Oh, hey! My life changed a lot.

Hi. It has been way too long.

I'm in Korea. Yeah, my HUSBAND joined the ARMY and our FIRST duty station is KOREA. That's how long its been.

Culture shock has me by my ass right now. I've been here for 5 months, it feels like a life time already. I have to say, I am not a fan of my own life, currently. My keys are sticky as fuck on this keyboard and its driving me insane. I can't bring myself to type much more seeing as how this is the first time I've sat at my own computer in HOW LONG?! I'd like to come back and update more. This blog has been through some shit with me, LOL.

I am Goth

Hey, welcome back to another unpopular opinion topic! It may not be "unpopular", the majority may even agree with my opinions on this. I'd like to start by stating that I have very few references, I am a forced recluse, I do not leave my tiny house much. I guess this will be focused around the opinions of an uncultured lover of a subculture.

Goth. The darkness, the love of all things tragic, the underground music, the quiet rebels. To me, Goth has been the only light in my darkness, oh the irony. Goth was my saving grace. I had no idea who I was supposed to be, how to look, or even act. I went with it, I wore my mom's darkest clothes to feel comfortable. We would walk by Hot Topic and my hairs would stand on end; that place excited every inch of my being. It was so dark, it smelled like woodland perfume, and the music made elderly women cringe in disgust. My arm would hook around my mother and I'd drag her toward the dark red pit of rebel clothing. The Tripp pants, oh my love! The massive elephant pants with chains and colored stitching, ranging between $60-$110 a pair. The walls were lined with band T's and corsets, I'd melt at the mere sight of it all. Of course, Hot Topic is not like this anymore, unfortunately. But that’s how it made me feel back then.

 My creepy ass would skip school to sit in graveyards, I'd spend my afternoons practicing my thick eyeliner and dying my roots black. "You can't go out 'cause your roots are showing. Dye 'em black". I was in love with myself, and I loved the dark.

According to some, this does not earn me my Goth card *LOL*. To the elite, the darkest of darks, the almighty "Real Goths" this simply makes me an "Admirer". As a grown ass woman, I find this hilarious! I guess some goths take themselves way too seriously.

I do understand that some things must be kept sacred, must be respected. This is not a cult, nor a religion, but a way of life. I get it. Might I add, we label things, as humans, we categorize to best understand our environment. I best identify as Goth. If I had  to explain it in more detail, it'd fall apart: Gothy-witchy-lazy-minimal makeup-flip flops sometimes-messy-comfy-anti chic. If there was a category other than Goth that I more related to, I would.

In all reality, its ok. It is all ok. I'm glad that any of us are talking to/about each other at all! I remember when it was almost a secret to be "Goth". I was afraid of the reaction if I used the word. Same with being a witch, yeah…a Goth Witch. I got so much shit when I was a teen, but now, not so much! Now its like I've earned my adult card, I just need  to maintain any additional labels.

I know I talk a lot about this subject, but it means a lot to me. I will continue to identify as Goth and Witch. I will always practice my rights and privileges as a free, American woman. Thank you for reading, I hope you come back for my next post!

Today, I Crumpled

Today, I crumpled. It was as if someone took a pot of boiling water and poured it into a hole in the top of my head. My hands shook, my vision darkened, my neck swelled. I cried in the shower, it felt like the only place I could fall apart without judgment. I almost felt like I not only deserved those feelings, but I needed them. I needed the reminder that I'm not super skilled, I can't do anything and everything. But, with those feelings came an unspeakable darkness. My own voice in my head said "Good. This is good. You need to be aware that you are only good for cleaning up shit and piss. Your life's work is in those washcloths. Your every waking moment should be consumed with the one thing you are good at, whether you like it or not." This voice, my inner monolog, suddenly had gravity. I felt the weight of this thought, it made my head drop. I am only good for cleaning up shit and piss. It feels like a well-known fact, like everyone can see it…smell it. I crumpled at a mere thought. The floor looked so inviting. I so badly wanted to curl up into a fetal position and pray that someone come clean me up off the floor. I, suddenly, no longer wanted to be me.

