Too Much/Not Enough

*deep breath*

I realized today that I'm not grounded right now. What I mean by that is I've lost my coping skills. My really good coping skills. I replaced them with people that didn't deserve to be any part of my coping mechanism arsenal. I replaced them with being wanted, really. Which, considering my history, this isn't a surprise to me. 

I am going through the things that grounded me this year. I keep feeling like I'm losing my way. I know what I want. I really do, but I feel like my grasp on it is so weak.
Shame spirals suck.
Anxiety brain fucking sucks.
I have anxiety brain right now, and I can't word. For real. Talking is not my forte right now, and that's okay I guess?
Doing things that require my focus are not my jam right now either. (Writing doesn't count)
I'm checked out, but I'm not checked out. Really my focus is on trying to do what I can to manage my anxiety and keep it from escalating. I mean it's pretty gahtdamb high, but it could be worse. But not much because then I would be in panic attack territory.
My anxiety is so high that I've forgotten how to effectively communicate. To not make assumptions. To ask for clarification when I need it. To pull out my thoughts and feelings, examine them, see them for what they are, name them, and then talk about them.

*deep breath*

I was going to take a nap when I got home, but I decided to sit my ass down and write. Until I go to my counseling appointment: writing, friends, music, a hair cut, cooking, my animals, reading, and work at the Ronald McDonald House. Seriously, there is something about that place that is so peaceful. Even when I'm running around like a crazy woman. Or get busy. Or annoyed.

So. This evening I am going through the books that really impacted me this year. There have been so many, and there is no way that I can get through them all in one evening or one post, but I've been thinking about some quotes all day. Or since last night. Oy last night. I wrote what I wrote. I said what I said. That's going to be another post that I won't be able to read again.

I also thought about just laying me all out there. Instead of just letting someone see bits and pieces of me, Imma let them see the whole thing. Everything. I feel like even with this fucking blog, y'all are only seeing bits and pieces of me. Maybe? I mean these last few posts have been me really peeling back the layers. Of stripping down to the real me. I think that's partly why I'm so fucking anxious. What is everyone going to think? Of me. Is this okay? Am I enough? Am I too much?
Because the not enough/too much dichotomy has been a thing that I've been battling for as long as I can remember. Which is why I don't let my guard all the way down.

Michael Arceneaux wrecked me with this guard down concept this evening in his book "I Can't Date Jesus"
He says, "It wasn't until my thirties that I had an epiphany: I was attracting unattainable people because I was no less unattainable. I didn't want to be alone, but I didn't know how to let my guard all the way down. I knew how to volunteer the kind of information that gave folks the sense of connection; it was a tactic to throw them off the scent of who I really was and what ate away at me. I became even better at it, because the few times I felt I was trying to get close to people, they rejected me or used what I had divulged against me. That deepened my underlying cynicism that falling in love with someone opened the door for them to destroy parts--or all--of me...In life people will disappoint you, but the key is to learn how to find within yourself the sense of peace and confidence that keeps you whole during the times when you are let down."
That is in bold because, honestly, this is the definition of my relationship with the world. Even with friendships. Even. With. Friendships.
Even with my relationships with my family. Even. With. Family. 

Too much/not enough.
Too much/not enough.

I'm not entirely sure when this message came into my life. I'm not even sure where it came from--like the original source. I can just remember the most recent moments that reinforced this insidious belief (insidious is my word of the week, by the way. Not really). I thought to heal that I needed to throw myself out into the world. To open myself up to friendships. Open myself up to my family...to an extent. Not all the way. That's going to take a minute still. I was going to open myself up to dating and hopefully start a relationship with someone. This all has been my mission over the last couple of years. I stepped into this slowly and tentatively, while I was working on myself. On my confidence. On my self worth. Of knowing that I am not too much and that I am truly enough. All on my own. That I was the one who decided I was enough, not others. The tendency to look outside of myself for that validation made its way back in this year though.

See, to some extent, bouncing yourself off others isn't necessarily a bad thing. But it also shouldn't be your main source of validation. It comes from you. Yourself. Well, and some hardcore counseling. I thought I had learned this lesson, and in less than a year, I seem to have forgotten it again. But have I really if I'm working all this out? I didn't forget, but I did lose sight of it for a while. I lost sight of me being enough. Not the too much/not enough. Enough. As I am. I'm okay. As I am. (I don't mean "just" okay. I mean I am okay).

Here's where the shame comes in though. Let's talk about the shame: I'm disappointed in myself. I am really disappointed in myself. Admitting that is hard, but I know it's in there and needs to be named in order to be worked out. I worked SO FUCKING HARD on myself, only to get back to this too much/not enough bullshit? I spent all of that time and money (therapy, medicine, and books). I spent all of that time sifting through shit only to come back to this? However, when I think about it, I have only been working on this for a couple of years. I have only just now recognized this whole too much/not enough deepest insecurity thing. Or named it not that long ago. So I suppose over 25 years of that bullshit belief isn't going to completely go away in a couple of years. It's probably going to be something I am going to have to confront over and over again for quite some time. I don't want to say my whole life because I can't right now, but I do know I will have to keep working to fight against this thinking when it comes up.

Hope.

Here's where the hope and optimism comes in: I don't think I have ever been more resilient and willing to work so hard on the relationship I have with myself. On my relationships with others, and how I approach those relationships. Despite what I'm feeling, I have to take a step back and look at my history vs now; how I would have dealt with myself then, and how I am dealing with myself now. How am I examining and processing all of these feels and the too/much not enough thing? I'm fighting it with all that I have right now, and it IS working. It's actually working. I wrote this on my white board that's hanging on my refrigerator: Fight, Deandra. FIGHT. You will do this. You are a badass bitch. Honey, you better work. Werk.
I intended this for the next year. Because this is going to be a year of fighting and working towards my goals.
But I also need those words in this moment right now.
Because I am fighting. I am challenging my thinking. I am opening up to a few people, and they are challenging my thinking. They are showing me what full acceptance looks like. I have revealed some of my deepest things to these people. Specifically, to two people (ladies, you know who you are), and they aren't judging me. Even the things I thought might be judgement worthy, and too much, were not at all. I honestly have never let myself feel and be accepted on that level. I don't think that I've ever just let people see me like that. As I'm typing this I realize that I really am not alone here. There are people who love me, and I love them dearly.

Here's where my anxiety brain tries to take over, and prepare for the worst. Or, the too much/not enough message gets going.
What if they see too much and leave? You're too fucked up. What if they finally stop putting up with your bullshit and just bounce? Are you going to test those relationships and try to sabotage them to try to get people to prove that they are present? Because I think that's what we need to do. Let's test them.
What about not being enough? Why don't you retreat because you think you're too much and then let them see that you are actually not enough? That you aren't on their level; you aren't enough so you might as well not try. Let's just step back, and leave them alone. Let them live their lives. You're not smart enough. You haven't lived enough. You haven't been out in the world long enough. You aren't good enough at this whole relationship with people thing. You have fucked up your life, and nothing you do will ever be good enough. So just retreat. Leave people alone, and let them move on. Do not fight for those relationships. You aren't, in so many different ways, enough.

Oof. That's hard to write out. Like, it's one thing to mention the not enough/too much thing, but to actually write out the things that go through my head? The things that influence my behavior? Whole nother thing. To let y'all see this? Black Jesus Christ, it's a lot.

I'm not saying this thinking IS me though because it's not. I'm not my thinking.

But here is what I am: I AM smart. I am beautiful. I am worthy of relationship. I am a badass bitch. I'm a motherfucking dragon. I do have it in me to do that things that I want to do. I am lots of wonderful things. I also struggle. I am made of THOSE things. Yes, I am even made of the struggle. I'm made of the fight. I'm made of courage, resilience, and vulnerability. I'm made of love, kindness, and compassion. I'm made of empathy. I'm made of humor. I'm being forged out of all of these things, and it is beautiful. It's messy sometimes, but it is beautiful. I am a person. I would have previously said fearfully and wonderfully made. It actually seems really appropriate here though, but not in the way that I used to use it. Because this is coming from within. This is coming from my own determination and will. It's not up to a deity.

Maybe there is a Spirit out there guiding me in some ways though. I think I feel her sometimes. I think I have encounters with people that She kind of made happen. I still can't explain how I feel about Her. But I feel Her. I feel a presence sometimes. But She doesn't control me. She doesn't demand that I give up everything to follow Her. She just wants me to love myself and others. Hm. I never in a million years thought I would be at a place where I could believe in something again. It's okay though. Like, I'm okay with it. I feel at peace with that.

This is confidence and security. In myself, and, yes, even in others.
How can I be both confident and insecure though? 

Willowdean Dixon says it so well: "Sometimes figuring out who you are means understanding that we are a mosaic of experiences...I'm fat. I'm happy. I'm insecure. I'm bold."

So. Here I am. I've opened up some more. To the fucking internet.

(This is all going in a book this year anyway)

Married.

SIDE NOTE: I'm not angry, sad or hurt over the whatevership. He's lost me. He lost me a while ago. Which is fine. Just read. Cringey as this may get. Just read. 

Mark. 

At one point he was a front runner in this whole real life bachelorette shit show. 
Like neck and neck with SB. But then I realized, for a while, that no one really could top SB. Until they could. 
Because it's possible. 

Antyway. 

So Mark. 

Blue Eyes is what we called him at work because for a while I had to come up with nicknames to keep track of the guys I was talking to. I really am not just saying this to say it. For whatever reason, in June, not long after the boy slept in my bed, I was feeling like a badass. Because, you know, a boy slept in my bed and I could do anything. I could get anyone. I was confident AF. 

