…And I’m prepared to go it alone.

In these last few months of self-validation, I’ve been bursting at the seams with happiness, tackling my baggage head-on, going around to the people who continue to hurt me and saying “Play nice or don’t bother playing”, trying to make amends where I can. It’s all been very healing and I’ve found myself enrapt with the highs brought on with every new peaceful understanding. At one point, I actually felt a surreal sense of inner-peace and legitimately meditated in a thought-free trance in which I felt completely weightless for the very first time since I started practicing. It has been literally incredible.

But, as the dust is settling, I’m reflecting on all I’ve finally accepted in these last few months and realizing how abandoned I was and alone I have felt in my darkest moments. I have forgiven them, but the majority of the people who were “supposed” to be the ones who were there for me and build me up were not. Most people ran. Other people tried to stick around but realized I was different now, and we parted ways. Many were busy feeling angry or hurt that I was “being so selfish” and didn’t bother to try and find out what it felt like to be me, when my mind was trying to kill me. A few hid out behind their own fears and belittled or humiliated me for having the problems I did.

This fucking hurts.

Only a few people continued to come back and work things out despite the pain we experienced together, in hopes to help us heal from our similarly troubled pasts. Only a few continued to love me and listen to me bemoan my frustration at my lack of progress in recovery for the better part of 10 years while offering unconditional love and support from wherever they were (always far, far away). These two types are the friends I love most of all.

Only my father continued to fight along with me every single step of the way during the entire journey, fearlessly. He showed up at the hospital every day, both times I was there, with gifts (coloring books, makeup once when I asked for it so I would feel at least slightly human, half a pack of cigarettes so I wouldn’t be dealing with withdrawal symptoms while I was also trying to acclimate to new medications, etc.) and the fancy take-out dinners. After I moved back home with them, he kept searching for better treatment options and constantly asked how my therapy was going, how my medicines were working, what new methods we could try to get my brain to a better-functioning place. When I was attending AA meetings, he talked to me constantly about what I was feeling and learning, and he supported the times I was being active within that community. He assured me that nobody puts a stigma on the people who go out to get sober; those are the people society admires. I only had to apologize to him once for my transgressions; he never held me hostage for my mistakes. He helped me to understand every aspect of my family dynamics with patience and unconditional love. He never once stopped telling me he was proud of me, even when I could do no more than get myself out of bed and into something other than pajamas. He continued to pay for therapy and medication, while also paying for me to finish school. He never quit. He never stopped working with me without any personal reservation. He spoke to me candidly, even when the topics were painful for him to delve into. He kept me alive.

My husband is the other who has fought just as strongly and consistently, being that he had no actual obligation to strap himself in for the ride with me. Even from the start, he said there was nothing I could do to scare him away, and he’s been true to that word ever since, sometimes draining all of himself to keep us afloat while waiting patiently for some method to start working. I wanted to be the wife he deserved, and he never once stopped believing that I could be and that one day I’d be able to. He gave everything to help me finally find this sanity and clarity while constantly working to be a better person in the meantime; I don’t know if I’ve ever been so loved.

From where I am now, I realize how I kept fighting, regardless of the walls most of the people I cared about put up in their doubt and fear. I realize how very few sources of genuine support I had and how this caused me to cling tightly, desperately to anyone who would spare me some attention or affection. I realize how self-sufficient I am and have always been; I was the first one to seek out my first therapist; I was the one who checked myself into the hospital the second time; I was the one who made the phone call that saved my own life the first time. God/The Universe has certainly handed me guides and angels in those times who have given me the courage and moral strength to get me through it, but with the help of only a few, I did it. And I never thought I could.

And that changes everything about how I’m functioning on a day-to-day basis. I don’t think I can survive completely alone, but I know now that I will survive. I know this because I have. And I don’t need nearly as much support as I thought I did to do so. I need no one’s validation.

This is exciting on a whole new level – one that gives me peace and serenity, and will let me calmly do what needs to be done to give myself the life I want. Because, dammit, I fought hard for it. I’ve earned it.

Forward.

Sticker design actually says “LP-S” instead of “TM” at the bottom right.

UPDATE: Now includes magnet prices!

Alright, friends! I’ve finally managed to get the ball rolling on these stickers! They’re fantastic, heavy-duty vinyl stickers done by some old, awesomesauce friends of mine at Showcards! Signs in Myrtle Beach, SC. Right now I’m doing test-run prices just for friends, so stock up now before I get all crazy and expensive under the influx of demand. (WINK!)

