I'm Back!

Always give thought to good advice. Though you may choose to dismiss it, keep in mind that it was given to you for a reason. Maybe your experience has been overcome by someone else. Maybe now is the time to try a new routine. Whatever tribulations you may be facing, consider the words from the ones who love you.

Over the last year I’ve had my ups, but mostly downs. It’s almost impossible to keep sane when you know the day after tomorrow will be just as sucky as yesterday. And today. And tomorrow.  There isn’t a light waiting for you at the end of your continuous meander through the tunnel of darkness, and every step you take adds a load to whatever burden you are already carrying. After having all that weight on your chest you’d think that you might become stronger throughout your journey, but you don’t.

So each moon turns into a sun and back into a moon in one continuous laps of time that really doesn’t seem to mean anything anyway. Daily routines become monotonous and the only escape from the dizzying continuum is the sleep that you may or may not be lucky enough to experience.

I think after all this time I’ve gotten quite good at treading water to keep myself from sinking and I’m pretty proud of that. I’ve tried my hardest to depend only on myself as to not drag others down with me. (That’s what happens when you try to help someone with depression; they are a black hole of nothing and no matter what you do, you’ll always find yourself feeling more and more sucked into their darkness). I hate watching people I love crumble right before my eyes because of me.

But I didn’t start writing again to throw a pity party for myself, expecting you all to arrive and rescue me. I’m writing because I want to formally announce that I’m okay again. And I hope to be okay for a long while. I’ve gotten my closure; the scabs I kept picking are now scars that will soon fade away. I’ve removed all of my timeworn mementos and created a brand new beginning for myself. And since doing so, I’ve found that all I had to do this entire time was to jump. Jump and not look back. So I did. And I’ve landed in something refreshing.

There is a new smile that makes me walk around cheesing like an idiot; a smile that has scars of its own. A smile that mirrors mine. It’s nice to see a reflection that is independent and strong and resolute in its morals and values, even though some are different than mine. I’m anticipating a long labyrinth that will soon become easy to navigate with this smile’s accompaniment

So here’s to that smile; welcome to my normal crazy life. I hope you stay a while

 

Good Bye for a While

I’m writing today to say goodbye for a short while. A lot of ‘things’ have been going on lately. My bipolar cycles were up, and what goes up must come down; the depression is coming down harder than that rain that pummeled the east coast last week. That was some rough stuff.

So I’ve deleted some social media outlets to remove myself from being poisoned by other people’s perceptions and opinions and to take the time to lick my wounds and hope that they will become bright pink scars that I can be proud of one day.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/literally-darling/loving-someone-with-depression_b_4002503.html

I’ve found this article on MSN this morning about how to love someone with depression, and I think it has a lot of credibility. It talks about how terrible it is to be told that things are ok, to cheer up, or to laugh at something funny, when none of that really matters. Depression isn’t sadness; it’s the lack of ability to do literally anything. One time I sat on my floor and cried for an hour because I couldn’t get myself to take a shower. There aren’t any reasons for it happen, it just does, so be normal and let feelings of ability reappear when they are ready.

That being said, I don’t hope for attention from this. These words are just a heads up to why I’ll be missing for a while, as well as a link to an informational link about how to love individuals with depression.

Thanks for your support. I hope to be back soon.

Today's Words

So today I’ve been thinking about the things I’ve learned the hard way; the things nobody told me. Like I always do, I’ve researched a few ideas to get my thoughts straight, and today I’m going to take a few ideas from Alex Noriega, the creator of “Stuff No One Told Me”, as well as some of my own lessons.

One day you’ll miss today. There will be a time that you wish you could go back to a very specific moment of your life. But you can’t, so make the best of every second. When you have a shit day or a nostalgic memory, today might be the day that you’ll call upon to relive. Make today a good day. Attitude is the difference between an avalanche and an adventure.

Fun is a relative concept. Do what makes you happy. Don’t feel pressured to do something you don’t want to do to please other people. If you don’t think that longboarding is fun, don’t do it just because someone wants you to, you might shatter your foot. If you want to read a book inside, read a book inside. If you want to wear a tutu to work, wear a tutu to work! Do things that will make you smile and don’t worry about appeasing anyone but yourself; you’re the only one you have to answer to at night.

Make sure to taste your words before you spit them out. Sticks and stones, right? Wrong. Words probably hurt more than physical pain because you can never unhear them. And writing bitter words is even easier to do because you don’t have to say them face to face. Always think about what you have to say before you say it. Would it hurt you if the roles were reversed? Probably… so keep them private. But on the flip side, always compliment someone if you feel it inside. Everyone likes to feel noticed; you might just make their day a little bit sweeter.