Enter Mark. So I see him on the dating app. Where SB is the OG in this whole dating saga, Mark is not far behind him. Actually today marks my one year friendiversary with SB. It has been a long fucking year. Mark and I had matched probably 2 or 3 times before this oh so fateful June. We talked. We connected well. He was cute (wait, is this something to still call a guy? Cute? I feel so weird calling someone "hot." Can I use the term handsome? Somehow that seems antiquated, but also appropriate for grown-ass men. I also just don't like calling people hot. But cute doesn't seem right either. You know what? Good looking) He was good-looking. I liked him, he seemed to like me. We would have some great conversations. Then he'd just disappear. A month or two later I would match with him again, like, "Oh my god! Where did you go?" 
So he disappeared for a few months, and I moved on...until I came across him once again. I was like, "Okay, last try." So last try, and it was somewhat successful, I suppose. Until it wasn't. 
We talked quite a bit. I kept trying to nail him down, but I was also talking to these four or five other guys so it wasn't like a priority at that point. Though I did like him a bit more than most of the others. We talked on the app, and eventually moved over to Snapchat. Where we talked regularly. Video chatted, sexted, video sex. Like all of it. I asked his relationship status. I did my digging. Because, y'all, I am REALLY good at searching for people, places, and things. If you need something looked up? I'm your woman. If you want to know something about someone? Come to me. I will scour the internet. I did my scouring, and I saw nothing out of the ordinary. Also, again, I did ask his relationship status. Additionally, I if he was looking for a fwb or long term. See where this went? Relationship. He was interested in pursuing a relationship. 
I was excited because, gahtdamb, FINALLY! I was finally going to meet Mark in person. 
*derisive laugh* that's cute. 
Long suffering can be one of my traits, but it's not always a good one. I will hold onto things that I just need to let go of. 
Shark philosophy: "Take a bite when you explore things. Don't be afraid to let go if it's not what you thought it was." I should have listened to the fucking shark philosophy. But, as life motto #2 goes, "Well, I thought it was a good idea at the time!"  
I should have let go. 
But I didn't. 
I really wanted this to work out. 
Like I said, long-suffering. Emphasis on the suffering. 
Not in a good way. 
Is this an unavailable man scenario?
Probably would qualify. 
Because they are my jam. 
And I hate it. 
I'm actually a bit of a paradox. Aren't we all to some extent though? I am impatient, but I am also patient. 
Antyway, so. 
This trying to meet up thing. It was a fucking nightmare, y'all. A. Fucking. Nightmare. 
Yeah, I was getting really tired of this bullshit. 
I did actually back off, and pursued a possible relationship with, god, what is his internet nickname. We actually used his real name at work because, y'all, he was a cool dude. Until he wasn't. I'm not sure I wrote about him, but he is not the focus of this post. Maybe I did though. I think it was the not enough, too much post if I ever published it. 
While I was doing that, I was okay with Mark dropping away. He'd check in every once in a while, but I was cool because I had this other dude (I really need to find his internet name). 

*Side note: I don't use people's real names on my blog. They have a blog name. I and my friends know who I'm talking about, and if a dude that I've written about ever read the blog they would be able to identify themselves. So there's that. 

As soon as I worked through three out of the five guys. Wait. No, yeah it was three of five. Mark popped back onto the scene, and I was thrilled. Like we talked every day, had serious conversations, and silly ones. He liked me; he thought I was cute; he could make me go stupid with just a particular look or...fuck... a wink. Or, Black Jesus in heaven, this lip lick thing that he did. *Melting* We had some awesome sexting and video sex message sessions. Oh my god. He also had this tattoo that I just could not get enough of. He had this amazing sex appeal, and he kind of looked a bit like Paul Rudd. Y'all, this dude's sex appeal was off the charts. I can't even explain it, and even now I'm smiling like a fucking idiot while I remember that. I'm laughing now too. Great. Oh, now here's the blush and warm feeling. Aaaaaaand we're going to finish that off with that like tummy, "Oooo!" thing. 
I need to get a fucking grip here. 
Ooof. He was good, and he was so good that I was dying to meet him in person. 
I tried so hard to get him to meet with me in person. We talked about what we were going to do on a date! We scheduled a gahtdamb date. Then he flaked out. He had to work. 
Then we tried to rain-check, but he was really noncommittal about it. Very vague and ambiguous. Y'all. I MOTHERFUCKING HATE AMBIGUITY AND VAGUE, HEDGEY, SHIT.
He was though. 
I'm not sure why I kept at it honestly. I'm going to have to process this, and I need to send my ass back to therapy to get through this bullshit. 
No, I do. It was the gahtdamb connection that we had. Like we got each other. I let him see me. Y'ALL I LET HIM SEE ME. What I mean by that: I felt safe enough to be completely myself with him. I felt seen, and I felt heard. I felt like I mattered. Which I did anyway, but there is something about another person outside of yourself validating those things--Seeing things about you. Liking them, even. I didn't do that thing where I hold myself back, trying to mold myself into the person that I think someone wants. In other words, I could be my ridiculous, funny, smart, beautiful, awesome, serious, imperfect self with him. That means so gahtdamb much to me. I don't let that out lightly or flippantly. I don't let everyone see that, but I did that with him (Aaaaand now here are the tears I have been holding in). 
Even now I'm feeling so raw and exposed. My anxiety is off the charts. I need to cry. I need a Valium. I need sleep. I need to write. I need chocolate and peanut butter. I need to finish this beer. I need to feed my animals. I need to spend time with my cat because I haven't seen her since yesterday evening. I need to talk. I need a hug. I need some sex (yeah, I said it). I need to feel okay. 
Back in October, I finally got tired of the bullshit, and I just very bluntly asked Mark (I almost used his real name here) 
Me: "Are we ever going to meet in real life?"
Mark: "And I will answer soon but short answer is that the last few months have been so many one-thing-after-anothers"
Me: "Ooo Lordt, that sounds a bit...not necessarily ominous but not wonderful." 
(I knew I wasn't going to like his answer)
Me: "Clarification, because I just overthink everything (I do some of my best and worst work when I overthink): my meeting in person expectations are like meeting for covfefe and talking for a couple of hours. Just FYI."
Mark: "Oh I know (smiley face)"

About a week later:

Me: "I hope you didn't ghost on me?"
Mark: "I didn't. Been a crazy week and it isn't over"

Few days later (my birthday):

Mark: "Hey happy birthday! I'm still in the thick of it here but I'll talk more and explain what's up when I get a chance to breathe"

Me: (general thanks and year 31 musings) "And okay. Not sure what words of support to say so just enter words of support here."

A couple of weeks later:

Me: "Just checking in. How are you?"
Mark: "Doing a bit better. You?"
Me: (enter general life happenings here)

Just after midnight yesterday morning (Merry fucking Christmas to me):

Mark: "You know that thing people do where they avoid things because they're difficult to deal with, but then it just keeps looming and getting bigger and/or so much time has passed that it barely seems worth it so you make an excuse in your head that eh might as well not worry about it now
That's what I've been dealing with for the last few weeks.
So, I tried to make the most of it--
I've been in a weird place with my relationship status. We've been separated, poly, separated, and then her dad died. That was the big thing I had been dealing with. Regardless of the separation status, I needed to do my best to make sure she was ok because I value her as a friend if nothing else. 
So, I wasn't trying to mislead you at all but it wasn't an important point at this point. 
Until it was. Y'know?
At this point I don't really know what's going on but I'm going to behave as though I'm not in a committed relationship."

*cue low-key panic attack*

Me (much later that day): I'm not sure where to even begin with my questions. 
Mark: "I get it. I won't take 25 years to respond."

Me: "So separated from a marriage or a committed relationship? [because separation is a marriage word. Like separated from a marriage. It's a marriage word]
Also me: "How long had you been together? Had you always been poly? *Poly when not separated [that is]

What I'm about to type is where I just felt like I couldn't breathe right. I still kind of feel that way. I'll explain why after I type this. Or this might be self-explanatory. 

Mark: "Separated from a marriage. Together way too fuckin long lmao (smiley face). 13? 14? Years. I got married at 19. 
Poly had been a recent thing because situations didn't allow us to have as much time together as we needed."

*cue all the feels* 

Me: "Do you still live together? How did poly work out for the both of you? Like actual relationships outside of that or just casual fwb type of relationships? What was your intention with me?"

Mark: (nothing)

I'm still having a hard time breathing when I read those words. 

Here's why: CONSENT.

I didn't know. I legitimately didn't know. I did my job. I did what I was supposed to do: I asked the right questions. I looked him up. I did my investigating. I gave myself the go ahead to let him into my world. 
Had I known? I would have NEVER matched with him or started anything in the first place. I am not a poly person. I am very much into monogamy. It's my own preference because I know myself. Sometimes I really wish I could do the poly thing because I know that self-actualization doesn't come from one person. I also know, through my #adventuresindating, each man had some great qualities. If only I could have taken those and put them into one dude. Which I know isn't possible. I can't get the words out of my head and through my fingers and onto the screen here. I have a perfect way of summing it up, but it's not coming out right now. 
Even if it was a poly thing with Mark, it wasn't ethical at all. All parties involved are supposed to know and be okay. CONSENT, MAN. 
Antyway, I'm tired. I'm angry. I'm sad. I'm hurt. 
I didn't know. I wasn't even given a motherfucking choice here. I feel so conflicted. I have so many fucking feelings, and they are just swirling and rampaging around inside of me right now. I can't just grab one and say, "This is EXACTLY what I'm feeling." It's not working that way. 