Please send your friends to my Etsy shop at http://TheLoveShackNC.etsy.com, which I am in the process of building with actual t-shirts and other shwag with real models and a pro photographer! Wooo!

Let me know if you have any other interests (buttons, hats, thongs, etc.) and I’ll start working to make that happen. I know a guy…

Stickers

Magnets

Since this epiphany of self-validation, I have been blasting through every day, clutching the reins of my life and spurring myself onward like a cracked-out born-again Christian. I’m finding the sources of all my ancient fears and shame, tackling them to the floor, pinning them down with my new boundaries and self-assurance, and then leaping up to run out the door, forever free of their threats. I’ve been finding all my old nemeses, figuratively pointing at them and bellowing, “YOU!” and then taking the time to calmly, rationally explain to them why what they did hurt me and what exact measures I’m taking to no longer tolerate it.  I’m doing so in a way that says, “I love you and I want us to be happy when we’re around each other, so I’m letting you know I’m no longer acknowledging these dysfunctional cycles or behaviors because I want to eradicate this ongoing drama from our relationship forever. I’m not mad; you’re welcome to believe or do whatever you want to do, but I’m not going to cooperate with it.” and then I’m hugging them and being optimistic when I walk away after shutting it down. I got inner peace like Gandhi, mother@#$%ers!!! WOOOO!!!

I’m on some sort of loving rampage.

My husband has been worried that I’m digging up garbage out of the past for no reason, but I’m trying to explain to him that the things I’m dealing with are things that started a long time ago and instilled beliefs and habits in me that I have carried with me/been a slave to every single day since then. By me revisiting those sources, making peace with them, and stating my intentions for changing my responses in the future, I’m paving a bright, pretty outlook for my life (and, subsequentially, my little family’s life). And it’s working! Every day I wake up with less weight on my shoulders and less concern or anxiety with how I’m going to deal with those ancient obstacles that I’ve now obliterated.

I can’t believe it’s all over. All the years and years of untangling the knot and going to therapy and figuring out where all this came from; it’s all done. All the questions are answered and everything I sought to know is SO MUCH BETTER than I ever thought they could be. All the answers about why I hated myself and why I constantly did things to derail my success and why my body shut down with psychotic anxiety when I was about to succeed are SO MUCH BETTER than I could’ve anticipated. This person I’ve uncovered after a literal decade of digging through the rubble is so much cooler than I thought! I’m so happy I worked to recover her and wake up to this life I have right now.

I feel like I’ve spent the last 17-ish years underwater, detached from everything in my life and unable to see who I am or how/that I affected everyone around me. Up until these last couple weeks, I seriously thought I was just an amorphous blob of a being who was here to entertain people who bothered to pay me any attention; I never knew I had any impact on anyone in my life – positive or negative. Now I see that, not only did I, but I didn’t completely fuck it up all the time! I managed to make a bunch of really, really stellar friends in people who are just amazing to know and have in my corner!

I had no idea, when I started talking to a therapist the morning after somehow messing up an attempt to murder myself, that it could have turned out like this. I so, so desperately want everyone who is hurting to know that this is waiting for them at the end of the abuse and the addiction and the pain and the psychosis. I feel like I am on a non-stop drug that makes everything feel full of love and everything look and taste and feel so wonderful. Even the things that are shitty and awful about life don’t feel oppressive and fatalistic anymore; they seem like something I have the power to work to change without it threatening to tear me apart. I’m able to deal with confrontation with a feeling of invincibility at the realization that nobody’s reactions to anything have anything to do with me; they all have to do with each person and their choices about how they perceive and react to the world.

Dear Lord, I’ve never felt so light in my life. I had no idea this was possible, but it is. It isn’t going away; it isn’t coming and going in waves like mood swings or manic spells. I am still able to feel pain through compassion or loss of relationships, but I have the capacity to objectively work toward happiness and coexistence with people around me, and to improve my relationships with everyone, no matter how emotionally close.

All I can be is grateful. All I can do is share this. <3

The last few weeks have been more intense than any I have experienced. Aside from the outlandish (being offered an episode on a reality docu-series, getting to tell Congress about my high school sex life, turning my friends yellow, this new rare freakshow health problem I’m suddenly dealing with, etc.) my subconscious has been exploding with revelations and annihilating the barriers that have plagued me and hindered my happiness literally my entire life.