That’s a sad thought, no longer wanting to be the only person you can be. Giving up on yourself, even for a split second, its completely foreign.

I panicked. I felt a tearing in my brain, like it was made of paper.

I grabbed at my inner voice, invisibly clapping my hands over the tear in my brain. I thought to my thought, "No! You know better! You are a caregiver, you are a wife, you are a daughter, you are a granddaughter, you are someone's best friend! You are willing to clean up shit and piss, something that most people CAN'T do. You've met nurses that don't do shit, or piss, or snot. Yet, here you are, day in and day out getting paid to do what most WILL NOT."

I crumpled again, feeling my other voice fighting against me. "Just don't. You’ve already said it, no need to repeat yourself."

I pushed away from the shower wall, letting the water wash my tears away. I've never been so torn within. It was short lived, but it felt like an eternity in that shower.

As I dried off, I giggle-cried, that ugly scrunched face thing we do when we get overwhelmed. "Don't look in the mirror" I thought.

If you are wondering what I did to make myself feel better, I could tell you that I grabbed my husband and went out on a thrift store excursion. But the truth is, the only thing  that truly made me feel better was standing up to myself. Shopping always makes me feel better, but imagine if I had bothered going out still hating myself. It would not have been fun. I had to fix my inner dialog before even attempting anything cheery. It is hard fighting with ones self, sometimes we have to.

Don't hate self. Don't hate at all. Hate is toxic and it will make us sick.

Me Too...

If you know me, if you are familiar with this blog, you know I am not about politics! But, I am opinionated as it is my right as an  American. The #metoo movement is the topic. If this bothers you, please click away. If my opinions differ from yours, please feel free to discuss them with myself and others in the comments below, but I ask you remain respectful of the rights of others.

Here we go.

The #metoo movement has built up a lot of momentum through social media. I have a ton of respect for the woman that have come forward and shared their experiences. Just knowing you are not alone in the world, that these things happen to all sorts of people, is so comforting and maybe even healing for some. Might I add, I have been sexually abused myself. It took me years to talk about it, I'm currently in remission from that pain. I have also been sexually harassed on countless occasions, school, work, and simply walking down the street. So, me too. However, I fear the movement is gaining an ass load of all the wrong points, all the wrong people, and even the abusers themselves jump on to hide their ass behind the abused.
I think the finger pointing, and the 'guilty until proven innocent' mentality around this movement is becoming increasingly disgusting! We have kicked the door down, now they are all crying wolf. You cannot prove someone Not Guilty in this world. Now, it is entirely hearsay, I can point my finger at you and you are now guilty and there is nothing you can do about it. The countless lives ruined by the attention seekers, all the careers that have been ruined by a single allegation. Now, all of our men are inherently guilty?! NO!
The rape culture outside of the U.S. is disturbing, we are helpless when a 12 year old Indian girl is forced to marry a 46 year old man. But why has that opened up this world of man-hating witch hunt bullshit here at home?! Men are becoming sickened by women. We cannot let our men go abused, refused, and dismissed! I am fearful for the rights of men in our country right now! Men have it just as bad, if not worse than woman.
 It can go one of two ways.
1. Men truly become second class citizens and fall victim to being abused by man haters and continue to get laughed out of court. The abuse will continue and they will fall into the dark pit of despair that women once knew.
2. Woman will go back to getting laughed out of court and continue their life full of abuse, reliving the cycle all over again.

We have got to stop! Yes, abuse is real. No, attention seeking lies are not real. But how is anyone supposed to know the difference? We cannot take someone's word for it and label it FACT! We should teach one another how to protect ourselves and protect each other. If I called out my abuser now, over 10 years later, I sure hope my cries fall on deaf ears. To call them out now would not fix what happened that long ago. But that's just me, I guess.
We should teach our boys not to rape, and teach our girls how to not get raped. It has to be a joint effort! Stop throwing each other under the bus, lift each other up instead.

Let's give a shit about each other.

Rant Warning!!

Beware of the vulgar words expressed in this very emotional post.


