Category Archives: My sadness is no weakness.

I lost grip of my PTSD.

I had that bitch head locked for about 3 years. I pinned her to a wall and was in control for a while.

You know what happens when you shove something intelligent in a box? It evolves to release it self. Don’t ever underestimate how intelligent PTSD is.

I lost grip of her several months back. Ok, over 6 months back.

I knew it was happening; My plants were dying. My house wasn’t dirty, but it wasn’t clean. I was working harder and sleeping less. I was taking on more and juggling it all to fill the spaces PTSD wanted to occupy. I was forcing interaction. But my PLANTS. lol. I usually live in a forest. They are all just about dead.

Now I’m strategically avoiding all unnecessary interaction without a thought. I realized today just how bad it was.

PTSD, or Pansy, for those who have been with me for a while has evolved. While she is not as aggressively loud and obnoxious in random intervals as she used to be, she is constant now, albeit a dull roar. I’m actually not even sure which is worse.

I worked 16 day straight just to shut her the fuck up. And now because I’m a good lead, I gave away a day of my overtime (today) for one of my dispatchers who needed it. So, first day off in 16 days and I’m sitting here alone in my house staring at my responsibilities. They are staring back.

I just want to build a cabin in the middle of the woods and lose my mind in peace. However, I can’t keep track of my family that way so, here we have the problem. lol. I’m fully aware that the Universe built my kid to be the anchor that keeps me in check. Backfired though. Because, the thing that would be released should my kid be removed from this world would be unimaginable.

I’m supposed to be flying into town in the beginning of September to help my brother with our Mom and I don’t even know how to fake being put together at the moment. I am just hoping they will both be too occupied with the fact that Mom is actually dying from Cancer now to notice my undoing. I don’t even have my ticket yet, that’s how much of a grip I have. Well, to be fair it was so fucking expensive that I almost fell out of my chair when I went to book it. I was hoping the closer I get it would go down in price. I was also hoping the sky would fall and I wouldn’t be able to go – how fuck up is that? Yeah. I know.

The check engine light was late and I knew it.

Catriona

XOXOX

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Bread & Open Diary

Trigger Warning – all the suicide

A few months ago I was excited-mortified to find that Open Diary had been resurrected like a pet long buried in the yard of your childhood apartment complex . Like, do we even know that’s our pet? Everyone buried their pets there, you know? Fluffy? FLUFFY IS THAT YOU? I’m tired can you tell?

I had been writing in Open Diary since middle school. No joke. I wrote very day. Even if it was just tell tell the world to fuck off. I used it as an outlet for my anger. When my first wife started to go into leftfield I used it heavily to keep my head on straight. And then when she spiraled and I followed her down the rabbit hole, well, I used it to keep record of things because my brain was melting from the stress. In 2014 Open Diary shut down much to my disappointment, it was the only constant thing in my life. LOL. I downloaded my entries and put them away. My wife went on to kill herself, twice. I went on to completely lose my face (before, during and long after). After was all said and done I was completed messed up, lol, as we all know (if you don’t just take a look around, you will get the idea). I shoved anything that could remind me, hurt me, bring me back to that time right into the trash. I abandoned e-mails, sites, life.

Time went on and to my own surprise my brain started to heal. It only took 4 fucking years. Prior to then, I couldn’t allow my brain to even peek at that area of my brain without all hell breaking lose for unpredictable amounts of time. As time has gone on I have slowly, very very slowly, doubled back to some things. But, when I read the Open Diary was back online AND had preserved all old account entries – I was a deer in headlights.

About a week later I yelled at myself and made myself go try to reclaim the account. I was relieved when it wouldn’t let me in. LOL. I threw my hands up and forgot about it. I didn’t forget, my brain was cowering in the corner. About 2 months later I scolded myself enough to slink back over to the site and read up on reclaiming accounts. It basically said if you didn’t know the password or still have the E-mail you were shit out of luck as they needed poof of ownership. I didn’t have either of those things. But, I thought “Oh, I can prove who I am. Most of my entries were private and I did not hold back.” So I emailed them with some things I just knew would identify me. I think this is the only time being twisted worked to my advantage. HAHAHAHA. I didn’t get a response. So I thought: “Ok. Then maybe I just shouldn’t revisit all that” and I moved on satisfied that I tried.