NOTE AGAIN: I'm not angry, sad or hurt over the whatevership. He's lost me. He lost me a while ago. Which is fine. 
It's that I had my agency stripped from me. I didn't have the chance to make a choice. I would have never chosen this in a million years. Ever. I think he knew that too. 
I know he knew that. 
I know he knows that. 
He had every fucking opportunity to tell me. 
He didn't. 
14 years of marriage. 
14. Years. 
Of. Marriage. 
He just casually left that out because that's something you can just avoid in the hopes that it won't come back to bite you in the motherfucking ass. 
Married. He is Married. 
Am I explaining why I'm so upset well enough? Because I don't know. 
My choice was stripped away. I would never do this. Ever. Married people, even separated, are so off limits. Poly people are off limits for me. I want more than what they are able to give when they are in a married relationship already. I can't do it. I wouldn't do it. I want a certain future and freedom.

I am not okay with this. 
I need a hug. 
I need to see my therapist. 
I need a Valium. 
I need some sleep. 
I need to cry. 

Married.  

You know what insidious feeling is creeping into my soul right now? 
Shame. I feel shame. This has got to be my fault somehow. I missed so much. I should have picked up on this when he was being so hedgey. Maybe I expected him to be dating other people. I did. I thought that was it. I never in a million years thought it would be 14 fucking years of marriage. 14 years. 14. I got sort of involved with someone who was married. Or involved? What is it even?
I feel shame. 
I am ashamed. 
I'm also mad as hell. 
 

Fear.

I'm afraid.
Of rejection.
Of feeling things.
Of vulnerability.
Of liking someone more than they might like me. Or thinking they do at least.
So I hide.
My feelings.
Guarded. I am so fucking guarded.
Im constantly watching for signs that confirm that I'm being rejected. Constantly. Because it's happened so fucking much. So I just assume that it's going to happen. So I keep my distance, or I retreat into myself.
Then I battle. With my thoughts. Knowing that I'm feeding my confirmation bias. Knowing that I'm feeding into that lie that I'm too much or not enough.

I had an awesome date with someone last night...and into today. Yeah, that's right. I stayed over on the first fucking (lol) date. Yo, it was awesome. He is awesome. Real. No bullshit. It's refreshing. He's like... available.

As y'all may know, unavailable men have been my thing because they're safe. But it's also heartbreaking. I'm used to that kind of heartbreak though. I'm used to that particular kind of rejection.
But that from someone who is actually available? I don't know. That feels different somehow.
So here I am. Sitting at the aquarium typing out this gahtdamb blog post. Confronting my shitty thinking, trying not to panic and replay everything that happened in the last 18 hours, searching for signs that confirm that I'm being rejected. Or that there isn't something to explore with this person.

What's especially scary? Being seen. Shit. Being seen is a huge deal for me, but it's also, like, unnerving. Being an Enneagram 4, being understood and seen is both the most thrilling and most terrifying thing ever.

So I had a date last night. It went really, really well. I like this guy. I hope I see him again.
I have to get over this fucking fear.
Of being too much.
Of rejection.
Of all the lies that I've believed in the past.
Getting past this thing. Trying to sift through things, looking for any and all signs or indications that I'm going to be rejected, and the trying to get out ahead of it. This, self-sabotaging. I can be good at that sometimes. Self-sabotage. Oof. I'm like an expert.
But I'm confronting it all head on.

*Note: All puns are intended. I own that shit.

What In The Fuck Am I Doing Part 2

December 20th update: I'm changing my mind regarding the sex on the first date thing. That's okay too. I think it just has to be with the right person. With everyone else so far? That hasn't been it. At all. Looking back, even though it's only been two months (y'all so much can happen in such a short fucking time!), none of these people were the right people. I already felt hesitant with them from the beginning. Well, everyone except Mark, but that's no longer a thing (he didn't necessarily ghost, but became unavailable because of a thing that came up. I still don't know what that thing is, and I don't know that I ever will now. That's okay. I wish him well in life. I'm not really feeling that I lost out on something anymore).
Also, can we talk about the shaming and weirdness that happens when someone chooses to have sex on the first date. Like the rules and regulations surrounding that. The games. What if I want to? What if the guy does NOT shame me or think less of me for doing that with him. If I wasn't okay with it, I wouldn't be doing it. But I've had some people tell me if I want a relationship, don't do it on the first, it's the third date thing. I say fuck that shit. That's game playing.
Additionally, what if that wasn't THE (having sex on the first date) main determining factor of whether a relationship would begin or not?
Some of this comes from purity culture. Some of it comes from how society views men and women and their respective expressions of their sexuality. Some of this comes from even my own insecurity.
But I don't think I need to worry about this anymore. I think these messages are bullshit.
Okay so another thing here. We told are that we can't trust ourselves--we can't make our own decisions. This was a thing I constantly ran into when I was a Christian, but it's pervasive outside of Christianity too. This is interesting to me. But I also shouldn't be surprised. Because this is the message that women get: we are not aloud to make our own decisions, to trust ourselves, and to trust our bodies. To even trust other people.

 So what in the fuck am I doing now?

Trusting myself. That's what I'm doing. I'm going to take a chance and trust another person. This is really, really difficult for me. I think I need to though. 

Edit: What in the fuck am I doing?
Moving forward. In many ways. I got a second job, and I absolutely love it.

These what in the fuck am I doing moments have been brought to you by the end of NaNoWriMo, realizing that I am a bad-ass bitch (You better work. Thank you, RuPaul), and realizing that I lost my way again.
NaNoWriMo brought a whole lot of things out of me. As I threw myself into developing my main character, I realized that she is, in a way, an extension of me. Of course that meant that I was writing some hard truths I didn't necessarily want to face; however, I did. It was revealing. I needed it though.

I'm going back to school this semester. I changed my major to sociology with a minor in psychology. Who is surprised by that? I certainly am not.

I kiiiiiiind of want to see if I can complete my degree before my brother gets through his. A little competition. I haven't told my family that I'm going back to college. I've told my mom, dad, and my friends. That's it.

The last things I want to say in this post: I accomplished so much, I did so much work, only to get a little bit off course again. I'm back now.

I'm a little bit blown away by how life can change in such a short period of time. But it can.

NaNoWriMo. Or, What Did I Just Get Myself Into?!

What have I gotten myself into?
Last week, in the comments on a Facebook post about writing, one of my friends told me about National Novel Writing Month. Intrigued, I searched the net to see what this NaNoWriMo business was all about because I had never heard of it before. Turns out? It’s kind of a big deal, and there are lots and lots of people who participate in this crazy project.
What is it? During the month of November, people take on this massive project of writing a 50,000 word novel. So starting at 12:00 am on November 1st and ending on November 30 at 11:59 PM. It is preferably a fiction novel. There are WriMo Rebels who do choose to go the nonfiction route, and I seriously thought about doing that because I do want to eventually write a memoir or two. Like essay formats (which I think I’ve mentioned before). But fiction?! LOL! That’s cute. I haven’t written anything fiction-y in years. Years!
But why not? What do I have to lose here? I’m in between classes right now. Speaking of which, so I found out that, even though I’m technically in the advanced writing specialization course, I still have to reapply for financial aid when I want to move to the next course. *eye twitch* Y’all, it’s a good thing I can write super compelling essays and shit. I rocked that financial aid app, and I will do it three more times over the next several months.
Antyway, I will be taking on this novel writing endeavor; I am writing a fiction novel. I’M WRITING A GAHTDAMB FUCKING NOVEL, Y’ALL. HOLY SHIT. *taking a moment to freak out*
Like I just can’t get over the awesomeness of this decision and project. What better way to usher in my 31st year of life, right?
I began my 30th year of life changing my life. Now I’m doing it again. I think this is going to be my 30s. Well, at least the first half.
While excited, I’m also anxious and scared. I haven’t had to create a main character in a long time. I have to figure her out (MC will be a woman). I have my plot out, and it seems like that might have been the easy part in all of this. Developing my character has been a whole nother thing; however, I think it’s going to be easier than I think. See, I am good at free writing. I might have a topic in mind, like I did tonight, but then my brain just goes, my fingers go, and I create something that morphs into its own beautiful thing. I do believe that this novel is going to turn out the same.
One of the hardest parts in this, other than developing my main character, will be putting away my editor self. I have been told I will want to edit the shit out of this book; however, that completely defeats the purpose of this project. That is for later. The point is to just write my ass off. There are several methods that work for people, and, when the 1st rolls around, I will see what works for me. But this inner editor? When we’re working on this project? She has to shut the fuck up and sit the hell down. We can edit AFTER NaNoWriMo is over. We did decide on a compromise though: I can edit my essays when the second part of the writing class starts, and i can edit my blog posts (yes, I will still be blogging through this whole gahtdamb project...because I need an outlet). We just gon’ write.
Tonight, my intention was to come home to prep for the month. That didn’t happen. I went with my aunt and cousins to make food for the guests at the Ronald McDonald house. It WAS a nice change of pace, but I’m now freaking out about all of the stuff I want to do; however, do I really NEED to do all of the things I think I need to do? Well, yes, some. If I was really going to go crazy, I would take my ass up the highway to the maze that is IKEA to get my Kallax desk/shelf system thing. I have been eyeing that thing for nearly two years now.
Also, okay, here’s a thing, so why do the guys seem to message me at the same time? I swear to Black Jesus this happens all the time: either SB will message me and then Mark will (he’s still a thing...maybe). Or the other way around. I’m not even kidding! This really happens. It just happened while I was sitting here typing this.
Antyway, back to my prep, I want that desk. I feel like my life will change if I have that desk. It’s not even that expensive, honestly. It does require *some* assembly, and it also requires wall anchoring. Both of which I completely do not know how to do. I don’t have the fortitude or skill (yet) to put shit like that together! Maybe I can get SB to do it and hang up my pictures. Dude is SUPER handy.
What I’m going to do instead is use what I have on hand for now. I have a folding table, and I’m going to set that up as my writing table. I do have to get a chair that isn’t a stool, but that will be an easy thing to do. I want to get a bulletin board and a dry erase board. Both of those, however, do require wall hanging. I’m going to get a dude over here, that’s for sure. So while I have this grand vision for my personal writing/craft/schoolwork space with that gahtdamb IKEA shelf/desk, it’s just noth that practical right now. I will eventually get there. Maybe that will be one of my halfway point rewards? I think that’s a great idea, actually.
Oh, I was also going to mention something about my new notebook. While I was working today, I realized that I can’t always access my writing website to add ideas and shit. I then realized that having a bunch of notecards, while a great idea, is not exactly practical either. Hello, can we say lost? The solution? A little pink notebook that will easily fit in my purse. I feel like this is a necessary writer’s tool for me as I will be able to whip it out and write down whatever is coming to mind when it comes to mind. Or something like that. It is really comforting to know that it’s going to be there, and I can jot down my ideas without losing them in some way.

