So I Wrote

Stephen Fry makes me all sorts of things

Instead of spending the day immersed in my university literature, I opted to lay in bed reading Stephen Fry. It seemed like it was the sensible option as I am getting pains and spasms in my back yet again and I am on the third day of detoxing from the thing that, if it were alcohol, I would be laid out in a park with no posessions apart from a bottle of cheap liqeur. Sugar. Carbohydrates. The thing that I cannot consume in any moderation.

Funnily enough, in Stephen Fry's latest autobiographical book he talks about his addiction to sugar in such a way that I had to put the book down a few times because the magitude of the feeling of recognition I felt reading it became entirely too much for me to handle. My levels of excitement when I come across someone I relate to become so high that my enthusiasm usually scares the other person away. OMGYOUARESUPERSENSITIVETOSUGARTOOICANTBELIEVEIT. WEAREOBVIOUSLYMEANTTOBEFRIENDSFOREVER. BESTFRIENDS.  

But Stephen Fry also makes me feel sad and a tad hopeless. Talking about how in university he would spend hours drinking wine with his friends, discussing a given subject endlessly. That those moments are what university and education are really about. It makes me sad that I won't experience that. I won't meet a Hugh Laurie who I instantly mesh with and become lifelong best friends with. I don't drink alcohol. Only if it's champagne. And sometimes when I'm really upset. I don't really make friends, because I am convinced I will like nobody and nobody will like me. And then that nobody will turn out to be somebody, and that somebody will exit our friendship years down the line and I will be left, as I have been a few times, crushed.

Whoa wait, what was that bitter tangent? My goodness.

Anyway. Stephen Fry. He makes me hopeful and hopeless. Hopeful because someone who suffers from manic depression, tried to kill himself many times, went to jail etc can make his way on scholarship to Cambridge University and find his place in the world and be alright. I guess the hopelessness is that I'm not reading my own story when I'm reading his book. I don't know where I am going, or where I am going to end up or if I am making colossal mistakes each day that will bring me misery and despair later on. Am I making the right choices? Will I be unhappy? Will I be poor? Will I always be like this? Will I have friends? What is going to happen to me? What is going to happen to everyone else? What will I end up doing?

WHAT WILL HAPPEN?!

It's like those books that end in the maddening vauge ways, where the author is all 'fill in the blanks yourself! I am too lazy to think up the end (or too cowardly to put my ending in incase it upsets anyone).

I want to be like Stephen Fry. He knows so much, I like knowing things. He is inviting and adorable and quirky; I was I was more that than just plain awkward.

Anyway, here is a lovely video of him speaking about things that brings a tear to my eye everytime I watch it.

 

Jesus, Mary and Joseph!

As my mother in law likes to exclaim.

Well, the summer has officially passed and being back in Sweden and all has put me back in project mode. I gained around 3,8 kg (around 8 pounds) by stuffing my pie hole with Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, root beer and wheat-free brownies, cookies, pasta etcetc. I'm also sorry to say that I didn't work out a lot. Some, but not a whole lot. I'm excited to get back to the gym. I'm one of those really annoying people who actually likes going to the gym. I love the feeling my body is strong and improving every day. I also need to stop eating carbs like yesterday, but more like 'after my husband's birthday on Sunday'.

I'm planning on working on two things in therapy this fall: The subject which will hereby be known as 'sex trauma' and my terrible social anxiety.

I spent the entire spring denying and fighting my therapist when he said I have terrible social anxiety. 'Pfft!' I said, 'Social anxiety? I don't have any anxieties about that. I just don't LIKE people. People will just hurt me.' Uhh, yeah. Most of my friends are (awesome! lovely! the best! not putting them down in the least!) online. And with 'most of' I mean 'all'. Well, I guess that really depends on the defintion of 'friend'. To me, a friend is someone who I can text or call without any real reason to and someone who I can say 'duuuuude I feel like shit today' to. My husband hangs out with a guy and he's cool, I like him. But he calls my cellphone and asks to talk to my husband. I'm a secondary friend, friend by association. Which surely is my own fault for being aloof and hard to be friends with. Still a headscratcher though, calling my phone to ask to speak to someone else.

My current plan of attack to curb my social anxieties is to meet people from a forum I frequent. People who may actually read this because the link is (sort of) in my siggy there. So err, hi, how awkward of you to drop by! to them. I figure we at least share one point of interest and if we don't really hit it off it's easy to avoid eachother on a crowded forum.