But you KNOW that’s not where it ends because that’s not how the Universe does things when it comes to me. LOL. Fast forward about a month or so, I’m on vacation bangin’ through the woods having a great ol’ time when my phone alerts me to an E-mail. Guess who? Open Diary wanted to let me know they verified the information I provided and I now had full access to my old account. Great timing Universe, as per usual. LMAO. I took a mental note that that would be a bad idea, and forgot about it until just now; I was fucking around the house ignoring the chores I need to do when I remember that I was able to log in. So, I while I wait for the bread to bake (Have you ever made Peasant Bread??? It’s FUCKING AMAZING), I signed in and gave it permission to upload 15 years worth of my brain from the server. Just Now as I write this it finished uploading everything in the new interface. Oh man, this was my last entry:

“Fuck it, here it is.

The situation that I was talking about was this: 

She got smashed and attacked me. Punching, BITING, attacked me. I had to fucking hold her down. She was trying to torture me but was too drunk to pull it completely off.

For those of you who don’t already know, I’m a little over 100lb and 5’4. She’s 5’6 about 166lb..seeing the point here?

The thing is, I’ve seen her drink waaaaaay more than she did that night (several times) and never be like this. It was fucking crazy. I was afraid to go to sleep. Then two days later, even AFTER I showed her the videos (oh yes I took videos, so she couldn’t tell me I was lying) she was drinking again. She’s made a rule that no more than 6 beers can/will be in the house at a time but COME THE FUCK ON. YOU ATTACK ME, THEN JUST KEEP ON DRINKIN’? YEAH FUCK RIGHT OFF.”

That was June 30th 2012.

I didn’t even remember this until now. I guess that must have been around the time I shut down completely because I didn’t write again until they announced in 2014 the site was going down and only then I just simply wrote my E-mail address for my readers to find me.

Well I think Imma eat this bread and be done with the internet for a while. LOL.

Anyone else use Open Diary back in the day?

xoxoxo

Catriona

Disclaimer for those who have not been with me though all of this: My first wife had a very serious mental illness. One that we and her Doctors were trying to identify for a very long time, years. Things had spiraled out long before this. I was well versed in all that entailed being main caregiver to someone who was literally coming undone. It wasn’t her fault, for the most part. I was just tired, angry, and losing hope.

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Little blue bag of feelings

Grief is a weird thing. It looks different on everyone.

Recently, I lost a friend from work. She was an amazing human. Always had an answer and a smile. She was always helpful. Even when the pandemic made it hard to be.

I took it pretty hard. My better half must have known. Came home with a pretty blue bag filled with “The stages of grief”. It was literally a bag of pastries. Each one names after a stage. I laughed so hard.

I ate “Anger” for dinner that night, funny enough.

“Depression” was amazing. But, “Bargaining” , “Bargaining” couldn’t have been any better.

I guess what I am trying to say is get yourself a partner that will bring you a little blue bag of feelings when you’re sad. Hahahah.

Catriona

XOXOXOX

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Bathroom Explosion

I wrote this in September 2017 right after we were rocked by a Hurricane. Something I’m sure I will share, eventually.
Don’t run away! It’s not that kind. Wrong end, really.
I took a walk the other night to get catfood after the storm. Wal-Mart is a scary place after a certain time. It’s also more quiet. Something I rather enjoy if I’ve got to brave Wal-Mart.
I grabbed the catfood and sorta just browsed. I came to the Bathroom linens and accessories. In my head I said “Oh, ok well while I’m here maybe I will look at what colors I’d like the new bathroom to be.” and then, it was all down hill from there.
“Oh, look at that color. That’s pretty. I really like that. Oh, but it reminds me of the time we (my wife and I) painted the master bathroom that color. Nope.”

I moved on.
“Oh, this is a nice red. I could get.. No, that reminds me of the master bathroom again.”

