Sunday, March 31, 2019
Tuesday, March 19, 2019
Friday, March 15, 2019
47 Mantras. I wasn't going to post this, but too bad....you do what you want, I'll do what I want, too
Ah, 47. Closer to 50, where all of my fucks will have gone to die, but not yet there.
I just have a few things to get off my chest, the chest that some of you have made fun of, but is now filled with fibroadenomas. If you don't know anything about dense breast tissue, look it up. And no jokes, my mom is a stage 2 breast cancer survivor. I'm in this for the long haul.
I've been posting videos to hint and narrowly convey my ideas on my blog. Some of you -- who I can't fucking stand -- still stop here from time to time to glean and hope and secretly pray that I mention you by name. I won't. But I'm not holding back.
And some of you don't know me very well at all, except for these words. Here's an honest slice of me, so keep reading.
I'm barely posting on fakebook (no, I didn't spell that wrong, it's pure shit) and instagram, which is fakebook-adjacent. I'm thoroughly disgusted with what I've seen from high school morons, princesses with nothing better to do than find anti-vaxxer nonsense and repost it, Fox news memes, and general untruths. I also got a slew of suspiciously slanted texts this past election night, some in broken-looking English, which to me is proof positive that Russian bots are real. And fuck you if you don't want to hear "my politics", some of you have been protected by fathers and husbands and family your entire lives. I don't care about your problems. It's clear you don't care about mine. I'm over the bullshit if you haven't guessed.
These past few years have tested my patience and my ability to suppress my anger in such a way that I have to monitor my blood pressure not to Hulk-smash everyone in sight. So, if you're not hearing from me, it's for your protection as much as mine, I don't look good in orange and don't feel like being a tv movie-of-the-week, talking to lawyers thru plexiglass or checking my commissary $ so I can buy soap and toothpaste.
New year, new rules. There are things I'm no longer willing to accept. You live your way? I'm gonna live mine.
You want me in your life? I want space. Lots of it. No small, closed-in spaces. I'm tired of making myself small so some of you can shove everything all over me. I have mobility issues due to fibromyalgia, which some of you think is fake. It's not, and I'm tired of squeezing in and around things that shouldn't be there. Clean up your crap. Literally. I am tired of doing it for you. I'm willing to help, but that's it.
No cigarette smoke at all. My eyes can't deal with it, my lungs even less. You're addicted, face fucking facts. Don't brag to me about how vegetarian and vegan "healthy" you are while sticking all those chemicals in your body. You're full of shit and you know it.
I will not be taking multiple buses and cars to visit you, your family, your parties or your "outings." You have a car? Come get me. This is not $1 on the bus and train anymore. It costs me time, stress and money. And, no, I don't Uber. My friend was sexually assaulted by an Uber driver and cannot sue due to their bullshit arbitration. I don't give $ to companies that treat women like shit, and I'm a survivor myself. I've just started talking about it upon realizing almost 30 years of silence has protected my attacker. No more. No exceptions. I'll pay for the gas in your car.
I get sick easily. I get tired easily. I sweat easily. My thyroid, breast, and spine has sustained damage due to bad DNA and 2 car accidents, and numerous violent incidents with my family. I am not getting screamed at, having things thrown at me, kicked, punched or decoding "subtext" anymore. I will be direct with you, you need to step up. If passive-aggression is your middle name? Stay out of my life. I'm tired. You're contributing to my stress. No more.
And as for some of the snark I've read online? You wanna bitch about how I live? I'm going to throw your ADHD, your bipolar, your OCD, your divorces, bankruptcies, cheating spouses, weight gain, drinking and pill habits right back in your face. Some of your behavior has been fucking atrocious. I'm not putting up with it. Self-righteous, holier-than-thou bullshit will not work anymore simply because you landed a fiance or a husband. I remember some of your slutty ways, and I'm speaking to the men, too! This will be my ammunition. I'm not being nice. That small, scared doormat you remember is long gone. I will rip you apart now. I've really looked at it thoroughly and I don't owe any of you shit. I was kind, I remembered birthdays, holidays, and put myself out there when I barely had enough change to get on the bus and train to see you. (The buses and trains I just mentioned I'm not paying for anymore. Pay attention.)
You don't like reading any of this? You're rolling your eyes now? Too goddamned bad. No one ever asked me if I liked what was happening to me. I gave, and gave, and gave and some you took, and took and said, "She doesn't even try. I want MORE." Fuck you and your selfishness. I seem to attract sociopaths and narcissists and some of you fit that bill. I'm cleaning house this time and you ain't getting in the next one I move to. Too fucking bad.
As for social media, if a situation should escalate and you wanna tag me in? I took off my referee's whistle years ago. Fix your own problems. You will be blocked, no exceptions. I'm also not adding anyone new on fakebook. If you're not on other platforms such as twitter, youtube, tumblr, blogger or instagram. Too bad. Google+ is being decommissioned and removed as of April. Good riddance. You're gonna do it MY way. I've acquiesced to all this bullshit for years now. I'm fucking done and will not apologize. I don't cause problems, I've always tried to solve them. How do I solve the problems that some of you are? I deny you access to my life for my feelings and my mental health. I know good and goddamned well the backstabbing shit-talking that exists when it comes to me as a subject. Newsflash: it's mutual. Some of you have driven me up the wall, over the fence and into the neighbor's yard. I'm done with the drama. I'm not feeding negative energy into these situations anymore. June 11 marks 30 years since I got out of high school. I'm not going back.