Don’t take anything too seriously, especially yourself. The ones who can laugh at themselves are the ones who love themselves the most. Take time to reminisce on that one time you were caught on camera doing something silly and smile. Everyone makes mistakes. There isn’t a single person who counts every slip-up you have, so relax and enjoy what you do. Let go of hard feelings because time moves too quickly to stay stagnant.

Wishes won’t come true by themselves; make them happen. It would be wonderful if they did, but they don’t, so work hard for what you want out of life. Open your mind to grow new ideas and stretch as far as you can to meet your goals. You get out of life what you put in.

I could go on and tell you about how I have had to learn these things the hard way, but I’d hope you’d rather read this and take something away from it. These are some things that, had I known and taken them seriously, would have landed me in different places than I’m in now. Hindsight is always 20/20. Maybe keep this in mind, and know that these are some of the things that someone DID tell you when you had the chance to listen.

The last day of Pride Month

Since I haven’t written in a while and it’s the last day of Pride , I thought I’d have a little fun by giving you all a sneak peek into my lifestyle. I am going to preface my writing by saying that this post is not fact, nor am I trying to sway anyone’s opinion. This post is for funcicles, so don’t be a hardass and have a nice, hardy chuckle from it.

 I’ve done some research on other blogs to find how other people defined the many labels of lesbianism and this is what I found:

To begin, let us look at the term ‘lesbian’. This refers to a sexual and romantic desire between two female-identifying individuals. She is not always a man-hating, short haircut wearing, feminist, though some have personal views that perceive them as such. She does not have to ‘look gay’ to be a lesbian; if she says she’s gay, she is. She cannot be ‘turned’ straight by a man, nor will she appreciate the offer from you to do so; you will get scolded… or punched in the throat.

‘Dyke’ is another term used to describe a female homosexual individual. This term can be offensive to some, but is usually only used by others within the LGBTQIA community.

          Note: dyke with a ‘y’ is a lesbian. Dike with an ‘i’ is the damming of water.

“Lipstick/Femme” lesbians are individuals who look characteristically feminine and girly. They can prefer makeup and dresses and usually have always perfect medium to long hair. Most of the time they don’t like getting dirty and they always like to get ready before going out.

“Butch” lesbians exude a more masculine persona. She usually has shorter hair and is pretty low maintenance. They like team sports and wear baggier clothing. A ‘butch’ lesbian is what most people associate with the female homosexual individual.

 

 “Soft Butch/ Chapstick” lesbians show some feminine characteristics, but have more of an androgynous appearance. Their hair is typically medium to short in length and is styled into a ‘messy’ look and can usually be spotted in jeans and a plain t-shirt or a button-up and loose tie. 

 

            The term ‘Chapstick’ lesbian was coined by Ellen.

 

“Boi” lesbians have feminine features but have done away with most of their feminine characteristics, leaving them with a boyish appearance. This term is also used to describe a gender-queer individual who presents him/herself as male

“Sporty Dyke” refers to a lesbian who is super into sports, (softball... cough cough..) They almost always have a ponytail, wear school sports teams t-shirts and are very strict about keeping their bodies toned and fit by exercising on a regular basis.

A ‘Baby dyke’ is a lesbian who is young,  or who has recently come out and has many different characteristics between the different types of lesbians, as she is just coming into her own. They are usually identifiable by the excessive amounts of rainbow/pride swag that they display.

 

 Gold Star- Lesbian who has never been with a male -identifying individual

Then there are terms like, ‘L.U.G’ (lesbian until graduation) and ‘hasbian’ which are pretty self-explanatory. Those two groups of women really grind my gears, but that’s a story for another time.

Enjoy 

 

Three Wishes

If you were to be granted three wishes what would you wish for? There are three rules of magic: you can't bring back someone from the dead, you can't change the past, and you can't make someone love you. Those rules suck; they basically say that you can’t fix a broken heart. What good are wishes if you want anything besides materialistic objects? Do quantifiable objects truly make you happy if you don’t have the ones you love to share them with?

So, basically, I’m writing today to answer my own question: If you can't wish it, how do you make someone love you?