I moved on.
“OH black and white. That would be easy! I have all the… Annnnd that reminds me of when we had zebra print in the bathroom… And that one rouge zebra towel I could never get rid of.

I moved on.
“Fuck Purple.”

I moved on.
“Grey is pretty. Two shades of grey and maybe.. Nope. Fuck. That reminds me of my master bathroom. It was Dark grey, as were the towles at one point. Fuck.”

I moved on.
“Coral! That doesn’t remind me of anything!… Except. How ugly coral is. Damnit.”

I moved on.
“This is starting to get ridic….Orange! Orange. It’s not the most calming of colors… But I can deal with that. Throw some abstract Art up and… Crap. And it reminds me of the Cocopelli theme we once had in the master bathroom.”

I moved on.
“That’s ugly. Nope. Nope. Fuck pink. Nope. That’s ugly too. NOPE NOT THAT ONE EITHER. WHY DID WE CHANGE OUR BATHROOM THEME SO OFTEN?! WHO DOES THAT?! I’M NEVER GOING TO BE ABLE TO DECORATE MY BATHROOM EVER AGIAIN!” annnnd I burst into tears. At Wal-Mart. At 12am. At 12am I became a Person of Wal-Mart. Fuuuuuuckkkkkk.
In my defense, I hadn’t slept in days due to the storm. I’d been up well over 48 hours and eaten very little (and, really now that I think of it… We did change the color and theme of the bathroom frequently.. Lmao)
So I’m leaning against the shelf, catfood in hand, in tears…. And suddenly the realization that I’m CRYING IN WAL-MART ABOUT MY BATHROOM DECOR hits me. I start to laugh out loud, hysterically. Like, crazy laugh. I know you know what I mean. Then I realize anyone watching just watched me go from crying to laughing like an idiot. I laugh even harder because I’m now a Person of Wal-Mart. Bahahahahahah.
I finally got my shit together and left the aisel… Not before looking over to see 3 young guys staring….. Yep, I’m the seemingly crazy Cat Lady at Wal-Mart. Yep, that’s now me. Great.
I continued to laugh like a hyena to the cash register. Fuck it.

I didn’t finish this… But, do I really need to?

Catriona

Oxoxoxo

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Catriona in the cow field 

My better half had this weird thing with winning me cows from various fairs, machines, and weird game stands. I don’t even know how it started. Lol. We had two particular stuffed cows that were my favorite Henfers. (Better Half named all cows “Hefner”, it was hilarious). One was obnoxiously large and round. The other was so tiny, you couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer ridiculousness. Both Hefners lived on our bed for years. 

Unfortunately, I only have one Hefner left. The small one. It’s now locked in a box I had made for my son….I will go into that another time… 

Every cow I received had this goofy friggen look on its face. The kind you could be Earth-Shatteringly-Angry, and still couldn’t keep a straight face if you saw one of these things. So, as you can imagine I can’t see a cow, even a real cow, without laughing like an idiot. Every. Damn. Time. It’s made worse if the cow desides to throw a “Moo” at me. I can’t see a cow, or hear a cow, without smiling like an idiot. 

Annnnnddddd then there’s the part where I live close to cows pastures.  I can’t really go anywhere without seeing a cow. It’s a bit obnoxious, really. Even my son has started to notice. We’ve been taking long walks lately, and just sort of exploring. Recently he looked up and said “MOM! Hefner got huge!”.  I laughed, the cows started Mooing, we laughed more… I had to eventually pull us away. Which really proved hard, as their were cow fields on both sides of us for a good twenty minutes. Anyone passing us by would have thought we were nuts. 

It’s been over a year since she died. Yeah guys; I said she. 