I really would like a friend. I just don't know how to get them, have them and then keep them my friend. Forgive me for using this phrase, but I am completely socially retarded. I'm like Chandler from Friends, just spewing out one-liners and jokes and I get so incredibly wound up and in my head thinking "OH GOD x DOESN'T LIKE ME STOP TALKING STOP TALKING STOP TALKING EVERYONE CAN SEE x HATES ME NOW. OH JESUS. I AM SO SORRY". I blame (blame!!!) high school and bullying and my best friends deciding not to be my friend anymore and never telling me why. I am convinced nobody likes me. But people do like me, when I let them get to know me behind the awkward spewing that is my tourette-like social anxiety mouth. I think. Mostly I am too scared and busy thinking 'shut up shut up shut up shut up now. Stop your stupid yapping mouth, they don't care!' to really notice. 

Even now I am telling myself to just SHUT UP already. Even though this is my blog. Even though nobody really reads it. Oh, there's a thing called self-esteem? I wouldn't know, because I suck too much to have it.

Phew. Anyway. So errr how are you?

Day 9 of the bandwagon

Day 09 Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.

There are several friends that sort of... went away and left me just scratching my head or alternatively! getting drunk aaaaand then drunk dialing them to ask why they didn't like me anymore.

Yeah, let's take a moment and suck on that particular taste of humiliation for a moment. Mmm. Delicious.

There's a reason that I bought a t-shirt that says "Don't Drink and Dial". Why do I never learn? Oh God, I hope I've learned.

The first friend I'm still kind of scratching my head over I met when I was just beginning my teenage years. We shared the same music tastes and would chat for hours every day. Any internetty thing you could do together we did - we were trolling before the word trolling existed. Then, quite suddenly, it wasn't there anymore. I got the very cold shoulder. And I've no idea why.

The other friend... I'm less scratching my head and more bursting out into a "DUDE WTF HUH?!". It's more fresh. And with fresh I mean almost two years old. This girl was my sister. I trusted her when I had been so abused in relationships and in trust that I had promised myself not to be in that situation again. I trusted her against every terrified instinct in my body. I labeled her My Last Chance. I was really sick for a while when I was around 19, I almost died - when I was getting better I became very depressed and just getting out of bed hurt like a little bitch and she would come to my door every damn day and ring it until I got up and let her in. Sometimes it took half an hour. Then she would sit with me as I gave her the Evil Eye. I credit a portion of me getting better to her. We were always together doing crazy young people stuff and having a blast. Watching the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice, eating tacos and squealing "Mr. Daaaarcyyyy!" And then something changed in our friendship and I don't know quite what or when or how or why... and now she is gone. (Well I do have some ideas.... but they are just that, ideas. Not answers.)  

After her, I haven't been able to trust my own role in a friendship and, equally, I can't trust anyone to be my friend. Trust is a big thing for me. The people who I was supposed to trust as a kid failed me pretty hard. The people I've chosen to put my trust in have failed me pretty hard. Of course, I am sure I have failed other people's trust in me. But if I ever do I explain why I did or why I acted that way. I always have reasons and to me they are legitimate. I guess I wish I could get the same explanation - why did he just disappear? Why did she stab me in the back so friggin violently I still go "whoa." when I think about (and it's not just me! I'm not being overly sensitive! My therapist was like "...that was harsh.")

WHAT DID I DO? I have no answer to this so my brain is making up its own answers. I never doubted myself as a friend until the happenings with the girl who I considered my sister. I always knew I was loyal, helpful, fun and would go the extra mile. Now I feel like I am missing something vital to make people repel from me like the wrong side of a magnet.  

Fucking magnets. How do they work?

My therapist is all "get more friends, hurrah!" but seriously. No. I went against that instinct once and I don't want to again. I don't want to get all heartbroken and pathetic again (the drunk dialing my former sister was a low point I wish to never be close to again OH MY GAWD) because I am 100% sure that people will leave me.  

Victim boohoo blahblahitycakes you are probably thinking but... GAH! I just don't want to be a victim anymore. I don't want to be hurt and abandoned and left to figure out what the fuck went wrong on my own again.

It's better to be Forever Alone willingly from the start than pushed there by someone you considered a BFF.

One of the guys - don't look at me!

I guess I've established that PTSD#1 is based on a sexual type of incident[s] (gee, could I have explained that more awkwardly?) I frequent a forum for people with the same type of issues and a thread I recently read has had me thinking.