The response I received the last time I asked was the most poetic and raw answer I could have asked for. The individual started it plain and simple; if you want someone to fall in love with you, find out what they like. Learn about those things and talk about them, ask questions to look further into their passions and then use those as building blocks. Send them just because texts (like the "old school" notes we passed around in school). Take the time to talk. Talk on the phone, talk in person, just talk. Wish them a good morning or good night. As things get more solid, show a side of you that not very many people see and make sure, even at your busiest moment, there is always at least three seconds to make time for a midafternoon reminder to smile. Go places that mean something to that person, be open to their dreams and aspirations. Make a home cooked meal - especially if you can't cook; it shows you put forth the effort. Always take the opportunity to laugh... Yes, even at your horrible cooking.

Do the little things, because the little things are the big things.

That last line is my favorite. It seems so simple when written in plain text. That being said, thank you, person who enlightened us all, for your words. Now, if I only took this advice myself…

My Identity Crisis of Summer 2013

Since June is Pride Month, I’m going to write about my identity crisis of summer 2013.

There are many ‘types’ or classifications that come to mind when you think of homosexual females, and that’s where my mind dwelled for a while during that summer. The most common classifiers: Dyke, Lipstick, Femme, Butch, have about 20 different subcategories between the four. (Maybe I’ll post about the endless list and definitions of the inbetweeners one day) Lots of people say they don’t want to be labeled, that they love who they love and don’t need a word to describe that. Welp, I like labels. They give me a clear picture of what’s in front of me.

I decided that I identify as Femme, and that’s where my problem began. How the beep am I going to meet someone if I don’t appear a certain way? Lezbehonest here, most lesbians have a telltale sign that you can pick out pretty quickly: clothing choices: baggier jeans or gym pants, plain t-shirts, hooped lip rings or eyebrow piercings, slicked back ponytails or short hair, white watches (that’s a theory of my own. Straight individuals- don’t stop wearing yours in fear of catching the gay). Others are sneaky and can only be identified when you join our secret club (handshake included). It might be the gate of her walk, the style of her not slicked back hair, the choice of accessories like wallets, belts, or shoes; subtle similarities that you can find amongst us that only the trained eye can spot.

And then there are gays like me, who look ‘too straight’. I don’t have piercings other than my ears. I wear only eye makeup regularly. I wear regular work clothes during the day and my ‘never seen yoga’ yoga pants at night or on the weekends. I wear my long hair in either a bun or down and curled. I carry bags and I don’t think I have the lesbian swag that some of us do. So, again, this is where my distinctiveness is hidden.

I’ve heard things like, ‘you’re too pretty to be gay”, ‘you just haven’t found the right guy yet’, and ‘you don’t even look gay, you don’t have to lie about not wanting to go out with me’. Really, though? These make me face-palm. Every. Time. This is why I don’t like going out. I don’t like getting hit on by guys because it’s awkward. I don’t want to waste your time, and I sure as hell don’t want you to waste my time. I don’t like the pretentious asswipes that don’t take no for an answer. I just haven’t found the right guy yet? Maybe you haven’t found the right guy yet... how about that? Oh, you don’t like guys like that? Neither do I, BYEEE. And then I’m a bitch for turning them down, watch out... might get shot for that one of these days.

So, without a blinking light over my body or a tattoo across my forehead, how am I supposed to put myself out there to get noticed by the right people? I can always catfish online, or pick someone up at a gay bar, but is that really where I want to meet someone I might have a future with? After being handed my orientation on a silver platter at an all-girls college, the real world does not make finding someone as easy as it was before. I guess that leaves me waiting for the right time, or whatever. If it’s meant to be, it’ll be.

And that was my identity crisis of last summer.

 

The Reason it All Started...

I’d like to share with all of you my obsession with painting my nails. I’m ready to anecdote this biznitch!

It all started when I graduated college. Without my friends as neighbors any longer, I actually had to make an effort to see people, so I did. I headed back up to my alma mater where a few friends were staying and I was pressured into doing ‘fun things’ because I was ‘boring’…. yes, they coined the name ’No Fun Cassie’. Instead of watching them longboard, I was urged to actually participate and who would have thunkit, I was actually pretty fantastic; that is, until magic happened and in some weird yet graceful turns in opposition of each other resulted in a shattered right foot. I was told that the way it happened looked like I intentionally laid on my back in the fetal position gasping air into my clenched muscles. I guess years of dance really do produce muscle memory…

After spending two nights feeling bruised and swollen but ultimately fine, I landed in the ER after being verbally assaulted by a neighbor of 6 years that I had never before spoken to about foot injuries. After crawling up the stairs back to my mother and sister, I regurgitated my experiences, including the infuriated neighbor. She looks at me, puts her head in her hands, and sighs, ‘well, we’re going now then. I’m not spending my entire night in the ER.”