Well, here I go. I’m going to write a motherfucking novel.
I’m doing it.

I Can't Remember Happy Moments

I am working my way through "The 52 Lists Project: A Year of Weekly Journaling Inspiration" by Moorea Seal.
Y'all I have had this book for over a year now. For the longest time, I just let it sit in a random basket in my room. Then I got it out to fill out List 1: List your goals and dreams for this year. Fair enough, I was ready to do that. I was on my new med combination, feeling awesome about myself, going through therapy, and really wanting to get life started for myself. Maybe I have had this book for like a year and a half because bowling better, or taking lessons, was on my goals and dreams for the year list.
Antyway, I let this book sit around for a while because I just thought that I could organize this all in my head. I went back to it recently, and I looked at that first list. Some things I had actually accomplished! First, setting up my second bedroom; it is now the guinea pig room. Second, making my house my house: I have two pictures haphazardly hanging on the wall in my living room. Sitting on my living room side table I have a weird-ass little dried out horseshoe crab named Simon, a weird-ass bird statue, a bowl of stones and crystals, and an abalone shell with some sage. My house is now invite company over two days out and the house will be company-ready by then. As opposed to planning a month in advance.
I'm feeling especially thoughts and feels right now. I'm really trying find my way back to myself because I feel like I got so caught up in the #adventuresindating thing that I lost sight of who I was becoming before that. It totally took over my life! That was not my intention at all. Now that I've come to this realization, I am doing something about it.
First, I am actually working through this list project book. I have filled out some lists already, and I'm in the process of reevaluating my goals for the year. See, my year starts in November because my birthday is in November. So November to November is my year. I'm starting with List 1, which is technically supposed to be a winter list, because, well, this is where I just gahtdamb want to start. I'm a grown-ass woman and can do whatever the hell I want. But, yeah, November to November. Except that I did technically start doing this last week. Or two weeks ago. Whatever. That doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm doing this. This morning, I erased the yearly goals I had written down a year and a half ago because they've changed. I have a different perspective, a different outlook on life, and I have different goals that I now want to achieve. I will be working on that one today and tomorrow.

Second, I'm going to write about it. Yes, I'm going to write about my lists. I think it's important to help me process it (Y'all, my stomach is growling hardcore right now. I'm hungry AF) because I process my feels and emotions out loud. Listen, do you know how hard it is to face some of these lists?! Um, it's really fucking hard.

Which brings me the actual topic of my post today (how's that for a transition, eh?).

List 3: List The Happiest Moments of Your Life So Far.

Y'all, I'm struggling with this one. I have skipped this one for two weeks now. I keep looking at it and coming up empty. I even wrote above the title, "Why can't I remember?!" What is my brain doing to me here? Or is it my own doing?
The "Take Action" part says it all, really. "Sometimes it's easy to forget all of the wonderful things that have happened in our lives..." No shit.
So here's my theory: every good memory I might have is not remembered as a pure, happy moment anymore. It has been muddied with the events that happened after because it always seemed like there were some consequence or price to pay for those happy moments. Or those happy moments happened with people I fell out with. Or who are no longer here. I am having a really difficult time zeroing in on the actual happy. Or I just don't remember them altogether. Is that a trauma response? Some of these things happened in what seems like my past life. Are they still happy moments if they happened when I was still a Christian? Or when I was still so fucking naive? Is it okay to list those moments? I just feel like all of them are tinged with a "then the other shoe dropped" narrative. Or whatever.

There has been a lot of pain in my life. Sometimes I can't see past it, but List 3 is going to help me get there, and I'm going to get through this happy moment existential crisis. So many crises right now. But they aren't, like, holding me back this time. I'm just working through them as they come up.

A Woman Has Some Questions

Okay so tell me this:

Is it unreasonable for me to not want to have sex on the first date, or whatever the fuck you call online meet-ups nowadays.
This is not unreasonable. Why is this a thing? Why am I feeling, like, crazy for wanting to set this boundary. Why do I feel crazy for saying, "No." Even if I have wanted to have sex. But after having sex on the first whatever-the-fuck-you-call-it with a couple of guys, I don't like it.
Also, figuring out that this is a determining factor as to whether a relationship of some sort moves forward or not? Heeeelllll to the no. That's so much pressure. I don't want that. At all.
This is okay. I have to keep telling myself that this is okay.
I feel like this has maybe already cost me a relationship, but if that's the case then that wasn't something I needed, right?
Why am I even questioning this?
Is it crazy for me to have a standard of respect? Like respecting me is taking me on a couple of dates, see how things go, and then ASK/DISCUSS when we are ready to have sex. That's what I want.
I have a hard conversation ahead of me with Freckles. It's not going to end well, I don't think. I think that he will probably assume that I've been leading him on or something.
But I haven't been. I'm allowed to change my mind. I'm not obligated to him or anything. My, "WHAT IN THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, DEANDRA?!" moment is really, truly making an impact.
Setting boundaries is one of those things.
I'm basically doing a 180.
But that's okay.
Right?
This is hard. Not because I don't know what I want; I do. It's because I know what I want, and the way this is going is not it. The way this whole dating thing has been going is not it.
This is just not it.
And that's okay.
Right?

SB

I'm not quite sure why I keep talking about someone giving SB a run for his money.
Because, really, SB is kind of in a whole nother category or a whole nother level. Because stuff and things.
SB is SB.
There is no other way to explain it, and I'm going to stop trying to do that in my adventures in dating blog posts.
Which doesn't necessarily mean that I will stop talking about SB, but he won't be compared to anyone anymore.
He's kind of one of my favorite people, and it is what it is.
I guess I'm writing this because I just wasn't sure where we stood. I didn't know where things were going, and I didn't know if he was going to be around. Or what would happen if I started dating someone. But I'm pretty at peace in our whatever-ship now. He's not going anywhere, and I'm not going anywhere. We're just kind of...here. I guess I just needed to know that. Now that I do, things are okay.

What in the Fuck Am I Doing?

So the job thing right? Just applying for that job helped me see where I wanted to be in life. Who I want to be, who I want to surround myself with, and what I want to be doing. This is not it.

This weekend I was supposed to be hosting Freckles, one of the dudes that I have been talking to since June. The end of June. Let that sink in, okay? Here's why: I haven't met him in person yet. In fact, out of all of the guys that I have continued talking to (also just fucking talking to?!?! Still), I have only met one: SB. Well, except for Ben, but we'll get to that later. Antyway, Freckles was supposed to come over this weekend; however, as the weekend got closer and closer, I was needing to know details and specifics. Like, when was he going to come over: what day? What time? You staying over night, bro? You staying more than one day, or the whole weekend? I didn't think it was unreasonable to ask these questions. 

The response that I got did not make me happy at all. Freckles hadn't really thought about it because life. I then asked if he was coming over at all? Probably not until he got over whatever life was dealing him at the time. Y'all? I know life gets crazy. I KNOW. I know. I know. I know. However, I had set aside this weekend to spend with him. I felt really just disrespected because this month I really don't have a whole lot of time to give unless it's during the week. I had the time, and it was blown; dismissed. (Enter other words). 

Freckles and I have talked every day since we started talking back in June. Which means we kind of check in with each other: How are you today? I always go into more detail about how I am, but from him I usually just get an, "I'm okay." But this week I was asking the typical how are you doings, and was getting a, "Life sucks response." I asked what was going on, and I would get an, "It's too much to text." response. Which I followed up with an, "I'll call you later then." I called a few times this last week, and my calls went unanswered. Then, to top that off, I would get a simple text later just saying, "Hi" 

Y'all, I tried to communicate. This is why I was so upset and feeling super disrespected: he had every opportunity to talk to me earlier in the week. Every. Opportunity. To tell me what was going on. He didn't. I got angry. I TRIED TO COMMUNICATE! I TRIED TO GET HIM TO COMMUNICATE. I got nothing.