The thing about me coming back to writing is that while I was away… We will say “someone”…  decided that stalking me on the internet, cloning my media sites, posting fake nudes… Yeah, you read that right…. Throwing all of my private information (including the town I live in, my son’s name and nick names, my business information, including this blog) out in the open while at the same time harassing anyone and everyone they could. The idea was to ruin my reputation. The idea was  to pop the safe little bubble I had created to protect my son and myself from the internet… Because parenting, and privacy… However it didn’t work. Those who knew me laughed and kept on truckin’. Those who didn’t know me, sort of shook their heads in disgust,  but came back to me with questions.. Concerns.. Because what was posted and said was so bizarre. In the end none of it matters other than I no longer have the privacy I once had, and really at this point: fuck it. LMAO

 You see, if you have been following me regularly I generally use gender neutral pronouns for my better half. Was I ashamed, you ask? Hell no! I didn’t want readers to get stuck on WORDS. I didn’t want it to be even more obvious of who I was. Lol. I skimmed over things that would easily identify me. But, “someone” has made it so that it is easily tracible to who I am. So, from now on, it’s going to be all out in the open… Watch out internet, BECAUSE NOW I REALLY HAVE NO FILTER! LMAO

So, join me on this new journey of letting it all hang out… And finally knitting some penis socks. 

Catriona 

XOXOXOXOX

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Floating around in nothingness.

I’m having such a hard time with life. My marriage was a disaster in the end. It truly was. But, the first few years before she became ill were fantastic. I’m not even sure what I am doing any more.

 

I’m wounded.

Probably more than I’ve ever been in my life. As of February 8th, two years ago, I clutched the phone with my head and shoulder as I pulled the lifeless body of my wife from our bed to the floor for resuscitation.. A day I see every day, several times a day, when both awake and asleep, relentlessly. Treatment for the subsequent PTSD and anxiety disorders are a joke. Even my doctors have called it, collectively. She was the only person I ever truly loved aside from my son. My wife was without oxygen for a damaging amount of time, something they told me while I stood in the ICU for a week could take her away from us mentally, physically, or both.

When she eventually woke, she was no longer my wife. The person I brought back from death wasn’t MY wife at all. And even tho she lived, I swear I died in that room that day. Our situation both before and after that day broke me. I cried everyday where she couldn’t see because I couldn’t help her, because no one could help us, Because she was so messed up, because I was so messed up. I broke under the pressure. She beat on me emotionally and physically because of her issues, yet I would do it again, truly I would. I know she knew what she was doing half the time. And the other half I think her soul was being called somewhere else and she had no idea what she was doing. She told me the day I moved out that we would be married again some day, that we needed to heal apart, that she loved me, that it was killing her to see me go. Months later I could see both deep love and deep hate in her eyes. We got worse apart, not better. I truly believed one day I’d get MY wife back, some day, maybe years but, maybe one day. I would have walked thru hell (and in some ways I did) to heal her, to have kept her, MY HER. After years of failing to help her I was resentful because I was drowning/hurting/helpless and couldn’t see the light. I made mistakes at the end of our relationship. Not the ones I was accused of, but mistakes nonetheless. I will carry them with me everyday. A few weeks ago, short of the two year mark, she died.

She was no longer my wife, or mine in any way.

My son’s other parent is gone, and when I got home I had to tell him while holding my shredded heart in my hands, while trying to hold his together. Through all the hurt, though all the pain, if given the choice I’d walk through hell,  blind if need be,  to find her and drag her out. I’d do it every day if I could have back the woman I fell in love with so many years ago.

Don’t waste time, it’s running out. 

Due to my wife’s illness, and perception of the situation, coupled with a former “Friend” of mine crossing lines and contacting my wife out of anger for me, saying who knows what – I wasn’t even made aware when she died. My son did not get to say good bye, they would not allow him at the service, or speak to us at all. My Wife and I weren’t on bad terms. But, someone trying to hurt me ended up hurting my son more. My son lost his mom, and his Grandmother in the same week, and was left on the sidelines all because of vengeance.

You never know who people are. Even if you have known them for years. I cannot even believe the things that have transpired.

Hold your loved ones. Tell your friends how much they mean to you. Identify and walk away from the ones that truly aren’t your friends. Tell the people in your life you love them once a day.

life with my wife toward the end was a horror show. I used this site as an outlet for my anger always thinking that in the end I would be able to write about the good things that would happen in the future. It was always my hope that she would get it together, and be around for my son. I know it was a long shot. I know it was stupid. but, I always had a spark of hope.

That hope died when she did.

My son is shattered.