And to the hospital we went!! I shoved my 300% enlarged foot into the check-in lady’s face and she put me right into a room. (I guess if you really want a room in the ER, just bring in an enlarged body part and you’re golden!) They wheeled me into the radiation room and the technician allowed me to view my foot before the film was printed. Turns out I had shattered my three middle metatarsals in my right foot. The tiny Russian nurse came in and told me I was too puffy for a cast so she proceeded to splint me up, and when I say ‘she’ I mean my mom. The nurse handed my mother the splint and told her to mold it to my foot and she walked away. What? Just because she was in scrubs doesn’t mean she should be setting splints. Regardless, we ventured home on crutches and I was told to R.I.C.E.

 After a week stuck on my back, literally, I went to the Dr. to get casted and it was really really fun. I get home and sleep and out of nowhere come the stabbiest pains now that my bones are in place again. After the cast was put on all fun was over. I was Rapunzel, locked up high, without anyone to keep me company. My mom and sister both work so I was alone for 8 weeks. I got really low to the point where the only thing that I could do that would take my mind of the mind-numbing boredom was to paint my nails. I painted them every morning just to pick it all off over night, just to paint them again the following morning, and from that monotony came my sick obsession to always have my nails done.

Anecdote finished…

Since then, I’ve gotten my daily painting down to once a week. I spend most Sunday nights paining my nails a new color for the days ahead.  I seem to always find a color I don’t have and absolutely need (because everyone needs obscene amounts of nail color, duh.) while I’m out anywhere.  My collection is gargantuan and it continues to grow. I’m considering getting a rack soon to see them all. Marshalls is always great to get discounted off season colors, FYI.

I guess this post wasn’t really about nail polish, but my fragmented appendage. Oh well. Thanks for reading!

Way Back Wednesday... Right Now Wednesday...

I was trolling the interwebs the other night and I tumbled across this journal entry (if that’s what we want to call it?) and I thought I’d share. Depression is a very private illness. I’ve heard some people equate the struggle with the personal struggle with cancer; other people know it’s there, but they can’t really understand the fight like you do.

“Depression does not always mean

Beautiful girls shattering at the wrists

A glorified, heroic battle for your sanity

Or mothers that never got the chance to say good-bye

 
Sometimes depression means

Not getting out of bed for three days

Because your feet refuse to believe

That they will not shatter upon impact with the floor

 
Sometimes depression means

That summoning the willpower

To go downstairs and do the laundry

Is the most impressive thing you accomplish that week

 
Sometimes depression means

Lying on the floor staring at the ceiling for hours

Because you cannot convince your body

That it is capable of movement

 
Sometimes depression means

Not being able to write for weeks

Because the only words you have to offer the world

Are trapped and drowning and I swear to God I’m trying

 
Sometimes depression means

That every single bone in your body aches

But you have to keep going through the motions

Because you are not allowed to call in to work depressed

 
Sometimes depression means

Ignoring every phone call for an entire month

Because yes, they have the right number

But you’re not the person they’re looking for, not anymore”

 
by “Alexandra” Tilton, NH (Teen Ink: November 2013 Issue)

I’ve had a handful of really bad lows over the years and I find it hard for people to understand me when I don’t even understand myself. I’ve been called lazy and a liar, people have told me that I used depression as an excuse not to do things. I was dubbed ‘No Fun Cassie’ in college because there were a lot of things that I really couldn’t do, but everyone thought I was just being boring. It’s rough, but it’s nice to know that those are the people I broke ties with in order to better myself.

To end on a high, it’s really nice out and I can’t wait to eat at our new picnic table at work for lunch. WOOP!

Cheers!

Foot in Mouth

Do you ever find yourself looking back at past actions and think, “Wow, why did I think that was a good idea? What was going through my brain to think, ‘yeah, let’s do that’?”

I’ve had plenty of those moments lately now that I’m thinking clearer than I have been. Let me share my awkwardness with you all:

• I’m not wearing a sweater to work today because I don’t want to—Freezing.
• Get to the car to go to the gym, realize I forgot to put on deodorant, leave without it—Bad idea.
• One contact feels funny, drive with it anyway—End up ripping it out in a fit of rage, half blind driving.
• Feeling super sad, decide that lying face down on the dock will make it better—WTF?! (It didn’t)
• Texting something important to someone, end up fighting—total face-palm. Keep your fingers shut.