You want my help? Ask nicely. You want me to pick something up for you? You're telling me the exact address and giving me the $ in advance. No freebies. I ask and get ignored. Again, subtext? I want DIRECT COMMUNICATION. Nothing less. Don't like it? Try postmates. I'm not your damn dog here to fetch.
If I have to cancel due to pain flare, doctor's appointment, illness, vomiting, dizziness or heart palpitations (all due to current fibro and thyroid issues), that's the way it is. Some of you have never heard the word "no." Let me be the first one to teach you what it means.
You have spouses, families, kids and relatives that help you. I have none. The man I loved married someone else. The man I should have paid more attention to is now dead, and he didn't even get to 47. I only have myself. The funerals keep coming, and I question how long I have left with all the shit that's happening to me. I'm looking at 65, just like my grandfather, my father and 3 cousins. It seems to be the magical number. I have facts, notice patterns and have a looooong memory. Don't even think of bitching or picking a fight with me at this point. The worst thing I ever did was NOT show you my temper. Maybe you'd have more respect for me if I did.
I'm tired of seeing most of you bitch when I know you've gotten more cake than I ever did. Fuck it, today was my birthday, and there wasn't a fucking cake. That's the lesson of my life: adapting to scraps. I'm over it. Some of you are so fucking complacent and spoiled, it makes me sick. I worked my ass off to get what I had and lost it all due to Wall St's fuck up after 2008's crash. I haven't recovered, in case you're wondering. And don't bitch to me with, "You're just jealous." No, I don't want to be like any of you, particularly the self-righteous pieces of shit that either stole someone else's spouse or cheated on the spouse that stood by you, thru thick and thin. I wish you could appreciate what you have without all the drama and backbiting. Some of you act like petulant fucking brats. There's no way in hell I'd ever want that.
And to those of you that doubt my health? I have a stack of medical files going back ages that's almost 6 inches tall. I could care less. This is what stress and bullshit has done to me.
I am FIRST on my list now. Not you. Everyone else now works hard for a spot or gets left behind. I should've done this years ago. That spot you earn will work for me. On my time, my schedule, my moods and my convenience.
Deal with it.You're not perfect, either. In fact, some of you are actual cunts.
Happy Birthday to me.
I just have a few things to get off my chest, the chest that some of you have made fun of, but is now filled with fibroadenomas. If you don't know anything about dense breast tissue, look it up. And no jokes, my mom is a stage 2 breast cancer survivor. I'm in this for the long haul.
I've been posting videos to hint and narrowly convey my ideas on my blog. Some of you -- who I can't fucking stand -- still stop here from time to time to glean and hope and secretly pray that I mention you by name. I won't. But I'm not holding back.
And some of you don't know me very well at all, except for these words. Here's an honest slice of me, so keep reading.
I'm barely posting on fakebook (no, I didn't spell that wrong, it's pure shit) and instagram, which is fakebook-adjacent. I'm thoroughly disgusted with what I've seen from high school morons, princesses with nothing better to do than find anti-vaxxer nonsense and repost it, Fox news memes, and general untruths. I also got a slew of suspiciously slanted texts this past election night, some in broken-looking English, which to me is proof positive that Russian bots are real. And fuck you if you don't want to hear "my politics", some of you have been protected by fathers and husbands and family your entire lives. I don't care about your problems. It's clear you don't care about mine. I'm over the bullshit if you haven't guessed.
These past few years have tested my patience and my ability to suppress my anger in such a way that I have to monitor my blood pressure not to Hulk-smash everyone in sight. So, if you're not hearing from me, it's for your protection as much as mine, I don't look good in orange and don't feel like being a tv movie-of-the-week, talking to lawyers thru plexiglass or checking my commissary $ so I can buy soap and toothpaste.
New year, new rules. There are things I'm no longer willing to accept. You live your way? I'm gonna live mine.
You want me in your life? I want space. Lots of it. No small, closed-in spaces. I'm tired of making myself small so some of you can shove everything all over me. I have mobility issues due to fibromyalgia, which some of you think is fake. It's not, and I'm tired of squeezing in and around things that shouldn't be there. Clean up your crap. Literally. I am tired of doing it for you. I'm willing to help, but that's it.
No cigarette smoke at all. My eyes can't deal with it, my lungs even less. You're addicted, face fucking facts. Don't brag to me about how vegetarian and vegan "healthy" you are while sticking all those chemicals in your body. You're full of shit and you know it.