I recently talked about my realization that all the hateful, horrible opinions that were beaten into me as a child were untrue and, later, about how free I suddenly am with this realization that none of what had happened was my fault.  With my newfound self-validation, I tackled opponents who had continued to emotionally abuse me up until now, and I informed them that I’m shutting the whole dysfunctional cycle down by removing myself from it whenever they’re projecting anger through hurtful language. I made sure they knew I’m just fucking exhausted from all these years of garbage and I am so ready to be over it, so it’s not even something that affects me anymore. They’re forgiven because I see where they’re coming from. Anytime they want to change, I’m open to help because, Lord knows, I’ve had the luxury of gobs of therapy, and maybe others haven’t. I get that. I’m all about getting everyone else to be happy and free from bullshit, too.

VICTORY!

Oh, but silly me for assuming that this would be the end of this incredible toppling-over of those long-instilled beliefs under which I lived. As my subconscious kept plowing forward, I suddenly realized that, if I was a beautiful, smart, intelligent, etc. person, this would mean that maybe I was really loved a lot more than I’d ever thought. And maaaybe people weren’t just trying to be closer to me to use me and reject me. And maaaaybe the people who did hurt me and reject me only did so because they felt intimidated…or… or something.

Oh. Ew. Weird. Really?

But then, I remembered back to when I was talking to that one crazyhot vixen from my high school, and I was apologizing for saying awful things about her out of my own insecurity (and the fact that I was probably in love with her). She and I were talking about how she’d never done anything to offend me, personally, and how I’d realized that I only said awful things about her because I was so threatened by her ability to seduce any teenage lover she wanted.

And then I blurted, “But I never, ever thought you would give a shit about what I said about you…”

I thought about that for a minute. “I hated myself so much, I never thought anybody could possibly be bothered by any stupid thing I said about them.”

She said, “Whoooooaaa…”

And we sat there in silence for another minute.

Never once in my entire life did I ever assume that I had any clout over anyone else’s feelings; I simply never thought I was important enough to be taken seriously…at all… in any circumstance… ever… From here, I can see that I just assumed I was floating through my interactions with people without having any affect on them at all, positive or negative. Needless to say, the idea that anybody regarded me as someone  intimidating and/or gave my self-loathing proclamations any credence is still laughable to me… And, unfortunately, it’s also probably true….

It took me 4 effing years since then to realize that I probably did that to a bunch of other people… other than her…

Aaaaaahsheeeeeyuuuuaaaaat. Dammit, really?!

So, in the tradition of the 12 Steps (which work on any sort of recovery, btw – not just alcohol abuse), I flung my dignity by the wayside and acknowledged that maybe some of these people I’d always thought were out to hurt me actually might’ve been hurt by my emotional flailing too. And, like I do, I sought out everybody I had an inkling might’ve been affected by this, fully realizing that a) this shit all happened a really, really long time ago and b) I was going to look like an emotionally unstable/crazy person who can’t let go of the past by bringing this shit up.

Whatever. Apologies are definitely one of those things that are better when delivered late than never. And in the off-chance that any of these people I hurt held onto the same kind of anger and misguided beliefs that I did from my opponents, then they definitely deserve an apology… Or even if they didn’t, really. It doesn’t matter. When I fuck something up, I should apologize. Simple as that.

I am both mortified at the realization that I was kind of a cunt to people because I hated myself and didn’t know it and thankful for the insight/opportunity to recognize it so that it nevereverever happens again. And, in the future, I won’t have to bother people who ran away from me years ago with retarded apologies (“retarded” is used in the literal sense here, folks. Calm it down.) that interrupt their current lives like an unhinged maniac.

So… that’ll be nice.

…

But, ultimately, I feel so much lighter, so much freer. All those mantras RuPaul has had me saying for 20 years suddenly all make sense; I couldn’t love anybody properly until I loved myself. What other people say about me really isn’t any of my business because it doesn’t have anything to do with me anyway. (4 Agreements, ahoy!)

I’m pretty exhausted, but I’m also really, really fucking happy for a change. This is new; I like it.

I hit the wall today and crumpled. I sobbed harder than I can remember; I hurt worse than I have in many, many years.

I have encountered yet another freakish, unbelievable health problem that is confusing and scary and for which there is no absolute cure. It is very taboo, so much so that I am not comfortable discussing it publicly yet. I am too tired of being belittled, not taken seriously, and mocked with horrible stigmas to handle such hurtful ignorance and rejection right now.

Greg also collapsed under the sudden weight of yet another roadblock yesterday. It broke my already aching heart. In the last 6 years, he has dealt with continuous curve balls regarding my health. First there was an unexpected baby, which forced him to fling himself into work and support us while I was unemployable. Then there was my mental illness that continued to be undiagnosed until just last year. Finally, when it seemed I would finally be able to love him freely and spoil him with the unconditional support and physical attention he deserves, I am given another barrier, another thing to overcome, that is already driving us apart and forcing me to pull myself away from me because it physically hurts my body too much to interact with him.

