take back your power. When I am in situations where I can’t fight, the feeling is the same to me, as being held down on a bed and forced to have sex while Nine Inch Nails is playing “I want to fuck you like and animal” ironically in the background as you learn you never had any power in life at all.

This week I learned that my father was once told he would never get promoted to the senior level he had worked towards because of a bureaucratic, “the boss owes a friend” kind of thing but that they would pay him a lot more to compensate for it. Hush money. When I can admit the same thing, his response is more like “I went through it so you just need to suck it up too.” 1) That was 30 years ago and should not still be happening and 2) why does my father keep encouraging me not to fight? Is the outcome and mathematics of my life now what he worked so hard to provide me? I bet he would argue no. He didn’t work his ass off and suffer humiliation like that just for his daughter to end up worse off than him. And, at the same time, he knows I have to take it. What other choice do I have? I am defeated.

How does this fit into my overall holiday malaise? Well, I’ve been getting a beat down since August with no real reprieves anywhere in between. I started seeing a guy over the summer I was both physically and mentally attracted to. That NEVER happens. I know this is what makes men become Trump supporters but it’s not that I can’t attract guys. It’s that I am not attracted to the ones I attract. I can’t help body and brain chemistry to spare your feelings. If I had that ability, I’d be 50 pounds thinner, have a thigh gap, with no depression and no PTSD. Those would be my first priorities over male ego fragility but it would still kill two birds with one stone and we’d all be satisfied with Hillary in office to boot. Unfortunately, That relationship exploded during my summer vacation, ruined the 2nd half and all future birthdays. Ironically, feminism is what killed it.

Then Brett Kavanaugh. Felt like being raped all over again watching that.

Then a fight with my friend Mark. We fixed it but things were said, concepts raised which really hurt me.

Add to that some more shootings and bombings going on around the world. I do real well with those things…just kidding.

I tend to always struggle around the holidays in general, even when things are great.

I ran into a claim situation with the government where they have dropped the ball severely and are not trying to fix anything which impairs my ability to effectively treat my PTSD during the worst time of year. That’s just plain life and death scary.

And then the defeat of around 11 am on a Friday before my vacation….a dreaded checklist item for one who knew it wasn’t going to be positively accepted news from anyone so “let’s treat our best people the exact same way we do our worst.” Dignity….not instilled.

So I am in a very dark place right now. I am doing what I can to manage it. I’ve been to the gym, yoga and the spa….all things previously paid for but which I can’t continue if the government doesn’t fix the problem I submitted for in June ….long before any shutdown. I have bought shoes and some clearance clothing. I have lots more word searches and crossword puzzles. I have tons of books to read. I am back home in my own space and ready to try my new gravity blanket to see if I can sleep better with the anxiety that has been tattooed in me. Good reminder….the only thing I haven’t done yet is get another tattoo so maybe there is that which can be done.

I purposely take this time of year off every year because of depression and PTSD. I do need my family time like everyone else but it’s not about entertaining on XMas Eve for me like it is for everyone else. It’s because NYE slays me and I can hardly even get out of bed that day. I physically and mentally need this week as therapy because my body has run out of reserves by this point and needs so much rest and quiet to be able to prepare for the New Year….especially for being refreshed for work.

Unlike other years, though, this is going to take longer to work through. I’m not going to be effervescent my first day back from vacation like I traditionally always have been. It’s not any particular issue at this point. It’s the general chipping away of me which happened over a 4 month period and ended far worse than I had expected. In fact, the optimism I held (because you all bully me into it) leaves me quite embarrassed. Embarrassment is the one emotion I cannot process and makes me hide. In fact, at my second rape trial, I didn’t even go back into the courtroom for the verdict. I stayed in the DA’s office and hid then. That trial was worse than the first one and I was embarrassed at how they portrayed me. I feel a similar embarrassment now because I still have to face pity and “maybe there really is something wrong with her” after vacation. I have to see that look from other eyes every day and it makes me want to scrape my skin off with a dull knife and set myself on fire. Not exaggerating. Actually under playing the feelings. With everything else I manage just to keep myself breathing, I don’t have room or the coping skills to add that to my list. I just don’t. I’d prefer to sit in silence doing word searches and to never speak of any of this again.