I tend to fluctuate a lot in weight. I've been quite big and I've been very skinny. At the moment I am on the bigger end (yuck, gross, omfg etc) and it's happened for many reasons. The first being a car accident I was which had me on crutches for close to 5 months and with permanent damage in one of my feet. Another reason is the poking into my PTSD triggered quite the depression, and my... dislike for sex? No. I don't dislike sex. My dislike for being viewed as a sexual creature.

I hate it. Just thinking of it makes me want to get a dirty XXXXXL sweater and hide inside it. Unfortunately, I have a very ahem, female looking body and there is not much that I can wear that hides my... pectoral area.

See, even just writing about it I get all awkward. I usually have no problems being honest in this blog. Fuck let's just try this shit again.

I have boobs. Giant ass fucking boobs that I try hard to hide because otherwise people look and I instantly feel gross. Sometimes I try on something a bit low cut and I just have to laugh because goddamn, why aren't these puppies bringing me any money? Don't blonde, big-boobed women make money being blonde, big-boobed women?

Oh. Right. I'm also teh chubby. Minus 90 sex appeal points.

Having these giant ass fucking boobs and the hips and the general hour glass look about my figure brings attention...... Unless I pad it with much pepsi and chocolate and make myself a non-option for sexual interest. But the thing about being pepsi-padded is I feel like I'm worth less as a human just because I don't have a low percentage of fat on my body. Thanks, bullying jackasses in high school! Props to your mindfucking abilities.

So I'm basically either thin and terrified of being looked at, spiraling into depths of self hatred because Gross! I have sexuality and people see it! or I'm fat and Gross! You are fat, you second class citizen you (but at least people aren't looking at you that way). Rock or hard place? Which would you choose?

I like being one of the guys, because then they don't really notice that I'm (infact!!!!) a girl. I'll banter with you and play video games wearing my eight year old sneakers and sweaters with food spilled on the front (or more realistically: I'll type banter at you and talk about playing video games and tell you how nasty my eight year old shoes and spilled-on sweater are). I'll be gross, say gross things... I'll do anything to take away from my feminity. I'm so comfortable that way. (Not only because I Am Weird, but because I grew up with my two nerdy brothers who played video games and ate nachos all day - to me that is like the height of Cool.)

Sidenote: I prefer to hang out with dudes because I've found them to be better, more loyal, a less fair-weather type of friend. *fistbumps my homies*

(all three of them. Oh better watch out so I don't get tennis arm from the excessive bumping!)

(Forever Alone)

(Not really. My homies are awesome and I wouldn't trade them for a hundred other homies.)

(Is Success Kid appropriate to mention here then? Oh I know! Me Gusta!)

I've competely lost track of what I wanted to say now.
Let's review:

• I fluctuate in weight because I'm doomed if I'm skinny, I'm doomed if I'm fat.
• My sexuality is horrifying to me on so many levels.
• I like the boys and being one of them.
• Internet memes rule.
• Girls are not good friends.
• My homies are the best homies in the homediggityword.

Uhhh. Yeah I dunno. It's 4.30 am, internet. I just don't know the head thingy that I write with fingers down.

Nanight.

 

Day 1 of the bandwagon

Day 01 Something you hate about yourself.

Starting off on a positive note, I see.

What I hate about myself is probably the topic of this entire blog. I hate being the broken, gross person I am. I hate being the one that has to fight for every scrap of peace of mind, freedom and life. I hate that I wasn't stronger when I was a kid. I hate that I'm not stronger now.

I disgust myself.

Suck it up, for God's sake.

But I can't. Because I'm not strong enough and fuck does that not suck. No wonder I repel people.

 

Searching for people like me (or: Forever Alone!)

I don't know many people like me. Until a few weeks ago I didn't think there was anyone with a similar set of issues to mine. Then suddenly people started popping up. Pop pop pop poppity pop. They made me feel giddy. High. I became so eager to talk to them, to relate, to know their perspective that I overwhelmed and probably frightened them. I was acutely excited. Totez sry, lulllzz etc.

I know the following is a roll-eye worthy bunch of cliches but I'm nothing if not honest. So.

I've always felt seperate from everyone else. So much older than everyone because I've experienced (hideous, mind melting, crotch kicking) trauma, but still a baby because my brain is stuck in the (hideous, mind melting, crotch kicking, eye gouging) trauma. I've felt seperate from people my age because, goddamn! Do I have issues or what!? They all seem so happy and care-free. Adventurous and alive. Most of the time I've been cowering under my blanket, quite busy even if I wasn't going out, thanks.