In the last few months when I have felt better, he has finally allowed himself to feel all the emotions he’s suppressed over the years in order to plug away and keep our family afloat financially and emotionally. I saw him become debilitated with relief and the impact of the toll my burdens have taken on him. He slept for days. He had anxiety about being able to reconnect with us on an emotional level because he has become so insecure with himself. Because of his selflessness and inability to focus on himself, he has lost a sense of self and the ability to be happy with himself and his own company. This was one of his most appealing features when we met, and I can see that the lifestyle my presence has created for us has beaten this out of him. He has been seeing a therapist to deal with me and the effect I have had on him because he is unable to share his struggle with me. These things are not fabricated; they are hard evidence.

Greg has never hurt anyone deliberately or devastated anyone’s feelings in his life because of his own dysfunctions. I have, more times than I can count. I finally am in a mental place and in a relationship in which I can shower my partner with love and smother him with all the luxuries he has unconditionally given me. But because of my constant ailments, I am constantly unable to do this.

I am slowly breaking him. I see this. It hurts me worse than any guilt I have ever experienced. I know these health problems are not my fault; I know that I have been working defiantly to give him the wife and Chloe the mother they both deserve, but I am becoming disheartened at my continuous inability to deliver these things. I am seeing evidence that I am a drain on the person who has loved me the most fearlessly and unconditionally, and I cannot help but think that he will continue to give until there is nothing left of him.

I love him too much to let that happen. This I know as fact. I will not waver on this belief.

Greg deserves someone who will give him what he deserves instead of someone who will slowly suck every wonderful thing out of him. As I cried, he began to blame himself for sharing his emotions with me because he believed they were what was hurting me the most. I assured him that they weren’t; they were among the two things that kept me fighting for a better life when I was sick – the other being the fact that my beautiful daughter deserves an awesome mother.

If it had not been for either of these, I would not be here today. I mean that sincerely; I would not have had the courage or responsibility to keep working for a solution even when there was no end in sight and no hope that it would come. I was hospitalized a second time for suicidal intentions less than a year before I met Greg and conceived Chloe. Since then, I have had the worst mental episodes of my life, but, despite them, I have never once considered suicide. I fully believe things have played out this way on purpose.

I realized that the only better choice I have than removing myself from their lives is to control what I can while I continue to work for better health. I have been given the necessary gifts to continue this far; I am not foolish enough to dismiss them now, not when they seem to be aligning so perfectly. I feel so connected to God/Spirit/the Universe’s intentions for me.

I have this book I have been working on slowly for the last ten years that is almost finally complete. It is something I believe in more than anything I have ever produced. I believe it will be great. I believe it will bring us success that will relieve some of the burdens from Greg, as he is always preoccupied with our finances and the feeling that he has no room for failure. I believe that, right now, in this moment, working to get this writing work out into the market is the best use of my energy with the most immediate hope of helping us morally.

So I will continue to work to be physically better and I will continue to work at what I know I can do best and that I will flourish at, until there is a day when I can’t anymore. That day isn’t today. It probably won’t be for a long while. It may never come, but I can’t worry about that right now. I want to do what I can while I can.

Greg deserves that and so much more, because he has always given me exactly that. I don’t have any idea what this new obstacle will present to require changes in my life; I don’t know how this will affect our relationship or what potential it has to damage him further. I can’t worry about that or it will sap the energy from me, which is too valuable to jeopardize.

I am thankful for his love and for my mental clarity right now; otherwise, this would be impossible.

“‘Mother’ is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children.”-The Crow

Recently, I have been talking with a lot of my girlfriends who are hurting and dealing with the aftermath of years of emotional abuse about the incredible power our mothers have over shaping our psyche and inner voices. Before this year, I never stopped to realize that Mother’s Day is a hard, sad day for so many people.

I have so many friends and family members who still ache from the toxic ways their mothers spoke to them or treated them out of their own self-doubt and insecurity. It is staggering to see the manifestations of so many mothers’ shortcomings. So many people flinging themselves into toxic relationships in search of the love their mothers never gave them, and so many people drowning out the hateful inner voice created by their insecure mothers with alcohol and drugs… it’s heartrending.

If you have a mother to whom you can bare your soul, give thanks. If you have a mother whose love is unconditional and who never withholds it as a means to manipulate your spirit, give thanks; you are blessed. If you have a mother who is right there to love you the way you are and fiercely defend you when you are broken and at your worst, then you are among the luckiest people in the world.

