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

Sike Bitches, Pansy never left

Anyone order a Breakthrough PTSD episode? Anyone? No? Must have been me.

It’s my own fault. I got cocky. I poked the bear too many times in too short of a time period. Coming back here. Reading old entries. Allowing my brain the open that file again. Looking at things I usually avoid.

Cleaning my room out, trying to get rid of things. Somehow my oldest computer is out and my kid is calling my name. I look up and “I found something”. The look on my kid’s face. Sigh.

It was in the disc drive of the computer I’ve avoided for years.

I’m a crying mess. I haven’t been like this in over two years. Turns out I’m not better, I’m just busy. Hahahah. Fuck. FUCK.

Now I’m sleeping (not sleeping at all) next to my laundry because cleaning came to a screeching hault.

Can we not? Can we not do this? Fuckkkkkkkk. It’s 3:56am and I have to be up at 9 for the kid’s ortho and then work. The sky was weird today; I knew I shouldn’t have pushed my luck.

• 

Catriona

Xoxoxo

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

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

Accidental Social Experiment

I don’t believe in being wasteful.

So, it shouldn’t be a surprise that from time to time I use my son’s old, raggedy ass, kick you in the face Bright Orange school bag (if you knew me, you would know that Orange is not my color, annnnnd you would die laughing). I mostly use it because it has the BEST laptop pocket, ever. Anyway. So, this morning I grabbed it, dumped the contents of my purse in, grabbed my laptop, and out the door I went with my son.

We hopped the bus, I dropped my son off at school and I hit the bakery. I was low on cash so I skipped coffee and got a doughnut (to lessen the Parkour going on in my stomach due to meds)……only to be surprised by free coffee – cream already in it and everything! YES! I could have kissed my coffee guy.

Annnnnnd then I left the bakery…. it didn’t take long for um, weird dudes thinking I was a High School girl to try to pick me up. I get that I am small framed, I was wearing glasses, and a backpack – OK. but I don’t REALLY look THAT young. But, lets get back to the several different OLD guys, in several different areas trying to pick me up, because I looked like a teenager?! One was in a company truck and NAMED the School he thought I went to. Even sighted that he spotted me across town (and was accurate). WHAT? Now, if I were a High School girl I am sure I would have been terrified. TERRIFIED. This dude spotted me across town – did he follow me, or did he just happen to be in the same two places I was in several hours?? Now, I am an adult, and I will hand ANYONE their ass if they come near me, BUT if I’m being treated this way – WHAT ABOUT REAL HIGH SCHOOL GIRLS?!

I ended the day disgusted with humanity. I’m lugging around my 8 year old, ten pound Dino of a laptop in my son’s beaten up backpack so I can attend a meeting I’d rather throw myself off a building than attend, and these sausages want to pick me up because I look like young meat? FUCK THAT, where’s Lorena Bobbitt when you need her?! I better not catch any dude even looking at young girls. WHERE THE HELL IS MY BAT? The world should breath a sigh of relief that I have a son, NOT a daughter.

Pervy, pervy World.

UGH. I need to go scrub with bleach.

XOXOXO

Catriona