Even now, as I'm sitting here typing this, which is also why I just decided to say,"Fuck it, it's going on da blog." I am fuming because he called me while I was at my aunt's house watching the first half of the Chiefs game. I called back, and I didn't get an answer. Here in a little bit, I'll get a, "Hi"

So what am I doing?

All of the splendid plans I turned down this weekend? Didn't end up happening anyway. I tried to not let this ruin my weekend, but it kind of did anyway. 

In all of this I'm thinking: We have had MULTIPLE opportunities to meet since June. I could have gone to KC so many different times, but he was waiting until he got his car fixed to come see me. To do what? What are we doing? What is the fucking point of this? Where is this going? What happens after we meet for the first fucking time? It's not like he lives a whole nother state away. Black Jesus Christ, he's just over in KC. 

So is one of the other dudes who I've been talking to since the end of June as well. For fuck's sake. He just lives over in KC. I've tried to meet up with him so many different times too. 

Remember when I said I'd get to Ben? Here goes. 

I thought Ben and I were pretty much finished. I'm not crazy about him. We fooled around twice, and he slept over once. I was not a fan, really. However, he always seems to contact me when I'm especially feeling, I'll just say it, horny. It has been like clockwork. At the beginning of last month and this month he has messaged me out of the blue. I'll entertain it for a while because I'm really, really, really thirsty (or I really want to have sex). So it's a mutual using of each other over IG messenger. Earlier this week, Ben asked me when I was coming to see him. Still planning for Freckles to come over, I told him I didn't know, but I was going to try to maybe work him in my schedule depending on my plans with Freckles. When Freckles cancelled, I debated hard about whether or not to contact Ben for some readily available sex. Honestly, y'all, this makes me feel sick. Like, I have a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach that just makes me feel...yeah, a bit nauseated. 

Am I really that person? Is that who I want to be? Is this loving myself? I don't feel like I'm loving myself here. 

I don't feel like I'm self-loving in any way, shape, or form here. 

So my question to myself: Deandra, WHAT IN THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?

What am I doing? I'm not trying to shame or guilt myself, but I am trying to get my own attention. 

This evening I have been wrestling with all of this shit as I've been listening to both of Jes Baker's books, "Things No One Will Tell Fat Girls" and "Landwhale". (I finished the first one and started listening to the other one)

Jes got to the part in of "Things No One Will Tell Fat Girls" where she talks about being worthy of love as a fat babe. She says, after a breakup that a loveless relationship wasn't something she deserved. She goes on to say, "In that moment I made an agreement with myself that I was worthy of total and complete love without changing anything for anyone. I wasn't going to change my morals, ethics, views on happiness...and most of all, I wasn't going to change my body." I've forgotten to love me. To love my body. I forgot my worth, and I considered myself lucky to have all of this attention. 

This led to my WHAT IN THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, DEANDRA? moment. 

I'm out. I am a bad-ass bitch. A fat babe. I am amazing. I am worthy. I am worthy of good, healthy love and happiness. I DESERVE a healthy relationship with myself, and I deserve to find that with another person. These people aren't cutting it. 

I DON'T DESERVE THIS SHIT. I am worth SO much more than this. 

What am I going to do? I'm going to love myself, and I'm going to say exactly what I need to say.

Taking Chances 2

I suppose that I could be sad right now. Or disappointed.
I didn't get the job that I applied for at work, and my supervisors let me know today. I knew that they had been working really hard to make a decision because, y'all, the meetings they had late last week and early this week? A lot. Like, because I just pick up on shit, I knew it was related to the positions I applied for.
So, yeah, I didn't get it. But I'm really okay with that. I did get some really great feedback from both supervisors though, and that was the best part of this experience. I don't have a college degree, but I can take classes that work will pay for that will make up for the lack of a college degree. A lot of these classes, especially when going for a designation of some sort, are very much like a college course. Or as rigorous. I was strongly encouraged to keep working on those. They told me I interviewed really well, I am great at what I do, great with consumers, and that they see how inquisitive and intelligent I am. They appreciate that. Again, I was incredibly thankful for the feedback. Because now? GOALS.
I want to go back to school to get a sociology degree with a minor in psychology.

Y'all I'm unconventional in so many ways. However, it's not a weakness or a flaw, but it's part of what makes me a badass woman. It also surprises people. I like surprising people and defying stereotypes. I'm good at that. (Which also plays right into my Enneagram 4 need to be unique).

I took yet another chance this month: I decided to take an academic writing class. The policy examiner position requires a lot of written correspondence, and I need to improve that skill. I like to write, and I can write. However, I don't necessarily do well writing without personality. Or it's hard to keep my personality out of what I write. Even if it's for work. It just feels so, so...wrong to be that formal. This class was supposed to cost something, but I wrote a very compelling and passionate essay. I started off saying that I just couldn't afford it or accrue new debt (which is true). But then I started thinking about money and higher education. Why should money stand in the way of someone getting an education? People want and need to learn. They want an education. Lack of financial resources should NEVER get in the way of education and learning. EVER. I really do strongly believe this, and I hope that someone somewhere with power read what I wrote. Because of that I got a scholarship, and I'm really excited to work my way through this project. Not only will it improve my formal writing for business related matters, but it will also help me get through my college comp classes. So there's that.

Adventures in dating time: I'm not sure what in the actual fuck I'm actually doing here anymore. I had the opportunity to be a casual sex partner late last month, but I just couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger, so to speak. I couldn't. While I wanted (and still do) to have sex so badly, I just couldn't bring myself to be just a fuck buddy. For me, it's not loving or honoring myself because I now know I need connection. I want to connect with someone I care about and who cares about me. More than what I can do for them, to them, and more than something purely physical. I'm more than my body, and I don't want to use my body in that way. That's okay. I'm realizing: that. is. okay.
I'm struggling here though. I'm not waiting around for SB. I've told SB this. I've also told him he is one of my favorite people in this world, and therein also lies my struggle.
But I have to keep moving forward, right?
I have options. I really should explore those. But it makes me feel a bit sick. Because what if I do move forward? What happens to SB? I don't like the idea of him not being in my life. Which scares me. I don't want to feel that way about someone without knowing that they feel the same way about me. Been there, done that, and do not want to do that again. Where do I go from here? Do I have to answer these questions right now? No.
My anxiety is high, and the struggle to not react out of that anxiety is so FUCKING real! I had to meditate three times throughout the night last night. I slept some, but I would wake up feeling a bit panicky. My anxiety brain is screaming at me to act! RIGHT NOW!! Reason is telling the anxiety brain to chill the fuck out, and sit the hell down. It's okay. I don't have to make a decision right now. Give things time. It's okay.
There is one other guy, Mark. Maybe. It's kind of waning, and I'm still trying to figure that one out.
The thing about Mark and SB? They get me. Like I've felt comfortable enough to just be fucking honest with these two, and the world didn't end.
I am enough on my own, and I'm okay on my own.
I just want presence.
 

Taking Chances

I don't like cliches so I'm not going to use the one about taking chances.

I have to take chances though. I spent most of my twenties in fear to step out and take control of my life. Fear because I didn't want to step out of the will of God. I was led to believe that I needed to wait for him to reveal his will to me, and then I could act on that and move forward with his blessing. So I was waiting. Always waiting. I was told it was good and right to wait. 
I'm tired of fucking waiting, y'all. But that fear is still a problem for me. I'm still cautious, and sometimes that really is a good thing. Sometimes I do need to heed that caution, and then I don't. I can be a little reckless when I get really restless when I'm tired of waiting. LET'S MAKE THINGS HAPPEN RIGHT NOW!!
Antyway, so waiting has been my thing. I have been stagnant. Until this year. This 30th year of my life has been one long adventure, you know? It started with something kind of simple. I decided that I was no longer going to feel unwelcome at my own family gatherings, and took off to go to the Omaha Zoo on Thanksgiving--it also happened to be my birthday weekend. It was my birthday present to myself, but it was more than just going to the zoo. It was my act of defiance that was my real present.
After that? I made myself vulnerable to the world. Vulnerability is courage right? The power of being vulnerable.
I've done some other super adventurous things since then. I'm feeling a little (read very) disillusioned, and recognize that I am sort of at a crossroads; another turning point in my life.
I'm feeling that pull to withdraw from the world again. To pull myself back and block out damn near everyone out and everything. I just want to wait for things to happen again. It's safe there; I know that territory. I don't have to make decisions there. I just keep existing instead of LIVING.
But I'm going to keep on keeping on. It's going to be a bit of a struggle. I'm going to have to fight a lot to stay engaged. But bring it on. I have a great support system encouraging me. They are giving me perspective, and checking my bullshit when I need it (even if I don't want it sometimes). I do the same.
So despite wanting to withdraw, I took a leap:
A job in my current division needs to be filled. I have only been at the Insurance Department for 3 years this October. I moved up pretty quickly from the front desk to the consumer assistance division. I've been in the consumer assistance division for nearly two of those three years now. True story: they made me move up into my current job. They saw that I would excel at my current job, and that I really had the potential to do more. They believed in me. (They: my old boss, my current boss, the consumer reps, and the former assistant commissioner. Hell, event he insurance commissioner himself)
With the support and a push from my coworkers, I applied for the consumer representative job. I don't feel very qualified to do it. I don't have the degree, I don't have all of the experience, and I have only been here for two years. I still have SO much to learn in order to do this job. It is on the health and life insurance side of the division though. I just happen to be super passionate about health insurance needs and issues. What might help me? 1. I'm already here. 2. The other H/L reps expect me to be moving into this position. 3. I love to help people. I work so hard to understand people and see them and hear them out. 4. I ask questions. 5. I am on a constant quest to learn all that I can when I can. 6. I am smart. 7. I pick things up very quickly. 8. I do my research.
I procrastinated. But my friend/coworker Nikki (not her actual name) pushed me. I didn't shut down when she did either. She pushed me to follow through. I want this job, but I'm afraid at the same time. I'm afraid to move forward because what if I make the wrong move? What if I'm really disappointed? I have faced so much disappointment in my life that sometimes I do feel justified in just shutting down and existing. But doing that also takes me into really dark territory with my depression and anxiety. Plus, I miss out on life when I do that. I want life.
I got my application in at the last possible moment. I am actually waiting, but it's not passive, give-up waiting.