One of the luxuries of growing up and coming into our own is learning to choose people in our lives who can fill in the spots that our mothers or fathers were unable to. Friends are family that we choose, and I pray that everyone who hurts from the mistakes of their parents have found and surrounded themselves with people who let us grow and flourish the way everyone deserves.

I also hope all children everywhere are able to find the Love and ability to forgive and heal that we all deserve. Freedom from the beliefs instilled in us by our opponents is one of the greatest gifts we can give ourselves; this is something I’ve learned in my years of therapy and recovery. I really do pray and hope every single soul finds the hope offered in letting go and relinquishing power over the people who are not worthy of controlling our emotions, no matter if those people were lovers or parents or adolescent bullies or people we thought were our friends.

Ultimately, though, I pray that everyone learns to love and validate themselves and no longer has to seek these things from those who fail to provide it. Like the wise RuPaul Charles says, “If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else?” I hope everyone is filled with the love and confidence we need to spread it selflessly to our sons and daughters and friends and families. Sometimes we’re called to be parental figures to people we aren’t related to, and our whole world would be better if we loved ourselves enough to give each other the love they deserve, too. I hope everyone who has been hurt by their parents has the ability to forgive and heal and stop the cycle so it doesn’t continue with our children.

I tend to believe this is the foundation of all humanity’s problems and potential to improve and heal. I like to imagine a world in which it’s possible for everyone to work from love and forgiveness.

One day, I’d like everyone to have a happy Mother’s Day.

When I was 14, I lived in a small town in NC, where I dared to publicly state that gay people deserved equal rights as everyone else. (This was the year of the signing of DADT and Ellen coming out.) I’ve mentioned that I was a target (I won’t say “victim”) of bullies in this blog, but this act was the catalyst that seemed to give everyone a blind eye to turn when those ongoing antagonists now launched angry, sometimes violent, attacks. Word got out around our school that I was the “freak lesbian”; my siblings were harassed for having a queer sister; a minister at a church across the street used my deviance as fodder for a sermon about Evil infiltrating the minds of the town’s youth; teachers and friends stopped sticking up for me; my parents remained silent on the issue, only telling me to “tell [my] little friends to stop toilet-papering our house” after the second or third time it happened.

I felt alone. Demoralized. Belittled. Like nothing, actually. (This was, coincidentally, around the time my depression/anxiety kicked up.)

And yet, somehow, in my still-budding mind, I knew that what I was saying (because, you know me; I continued to say that shit. A lot.) was right. I knew it in my heart.

I still know it in my heart these 15 years later. But today I am tired. Today I am resentful and scared of my neighbors. Today I want to hide away from people and not let them hurt me anymore because of their own fearful, brainwashed awfulness. Today I cannot stop crying.

I can’t be enraged anymore because I don’t have the energy.

I can’t be hateful to anyone because I’m exhausted with hatred.

I can’t be part of this discussion to fight back anymore because I am depleted.

Me and my inner-14-year-old need some time to hold each other and heal. We need to cry and cry and cry about the way people are, the way religion makes them crazy, the way we cannot reason with fanaticism, even when it’s staring back at us from family members. We need to sit quietly and remind each other that we’ll be okay. We need to remember how many times Love has pulled us out of our darkest moments and let that Love seep back into our Selves a little bit before we try to hurl ourselves back into the game. We need to heal again.

So, no; I’m not going to pontificate about Amendment One. I’m not going to say anything that everyone with a soul and a brain is saying over and over. I’m not going to engage in redundant anger-mongering debate about how ludicrous and inherently evil this all is. I know all that already. I don’t need to feed it.

I need to take care of myself and my heart today. I need to stop crying and lamenting this current situation. I need to forgive and return to acting through Love. This is the only way I’m going to have the strength to get back to working for Love tomorrow.

“We cannot break into anyone’s heart with our fists.” – Halcyon

‎”When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love has always won. There have been tyrants and murderers and for a time they seem invincible but in the end, they always fall – think of it, ALWAYS.” –Mahatma Gandhi

It is impossible to have a “happy birthday” if you aren’t interested in celebrating your life.

Yesterday, I was psychotically happy. So much so that I kept remarking to friends, “I feel like someone spiked my morning doughnut with ecstasy.” Everything was THE BEST THING EVER (my fajita at lunch? Best one I’ve ever eaten. My look? Best hair day I’d ever had, my outfit was adorable, my makeup was flawless, my skin looked amazing, and I was having a skinny daylikewhoa. All the songs on the radio? My favorite. My kitties? Best behaved they’d ever been and softest fur ever. Etc.) to an extent in which I legitimately started worrying that I might be mistaking a manic episode with “birthday euphoria”.