I will not be taking multiple buses and cars to visit you, your family, your parties or your "outings." You have a car? Come get me. This is not $1 on the bus and train anymore. It costs me time, stress and money. And, no, I don't Uber. My friend was sexually assaulted by an Uber driver and cannot sue due to their bullshit arbitration. I don't give $ to companies that treat women like shit, and I'm a survivor myself. I've just started talking about it upon realizing almost 30 years of silence has protected my attacker. No more. No exceptions. I'll pay for the gas in your car.
I get sick easily. I get tired easily. I sweat easily. My thyroid, breast, and spine has sustained damage due to bad DNA and 2 car accidents, and numerous violent incidents with my family. I am not getting screamed at, having things thrown at me, kicked, punched or decoding "subtext" anymore. I will be direct with you, you need to step up. If passive-aggression is your middle name? Stay out of my life. I'm tired. You're contributing to my stress. No more.
And as for some of the snark I've read online? You wanna bitch about how I live? I'm going to throw your ADHD, your bipolar, your OCD, your divorces, bankruptcies, cheating spouses, weight gain, drinking and pill habits right back in your face. Some of your behavior has been fucking atrocious. I'm not putting up with it. Self-righteous, holier-than-thou bullshit will not work anymore simply because you landed a fiance or a husband. I remember some of your slutty ways, and I'm speaking to the men, too! This will be my ammunition. I'm not being nice. That small, scared doormat you remember is long gone. I will rip you apart now. I've really looked at it thoroughly and I don't owe any of you shit. I was kind, I remembered birthdays, holidays, and put myself out there when I barely had enough change to get on the bus and train to see you. (The buses and trains I just mentioned I'm not paying for anymore. Pay attention.)
You don't like reading any of this? You're rolling your eyes now? Too goddamned bad. No one ever asked me if I liked what was happening to me. I gave, and gave, and gave and some you took, and took and said, "She doesn't even try. I want MORE." Fuck you and your selfishness. I seem to attract sociopaths and narcissists and some of you fit that bill. I'm cleaning house this time and you ain't getting in the next one I move to. Too fucking bad.
As for social media, if a situation should escalate and you wanna tag me in? I took off my referee's whistle years ago. Fix your own problems. You will be blocked, no exceptions. I'm also not adding anyone new on fakebook. If you're not on other platforms such as twitter, youtube, tumblr, blogger or instagram. Too bad. Google+ is being decommissioned and removed as of April. Good riddance. You're gonna do it MY way. I've acquiesced to all this bullshit for years now. I'm fucking done and will not apologize. I don't cause problems, I've always tried to solve them. How do I solve the problems that some of you are? I deny you access to my life for my feelings and my mental health. I know good and goddamned well the backstabbing shit-talking that exists when it comes to me as a subject. Newsflash: it's mutual. Some of you have driven me up the wall, over the fence and into the neighbor's yard. I'm done with the drama. I'm not feeding negative energy into these situations anymore. June 11 marks 30 years since I got out of high school. I'm not going back.
You want my help? Ask nicely. You want me to pick something up for you? You're telling me the exact address and giving me the $ in advance. No freebies. I ask and get ignored. Again, subtext? I want DIRECT COMMUNICATION. Nothing less. Don't like it? Try postmates. I'm not your damn dog here to fetch.
If I have to cancel due to pain flare, doctor's appointment, illness, vomiting, dizziness or heart palpitations (all due to current fibro and thyroid issues), that's the way it is. Some of you have never heard the word "no." Let me be the first one to teach you what it means.
You have spouses, families, kids and relatives that help you. I have none. The man I loved married someone else. The man I should have paid more attention to is now dead, and he didn't even get to 47. I only have myself. The funerals keep coming, and I question how long I have left with all the shit that's happening to me. I'm looking at 65, just like my grandfather, my father and 3 cousins. It seems to be the magical number. I have facts, notice patterns and have a looooong memory. Don't even think of bitching or picking a fight with me at this point. The worst thing I ever did was NOT show you my temper. Maybe you'd have more respect for me if I did.
I'm tired of seeing most of you bitch when I know you've gotten more cake than I ever did. Fuck it, today was my birthday, and there wasn't a fucking cake. That's the lesson of my life: adapting to scraps. I'm over it. Some of you are so fucking complacent and spoiled, it makes me sick. I worked my ass off to get what I had and lost it all due to Wall St's fuck up after 2008's crash. I haven't recovered, in case you're wondering. And don't bitch to me with, "You're just jealous." No, I don't want to be like any of you, particularly the self-righteous pieces of shit that either stole someone else's spouse or cheated on the spouse that stood by you, thru thick and thin. I wish you could appreciate what you have without all the drama and backbiting. Some of you act like petulant fucking brats. There's no way in hell I'd ever want that.
And to those of you that doubt my health? I have a stack of medical files going back ages that's almost 6 inches tall. I could care less. This is what stress and bullshit has done to me.
I am FIRST on my list now. Not you. Everyone else now works hard for a spot or gets left behind. I should've done this years ago. That spot you earn will work for me. On my time, my schedule, my moods and my convenience.
Deal with it.You're not perfect, either. In fact, some of you are actual cunts.
Happy Birthday to me.
Thursday, March 14, 2019
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