But, everyday we talk about one good memory we shared with her. Some times the only way out, is though.

OXOXOXO

Catriona

 

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I have no back burner

You know how you have subjects and thoughts that you just….throw on the back burner and touch on them ever so often? Well, I don’t have one. I have a thought hurricane. It’s a constant tornado of thoughts. (Not to be confused with a ‘Pornado’, that would be fun.) My brain just never stops.

In September I moved.

In October my Aunt started to get sick.

In November I  spent 3 weeks sitting beside my Gram’s best friend (Aunt) as she died of lung cancer. She was diagnosed, and within 3 weeks she was gone. Gram and I drove the 35 mins everyday to and from the Hospital to be with her.

j13

I did a lot of sitting on the ledge praying, looking down from the seventh floor.

j12

This was taken the day before she died. I was sitting next to her bed, I had been holding her up. She was so weak toward the end.

In January my heart was shredded by the loss of yet another family member from lung cancer, and the loss of my actual heart. Telling my son was just as painful as the three actual losses. I cannot express my life at the moment.

I have not forgotten about cards, you guys. As you can see…uh, things are not settled. ha.

I just noticed the dirty sock on my desk. wtf?

Catriona

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Understanding (underestimating?) PTSD

Feb will be two years that PTSD and I have been together.

And you know what? There are still days and months that are just like the first week of Hell that ensued after that day. I’ve been diagnosed with PTSD “Comparable to soldiers coming home from Iraq”. That’s an actual sentence from my Medical record. Do you know how horrible just that sentence is? I didn’t fight in a war. Though, I now have one in my head. Almost two years, and EVERY DAY I still have issues. Every day. Every day, that one single day plays in my head, over and over, or it echos in my ears, or both. Everyday I fight my own head just to breath. Everyday I wake up, take a deep breath, and try to make it better than the last. You know what happens? I fail more than half the time, haha…And telling me I need to “be more positive” only shows that you’ve got no clue what PTSD is. Lmao.

PTSD is having the BEST convo with my son, after having had the best day together, then all of a sudden I’m crossing through a 4 Lane crosswalk, holding my son’s hand, when my PTSD decides for NO REASON at all, to take over both my vision and hearing.

Yeah.

It’s being curled up in the lap of a friend, for over an hour,  as he tries to hold you so close that you KNOW it’s hurting HIM, as you cry because you’re Ex wife text you something stupid, after an already trigger filled day.

Yeah.

You know what I’ve learned in the last year and half?
A.) Most people sincerely THINK they know what PTSD is.
B.) Most people are wrong.
C.) I’m not crazy. Sorta. Ha.
Annnnnnd worst of all D.) Most people, even if they care, don’t do much research. Why? See A.

This article is one of the best I’ve read, and I’ve read many. So, imma leave it right HERE.

Now excuse me while I go try pretend to sleep. Lmao.

Catriona

XOXOXO

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The Brighter the Light – the Darker the Shadow.

You know life is hard when your French press breaks. Haha. Damn it all. Seriously? NOW?! What the hell? Hahaha. This one didn’t even go like the last one; this one was killed, by mistake, not by me. Sigh. Lol.

I’m going to stand on a corner with a sign that says “Need money for French Press.” See where that gets me?

LMAO

Not much going on. I’m doing Yoga again, meditation. Neither of which I am enjoying. Lol.  Doctor’s orders.

Can’t do much in this town without everyone noticing. I’m the only one with colored hair. Facial piercings seem to be unheard of here. I stick out like a sore thumb. What’s new? However this is to a degree I haven’t experienced in years.  I’m a complete oddity here with my proper Grandmother, and seemingly normal son in tow.  Lol.

I’m back to blasting my Ipod in my ears 24/7…just in one ear, so I can still hear the house and Gram.

It’s sooooo HOT HERE. AHHHHH. I mean, I am used to Florida Hot, but this is ridiculous. It’s even hot right now, and it’s 2:19am!

I am trying to write every day. It sucks lol. I am trying to go back to some of my previous projects, I just don’t have time. I feel like I am trying to grasp at something to make me feel normal.