The other story:
I was going to take another super adventurous leap this weekend. This one might have been more on the reckless end of, "Well, I thought it was a good idea at the time!"  Not *might* it was solidly on the reckless end. The end that will get me into trouble. I'm a sexually deprived mess right now. I really am. I'm sexually frustrated, and I want to have sex right now. But not with just anybody. Sort of.
Because of my sex deprived state, I know that I have to be a leeetle more careful because I am prone to make some stupid and impulsive decisions. LOL. Oh, I made one...that, thankfully, fell through. At the same time I am hurt and angry.
Quick synopsis of what led up to my almost reckless thing. Eliminations happened on the real life bachelorette show that is my life right now. A trio was down to two. One of those relationships is/was rocky. I'm stuck in a waiting game with the other. It's torture. See, I know the paradox here. But, like I said, this is also familiar territory.
Well, I was done fucking waiting. I was going to make something happen, and I put myself back on the dating market. Well, I downloaded the Bumble app again to see who was out there during my two month hiatus from it. Because, y'all, juggling five guys at once is a shit-ton of work. Who am I actually interested in? Who is interested in really pursuing a relationship instead of just a fucking friendship (don't get me started)? Who won't friend-zone me? Who just wants something casual? My, um, frustrated state needed attention. Along comes this dude who got to me through humor and some quality flirting. I cannot tell y'all how quickly that works on me. I hate it.
Dude got to me. He was so blessedly forward. It was SUCH a turn-on. He knew what he wanted (me), and he was going to do what it took to have a fling with me (not in a bad, non-consensual way). I NEED/ED someone like that right now. I was SO down for this too. Because, again, I'm incredibly thirsty right now! We made plans. I worked hard in the days leading up to this event. The day came, I was late getting out of the house to get a few things from the store, and I texted the dude to see if we could push back the time an hour. I still had to go home and take a shower, and do a couple of more things around the house. Immediately after I sent that? He deleted; he just disappeared without a word. I. Was. Fucking. Pissed. Pissed at him. Pissed at myself for letting this happen. I let him in way faster than I should have, and I was being so fucking reckless. However, that was a REALLY shitty thing for him to do. I might have been catfished.
It made me pause though. What was I doing? What am I doing? I need to slow the fuck down, and do some reflecting again.
But I'm tired of feeling like I'm limbo with the two guys that I'm in limbo with. I get so anxious being in this place; I have the potential and tendency to spiral out of control when I feel like I'm in this place. To make decisions that I know I shouldn't be making.
You know what my tarot card was for this last week was? The gahtdamb fucking Hermit. Now I need to sit myself down, check-in with myself, and address the issues that I'm ignoring. Because, y'all let's face it--I'm doing this because I'm ignoring shit instead of dealing with it. I'm either making these reckless decisions or I am eating my feels again.
I'm also feeling some of the darkness of depression trying to slither back in. If all of the above isn't enough, right? There's the depression.

Still. I'm persisting. I want to withdraw, but gahtdamb if I don't need to stay engaged right now. I have to.

Back Like James Brown

It has been about a month since I’ve written something. I’m trying not to be too hard on myself about it. I needed a break apparently? The last post that I wrote was really, really heavy. To write about things such as mental illness, sexual assault, abuse, issues with parents, life struggles, and racism, the journey back through them to write about them is often traumatic I’m thinking. So I withdrew because I was overwhelmed with everything else going on: Family stuff, getting to know a few guys, having sex...(now I’m up to 3 times with 2 different people! Go me!!), buying my own condoms (with my friend Tracy’s help), reading, and trying to keep myself from getting too overwhelmed. I did, and now I’m back like James Brown. Maybe.
There are so many topics that need to get out of my head, and typed on a page. I’m not sure which one to pick right now. It’s so scattered. A few days ago I wanted to talk about race (I really will get to that eventually). But I keep going back to the dating thing. Because that is one of the biggest things that is happening in my life.
I’m not sure what happened, or how it happened, but all of a sudden around a month ago, 5 different guys decided they wanted to get to know me. 5!! WHAT?! HOW?! It still baffles me. I’m learning to accept it though. I have been throwing myself out into the dating world for nearly a year now, and up until a month ago, I had only met 2 people in person: Skunk boy. We officially met in person in February, but started talking back in December. SB, how has it been this long? He’s become an old familiar friend now, and I love that dude. I really do. I am so fond of him, and it makes heart happy. Like as unavailable as he is, he is still there. I’ve tested the limits of our friendship and he’s still here. I’m still like, “HOW?!” I worry about him though. I’m worried about him right now. I just want to see him, give him a hug, and make sure he is okay. Probably feed him too. I now have these like nurturing, protective feels towards him.
The second guy, let’s name him Jenson, we met once not long after the boy slept in my bed, met once, had sex, and then he ghosted. Which I’ve already talked about in a previous post.
Somehow, all of a sudden, maybe because of my give-no-fucks attitude I conveyed through my dating profile: Humans are basically trash, try to convince me otherwise. Check out my ass (because I had a picture with my cousin’s donkey, and one where I was sticking out my clothed ass). Apparently, that was appealing and attractive because I got five guys who were super interested. FIVE! How in the hell?! What in the world?! I don’t understand it, and I’m not trying to. I’m pretty much just letting it happen. I have met three out of the five men. I have banished one to the far ends of the earth (not really. I just told him I wasn’t interested), had covfefe with one (I had lemonade) on two different occasions, and have met one more on two different occasions as well. That last one, Ben, I’ve actually had sex with twice. So I have now had sex a total of 3 times now. That has been interesting. I have figured out that I don’t much care for making out. Touch? Oh my god, touch me everywhere. Making out? Mmmm...not a fan. It’s just...weird. The mechanics of it are...weird. Hm. Maybe with the right person? Who knows. I still want to take SB for a spin (that hasn’t changed, btw).
I still have yet to meet the other two of the five. I talk to one of them every day. I wasn’t so sure about him at first, and felt like I was getting this weird vibe from him. I felt like he was maybe going to be too controlling. Lol, we talked some shit out last weekend, and things have been so different, and he’s really growing on me. Like butterflies in my stomach, get a little turned on different. He’s real. A couple of weeks ago he asked me if I ever thought about getting intimate and whatever with him. I said yeah, but wasn’t that far into liking him yet. I asked him. His answer: “Yeah, I’d have sex with you. We WILL have sex when we meet.” I was actually a little pissed. Like how dare?! It was spoken with such confidence that I was not ready for. Then he called me out on not taking the time to communicate with him. He’s a bit jaded. I got pissed again. I also felt like he was blocking me out. Which I HATE! I just didn’t feel like we were connecting at all. Until two weeks ago when I just laid some shit out because I was just feeling off about this whole thing with him. We got to a place of clarity, and it’s kind of amazing now. He is amazing. I thought he was going to be an asshole, domineering and controlling. Lol! Silly Deandra. He’s not. He’s so with it. HE HAS CATS! HE LOVES CATS. He is super smart. Attractive as hell. Has freckles. Attentive. Is funny. As I’m getting to know him better he’s kind of becoming the front runner.
The original front runner was actually another guy, Corbin But as I’m getting to know him more, and getting closer to what might be an actual relationship the less I am sure about him. I actually thought he was my person. I’m still trying to get some things cleared up with him this week, but I don’t know. It’s almost like he and the guy mentioned above have switched places. I don’t understand it.
But maybe we aren’t as compatible as I originally thought? Or I kind of feel like he’s pushing me away a bit. He won’t stop talking about being an alpha male with a strong personality. He uses these things almost as an excuse, honestly. That bothers me. I’m fluid, and he is more concrete. I think in colors, and he is black and white. I thought we would really complement and balance each other out. I thought I knew that I knew that I knew he was my person. However, when you have to keep talking about how modern women don’t get you because you are an alpha, and they want a weak man that they can change and mold to meet their standards? It’s bothersome. When you start saying shit like that, you make it damn near impossible to actually get to know people for the individuals that they are. Complex, unique, beautiful people (myself. Not being cocky, but truly acknowledging who I am). These are the ways in which I want to describe and be described. Not a term, not a type, and not a box. I know my personality types, but honestly I don’t give two shits anymore. They don’t fully describe or encompass who I really am. They should not be used to excuse us from integrating and growing as needed. I recognize that, and I wish others would too. I am more interested in who an individual truly is. Their values. Their character. Their humor. Their interests. Their beliefs. So I’ve been trying to get that point across, and I think it’s not quite translating how I mean it. It’s being misunderstood.
I am also standing my ground on a few things. I refuse to conform to some things, and I don’t think that is a bad thing. I have worked too hard to be where I am now. I have changed, and I’m still changing. I am learning to take up my space, stand my ground, and not minimize myself for other people. I am getting back to things, like writing, that I thought were gone forever. I am living, and I refuse to let that be robbed from me again. Christianity did that to me. I’ll be damned if I let a relationship do that to me too.
So Freckles started off rocky, and Corbin started off strong. However, they have strangely switched places. I didn’t think that would happen.