And then, in the afternoon, when I was cuddling with my husband, (who took the afternoon off so we could go to lunch JUST THE TWO OF US!! and cuddle IN THE DAYLIGHT HOURS!!), I realized that I was so happy because I was living in a life I am ecstatic to have an excuse to publicly/outwardly celebrate... And, while I’ve had that for a few years, it kind of took me a while to “get” it (as most things tend to, you may have noticed.) Because, admittedly, it’s hard to really be genuinely happy on your birthday when your birthday is the only day of the year you can force yourself to smile or when you accept love from anybody. I was weirdly/bothersomely elated the minute my birthday started, because I’ve been so happy and because I’ve been given so many awesome gifts (not necessarily tangible…duh) and so much love by so [SO! EFFING!!] many awesome people, I was just elated to be celebrating my life. Finally!

As I was pulling into my driveway last night (at a lame 11 p.m. because I was exhausted) after a full day of love and celebration, I felt this overwhelming urge to go running through the streets cackling like a crazy person and screaming, “I MADE IT, EVERYBODY!!!!! WOOOOO!!!! I’M HERE!!! I MADE IT!!!” (NOTE I did not do this a- because, as aforementioned, I was exhausted and b- because I didn’t feel like getting arrested.)

Instead, I sat in my car, in my garage for a minute and cried, praying to God/Spirit/The Universe with soul-shaking gratitude, “Thank you. I made it through that shitstorm back there! All of it! That storm when I tried to kill me and others tried to kill me (inadvertently) and I was full of hate and anger and rage and everything I’m not anymore! I woke up these mornings with a world full of gifts I’m not sure how I procured, that are more wonderful than I ever envisioned for myself. I woke up in a steady, solid state of mental clarity and joy that I, for many years, had decided was impossible. I am surrounded by love. I am healthy. I am sane. I am at peace. All of this is more than I ever thought I deserved. Thank you. THANK YOU. Please, please show me what you want me to do with all of these gifts I’ve been given, because I’m ready… and I’m even grateful for that. THANK YOU.”

It was, without a doubt, the happiest birthday I have ever experienced.

Dear Allison,
At church today, an elderly woman stood during the “Joys and Sorrows”-sharing part of the service to tell the community about her sorrow, which was that she was unable to be by her “best friend in the world’s” side as her friend’s life was coming to a close on the other side of the country. She told us this, then took a moment to look to the side before blurting, “…I don’t know what I can do… or what I’m going to do…” and then turning to light a candle. Meanwhile, I buried my face in my hands to hide my now-convulsive sobs; I wanted nothing more than to intercept the woman with an embrace as she made her way, deflated and burdened, to her seat. Without thinking it, I realized that that woman may one day be me and I may be talking about you.
And then I thought, “God, I hope I die before Allison does so I never have to live without her.”
And then I remembered how much you fucking loathe that Winnie the Pooh quote about him wanting his friend to die a day after him so he doesn’t have to live without him and what a selfish douchenozzle move that is to wish on a friend – that they’d spend their last day in total misery because their BFF just died AND they’re slowly dying. And then I started giggling about how that sort of thing pisses you off enough to make one of your rare rants about it.

We met ten years ago to this week, by the way.

I’m sure you’ve realized in retrospect that you met me at the exact moment I reached the precipice of my freefall into unfuckingimaginable insanity/destruction after years of a slow-but-consistent descent in prologue. Really, the fact that we were still friends within a year of meeting each other is miraculous in itself because HolyLordballs, was I busy losing my damned mind.