To add to my list of strange behaviors, my sister lovingly pointed out that when I’m asked a question, instead of answering, I blankly stare at questioner while I process my answer. “Would you like another glass of water?” O__________O ‘Sure, thank you.’ (I’ve never typed out one of those faces before, nor do I plan to again)

Thinking about my actions makes my eyes flutter and roll back into my head at my brain like I’ll find the answer to why I do such stupid things. Hindsight is always 20/20. And my idiotic actions and blank stares at inquiring individuals aren’t really a big deal. The big mistakes are the ones that make you crazy with regret and wish that you had stayed home that day.

That being said, I’d like to make a public (private) apology by saying that I wish I had lain face down on a dock that day instead of doing stupid things and I wish that I had stared blankly at you before that venom was spewed from my tongue. There are a solid amount of face-palms that I have every day regarding a slew of different instances and individuals, but the most painful are the ones regarding you. So, I sit here with my fluttering eye roll and humbly apologize for my foolish actions and words. I really think things would be different right now had I been thinking clearly and appreciated what was in front of me.

I don’t even know if said individual knows my words on here even exist, but I’d hope that person will somehow acknowledge that this was seen.

What did we learn today? Think about what you’re doing and how it will affect others before doing it, and stare blankly at people until you’re ready to speak with nice words.

You. Are. Welcome.

First Night in LBI

I'm due to write again but I don't know what to write about. We just got to our house on LBI and I'm already having a rough time. Way to go, me... Last year was probably the last time that I was completely happy and content with myself and my situation. 

Coming back to this house bombarded me with overwhelming amounts of memories and emotions that I wasn't ready to revisit. I walked up the stairs and it took all of what I had to hold myself together as I passed the bedroom that I slept in last year. 

When everyone settled down and got ready to take the babies into town I found  the time to completely poop on my own party and shut the world out. I want to thank my family for dealing with my crazy and accepting that I am the epitome of anxiety and depression. Thanks for letting me recoup and walk around silently until i can function again.

Happy Memorial Day weekend!

Happy Things

So today has been a good day so far… everything that rolled over from yesterday is pretty kosher. I started my own phone plan at AT&T after a shitty time at Verizon . Side story- Mr. Sales Associate either had bad allergies or MERS and was sneezing all up in my space, and then he was putting his hands in his mouth, chewing on his fingernails and spitting them out at the computer. He proceeded to announce that ‘shit, we have a problem’ and after making me wait andt talking for an hour at 8:30 pm, told me he couldn’t help me until the 30^th.  Nope. BYEEEE.-  So I left and went to AT&T and they gave me a really affordable deal, and I got my new phone for a very nice discount. Win. I bought some fun cases and chargers for said new phone, and also a clavicle brace for my horrific posture. Hopefully it helps.

It’s warm, but not hot and muggy out today, so that’s a plus. Since it is one of my better days, I’m going to share some things that make my happy. (note: I’ve adopted a coworkers phrase ‘squeee’ instead of ‘woop’ or ‘woot woot’ as my excited sound. Pronounced skwee.) All of my happy things that I am about to list deserve a nice ‘squeeeee’ in my book.  

Succulent plants

They are pretty and don’t take much effort to be kept alive. I have a fairly large black thumb and there has yet to be an instance that I haven’t killed a plant. I had little air plants that I over watered and gave them root rot- poor things. I vowed to keep this latest succulent bunch alive. Knock on wood...

Flowers

I absolutely love flowers. All flowers, but especially hydrangeas and carnations. I love the way they look, I love the way they smell. I can keep bouquets alive longer than potted plants … go figure. But cut flowers are such a waste of money. The inner turmoil is tough to deal with.

Nail polish

The amount of nail polish I currently own is absurd. I don’t know the number, but the boxes I’ve kept them in over the years have increased significantly in size... to the point where I'm getting a rack for them all. When I ‘wiped out’ and shattered my foot last summer my depression had taken over and the only thing that I could do statically was paint my nails. I would paint them a new color every day, and then spend the night picking it off to start fresh the next morning. It was ridiculous. I’ve since curbed my addiction to once a week, usually on Sunday nights, but there’s still that urge to purchase a new color (even though I’m certain that I have ever color ever made) when I’m at the store. (this photo isn't mine, but mine is just as full)

Pretty bedroom sets

I absolutely adore bedrooms. When you share a house with other people, you can always escape to the one place that is specifically designated to you and your crap. I find looking at bedding and furniture completely enthralling because I love the idea of being in a personal oasis  amongst my daily chaos. I will get a fancy french set one day. It will happen.