Hell of a Week Pt 1

This week has been an interesting week.

Where to begin?

My mom has been in a not so great place for quite some time now. She has a mental health disability, and it is really starting to affect her ability to “function normally” in life.

Last month she found out that the Center for Independent Living (CIL after this) she has been the director of for 2.5 years lost their grant, and had to close their doors by the end of June. She tried to find another way to fund the CIL, but then found out that the reason they really lost the grant was because another CIL had underbid them. The other CIL could provide the services for less money. My mom has been struggling at this job for months and months now, and it’s almost a relief that she’s done with it. It’s a relief that she is getting the fuck out of that town too. It just hasn’t been the best of situations all around.
However, up until Thursday she had no idea where she was actually going to live. It looked like she was going to be homeless. My mom has a huge family. My grandma and grandparents had 10 kids, so my mom has 9 brothers and sisters. Most of them are solidly in the middle to upper middle class, and have so much room in their houses, but nobody was offering to take her in. As if she didn’t already feel like they didn’t give a shit about her, it just reinforced this for her.
See, the thing is? My grandma taught everyone better than that. She always took in family that was struggling, and sometimes that was me and mom, and when my brother came along, me, my brother and my mom. A couple of my aunts lived with my grandma and grandpa, and when he passed, just my grandpa. She took in her brother’s kids for a while. She took in my great aunt Marilyn. Even if they didn’t necessarily have all the room—they made it work. Somehow my grandpa agreed to this all along. So somewhere along the way, her children, though they have helped my mom (I do have to give them credit for that. Most of them have stepped in to, sometimes to the detriment of their own situations, help her monetarily and get moved when we got evicted from a few places). However, being able to actually take her in when she was going to be HOMELESS? I dunno. That’s something I’m absolutely not okay with.
Why is my mom the black sheep? Because she is different. She has never conformed to my family’s standards. One of the biggest points of contention? She has children with black fathers. She married my dad, and was basically shunned from the family. My grandma being my grandma still tried to support her when she could. My aunt and one of my uncles did too. But what she did was absolutely unacceptable to my grandpa and some of the rest of the family. Do you know the names she was called by some of my uncles? Do you know the things they said to her? The things they did to her car(s)? She was a n*gger lover. She married a n*gger. She had a n*gger daughter (me).
She eventually left my dad because he was abusive. That breakup was UGLY. He threatened to never let her see me again. He took me at one point, and wouldn’t tell her where I was for several days. His family was totally complicit in all of that bullshit. I ended up being at a great aunt’s house. She got me back, and got custody of me. I remember when I was a kid spending time with my dad on Tuesdays and every other weekend. Apparently, he tried to get me to call my ex-stepmom mom. I knew who my mom was though.
From what I have heard my mom started going to the Assembly of God church in Meriden, KS when I was 8 or 9 months old. I’ve heard for as long as I can remember that I saved her life because she had to make a change, and that was one of the biggest: God.
At some point my mom was low-key allowed to start participating in family stuff again. I was the constant reminder to the family of her biggest transgression though. Sure, not everyone was overtly racist, and overtly against her. The ones who wielded the power though? You bet. There were instances, short clips in my memory reel here and there, where my aunts (the in-laws) and uncles not letting me play with their kids. One specific time, I was playing with one of my cousin’s and her mom pulled my cousin away from me, telling her she wasn’t allowed to play with me. My mom “caused a scene,” confronting that aunt right there in my other uncle’s yard. She was not supported, and was told she was overreacting. We left shortly after that.
 I remember my grandpa, even though we lived with him and my grandma, not speaking to me until I was around 5 years old. I don’t remember the actual moment when it changed. Maybe after I was sexually assaulted by my daycare lady’s 16 year old son when I was 5? That daycare lady was hateful. Hateful. She forced me to do stuff I didn’t want to do though my mom told her that I had issues with certain things (for real, not a being spoiled thing, but a thing that my family had already tried and got, and, um, figured out I couldn’t handle them—certain foods and other shit), would get punished when the thing my mom told her would happen, and her husband was handsy. I could see my house from the daycare lady’s house as it was just up the hill from our house. I saw my grandpa out there almost every day with my cousin, T. He was basically mentoring T. I remember seeing them in the yard, and wanting so badly to run down there; run away from that hell that was that daycare. I wish I would have done that now. I wish my grandpa had loved me enough at that point, to take care of me then too. I wish he had understood and heeded my mom’s warning that she didn’t like this daycare lady, and wanted to keep in my previous daycare. But no. He didn’t, and insisted that I go to that daycare up the hill where something happened that changed my life forever. I have never forgotten what my the daycare lady’s son did to me. Sometimes my brain will block it out, and sometimes I’ll just randomly remember almost every detail. I was 5.
My mom has had mental health issues all of her life, but she would throw herself into stuff so much that it wouldn’t really be much of a problem. I mean there was still the bouncing around from place to place. Her trying to live on her own, not being able to make it as a single mom, and then going back to live with my grandparents; which resulted in me switching schools every two years or so. The constants in my life though? The AG church fam, and then some members from my actual fam: aunt Penny, uncle Curt, uncle Craig and aunt Nancy, Craig and Nancy’s kids, my grandma, my great aunt Marilyn, and eventually my grandpa.
When my mom started her downward spiral? My grandpa was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. She threw herself into work and church even more so than she already was. I remember as my grandpa was getting sicker waiting and waiting for her to come home until way past my bedtime. My grandma would constantly catch me, and tell me to go to sleep. My room faced the front of the house, and I would watch lots of night, waiting to see her headlights pull into our cul-de-sac. She couldn’t cope with my grandpa’s inevitable departure.
I will take a moment to say, that when my grandpa found out he had cancer? Everything between him, me, and my mom changed. I didn’t have long enough with him. He was my best friend. He apologized to my mom. His conversion story is really quite ironic, and I can’t explain it any other way than being the Universe: he was led to the Christian God by a black woman. My formerly super racist grandpa was saved by the very type of person he used to have such a hatred towards. I ccan’t explain that away, y’all. There are things I can’t explain, and that is one of them.
To get back to my mom’s spiral. As my grandpa’s pancreatic cancer was metastasizing more and more, taking over his body. As he was getting sicker, and closer to his death, my mom was staying out later and later. My brother was conceived on my dad’s birthday in January of 1998, and she found out she was pregnant the day my grandpa died only a few short months later in March. The family didn’t find out until the summer of 1998. That started the shunning once again. My brother’s father is black. He was born in October of 1998, and he wrecked my bus. I had been an only child for nearly 11 years, and I was NOT happy about his arrival. In the meantime, the AG church found out that she had conceived my brother out of wedlock, and was removed as the worship leader. A position she had held for 10 years. Ousted just like that. On top of losing my grandpa, there went her other family of 10 years. She struggled to stay in that church, and we left and went back, left and went back over several years after. She was basically told she would never be the worship leader again...even if she “repented.” I have never met anyone who was so, like, anointed to sing. Y’all my mom is an amazing singer. She doesn’t even sing much anymore, and it makes me incredibly sad. It’s like when that was taken away, so was her her voice.
She never really did deal with her grief of losing any of that, and that triggered some really dark times. She kept spiraling to the point that she lost her job of almost 12 or 13 years. She had a breakdown. That was her first stay at the mental health hospital. I didn’t understand. This triggered my own depression, anxiety, and made my ADHD much worse. Nobody knew how to handle my mom’s mental illness. Nobody recognized mine. Until later. Since then my mom has tried to hold down several jobs. We have bounced around from place to place, staying maybe two years. I stayed in my Christian school the longest, until I was asked not to come back because of my own depression caused me to be nearly truant. What did that look like to the other kids? I fell behind. Mental health was not something that existed. Nobody recognized it, and I didn’t get the help I needed until I was 18 because I tried to commit suicide. But I still thought I needed to pray more, and read my Bible more. That’s what was wrong with both me and my mom. We weren’t trying hard enough. If we just tried harder. However, when my mom didn’t function, neither did I. Whatever happened to her? Fucked me up too.
Her mental illness has once again “won.” She has been evicted 5 or 6 times in the last decade. One of those apartments was rented in my name, that was the first hit to my credit, and the first time I had really had a several thousand dollar debt against my name. A loan was taken out in my name to help us stay there, and it ultimately didn’t help.
She has lost a few jobs in that time as well. The latest casualty was the CIL, but that cannot all be blamed on her mental health disability. When she started as the director there, she was in an okay place. One of her employees let her move in with her to help my mom get on her feet after the previous eviction. It went south really quickly for no other reason than this lady is/was an absolute BITCH (I hate saying this word, but she was the epitome of it), was so incredibly controlling, and extremely passive aggressive. So she told my mom to get out. Thankfully, my mom found the house that she is being evicted from this very moment. She has to be out by tomorrow. With the stress of the job, her depression kicked into high gear. She has zero self-esteem, and feels like such a loser and failure for once again going through this process. It seems like almost everything reinforces the things she believes about herself. But I think she will be able to find some respite and help in the next few months.
Because.
Like I said above, she was looking at being homeless because nobody was going to take her in. Until family member’s stepped in at the last minute. The situation, and where she is going to live, is very poetic and ironic. I can’t say where because there’s an anonymity aspect to it. But just know it’s super ironic, and, maybe, the Universe really does look out for people sometimes?