Buuuut I can't escape the fact that I was busy being pelted with crapstorms and cases of the boo-hoos, instead of busy with school, friends and I dunno... what do kids do these days? Smoke week? Play SNES? Skip through fields of flowers hand in hand with their BFFs and special sexy friends? Go to bars and give blowies to people in bathroom stalls? The same thing we do every night, Pinkie, try to take over the world?

I don't know what people do! I'm an anti-social hermitty freak! I stay inside and read about life in books or blogs. I get my social interraction from my husband, from forums and msn (where I talk to people I met on forums, not IRL). I get my sense of adventure and thrills by tweeting famous people I like (Stephen Fry is dreamy), and picking up my cat when she is in a bad mood and may just take a swing at my face.

My hermit-like existence and my emetophobia is my own personal evolutionary case of Which came first? Chicken or the egg? Was I always a bit reclusive and lone-wolfy or did I become so because of my emetophobia? I was always very determined that I'm just not that sociable. Therapy has me, however, pulling my hair and dramatically flailing on the floor screaming "Oh Em Gee who am I?".

I have defined myself with many words and quite suddenly a great chunk of those words have been wittled away through my therapy as they were only responses to my emetophobia, my father's alcoholism and crappy family dynamics. What am I left with? Who am I left with? I don't like this feeling. I liked it better when upon command I could list ten things that I Most Certainly Am. Now I have trouble coming up with just one.

Uhh. I... Most Certainly got married so I am a wife.

Oh, God. If I don't watch out I will become one of those people who define themselves through their relationships with other people. I am a wife/daughter/cat-mama/friend, therefore I am.

Anyway, what I was aiming at with this blog was to say: Homies out there who relate, please let yourselves be known to me. We can relate and be awesome together.

(And I promise I've learned my lesson about overwhelming people)

  

Why I love blawwggss (and my fascination with religion)

Ahhh I do love the internet. Where would I be without? Probably buried, to be honest. Definitely not married. But those are different stories to the one I intend to tell today. (But do ask me about the married one - it's good!)

As I've mentioned once or twice (ahem) I like blawgggs. I like reading about other people's lives. It's fascinating the type of people you can read and learn about through blaawggsss. I've read about women who had a hard time conceiving babies, I've read about mormon women (allegedly happily) married to gay mormon men, I've read about incredibly successful women. They've all taught me something.

Just this weekend I started reading about a Christian housewife who is married to a medical student. Religious people fascinate me. I'm not religious myself - I was thoroughly scared and scarred after my first relationship with a very Christian guy - and I guess a weird goal I have for myself is to figure them wacky Christians out. I've researched and read parts of the bible and I have the hardest time keeping my temper in check while doing so. The attitude towards women! Towards men! Goodness gracious me. The thing I have the hardest time wrapping my brain around though is how 'they' say that God and Jesus are nice but still will punish you if you don't live like the bible says, and that includes people who have never come in contact with Christianity at all and have had no chance to 'reject' it. If some awesome Christian could explain that to me I would be really grateful.

I really don't want to offend anyone - live and let live, I say - but the whole thought of religion just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Every religious person I've known - from my paternal grandmother (I really like my maternal one and my paternal one... not so much. So I make that distinction clear) to my ex boyfriend - has been very mean spirited about their saviour. Screaming at me that I will go to hell with the rest of my family and friends (especially the gay one, what scum!) and that I lured my ex into sexual intercourse because I had satan inside me (do not get me started on who prompted who to the sex... it was not me. GAH!) is not the way to show people how forgiving, gracious and kind your religion is. I have never felt acceptance, love or kindness from the eyes of religion; only judgement and anger. It's left a very bad taste in my mouth.

But! Blawgs that I have read have shown a different type of religious people. They seem to use positive thought patterns rather than the angry, judgemental kind. But then again, I have not seen them interact with non-believers. Maybe they shun them, maybe they look down upon them. I am very suspicious toward religion. It just doesn't seem like a kind state of mind.

There's one subject that really screws with my head though: Harry Potter. See, when my ex found out that I read Harry Potter he did not speak to me for three days in anger.

Harry Potter = wizard = witchcraft = satan = OMG!

But all these religious blogs I've come across lately talk about Harry Potter as a good thing, good books with a good message and they share it with their children. Again, if a Christian person could explain this to me I would be so grateful. I sincerely wish to understand. I don't know what I am more confused about concerning religion - blindly following a book written by a host of men during hundreds of years, or the hundreds of way that book has been interpreted and implemented into daily life. If I decided to be a Christian, how in God's name would I know which interpretation was the correct one?

In summary: Blogs = awesome! Religion = wtf?