Literally one side of my face has a completely clear complexion. The right side forehead has 3 zits in a row fading away. Under the very thin skin under my my eye is one brewing but it’s so deep and the skin so delicate, I can’t pop it. Instead, It’s all puffy and looks like I have been injured. I have 2 spots on my cheek finally starting to heal and then a cluster on my chin that has been re-appearing there for 2 months. I use a combo of 5 cover ups each day to at least take the brightness out of them. Literally just one side of my face.

This morning the idea came to me that I feel a little like a snake with its head cut off. Body is still moving but the head is somewhere else. That’s exactly what is happening to me. My body is still moving but is slowing down due to a magnetic pull from below that is trying to make it collapse…kind of like what’s already happening in my brain. My brain is collapsing but I am still alive enough to notice it.

I am trapped between wanting to experience a ridiculous amount of life and hoping there’s a ton of time left to wondering what the point is and how much longer it goes on. For real, the other day I went from sitting in my car in the parking lot fantasizing about driving to Logan and getting on a plane to driving home from work wondering what I could drive my car into.

With treated depression I still have bad days but they never turn into bad next days. This time I’m in bad day 3. That’s a little scary. Is it going to break or am I going to break?

My body is doing its routines because I am trying not to give in. But what if I skip one and that leads to another and then another? I mean, I’m obsessed with showers so I can see myself doing nothing but taking a shower break and then following it by putting pajamas back on and doing nothing again. Is that weird? Is that not what depressed people do?

I have had an upset stomach for 2 days. I know a migraine is coming because I had auras in one eye today. I have chest pain. I am hungry but too lazy to do more than the minimum about it. These are all indicators.

I think I may have experienced one disappointment too many and each one links into my worst emotion which is shame or embarrassment. My kryptonite.

I fake my way through the day but when I’m done, I’ve got nothing left. My impression is that everyone wants something from me….whether it’s career stuff, results, order, money, sex, a smile I don’t have to offer, a “don’t worry, I will be fine,” an explanation, a chore getting done, a return of unwanted affection, a blessing. I can’t. I just fucking can’t anymore. I can’t even summon the drive to take out my trash right now.

I’m exhausted. I am so tired of endless giving, endless blessing, endless forgiving, endless apology for lacking attraction I never intended to have in the first place, endless fixing, endless exceeding, endless reassuring, endless smiling, endless guilt for not being able to deliver myself in the context you need to receive me.

I am broken. I am tired. I am sad. And somehow, I still feel badly about having more than others.

I’m terrified this plane isn’t going to take off in time. Am I heading into a depression? If so, I have no further medication option. I am already maxed out. What does a natural born fighter do when she can’t see options?

I can’t talk about what triggered this. I’m afraid that if someone even tries to touch me, hug me in kindness I will collapse. It almost just happened when I ran into a friend who hugged me. I tried so hard to be fine and re-direct the conversation away from me. No exaggeration. I physically feel like my legs are going to just give out anytime. I don’t know where my spitfire went. While that trait pisses a lot of you off, I need it. It’s how I know I’m alive.

I can see what I present to the world from about 8-6 every day. And I can see what’s just beneath the delicate skin of that facade like an under eye zit. It’s like being 2 people and never more unsure of who is going to win this round. I don’t want help. I don’t think I need help. But what part of my brain is working and what part is not? How long will this run?

My mother’s older sister needs her to do everything for her. She’s a mess and such a contrast to my mother. She is a trigger for me. I know I should be doing more to help but I just can’t. My biggest fear is doing that same thing to my younger sister. For real. It’s already started. She worries about me. She shouldn’t have to. No one should have to.