It all started back in February of 2018.
Before, I never thought things could get worse, I'd even say "As long as things don't get worse, I will be fine."
I didn't think they'd get this bad. Now, we are all capable of saying "Well, it could be worse" Yes, bitch, yes the fuck it could be, but this shit is still fucked!

February, my hero got sick, it is May and he still isn't better. He is home, but in constant pain. Grandma has been awful, dealing with someone who suffers from FTD and someone with severe pancreatitis has been a 32/9 job. Fuck 24/7, there are not enough hours in a day anymore, there are not enough hands on deck, there is not enough income to keep this ship moving. Yet, we are still here. It feels like a punishment, it feels like a curse. I keep asking for help, I keep falling over, I keep slipping in the mud. I keep losing my patience, I keep almost losing myself. I am trying so fucking hard, I am so lost. My efforts feel wasted. Help me, please!
The waiting game:
Waiting for Papa to get better.
Waiting for Gabe's waiver...or denial.
Waiting and waiting and waiting.
Waiting for the opportunity to help things get better.
Waiting for the strength to stay standing.
Waiting for help.

Why the fuck is everything stacking?! Why is this so hard?! Why do I still shake when I feel like I can't?! 
I miss old times. I miss the old me. I miss the girl that was inspired by everything and anything. I feel like she died, she will never exist again. I feel like I will forever be this tired, miserable shadow of the person I used to be. In some ways, its ok. In others, it terrifies me. 
I'm having a hard day, I am having a hard fucking time and I need fucking help!
I don't want to die, I want to LIVE! That is why I am so angry right now, I need to live and breathe, please. 
The internet is fucked, all the social media is fucked, my life is fucked, this shit is fucked, society is fucked. It is all fucked and I really don't want it to be.

Oh, motivation. Where art thou?

Hi, I'm married.

Hi, I'm stressed.

Hi, I'm nervous.

Hi, I lost my motivation along the way.

Last weekend, I married my best friend. We went to the courthouse, got the papers, was informed that we still needed an ordained minister to marry us. Since it was our first time ever getting married, we didn't know what the fuck we were doing. His mom wanted us to stay at the courthouse and do the courthouse wedding, but my mom remembered that my papa is an ordained minister and could perform the ceremony for us. So, Gabe and I got married in my moms living room. It was perfect in every way and I would not have changed anything about it! 

I have a husband!!

We have been so exhausted from being anxious, . There has been too much to list, too much to mention. I'm so fucking tired. My soul is tired. We are tired, we are both lacking motivation, it sucks. Help?  

I am starting a bullet journal. So far so good. It relieves a tiddly bit of stress and anxiety. I wish I had a Polaroid camera to add pictures to my journal. Wouldn't that just be scrap booking? LOL

Speaking of camera, I wish I had a good picture taking camera. I have a great video camera, but I hardly know how to use it. I'm tired. Bye for now.

 

  

Moving

I feel like I forgot how to write.

No groove, no flow.

How frustrating.

Earlier, I was scrolling through Tumblr, passing beautiful images of Autumn in many different places, different years. They always give me butterflies! The oranges, reds, and yellows whisper "home" to me.

Living in the desert of all deserts for 2 years, and before that, mostly desert for 4 years, I have not had the pleasure of experiencing a true Autumn since 2010! 

Knowing that my future husband and myself will be relocating by the end of October of this year, I can't help but cross my fingers for a place that does Autumn well. Like, I wanna get there and immediately be presented with a pumpkin, while the locals toss fallen leaves around me, then hand me a fresh apple pie made with the apples from the local orchard. I want to move into my new house and immediately hang my Halloween decorations. Legit Fall shit!

My hopes are way too high, I know. But, a girl can dream, I guess.

To be completely honest, I am terrified. My future is completely out of my control, and that scares me to my core. But, something has got change. I can't stay in this forever. This whole situation will not always be, and things will change, I have to be prepared to help. I have to better myself, being here and content is getting me absolutely no where. I think staying scares me much more than leaving does.

I will be better than ok, I have to be.