On the sad days, when things seem just hopeless. The sunny days when people are out strolling with their loved ones. Kids are out playing with their friends... I go out. I try to do the normal things that people do that look like fun. I try to spend time with the people I should spend time with. I try to laugh. The sad days, like today.
No one calls. The people I should be with are all at their homes. I'm out, buying ice cream for myself. The one phone call that comes in. The only phone call that comes in, when I'm completely drained of all emotional empathy. That call. The one that proves that I'm still alive. I'm still worthy. That call. --It's a pre-recorded message of the blood clinic looking for a donation.
That's the moment in the day that I stop feeling my insides swell with sadness and I want to burst into laughter. I'm completely void of all my giving but at 8:34 on a Sunday night, the blood bank is looking for what's left of me.
Now, shiiiiit. That's funny!
Sunday 4 June 2017
Saturday 4 June 2016
Oh Hey There! When Did You Get Here?
So it's been a while. Things have changed. As time demands.
It's now a few years after my last post. I'm not even sure what my last post was regarding. I'm sure I was complaining about something or other. --I still do that. I try to not be so negative anymore though. I'm not sure if you've ever tried that, but it's fairly hard. At least for this woman it is. I'm grateful though. I don't always show it, but I am. Take right now for instance. I'm tired. My neck hurts. I want to write this but there's a cat who's decided to take over my lap and upper body, making me squish myself into a human pretzel and crane my neck so as not to disturb him. I'm grateful that he trusts me enough to know that I know it's his way or hell to pay... Hahaha!
Let's see... what's new.... what's new.....
I hit my version of rock bottom. I'm not ready to get into details yet but let's just agree that it was rock bottom. -If there is a sub-floor to that rock bottom, I don't want to ever visit it or even know about it. The final realisation that I was at the bottom was right around my birthday in 2014. So, Monday, December 22 of 2014 I agreed to go to the hospital to see my doctor who was usually in on Mondays running a clinic. I thought I was dehydrated. I figured just an IV of some saline solution and I'd be feeling better in no time! I had had a whole battery of tests throughout that year and we were still trying to figure out what was wrong. I was vomiting constantly and could just poke my stomach and puke on demand. It was kind of like an odd party trick that no one really wanted to see. If it wasn't coming out of my mouth it would make a break for it through my lower intestines. I wasn't sure what "it" was, but it was what I likened to an evil gremlin living inside my body. That gremlin was a fucker for months. There was massive weight loss. Total mushy brain (think spaghetti soup being what the building block for thought process would be like and that's what I was "working" with.) There was trouble walking and the very idea of climbing up or down stairs was a workout (trying to figure out how to lift one leg after the other and get from point A to point B without shaking so violently it would cause a tumble.) I was grey. My skin was grey. Grey. --So I must have just been dehydrated, right?
Let me repeat, I was GREY. I had no idea I was grey either. I knew something was wrong but the standard tests throughout the year missed the obvious. The standard tests I went to with my trusty Gatorade bottle in hand (as I was wont to have for so many years prior.) Or got a ride to with my random pop bottles stuffed in the bottom of my purse (as I was wont to have for so many years prior.) Just those few things could have figured it out. Those few things...... times a bazillion things..... full of alcohol.
My insides went on strike. All the puking and shitting and shaking and spaghetti soup and grey colour.... That was the negotiation talks. My physical body was in negotiations with my mental self-worth/deprecation/loathing.
My will is strong.
My body went on strike.
My will is strong.
My body almost didn't bother to hold out long enough to form a picket line.
The day I went to see about being dehydrated is the day I was admitted on the spot. I was told that had I not went in, I would have had maybe two weeks left to live. My liver had given up and shoved all the jobs over to the pancreas. The pancreas got pissed off and was so stressed out, it started to eat its feelings. --Which, by that, I mean it started to eat itself because the booze was just not nourishing enough (or it just didn't particularly like the taste of jagermeister and vodka.) Either way, my body decided it had had enough of me and my ways.