Spent most of the day at the Hospital with Gram, she had tested all today, and all next week. All of which I have to attend. I swear my life was meant to be accompanying someone, or actually being in, a hospital. LMAO.

Thought about my friend that died recently. I guess I can’t help it, that damn painting is stilling on my desk. Ha. Sigh. I guess I should have known, he called me shortly before he died, and gave it to me. Bastard knew he was leaving, and never said a word. I didn’t pay enough attention. He was in another state, I was trying hard to keep my head above water..I wish I had been in a better place, for him.

One of my Orchids is looking like it’s going to bloom. Odd considering it’s been pretty rough looking since last May.  I’m fucking rambling now. I thinking I am trying to kill time before I have to do that fucking Guided Meditation Crap. Haha.

I used to love to Meditate. Now, I do it two times a day, and it pisses me off. Thinking it’s having the opposite effect desired by my Doctor. Hahaha. Who the fuck wants to get up earlier to make sure they fucking meditate? Not me. Lol.

I guess I should try to sleep, I have to be up at 8am for appointments, and such. All without a French press. Kill me now? Please? LOL

OXOXOX

Catriona

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SCREAMING

This morning, my Grandmother called me to invite me to see my Aunt, who came in last night. She didn’t sound right, and her “I just didn’t sleep” excuse didn’t sit right with me. We weren’t expected to see each other for hours, but I started to get dressed. It’s only an hour walk and something didn’t seem right.

By the time I pulled my pants on, Gram’s number flashed accross my phone. I didn’t get it in time, so I called back. My son, who was visiting for the afternoon picked up and I will never forget his words.

“I think my Grandma just had a stroke.”

I got nauseous. I knew it. He was in tears. I ran out the door and sped toward my Grandmother. My son stayed on the phone with me. The Paramedics came and then WENT because her Husband refused to let her go to the hospital,  insisting she was fine. I heard this and made the 60 min walk in 25 mins.

I walked in and she was sitting at the table with her Husband  (not my Grandfather,  he died years ago) and it took her a min to recognize me. First flag. Her behavior was not that of my grandmother. She was slow, and only half there. I said something about a Doctor,  and her Husband JUMPED DOWN my throat. I knelt at my Grandmother’s feet and asked her “Do you trust me?” She slowly said “of course”, and I so I looked her in the face and said “Then I need you to trust me that you’re not ok, you need to come to the hospital with me, your husband is wrong.”

He started screaming about throwing me out of the house, and HE WAS THE MAN OF THE HOUSE (Charming, no?). But, she descreetly nodded her head, and I set about getting her to the hospital.

30 mins later, a fight and threats of harm coming to me “when I least expect it”, I had my grandmother in the ER. They skipped intake because of how visible her symptoms were. She indeed had had a stroke.

My. Grandmother. Had. A. Stroke.

WHAT THE FUCK. Seriously has my son not suffered enough? Have I not lost enough. 

I’m still sitting in the hospital. She was admitted. She is still slurring, But awake. She’s still slow, but I’ve been making her laugh for hours. She’s going to be here for days.  And so am I. I’m not leaving her side.

I hadn’t eaten all day, I can’t go to the cafe, it triggers my PTSD (I’d rather not go into it I’m sure you can guess), but I have to bribe people to go to the cafe for me, but it flippin closes at 4pm. wth? Upon hearing that I hadn’t eaten, one of the nurses brought me anything that didn’t contain meat, that she could get her hands on. hahah.

I guess it pays to have spent years in and out of this place with my spouse that the nurses STILL know me. Sigh.

I refused to leave the hospital. Went toe to toe with my Grandmother’s Husband, and the Hospital Staff. I won.

I’m driving her nuts in the best kind of way. My grandmother is very proper. And I’m the only one that would get away with returning from the in room bathroom to say: “Don’t worry Grams, I didn’t pee in your hat.”

I’m not going to sleep for days. She’s sleeping now, and I’m fighting anxiety issues, and trying to pretend I’m fine every time to opens her eyes to make sure I haven’t left.

Please Universe,  take it all from me, but not her. Not yet.

Catriona

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