Yeah.

A long time ago, I became an expert at self-preservation. I mean, I can take a fucking lot...and I have, but at some point, you tell yourself, ok cowgirl, that's enough, we're shutting down this shit show now.

When all the shit happened with shewhoshallnotbenamed more than 10 years ago, that happened. One day I was done with caring, done with crying, done with feeling pretty much anything. I woke up, I went through the motions, and put one foot in front of the other. And that's what I concentrated on...one foot in front of the other, keep going forward, and eventually, you're going to get there. "There" being back to who you were before the shut down.  And you know what, it took me a REALLY LONG TIME to get there. Years. Years.

Part of the true catalyst for really healing was finally stepping out of the entire life that she had been a part of. Because being involved with her brother was toxic. Walking into his house on Christmas morning and having to face her was toxic. Even though I knew I'd spent far more time there than she had....even though I knew he disliked her pretty damn near as much as I did, she was STILL his sister and he played at keeping the peace because he probably also feared her wrath as much as I did. I loved him, so I had to try. I love him still, but as a fond part of my past. The healthiest thing I ever did for myself was walking away.

And I was feeling again, in a way I hadn't allowed myself to do in years. That 2011 summer of asshole...it SUCKED. But you know what? I cried. A lot. I felt bad. Horrible, actually, and I learned to lean on friends I hadn't been able to lean on before. As awful as it was, it meant that I'd gotten through all that other bullshit, finally-FINALLY. I felt again, and let myself feel. And I learned that sometimes people hurt you and you need to step the fuck away from those people. I have a hard time doing that.

Actually, let me clarify. I realize I have an almost impossible time stepping away from people in my life that REALLY TRULY deserve it. The more fucked up you treat me, the harder I'm going to try to change that, the more I'm going to do for you. The people I have an easier time stepping away from are the ones that maybe DON'T deserve to be written off so quickly. And I think that's because those are the people I trust to have my back implicitly. I don't worry about them hurting me because I never imagine its in them to do it. And when they sometimes do...it's like getting the wind knocked out of you. Oh, well fuck, I see, I can't count on you either. You can literally punch me, kick me, bite me, pull out my hair and I'll keep coming back for more. You disappoint me and I can't even look you in the eye.

The past few weeks have been a full on fucking roller coaster. I broke up with Stewart, and yet continue to deal with him and his refusal to acknowledge that our relationship is finished. I had an amazing vacation in NYC, and yet it opened my eyes to the opportunities I'd given up in deference to other people's ideas of what my life ought to be like. My friend died a sad, horrible, senseless, violent death...and in addition to the emotions of losing him, I was put squarely back into the middle of the very life I fought my way out of so hard. I had to deal with deciding whether or not I was emotionally ready to face those people at his funeral, and what good would come out of it if I did. I had to decide to put myself first. And, I took a 36 hour trip to Dallas that I absolutely didn't want to keep secret...wanted to fucking shout to everyone about because I was excited, but had to keep it under wraps for a whole host of reasons, both mine and my travel buddy's. I had to deal with mourning the loss of the future I was expecting to have with Stewart. That wedding I was thinking I was going to have...the wedding he TOLD me we were going to have...yeah, clearly not happening. That baby I was expecting to be pregnant with by the end of this year...that I was expecting to be buying presents from Santa for by next...also clearly not happening.  Oh, and my math class, because to be clear, that's a whole other bag of stress. It's a lot.

And so when I walked in the house on Sunday, having slept maybe 5 hours combined since Thursday night, hungover, just off a flight from Texas...I was in no mood or position to do really anything but sleep. And instead,  I got myself into a position where I felt that ok, we are shutting down this shit show mentality set in, and I did. I cried half Sunday night, half Monday morning, and then I shut the fuck down. Dead eyes. No interest in talking to anyone. Feeling fucking judged and robbed of the one god damn thing that was making me feel any sort of better. The only thing I was feeling was FURY.
And the desire to just be left alone.

I had a date last night and I forced myself to go on it. I'm glad I did, because it was nice. He was nice. He says we will have dinner again. We'll see. I have no expectations anymore, but I enjoyed his company and he's adorable.

More importantly, it reinforces what I told everyone I spoke to on Monday. Stop trying to fix me. I KNOW what my issues are. You can listen. You can advise. But you can't demand. You can't expect. You can't force my transformations onto your timeline. And if I continue to do whatever it is you think I ought to change, well you know what? It's my life. I'm 35. I've gotten this far, pretty damn much on my own, so I think I'm good.

I triumphed over an eating disorder, and I LIKE myself the way I am, mostly ;),
I got out of some shitty relationships.
I'm trying to be less of a doormat.
I'm ok, with all my quirks, just the way I am.
I do not need to change for anyone, nor do I need to change anything about me.
I love diet coke, and dolls, and celebrities, and watching the same movie 4 times in a row, and Harry Potter, and being spontaneous, and my dog sleeps in my bed, and if I love you I will do anything for you and probably more than I should, I love Peter Pan and I'm like Peter Pan, and I love Debbie Gibson, and boy bands, and movies like Cool As Ice and Spice World, and I never go in a store and skip the toy department, and I can eat ice cream for every meal and sometimes I do, and I ran a marathon just so I could do something my brother never did, and my car is always a mess, and my room is usually a mess, and I hate things I have to do like going to the bank or getting an oil change, and I can go to Disney every day, and I'm not afraid of flying, or traveling alone, or going to places I've never been,or having adventures, or going to the movies by myself, in fact sometimes travelling alone or going to the movies alone is better than being with someone, and I hate popcorn and onions, and mushrooms and celery and mustard and hot dogs and Pepsi and Mexican food and sandwiches unless I make them, and roller coasters if they have big drops, and I take the cheese off pizza and I eat fries with a fork because I hate how grease feels on my fingers, and I write fanfic and I have for years and read it too, and I love to cook but hate to bake, and Halloween is my favorite holiday and I will never not want a party for my birthday and I will never not want a cake that has plastic toys on it that I can have once the cake is finished, and I hate beer and wine but love tequila, and I'd wear Ugg boots everyday of my life if I could 98* or not, and I'd rather wear a dress or sweats than anything else, I hate wearing socks.

Those are all things about me. Some are normal, some maybe not so normal. But that's means I'm not fucking changing for ANYONE. Take me or leave me...but either way, you have no choice but to accept me, because I'm OK.