I spent Christmas in the hospital. I was released Christmas night. When I left the hospital I was still under 100 lbs and now had track marks all over my body from the multitudes of IVs that had become extra limbs during the stay. I looked like.... well, I don't know exactly what I looked like, but I'm betting it wasn't especially pretty by most standards.
Anyway, my body was tentatively listening to my self-worth/deprecation/loathing repeating the words of some long-lost versions of myself saying I would do better. These interminable versions called "hope" and "courage."
I'm coming on to a year and a half now since the day I went to the hospital. I haven't had any alcohol since. My body and self-worth are in arbitration and I expect it to be lifetime of hammering out the details. Self-deprecation and self-loathing are still lurking in the recesses but they've been stripped of most of their power. Self-worth is kinda hanging out with Hope and Courage. -The ones that showed up when I had forgotten they had been there all along. The ones before the alcohol ever charmed me. Before the alcohol ever took hold.
Like I said, my will is strong.
--And I'm not ready to talk about it all.... Hahahah!
It's now a few years after my last post. I'm not even sure what my last post was regarding. I'm sure I was complaining about something or other. --I still do that. I try to not be so negative anymore though. I'm not sure if you've ever tried that, but it's fairly hard. At least for this woman it is. I'm grateful though. I don't always show it, but I am. Take right now for instance. I'm tired. My neck hurts. I want to write this but there's a cat who's decided to take over my lap and upper body, making me squish myself into a human pretzel and crane my neck so as not to disturb him. I'm grateful that he trusts me enough to know that I know it's his way or hell to pay... Hahaha!
Let's see... what's new.... what's new.....
I hit my version of rock bottom. I'm not ready to get into details yet but let's just agree that it was rock bottom. -If there is a sub-floor to that rock bottom, I don't want to ever visit it or even know about it. The final realisation that I was at the bottom was right around my birthday in 2014. So, Monday, December 22 of 2014 I agreed to go to the hospital to see my doctor who was usually in on Mondays running a clinic. I thought I was dehydrated. I figured just an IV of some saline solution and I'd be feeling better in no time! I had had a whole battery of tests throughout that year and we were still trying to figure out what was wrong. I was vomiting constantly and could just poke my stomach and puke on demand. It was kind of like an odd party trick that no one really wanted to see. If it wasn't coming out of my mouth it would make a break for it through my lower intestines. I wasn't sure what "it" was, but it was what I likened to an evil gremlin living inside my body. That gremlin was a fucker for months. There was massive weight loss. Total mushy brain (think spaghetti soup being what the building block for thought process would be like and that's what I was "working" with.) There was trouble walking and the very idea of climbing up or down stairs was a workout (trying to figure out how to lift one leg after the other and get from point A to point B without shaking so violently it would cause a tumble.) I was grey. My skin was grey. Grey. --So I must have just been dehydrated, right?
Let me repeat, I was GREY. I had no idea I was grey either. I knew something was wrong but the standard tests throughout the year missed the obvious. The standard tests I went to with my trusty Gatorade bottle in hand (as I was wont to have for so many years prior.) Or got a ride to with my random pop bottles stuffed in the bottom of my purse (as I was wont to have for so many years prior.) Just those few things could have figured it out. Those few things...... times a bazillion things..... full of alcohol.
My insides went on strike. All the puking and shitting and shaking and spaghetti soup and grey colour.... That was the negotiation talks. My physical body was in negotiations with my mental self-worth/deprecation/loathing.
My will is strong.
My body went on strike.
My will is strong.
My body almost didn't bother to hold out long enough to form a picket line.
The day I went to see about being dehydrated is the day I was admitted on the spot. I was told that had I not went in, I would have had maybe two weeks left to live. My liver had given up and shoved all the jobs over to the pancreas. The pancreas got pissed off and was so stressed out, it started to eat its feelings. --Which, by that, I mean it started to eat itself because the booze was just not nourishing enough (or it just didn't particularly like the taste of jagermeister and vodka.) Either way, my body decided it had had enough of me and my ways.