This is Part 1 of my week.

That One Time I Tried to Buy Condoms

I was supposed to have a “date” on Saturday with, let’s call him, Dane. Dane actually wanted to come over on Friday, but I had, like, laundry everywhere and the kitchen was a mess. I had also been trying to decide if I was going to the Oklahoma Aquarium in Tulsa to see my second most beloved kind of shark, the Bull Shark. Also, you get to touch white-spotted bamboo sharks and small stingrays there. Um, win. So. I said, “Uuuuummmmm, can we do Saturday instead?” He said yeah, but I had agreed to send him booty pictures in the meantime. Whatevs. They weren’t naked booty pictures. I also kind of hate calling my ass a booty—unless it’s ironically. I’ll sing it in a song (“Booty, booty, booty, booty rockin’ everywhere,”), but I do not actually refer to other people’s asses or butts, let alone my own, as a booty. IDK, it’s like calling underwear “panties.” CAN YOU NOT?! I don’t like those words. Like the word “moist.” The only time “moist” should be used is if you are talking about brownies or cake. Meat is tender or juicy, cake or brownies are moist, and there is moisture in the air. There we go. Also, unless you go commando, you wear underwear.
Antyway, as much as I wanted to go on this “date,” I also really, really wanted to go to the aquarium.
Oh, I should also mention that my mom found out that Dane was coming over to my house on the first “date.” She asked me, “What if it got sexual?!” I said, “Well...if it does it does!” That was NOT the right thing to say, apparently. Drama ensued, my brother got involved, he called me to scold me (“What in the FUCK did you do, Deandra!? You know how our mom is!” I hadn’t done anyone yet...see what I did there?)  my mom called him to figure out what was going on, tried to call me 5 different times, and then my brother did damage control. Guess what that did? Made me double down. My mother raised some seriously stubborn, sarcastic, witty, talented, competitive, kind, and asshole children. We can be a paradox sometimes. But, seriously, I am a grown-ass woman, y’all. I’m 30 fucking years old. I can understand safety, but, girl’s got needs, and safety is at the top of my list! So, “I’m a safety girl.” I know I didn’t know this guy, but at that point he got me feeling some sort of way, and I was going to Get. It. On. That was my plan.
Dane flaked out on me. To be fair, I was actually going to make tacos so it wasn’t all about the “date” part. Still tossing around the idea of going to Tulsa, or at least go to KC to TJ’s, I did rent a car for the weekend. As soon as I noticed the first signs of flakiness, it was settled: I was going  driving down to Tulsa.
Before going to Tulsa, I had done some research to see which restaurant I should try out. Because, apparently, I have started this thing in which I have to try Thai restaurants when I go to a different city. It started in Omaha, and I suppose, subconsciously, it has now become an official thing. So I researched Thai restaurants in Tulsa. Y’all. Y’ALL. I am so fucking spoiled up here in Topeka, KS because our Thai restaurant is amazing (Tuptim Thai in case y’all wanna try it if you live in/around Topeka, or pass through eventually). There were some listed as being the best overall restaurants in the Tulsa area on some travel sites. However, I was really, really disappointed when I looked at their menu.
See, I am a Thai curry snob. The only thing I actually have left to do in my curry quest is to actually make my own curry paste. Which I think I’m going to try before the year is over. While these recipes were “authentic”, and I KNOW that families have different recipes, but they weren’t my Thai restaurant recipes. Or my well-known curry recipes. There were peas in the basic curry dishes on the menus of these Thai restaurants. Peas! Not sugar snaps, not snows, but peas. Um, can we not? Some of them did not even include the proper herbs. Red curry has Thai or holy basil. Pad Kee Mao has Thai or holy basil. Red curry has bamboo shoots and bell peppers. Panang has some sort of peanut product in it and kaffir lime leaves. Red curry has a thinner consistency, and more savory. Panang is a thicker, sweeter curry. So when doing my restaurant menu research, I just couldn’t bring myself to eat at any of the restaurants. I would have been one of THOSE customers who asks about the ingredients, and would have tried to customize it, probably pissing off the kitchen.
In case anyone is wondering, I got these recipes from the owners of the Thai restaurant here in Topeka (Sorry, SB, if my curry wasn’t as awesome as I had talked it up. I do make awesome curry, that was not my best batch). So after losing my shit over the bull sharks, and getting my money’s worth out of the place, I broke my fast food fast that I had been on since January. I ate at Whataburger...I should have just gone to one of the Thai restaurants, yo.

The aquarium in general was amazing, and I dunno how many people get to experience the actual joy (I’m talking about knowing, really knowing, about that specific type of shark, and being able to see them up close) of seeing a bull shark pass only inches in front of your face/body. Or having one swim directly towards you? Like, gahtdamb, y’all. It was such a cool experience. I just really love sharks, okay?!

Antyway, at the first sign of flakiness from Dane, I went with my original plan of hightailing it to the aquarium. I do not regret it. I don’t think I would have regretted the “date” either, but I know the aquarium made me happier than I would have been. Because sharks for me are at a whole nother level. I got down there at around 2 PM, spent a few hours at the aquarium, ate dinner, started the drive back around 7 PM, drove through some storms, and was back home before 11PM.
The good thing that did come from all of this though (other than the obvious joy of seeing ma sharks)? If I didn’t have this “date”, my brother was going to take me to the zoo up in Omaha. “I swear to god, Deandra, if you don’t go through with this I WILL take you to the zoo.” As tempting as that was, originally, I was still planning on having Dane come over. Thanks to him flaking out though (if you ever read this, you totally did me a favor!), I get to go the zoo in Omaha sooner than I thought I would (I was planning another trip probably in the fall).

The other thing that happened because of the possibility of the Dane coming over? I realized that I needed to have my own stash of, um, condoms.
On Sunday I went to the store with all the confidence I could muster—which was a lot in that particular moment. I had it planned out: I would march my black ass into the store, go to the aisle that housed the condoms, pick a pack out, and proudly ring them up...at the self-checkout. The reality? I got to the condom aisle after getting a few other things on the grocery side, saw an older lady loitering in front of the cosmetics only a few feet from the section of condoms, lost all the courage and confidence I had walked in the store with, and quickly passed by the thing I actually came over to grab. I then had a rush of old purity culture thoughts fill my brain. Who said it was okay for you to “ho” around? Am I going through a ho phase? That’s wrong, and I’m totally going to be slut-shamed for buying my own condoms! Or get “the look” from that lady checking out the makeup just a few feet away. Holy shit, I can’t do that. They are all watching me buy my own condoms. A woman! This is so wrong, and you shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not okay to be having casual sex! It’s not okay to really be having sex at all because, hello, you’re not married! I walked around for a bit because I needed toilet cleaner. I got that toilet cleaner, and then headed back to try to spend some time, with a little bit of shame on top, looking at the condoms. Thankfully, nobody else was in the aisle. I proceeded to really take a good look at my options. I had never stood in front of the condom section for any length of time before that moment. It was always forbidden, embarrassing, and somewhat shameful. Sex was just off-limits, and to even think about them, to look at them? Would be a slippery slope thing. Like a license to sleep around type of thing. Antyway, so the next thing to add to my anxiety? Which pack of condoms did I even fucking pick?! Do you know how many condom options there are? Lots. But then all of the 3-condom packs were super picked over, but I didn’t want to get a bigger box because: What if they were the wrong ones, yo? Is it possible to make a wrong choice? What if the guy had a latex allergy? Then which one do I get? Do I want ribbed ones? Do I want the extra lubricated ones? Do I want the whatever pleasure ones? Which. Ones. Did. I. Need. To. Pick? I stood there awkwardly trying to work this all out in my head, and I’m sure I had a look of confusion and horror on my face. I had spent enough time there (because what if a person came down the aisle!), and quickly headed to the checkout. Sans condoms, but with a heavy dose of that gahtdamb purity culture shit wreaking havoc inside me: a low-key panic attack.

I tell you, just when I think I’m past it, and I thought I was after the boy sleeping in my bed episode, it pops back up. How much longer am I going to struggle with that? But I also need to be kind and compassionate with myself because this is 20+ years worth of stuff being dismantled in really only less than a year. Because I was committed to not liking dudes until I, 1. Worked through my thing for unavailable dudes. Reminder: that shit’s painful, yo. 2. Working through that purity culture bullshit. However, I threw myself into the dating world (online) back in the late fall, thinking that I had at least worked through number one. Number two was going to take some changing of thought, therapy, and find someone who was patient and understanding. Someone who wouldn’t push me as I reworked this boundary to allow for physical contact, and gave me the respect and space to do that.

On that note: I have not completely wrecked my friendship with SB. Dude, how are you still a thing? How? I mean I’m okay with that, but I just don’t understand. Or maybe I need to stop that whole not worthy of friendship bullshit?
I do plan on writing about my friendship issue thing in the near future.

On another note: I have two dates this week with a couple of guys who are actually taking the time to get to know me, and connect outside of the physical. Tomorrow I have the first date over some covfefe. Saturday or Sunday I have the second date. We’re going to the museum and then bowling. I am looking forward to this, but so nervous because, man. Two dudes, with a possible third that I have yet to meet in person, but am hoping to soon. How is this even happening? It’s raining men right now, and I’m not sure how to navigate it. I need to just get out of my way, and live in the moment though.

Mindfulness and all that shit.

This was supposed to be a shorter post, btw. Yet here we are, 2,100 words later.