Last weekend I got weepy over lunch with my mother because for the first time I told her I had a completely different childhood from my siblings and that I am broken because of it. She didn’t disagree.

Anyway, I can’t talk about this anymore. I’m surprised I got that much out. I’m so tired.

Last one and keeping it low key.

Using a prompt

Firsts: kiss, date, House, car, concert, vacation, thing you do in the morning, when you get home.

First kiss: Matt L.

First date: same guy as above, we went to see the movie “The Burbs”

First House: in terms of owning, the town house I live in now

First concert: The Beach Boys with my parents

First vacation: I think the first one requiring an airplane was to Disney World with my aunt, cousin, grandmother and great aunt

First thing I do in the morning: go to the bathroom, put on my shoes, hug the dog in bed and then take him out.

First thing I do when I get home: grab a handful of Chex mix and take Fergus out

—————–

Other random prompts

Do you and the last person you dated hate each other? Yes

Do I have someone of the opposite see I can tell everything to? Yes. 2 of them.

Have I shaved my legs in the past 3 days? Yes

Am I excited for anything? No

What is something I disliked about today? Having to go out of my way to create a plan to do something which will I inconvenience me and others when the group asking for this hasn’t looked at other options first and has at all tried to address the root cause. I have a big pet peeve about putting a band aid on things vs. fixing the whole issue from the begging to end. Band aids and putting out fires instead seems like wasted, u productive and ignorant energy to me. It’s also not my job to solve this problem but I am the only one trying to. So, I HATE to be asked for even more knowing there will be no end to it and the root cause is addressed.

I feel disappointed when I ….. eat the wrongs things, don’t exercise enough and drink too much

What is the difference between living and existing? Well, existing is what I am doing now so look at that to understand.

A song I want played at my wedding: This Must Be the Place – Talking Heads, Where the Streets Have No Name – U2

A song that reminds me of someone I don’t want to think about: Britney Spears – Scream and Shout

A song I like with a color in the title: Red Hill Mining Town

What I’m really bad at: flirting

Worst thing someone said to me: many variations of ” you could be so pretty if you were thinner.”

Biggest worry: money

Reason behind my last breakup: pretty sure he wanted to fuck other people or perhaps already had

Would you date the last person you spoke to? No

Movie you an watch over and over again without getting bored: Bridesmaids

What’s the best thing I cook? Lasagna

Only 2 more of these crap posts to reach my goal and then we are back to sporadic outbursts.

Today was shrink day and we are trying to figure out where this recent general malaise is coming from. The one where I just want to stay home every weekend and the one where I am preparing myself for what life is going to look like after confirming bad news I have been waiting on for about 3 weeks. Anytime from today through next week I will know for sure.

So, first, we think I am easing myself into that because I know how devastating it will be but I haven’t wanted to give up totally because there still could be good news. Regardless, with my history of depression, I’m prepping.

I’m not in a full depression right now. There is something to be said for the over index of vitamin D I take in at the beach from April through October. November is when depression hits for me. That makes sense considering I was on the beach last month and now get up in the dark and come home from work in the dark. So this might just be the coming down period.

My empath is on overload right now too. This time of year making performance and financial decisions for people I really care about is very draining because I put everything I am into it and some people are always disappointed which impacts me. I know my decisions are fair but I still feel for people. And, despite saying I wouldn’t “fall in love” with my direct reports on this assignment like I did my old team, I fell and it’s much deeper than my last team.

The upside is that when I am home alone, I am happy in my own company and with Fergus. My doctor said that’s actually a sign of good mental health. I have a little fear of missing out or pressure I put on myself where I think I should be doing something other than read with the dog but I am also very content with that plan. My need to hibernate has a lot to do with what I have left on the field every week by 5 on Friday. Lately, I haven’t even had enough left to entertain my parents.