I spent Christmas in the hospital. I was released Christmas night. When I left the hospital I was still under 100 lbs and now had track marks all over my body from the multitudes of IVs that had become extra limbs during the stay. I looked like.... well, I don't know exactly what I looked like, but I'm betting it wasn't especially pretty by most standards.
Anyway, my body was tentatively listening to my self-worth/deprecation/loathing repeating the words of some long-lost versions of myself saying I would do better. These interminable versions called "hope" and "courage."
I'm coming on to a year and a half now since the day I went to the hospital. I haven't had any alcohol since. My body and self-worth are in arbitration and I expect it to be lifetime of hammering out the details. Self-deprecation and self-loathing are still lurking in the recesses but they've been stripped of most of their power. Self-worth is kinda hanging out with Hope and Courage. -The ones that showed up when I had forgotten they had been there all along. The ones before the alcohol ever charmed me. Before the alcohol ever took hold.
Like I said, my will is strong.
--And I'm not ready to talk about it all.... Hahahah!
Saturday 21 July 2012
Maybe I should take up boxing
I sit here. 40 years old. Never been married and no children (that I know of...--- see? it's funny when a woman says it...) I am not complaining but I am, indeed, in a rotten mood. For no apparent reason. Maybe the planets have been out of whack... the moon phases have been screwey... maybe I'm just losing my marbles. I'm picking fights with everyone. I cry at the drop of a hat. I despise everything I see or do these days. I'm tired. Just tired.
Tired of not living up to my potential. Tired of looking back on the past and beating myself up for all the mistakes I made. Like I said... tired.
So now I'm listening to a bad re-run of some police drama whilst I type this. I am trying to figure out where to go from here. I figure a nap is about the next step. ;-)
Anywhoooo.... wordpress or blogger or typepad? Wordpress is bothering me but I feel like a child using blogger and I don't want to pay for typepad when I don't feel that I have anything to offer to society.
Ooh! Gotta go! I think the police on the tv are about to get the secret bad guy (that was in the second scene of the hour long program...) Thank Gawd for Mark Harmon!
Tired of not living up to my potential. Tired of looking back on the past and beating myself up for all the mistakes I made. Like I said... tired.
So now I'm listening to a bad re-run of some police drama whilst I type this. I am trying to figure out where to go from here. I figure a nap is about the next step. ;-)
Anywhoooo.... wordpress or blogger or typepad? Wordpress is bothering me but I feel like a child using blogger and I don't want to pay for typepad when I don't feel that I have anything to offer to society.
Ooh! Gotta go! I think the police on the tv are about to get the secret bad guy (that was in the second scene of the hour long program...) Thank Gawd for Mark Harmon!
Monday 16 July 2012
A Dip meets The Dip...
As I was publishing the last post I got a text and notification from facebook. We are now "named" in our relationship. Like I said... I am ridiculous and have no idea why the guy puts up with my insanity.
Just wanted to put it out there.... He did it on his own and he is truly a loving man that I don't deserve.
----Don't get me wrong. I don't "deserve" him but I appreciate and want him to stick around for as long as he wants! As much as I shake my head over his dance moves.... he had me at "the dip."
:-)
Just wanted to put it out there.... He did it on his own and he is truly a loving man that I don't deserve.
----Don't get me wrong. I don't "deserve" him but I appreciate and want him to stick around for as long as he wants! As much as I shake my head over his dance moves.... he had me at "the dip."
:-)
Social Media is the Grim Reaper of relationships
So I have a boyfriend. We've been dating officially for over six months. He won't change his facebook status to throw my name on who he's in a relationship with.
I know I shouldn't be pissed but I am.
Someone needs to talk me down from the bell-tower right about now.
He changed his status to "in a relationship" back before I was even convinced I was in one.... Now I am finally ready to shout to the world how deeply entrenched I am in this man and all he is about and he doesn't want to share that feeling.
Obviously I automatically assume it's because he's embarrassed or I am just not worthy of telling the world. I know he's been hurt before and maybe he's still walking on egg shells. I was ready to give him a key to my house but he's not even willing to tell cyber-space he's with me. It's a big thing with me. I know it shouldn't be but it is. I was going to put his name on my account for 800 people that I barely even know to see but he can't put mine on his with less than 200.