Doctor Cocks

To preface this post, I must advise you all that I will refer to my doctor as Dr. Cocks, because both his first and last name resemble the names of male anatomy.
So lately I've been on new medication trials and it hasn't been the bumpiest of roads, no tire blowouts this time, but it hasn't been smooth sailing. There was a chunk of time when I was so unbelievably livid at almost everthing that I scared myself. I could feel my body holding itself back from throwing things, from knocking things off desks, from shoving people out of my space. It was incredibly frustrating to be aware that I could snap at anyone at any second and lose control completely. That being said, I told Dr Cocks and we started working on different 'cocktails', if you will, of medications.
As I'm writing this I have to digress and share that I'm currently in the waiting room. Its usually silent except for the classical music dancing from the speakers, but today there's a young boy, maybe 8, talking to the ancient receptionist about the King Kong movies. There are lots of shifting eyes over magazines,  burning holes into the back of this kids head. Its always a little bit entertaining watching other peoples distaste for children. I'm learning a lot about these movies that I have zero interest in. Thanks, kid.
And we redirect to my insanity... the reason I travel an hour every other week to see Dr Cocks is because the latest drug has made me gain a butt ton of weight..literally.. and I am NOT a fan. It took away all of my aggression, as it was supposed to, but this whole chubby side effect thing isn't cute.
This leads me back to today. I'm sitting here, listening to this boy waddle around the waiting room whispering to himself about different ideas of things to draw. Dinosaurs will not suffice.  I'm back at the doctor again because I'm being weaned off of the fat medicine, being introduced to a less side-effective drug, and I'm back to being my old anxious, angry, depressed self. Yay me! Side story: I tried to be supportive and attend my friends' graduation this past weekend but I failed miserably when I flipped out at the table, left in tears and drove home. Luckily, I have the greatest and most supportive friends anyone could ever with for.  Hopefully I'll leave today with a purse full of samples that will actually work this week. Here's to my appointment (never) being on time!!
Cheers, mofos!

My conflict of the day..

Something I’ve been struggling with for the last few months is how to separate making others happy and making myself happy. This inner conflict has caused me such turmoil and despair because I’ve always been such a people pleaser since I’ve been young. I figured if I didn’t object, no one would have a reason to notice me.

I’ve mentioned before that since starting to work with different doctors and different medications I really don’t feel much fear or anxiety anymore.  I’ve been able to confront others and I finally have the confidence to voice my opinions. There was a time my sister and I were being followed around a store so I turned around and asked if the man had a problem and why he was following us. He had no reply so he walked away and didn’t bother us anymore. That’s something I never would have done before; I would have left the store as fast as I could. There are other times people will be pushy in stores and expect me to move out of their way in an aisle, and I no longer do. I was here first, you can wait you turn.  Of course I’m not rude about it, but I’m not going to stop what I’m doing so you can cut in front of me.

Sometimes I say that I now have zero tolerance for BS, and I stand behind that statement. I don’t let people walk all over me anymore. If I feel like I can’t handle a situation I’ll say it. Sometimes it’s understood by others and other times they feel shorted by my lack of support. Hey, if I feel like I might have a break down and embarrass myself (which has happened on plenty occasions), I’m going to do whatever it takes to ensure that I don’t. I know it sounds like a blasty blast being bat-shit crazy, but I can assure you, it’s not.

With all this in mind, I’m having trouble with going to my friends’ graduation tomorrow. There are quite a few personal feelings and situations that have occurred over the past year and a half with people who will be there that I don’t want to resurface. I’ve spent too many seconds, minutes, hours, days, worrying about different scenarios and confrontations that have happened and may happen again. I don’t know if I can deal with picking those scabs that have crusted over the still opened wounds.

this is how I feel today

It’s just a shitty situation. I can go tonight and tomorrow to support my friends but face the fact that just being there will set back some of the progress I’ve made, or I can refuse to show up and let them down because I’m being 'selfish'. I’m not asking for advice, just sharing different parts of my brain with whoever reads this. It’s still early in the day, who knows what will happen.

Damn BOGO.. Every Time!

I was lying in bed last night talking with friends about tattoos and I realized how much of an impulsive person I’ve become. Infomercials? Heck yeah I need that!  Candies by the register? How did you know I needed orange TicTacs?! Dunkin Donuts? I’d like a smmmedium, uh, large iced coffee please. Ninety percent of the time I enter a store for one specific item and I end up leaving with seventeen different things that I didn’t intend to buy. Like when there’s a BOGO sale – I only need one, but it’s a sale… might as well get both!