I have a confession I never actually verbalized to you: you were my Bright Spot then. I remember meeting you and going to your dorm room and seeing this art that you’d created just because you wanted to make a prettier space for yourself (wha?! I didn’t know people did that! I thought people made art to show it off to each other or because their art teacher assigned it or because they wanted to submit it to something and get “famous”) and you sang songs that you’d written for your own amusement and you were this completely self-actualized, energetic being in a world of idiots (read: me) who were flailing around trying to leech energy off anything they thought was “cool” or “important” at the time and it was an unbelievable state of mind to encounter from where I was. Because, most of the time, when there’s someone who is somehow “above” the mentality of their peers, he or she has to have some sort of following or need to declare their mental/spiritual/artistic superiority to everyone else – especially if that person has been recently liberated from the confines of high school. But not you, dude. You just sort of did what you did and you liked what you liked and you were completely oblivious to the fact that you weren’t just “different”, but really, genuinely, special. (And not “special” like our generation’s everybody’s-special-in-their-own-snowflake-way “special”, but special like holy-shit-she’s-going-to-change-lives-and-do-shit-that-bends-reality special.) I’m not saying that either one of us knew what, exactly, you were supposed to do with all that “special”-ness at that point in the game and, you know, you’ve had a bit of a learning process with it, but I still knew then. Even though at the time, I was busy being either a)completely obliterated or b)completely absorbed in that disgustingly destructive relationship I was enamored with, I still recognized the energy we had together, even when people around us did not. (And still don’t, I think. I’m okay in the idea that we confuse people, though.)

ANYWAY. I don’t wanna bore you with a wordy scrapbook of memories ’cause, you know, we’ve talked about them to a masturbatory degree. (The only people who love talking about how awesome their situation is more than we do are Burning Man attendees…)
But, after a decade, I’m convinced that there has to be something Bigger going on here than two weirdos having befriended each other in a bullshit theater class. (Seriously. That class was buuuulllshiiiit. “Constructive Rest Position”? Learning to tremble? Bite my ass, Jermaine.)

You loved me when I hated myself so much I literally tried to murder myself. You have loved me when I let my demons reject you from my life. You have had that same delusional faith in me even when my life was nothing more than rolling out of my bed at my parents’ house and driving to the technical college up the road in my pajamas day after day because I’d failed at literally everything else. When I told you I was pregnant by some dude I’d been dating for 3 months, (less than a year after my second mental hospitalization, ohbytheway) your immediate response was to exclaim “CONGRATULATIONS!” and send me a bouquet of my favorite flower (lilies) the next morning, even though everyone else around me provided me with silence and fear for the next month. You have cheered me on from the sidelines, even when you were literally my only enthusiastic fan and you have never once shown any doubt that I wasn’t the person you’ve been trying to convince me that I am, even though I’ve done things to contradict that hypothesis many, many times.

Even though the noises in my mind sometimes get too loud for me to focus, I want you to know that I have never stopped loving you just as much. I cried every night you slept in the hospital and, aching with powerlessness, leapt at the chance to cram all your necessities (read: record player, paints) into my Jeep from Greensboro to Charlotte. I blew all my money from that coffee-shop job of mine for those monthly (sometimes fortnightly) treks up to Asheville to see you and I never once hesitated to plaster your art all over my dwelling space the minute it was given, in any form. I made sure to practice singing along to the more obscure PJ songs so I’d know all the words for the “next time” we got to see them perform (it totally worked!) I have always continued to talk to Chloe about you and show her pictures so she wouldn’t forget her godmother between the times she got to see you.

But I am, by no means, unaware that I’ve dropped the ball a lot and, when looking at this friendship and identifying its role within my life from this vantage point, I can’t help but feel the deepest regrets for the times I’ve let you down – you more than with anyone else I’ve ever disappointed. (Don’t tell my mom.) Dismissing your declining health and its symptoms (and understandable insecurity of those symptoms that compounded them) as “selfishness”, I pulled myself away from you and cut you off completely, in the name of “self-preservation”, instead of bothering to find out what, exactly, was at the root of your uncharacteristic actions. In my heart, I knew better, Allison; I know you better than to assume you’re just another brainless, unaware victim of self-absorbed-twentysomething-ism… why didn’t I do more? Why didn’t I stop to look deeper? Why didn’t I at least recognize that you weren’t being yourself – that something was obviously hurting you? I don’t know, Allison. I’ve spent hours of time wondering to myself what the hell kind of mental state I could’ve let myself get to in which I would completely ignore the “you” I inherently know and then regard your disease as your Self so much that I’d turn my back on you entirely. This time spent has only caused me insufferable pain – pain that worsens when I contrast my actions with the ones you’ve made when the roles have been reversed. As a friend, by comparison, I have been a selfish coward whose actions haven’t supported all those rambling speeches about your greatness I’ve made over the years. I don’t know why I have ever betrayed your trust or love when you have never once been disloyal to me, but I do know that I may never forgive myself for it. It’s just another testament to your wonderfulness that you somehow have, as always, seen that these actions aren’t indicative of my real Self and have forgiven me. Additionally, you have never once held me hostage for my shortcomings… Don’t think I don’t always carry those truths with me.