----As I type this I realize how ridiculous I sound. The man cuts my grass when I'm out shopping for myself. He buys my cats treats. He comes to see me at work, helps me close the bar, walks me to my car and sacrifices many hours of much needed sleep. When he's sick he apologizes. He brings my best friend and myself food. He sends me surprise flowers at work just because he's thinking of me. He texts me a "good morning" every day without fail. He takes care of me and I do believe he loves me. --I'm not sure why but I think it might be true. If the fact that he doesn't want strangers to know his business is my only problem, then I am just being ungrateful.
I'm still fairly pissy though. I am taking it personally and I can't find my fucking Four Agreements book. ---Not the time to go missing Miguel. Not the time.....
Serenity now.
Keep calm and carry on.
All of that crappy bullshit sayings to settle me down......
(Wow! You know it's a kicker when a woman is telling herself to settle down....) Jeebus.
I know I shouldn't be pissed but I am.
Someone needs to talk me down from the bell-tower right about now.
He changed his status to "in a relationship" back before I was even convinced I was in one.... Now I am finally ready to shout to the world how deeply entrenched I am in this man and all he is about and he doesn't want to share that feeling.
Obviously I automatically assume it's because he's embarrassed or I am just not worthy of telling the world. I know he's been hurt before and maybe he's still walking on egg shells. I was ready to give him a key to my house but he's not even willing to tell cyber-space he's with me. It's a big thing with me. I know it shouldn't be but it is. I was going to put his name on my account for 800 people that I barely even know to see but he can't put mine on his with less than 200.
----As I type this I realize how ridiculous I sound. The man cuts my grass when I'm out shopping for myself. He buys my cats treats. He comes to see me at work, helps me close the bar, walks me to my car and sacrifices many hours of much needed sleep. When he's sick he apologizes. He brings my best friend and myself food. He sends me surprise flowers at work just because he's thinking of me. He texts me a "good morning" every day without fail. He takes care of me and I do believe he loves me. --I'm not sure why but I think it might be true. If the fact that he doesn't want strangers to know his business is my only problem, then I am just being ungrateful.
I'm still fairly pissy though. I am taking it personally and I can't find my fucking Four Agreements book. ---Not the time to go missing Miguel. Not the time.....
Serenity now.
Keep calm and carry on.
All of that crappy bullshit sayings to settle me down......
(Wow! You know it's a kicker when a woman is telling herself to settle down....) Jeebus.
Wednesday 11 July 2012
Ghetto Romper Room
Somedays I feel like I am a mom. Except I have 50 plus people to "parent" and watch over. Work. "Turn up the radio... Turn down the radio... put the game on... put another game on... I need a new napkin/bib because I dropped mine on the floor... I'm hungry. Will you read the entire menu to me?.... Can I have more free popcorn? -- (Three baskets weren't enough. Did you forget about me? I said "more popcorn!") I don't like this glass. This cranberry juice gives me heartburn. I need the "special" cranberry that you have to bow down for so I can see down your top.... (Yes. Same cranberry as on the gun... the guy is just a perv... Perv who's not too happy that I won't wear a low cut top anymore.....) I said 3 ice cubes and you gave me four! I don't want this drink! It's too hot in here.... It's too chilly in here... Again. I hate the glass you gave me. Although it matches what beer you are serving me... I want to throw it at your head."
I cannot imagine what it would be like to be a mom. I know what it is like trying to control a room of grown people who are demanding. I bow down to the moms. At the end of the day I get to tell the sucky-whiney-jerks to give me their money. Moms might try that with their wee ones but I doubt it will help pay the mortgage bill. I am not a proud woman but I will do what I must to keep these cats somewhat pleased.
I cannot imagine what it would be like to be a mom. I know what it is like trying to control a room of grown people who are demanding. I bow down to the moms. At the end of the day I get to tell the sucky-whiney-jerks to give me their money. Moms might try that with their wee ones but I doubt it will help pay the mortgage bill. I am not a proud woman but I will do what I must to keep these cats somewhat pleased.