This frivolous spending is how I have been fueling my nail polish addiction over the past few months; they are such tiny bottles, they’re so easy to lose track of amongst other things. And don’t even get me started on online shopping…

Knowing this, I’ve come up with a way to help reduce my spontaneous spending over the years: I physically carry things in my hands (not in a cart or basket) and when my excursion has come to an end, it’s much easier to decide whether I need the item in question or not (usually not). But with impulsive purchasing comes buyer’s remorse. There’s always, sometimes instant, regret after buying something I don't need. But that's what is fantastic about return policies!

I think some of the medication I take stops me from feeling rationality or fear, which is probably why I don’t overthink doing things - especially shopping -  anymore. One day during the summer I woke up one morning wanting to donate my hair to Locks of Love, so I went to my salon and chopped off 16 inches of hair that day. I decided that I wanted to change my public speaking abilities so I was put in charge of keeping 65 strangers safe and civil for 2 years when I became a CA during college. I wanted to get away from life for a while, so I packed my bags and drove down to AC by myself to spend a few nights in a big comfy bed with room service. Another time, my childhood friends and I got up one day and decided to go skydiving, so we did.

What's the totality of all this? I've learned three things: that I am a very extemporaneous person, that I'll try almost anything these days (except for food), and that I was encapsulated by social anxiety and internal turmoil. I must have seemed like a complete snob and a total bitch in high school because I never spoke to anyone, I never went out to parties, and I tried my hardest to be as inconspicuous as possible so no one would notice me. I couldn’t pick up the phone, I couldn’t drive, and I couldn’t speak in class or to my teachers. Looking back at what I’ve missed out on is disheartening because I lost so much of my life. That being said, there is a quote by George Eliot that I’ve adopted, “It’s never too late to be what you might have been.”

This quote brings my post full circle: if I were to get a tattoo, it would be of that quote because I feel it describes my growth flawlessly. I’ve wanted this tattoo for years now, and this is the one thing that I have never and will never be impulsive about. You can’t return or exchange permanent.

About Mom

In accordance with mother’s day, I will write about my mother. My mom is one crazy B. she’s my other best friend and I can’t ever begin to repay her for all the things she has done for me over the years. She’s held my sister and I together for the past decade and I know I wouldn't be as sane as I am now if it wasn't for her.

One of the most cherished memories I have of her was from just last year. My medication wasn't working anymore and I was in the midst of the countless drug trials that I've trudged though over the years. I remember only small bits of this day, but I do remember calling her while she was at work one day asking her to come pick me up because I couldn't function. That’s what depression does to you; its paralyzing and deafening and you have nothing but waves of guilt washing over your body and spilling out of your eyes. I found the strength to call her and asked for her to leave work to come get me from my internal hell. With all that said, mommy came and saved the day. She called my professors and the school councilor who planned out the remainder of my fall semester. Without her I wouldn't have graduated and I might not be functioning today.

After graduation she comforted me when I was digging deeper and deeper into the dark abyss of my own insanity while I was immobile without my foot. She took me out of the house to a butterfly garden at the zoo one day to let me sit in a wheelchair among the flowers. The day after I got my cast taken off she pushed me to go to my job interview, throwing all of my shit at me at once, knowing id get it all together one day... and I have.

Beyond the long hours for dance practices and the extended competition weekends, the endless loads of laundry and the sacrifices of salary to let us stay at school with our friends, my mother has shown my sister and I a strength I have never seen in anyone else. I hope to become at least half the woman she has come to be. I know I’m an adult now, but I still need help sometimes and I know you’re not far behind me. 

I love you mommy, to the moon and back.

A cliché's a'brewin..

I’m going to write a cliché “about me” post because I’ve changed significantly over the recent years and I’d like to share my story. Some of you know who I was decades ago, some of you know who I was years ago, and some of you don’t even know my name.

I’m Cassie, I am 23 years old, and I have a Mom, Dad, Step-Mom, Sister, and, between the two houses, eight cats. Judge away, judgies!!! I have diagnosed mental illnesses and I take lots of medicine to make me a functioning human. ( I'm well aware that I qualify as a crazy cat lady) I identify as a gay female. I graduated college with a BSA in Business Admin. and Marketing, and I started my career in the Flavor and Fragrance Industry last fall. My favorite color is purple, and my favorite animals are elephants and butterflies. I have the mouth of a sailor (thanks mom J) but I’ll keep it clean to the best of my ability.  I think smoking is gross, and I don’t do drugs. I make dumb faces millions of times a day and I AM THE NEXT AMERICAN IDOL.. in my car J

I’m positive you’ll get to know more about me as I continue to indulge in this soon to be obsession. (I can feel it coming)

Cheers!