I always say that Chloe was The Thing That Saved My Life, but you need to know that YOU have constantly been The Thing That Makes Me Better. You bring out something in me that makes me a totally different person than the one I always thought I was; the energy I get when you’re around makes me love being alive and love being present and love being creative and fucking LOVE being myself. That sounds inane and melodramatic and really, really adolescent, but it’s true; you make me really happy to love the things I love. (“I JUST LOVE THE STUFF I LOVE!!!”) Just like I’d always kept my burning passion for Pearl Jam stuck in my pocket until I met you and let it reignite like crazy ever since, you’ve been the one to give me permission to really hurl myself at my loves, regardless of how idiotic they look to everyone else. You’re the one who lets me ramble for hours about Jim Henson/“Sesame Street” and who wants to watch “Tommy” 4,000 times to blabber about its nuances with me and you’re the one who will introduce me to new stand-up comedians or let me subject you to them and then dissect their genius for years upon years and you’re totally okay with spending Bear’s naptime just hanging out, smoking a hookah, drinking a shitload of Cheerwine, watching/running commentary during “Gia” and giggling about how fabulous it all is after making freshly-picked-strawberry-jam and you’re the one who gives me confidence to submit my writing to other people when I think it’s not terrible and you’re the one who gave me the balls to actually put that first stencil to use tagging various landmarks by immediately shouting “YES! LET’S DO IT!” and you’re the one who fucking laughs her ass off when I make a joke that I think is pretty good. You’re the one (many times the only one) who encourages me to not only figure out exactly what it is that I am, but to get really good at being that thing and then showing it to other people, when you will cheer loudly about it. Jesus Christ! Just writing that makes me feel unworthy.
Oh, but oh yeah! AND you’re able to do all of this cheerleading while also going out and seeking your own identity and truth and rocking at that, too.
DO YOU KNOW HOW RARE THAT IS!? Do you have any idea how fucking lucky I am to have found the aforementioned person AND that that person hasn’t totally given up on me yet AT ALL EVER (maybe because she’s insane, but I’m okay with that)!?!?!?! Because I don’t. I literally cannot conceive the odds of finding someone as special as you, having you come into and stay in my life for this long, and giving me all the gifts you have (and not just because I’m terrible at math…)

So, yeah. I just wanted you to know that I thought about all this today in church and realized that I’ll be talking about you still if I make it to 70 years old. And I realized that I would literally peel the skin off my back and sew it into a greasy, bloody skin-shirt for you if you absolutely needed it [in some post-apocalyptic, dystopian reality where that would somehow be crucial for survival.] (That sort of plot-hole is why I don’t write sci-fi.)
And I hope you know that everything I’ve ever said about your energy and vibrancy and incredible talent is the truth and is one of the rare, few things I Definitely Believe In. And I hope you know that I love you and have loved you no matter what my slow-to-adapt mind has convinced me of. I feel like you know these things, but I also felt like I needed to state them plainly and in print, where they could be cited and referenced.
More than anything, though, I’m so grateful that you’ve been such a definitive part of my last ten years. I don’t want to say anything hokey or forecasting about the future because that always seems to backfire for morons (ex: “Hope I die before I get old” – P.T.), but do know that these last ten years have been wonderful (even when they were fuckinggoddamnawfully terrible) because you have been in them.

Thank you so very much, Allison. Even if all our inside jokes and all our co-creations and all our memories and all our shared loves were suddenly stripped away from my conscious mind, I would still love you and everything you inherently are. I promise.

Right behind you,
L P-S

Hey everybody! I’m in the middle of the second week of “Good Days”!!! I haven’t had this kind of consistency since Jan-February-ish and, so, I think it’s safe to say that I’m on the other side of Bout o’ Crazy 2011. I’m freeee!!!

Here is a video that could not more perfectly describe how I feel right now.

Tommy- I’m Free

I’ve been cooking dinner and staying on top of laundry and taking the Bear out of the house and playing and painting and cleaning and sleeping all night and bathing and gardening and getting things done just like a normal person and I am so, so very happy and relieved. It seems so foreign that, just a couple weeks ago, I was unable to do any of those things. Hooray for going with my gut and ditching that quack! (I’m starting with a new doctor in a couple weeks.) Now I can spend time being in love with the life that I have again and making up for all those months of awfulness during which my wonderful husband kept us afloat on almost every level. (There will be cake and backrubs!)

YYYYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAYYYYYY!!!

Oh, and thank you, too, reader. I know it gets exhausting to have to read my annual complaints, no matter how much I attempt to vary their themes for philosophical context, but it’s nice to know you’re out there, giving a shit and pulling for me. Seriously.