Tuesday 10 July 2012
Strikes and Gutters of Bartending
So I've been working. Trying to keep a roof over the cats' and my head. (Little effers refuse to get jobs so I've been charged with the task of trying to keep them alive and relatively happy... which I have now found out includes shelter, food, drink, treats, cuddles, cartoon channels and toys laced with cat-nip.--amongst other things such as clean litter and mopping up hair balls... but I digress...)
I generally enjoy my job. I like listening to people's stories. I like to help them unwind after a long day/week. (Did I mention after bouncing through many careers I always come back to bartending? Probably forgot that...) I am a bartender. There. I've said it. I'm 40 and I bartend. I am not a sommelier nor am I a restaurateur. Although, I can describe what wine I have to offer and what dishes are the best bang for your buck. I have many "friends" who don't understand my decision to return to the industry and think I am not living up to my full potential. Maybe I am not but it's an honest job and it has its rewards. You can even ask the cats.
I have gone to school for journalism/advertising/commercial art/English literature/communications and then ended up as a paramedic for a while. My last gig was a retailer of vintage inspired clothing from the 50's era... I have been all over the map and struggled to just get away from the restaurant/bar industry for many years. I used to get angry when people would say "you're a "lifer" it's just in your blood." On the other hand I used to get angry when people would ask when I was going to "get a real job." I'm still conflicted as to what to do with my career possibilities but I am still ready to knock the next person out who asks when I'm going to get a real job.
Bartending/serving is one of the hardest jobs possible (if you do it right.)
Bartending is a juggling act. Think of a circus performer juggling bowling pins........ Now add some apples (he takes a bite out of during his act.).............. Now add the fire wands............. Then the swords................. K. Now the machetes................................... Then the baby kittens.......................And then the C4.................................
Bartending is more than all of that combined.
The juggler doesn't have to interact with a sense of humour and wit all the while trying to keep the baby kittens from the weapons while still looking pretty. It's definitely not for everyone, although there's so many people who seem to think they can do it and successfully fail with epic non-performances.
I guess this blog started due to the yin and the yang of my shift yesterday.
It started out with a few visits from some friends who were feeling down and just needed an ear to listen to their stories. A few more friends surprised me with visits. A few more showed up bearing gifts for me for no reason other than they thought of me and wanted to put a smile on my face (which was then perfectly planted!) As all of this was going on I had the random public I was serving. Changing the menu for more expensive items and balking at the idea of having to pay more... ordering the "all you can eat chicken wings" and nothing more than waters. Yelling at me that they want their 5th refill of wings and then not eating them and trying to smuggle them out... we're talking wings for a family of four here (they hid their last order....) Alright... it's fine so far.... Then the end of the night comes along..........
I am closed. Bar has three people left in it. Along comes Miss Weirdo. Again. The bar is closed. My fault for not locking the door. I tell her we're closed. She yips a little. Finally leaves. I've served her before and she uses the bar for her own personal stalking station. She circles the men until one finally takes the bait and off she goes with him (to never be seen in the bar again...) Twenty minutes go by... phone rings. Guess who. Yep. Freaking out and calling me every name in the book. Hang up. Ten minutes go by... same. (You're probably wondering why even bother answering... I, myself, am wondering why as well...) Same. Same. End of night... go to car. Someone spit all over my windows. Gee. I wonder who? --Considering my car was parked in the front and the only car on the street.... Hmmmm... Where's Sherlock Holmes when you need him? Alright. Time to take a moment. (Breathe....)
I just want to say.... when the bar is closed it is not a personal affront to anyone. It is just closed. I am just trying to make a living and have a little fun along the way. I am not looking for a fight. I am not asking to be called names. There are many other bars that could very well still be open. Go there. Do not waste your time and energy trying to bully me into serving you. It won't work. It doesn't work. I will now never serve you again. You have crossed the line and if anything else happens to me or my personal property I will do what must be done. I will find you and I will take all legal action against you. I am just trying to get through my day and go home to my lazy-assed-unemployed cats that all of this bullshit is for in the first place.