It’s been an interesting day of analysis and trying to figure out if the red flags are there or if this is a little different and I just need to get through February. We also figured out why I obsess over having my tree up early and doing every Christmas related activity I can. It’s because I am trying to force the happy and wistful while the opportunity is there. January and February are full head down and just trying to survive NYE and VDay. Truth- NYE is the most depressing day of the year for me. It’s awful. I am really dreading it.

I guess I am ok but really worried about what shape I will be in at the end of next week. I’m not in a full depression right now but it could happen quickly. So do me a favor and just keep an eye on me. Your random check-ins have historically been what jolts me into getting help because once I’m really in it, I can’t see what you see. So.. . See something, say something.

About a year and a half ago, I deleted about 40 people from Facebook. I saved or added most of them to my Instagram where I try to keep it to the beach and Fergus because I didn’t want to lose those connections altogether. 39 of those people did nothing wrong but because of other connections they had, I was being accessed through them and also 1 person was talking at work about my posts….insisting they were work related when they never were. I was only able to connect with a few of those people ahead of time. For everyone else, I apologize if you took it personally or had hurt feelings. I was made aware some people were upset because they didn’t understand. This is my apology for that. Sorry for confusion. I care about 39 of those people still very much and want to keep access to them.

I have a Masters in Health Communication, much of which is centered around understanding how to use social media to educate, influence and know your niche. While my career is not currently in that field, my activism touches it daily. All the issues I am passionate about actually do have health consequences whether it’s physically or mentally.

I was harassed at work for about 7 years. During that time, my posts pertained to dating, weight loss, travel, fun back and forth with my High School friends which is multiple times a day and some of my unraveling related to my father’s cancer and my PTSD. In more recent years, the harassment became about my support of women, closing the gender pay gap in the US ( by the way, I believe I actually work for the company who would address this before any other place so don’t assume my support is related to issues with my job,) support for the ACLU, LGBTQ community, sexual assault services and mental health awareness.

This situation impacted my pay, career mobility, reputation and health. Rumors were spread falsely. I was not in a situation where I could defend myself without retaliation as I was already being retaliated against. I did not call HR. A few times I consulted people I know who handle employment law or corporate HR for other companies. I was fully aware of my rights but needed to keep my income so I just managed through it. Were this to happen today, I would handle it very differently and call HR right away.

I made a commitment to myself last year to remove myself from gossip/rumor/bully situations and to defend myself. I am guilty of these poor behaviors too. I just never did it in front of people who were in charge of pay and promotional decisions unlike the people who were doing it to me. Mine was happening amongst the team in charge of those things. In fact, one time they got negative feedback in an employee survey and because it was well written and spelled correctly, they spread the rumor it was me which impacted my bonus and salary at that time. Behind closed doors they decided to rule me out for any job considerations going forward.

I know what it’s like to be the only person in the room not being “friended” by everyone else in the room. Despite my age and knowing better, it still hurts my feelings. If people’s feelings were hurt when I unfriended them, I apologize. It wasn’t my intention. I was just looking for a very quick way to remove all channels this person had access to. Gossip seems fun and like a harmless way to blow off steam. Sometimes people may even oddly think they are doing some type of good duty. But all of it is wrong and can have serious consequences for people. I’m really glad I have placed myself against a much higher standard and have really stuck by it this past year. It’s much easier than you might think.

I have some reason to believe this situation might start up again in the near future. Rest assured, everyone is protected via Instagram where I keep my thoughts pretty basic and general…mostly travel and dog with a little bit of #metoo but really no activism for the most part. I use other channels for that and I have the right to do that. I also have the right for it to remain separate from my work as my “causes” aren’t really things I bring to work unless my “support” is something which makes an employee feel safer talking to me about their issues than anyone else. It’s not beliefs I share either, just an open minded perspective and ability to pull from a broad range of experiences to help relate to who I am talking to. If only everyone had my broad range.