I feel like I have to add that some of the photos I might add are not mine. I don’t know how copyright infringement works but I don’t want to play that game.

 

OOOOOOOOOklahoma!!!!

My best friend left to start adulting in Oklahoma today. It’s upsetting to see her go, but until you are apart from someone you don’t fully grasp how much they truly impact your life.

It all began 15 years ago when our teacher brought in a ‘grow your own butterfly’ kit. Our class waited and waited for these little bugs to hatch and once they did my life changed forever. One recess I went to the back field to pick flowers for our classroom butterflies to eat (because butterflies eat dead flowers, didn’t you know?) when all of the sudden this crazy-ass B rips the delicious nectar from my hands and stomps all over them, telling me, “that’s stupid”.

You see, at first, I was incredibly angry at this insane little person with such angst toward my love for butterflies, and then I did what all small children do; I ran to that lunch-aid faster than I ever ran in my life and tattled like it was my job.

I have no recollection of what happened after recess that day, but something magical happened. The two of us became inseparable for no apparent reason at all. We even pretended we were sisters on many occasions; buying matching clothes and wearing them when we were out with each other’s parents. She practically lived at my house for the months her family was fighting cancer, and I spent every summer with her family at the beach.

We started high school as best friends but we found different niches through the years. We graduated and I know we didn’t take any photos together. We both left for college and we talked now and again, but newer friends and prior plans had become the norm.

I think the first fall after college graduation was the catalyst that made us find our way back together. We both found work and our free time coincided once again. We started talking more and that’s when she received a fantastic offer to move out west.

The past two weeks with this girl have been some of our best. Spending time with her is almost like we never walked away from each other. Sharing stories and packing unreasonable amounts of clothing have consumed our recent days, and it sounds dumb but I’d like to remember these days more than any others because we are finally Blaire and Cassie again.

I can’t wait to hear all about your adventures and successes. We will take that road trip one day. You can come visit me in Jersey (or Florida J) and I’ll mosey my way out to OKU for a football game or two. I’m so proud of you and I know you can, and will, do marvelous things. I love you Blaire!

If I were to start a blog...

I started this morning asking myself, “If I were to start a blog, what would I write about? Would anyone actually read it? Will they judge me? Do I even care if they do”? So I guess I’ll start my blogging experience by answering my own questions.

1.       If I were to start a blog, what would I write about?

Blogging is the 21^st century’s social media replacement for writing in a journal. It’s funny, people used to be so private when writing in a journal.. or dare I say it – diary! It used to be shameful to record your innermost thoughts and to reminisce over your own history. But Oh! how the times have changed. Every Tom, Dick, and Harry knows that everyone posts every minute detail of their lives to the world, expecting them to care - checking into places and posting photos to multiple sites with a single touch.

So should I jump on the bandwagon? I usually don’t do things that I feel are important enough to society to post them. Now I am stuck with the decision to actually do things worth sharing, or keep doing me and share my life anyway.. I’m sure you all would be enthralled by my stories regarding my family, illnesses, lifestyle, and my cats.

2.       Would anyone actually read my blog?

I actually just laughed at myself after thinking about this. I am illustrating the epitome of narcissism by considering to spend the time and effort to make this public, and then expecting you to actually take time out of your day to read my words. I suppose that if I give enough craps to unload my brain every once in a while, at least someone might read the regurgitation and appreciate a piece of it here or there.

3.       Will they judge me?

Definitely. I can name at least 10 people off the top of my head that will follow this link just to see what kind of judgments they can make about what I’m doing with my adult life. Hey, guys! Suck it, I’m fabulous.

4.       Do I even care?

Absolutely not! I welcome you all (specifically those of you who know, immediately, that I am referring to you) to inquire about the trivial things I might say, to close the tab that this blog opened up, to call your friends over to see just how insignificant you think what I am doing is. After all I have been through, I can guarantee that the amount of cares that I do not have for your negative opinions greatly exceeds your numeric imagination.

But to those of you that are genuinely interested, don’t know me and would like to, or want a sneak peek into life according to Cassie, my brain is yours to pick.