Yin and yang. Strikes and gutters. Awesome surprises from wonderful friends and a douchebag... Just another day in the life....
:-)
I generally enjoy my job. I like listening to people's stories. I like to help them unwind after a long day/week. (Did I mention after bouncing through many careers I always come back to bartending? Probably forgot that...) I am a bartender. There. I've said it. I'm 40 and I bartend. I am not a sommelier nor am I a restaurateur. Although, I can describe what wine I have to offer and what dishes are the best bang for your buck. I have many "friends" who don't understand my decision to return to the industry and think I am not living up to my full potential. Maybe I am not but it's an honest job and it has its rewards. You can even ask the cats.
I have gone to school for journalism/advertising/commercial art/English literature/communications and then ended up as a paramedic for a while. My last gig was a retailer of vintage inspired clothing from the 50's era... I have been all over the map and struggled to just get away from the restaurant/bar industry for many years. I used to get angry when people would say "you're a "lifer" it's just in your blood." On the other hand I used to get angry when people would ask when I was going to "get a real job." I'm still conflicted as to what to do with my career possibilities but I am still ready to knock the next person out who asks when I'm going to get a real job.
Bartending/serving is one of the hardest jobs possible (if you do it right.)
Bartending is a juggling act. Think of a circus performer juggling bowling pins........ Now add some apples (he takes a bite out of during his act.).............. Now add the fire wands............. Then the swords................. K. Now the machetes................................... Then the baby kittens.......................And then the C4.................................
Bartending is more than all of that combined.
The juggler doesn't have to interact with a sense of humour and wit all the while trying to keep the baby kittens from the weapons while still looking pretty. It's definitely not for everyone, although there's so many people who seem to think they can do it and successfully fail with epic non-performances.
I guess this blog started due to the yin and the yang of my shift yesterday.
It started out with a few visits from some friends who were feeling down and just needed an ear to listen to their stories. A few more friends surprised me with visits. A few more showed up bearing gifts for me for no reason other than they thought of me and wanted to put a smile on my face (which was then perfectly planted!) As all of this was going on I had the random public I was serving. Changing the menu for more expensive items and balking at the idea of having to pay more... ordering the "all you can eat chicken wings" and nothing more than waters. Yelling at me that they want their 5th refill of wings and then not eating them and trying to smuggle them out... we're talking wings for a family of four here (they hid their last order....) Alright... it's fine so far.... Then the end of the night comes along..........
I am closed. Bar has three people left in it. Along comes Miss Weirdo. Again. The bar is closed. My fault for not locking the door. I tell her we're closed. She yips a little. Finally leaves. I've served her before and she uses the bar for her own personal stalking station. She circles the men until one finally takes the bait and off she goes with him (to never be seen in the bar again...) Twenty minutes go by... phone rings. Guess who. Yep. Freaking out and calling me every name in the book. Hang up. Ten minutes go by... same. (You're probably wondering why even bother answering... I, myself, am wondering why as well...) Same. Same. End of night... go to car. Someone spit all over my windows. Gee. I wonder who? --Considering my car was parked in the front and the only car on the street.... Hmmmm... Where's Sherlock Holmes when you need him? Alright. Time to take a moment. (Breathe....)
I just want to say.... when the bar is closed it is not a personal affront to anyone. It is just closed. I am just trying to make a living and have a little fun along the way. I am not looking for a fight. I am not asking to be called names. There are many other bars that could very well still be open. Go there. Do not waste your time and energy trying to bully me into serving you. It won't work. It doesn't work. I will now never serve you again. You have crossed the line and if anything else happens to me or my personal property I will do what must be done. I will find you and I will take all legal action against you. I am just trying to get through my day and go home to my lazy-assed-unemployed cats that all of this bullshit is for in the first place.
Yin and yang. Strikes and gutters. Awesome surprises from wonderful friends and a douchebag... Just another day in the life....
:-)
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