After coming home from my last trip from Texas, taking time to lick my wounds, & immediately pushing away thoughts of ANY person who may have had any type of romantic inclinations at ANY moment in my life out of my head, I’ve come to some huge realizations. I’ve sat with myself for a while now through a bevy of emotions. I’ve found peace. It’s what I wish for ANYBODY. Truly. I KNEW it was possible, if only I sought hard enough, and earnestly. I did both.

I realized that I’ve had the pattern of liking or loving men who could go as far as even reciprocating THAT back but would never commit to me because they either consciously or subconsciously thought they lacked something within themselves to be with me. It has never mattered how beautiful, how intelligent, how kind, how compassionate, how ANYTHING they think I am- they feel that they are lacking. The men I end up with are almost always large alcohol abusers (and if not, it’s either drugs or SOMETHING in excess), which represents them running from something in their life that they refuse to face. It doesn’t matter what I do or who I am. They will never settle down with me because I am not equally broken on the level that they need me to be for them to feel secure. They will choose women who they view as being broken and/or naive over and over again before they ever choose me, despite their feelings. This is not a reflection on me, except to say that I have chosen to not ever stay down when life has broken me. I have fought, and clawed, and shed blood and tears to heal and to understand myself and how to get to where I am today. I didn’t get to where I am by chance. Not by luck. But because I fought like motherfucking hell. Claws bared; teeth gritted. I do not make alcoholic men feel secure. I do not make functioning alcoholic men feel secure. I do not make recovering drug addicted men feel secure. I do not make men with drug issues feel secure. All of that is okay. I can now accept that. And I am now choosing to move on. This is me now moving on. This is me, at this age, FINALLY understanding that it’s genuinely NOT me, and that the only messed up part of this equation is me even having interest in those men. That’s when I need to look inside myself and ask “why?”. That’s where the damage is within me. And to that question, I am coming to understand the answer as well. I’m not weak. I don’t need a liquid to drown my sorrows. No pills. I’ll take some deep breaths. I’ll figure it out. I’ll sleep on it. I’ll cry. Maybe for a long time. Multiple days. But I’ll get through it. And because of that, I’ll never be the choice of a man who runs from his problems. The kind who is emotionally stunted, disengaged, unaware. The kind I’ve repeatedly broken my own heart over. Not anymore.

I’m content. I’ve let them go.

I’ve had a lot to say about my birthday trip to Texas for awhile. But I’ve been searching for the words. Overall, I rate it as having been a good birthday. Namely, because I have the BEST friends in the world who shower me with love and adoration, especially when my hormonal disorder is kicking my ass and making me feel like a big ZERO. Despite the fact that oftentimes during that period, I can’t HELP but feel like nobody in the entire world loves me or cares about me (damn hormones TRICKING MY MIND & EMOTIONS!), they always push sooo hard to MAKE me feel that my PMDD is a liar. So for that, I can’t ever be thankful enough. As for the parts of my trip that were affected in….disturbing….ways NOT due to PMDD- THAT’S what I’ve completely pushed aside since I’ve been home. I’ve done a phenomenalllll time at acting like nothing even happened. My mind has always been my greatest tool & my biggest enemy. A double-edged sword. But the longer I push it down, the more it comes up…. when I’m driving… or taking a shower… or trying to fall asleep at night. And then I feel dirty. Why do I feel dirty??? How is THAT fair??? I think about wanting to foster a teenage girl… and how LIVID I would be if I found out things that have happened to me…that I’ve PARTICIPATED in were things that she was going through. How I’d want to set something on fire. From the fire that was already blazing from within. I had never heard of the term “fawning” until, probably last year? And then when I read about it, I immediately knew that I’ve been doing this my whole life. This horrible, sad, self-displeasing, gross quality. And it stung. It STINGS. I’m a grown woman, and I’m stuck in this disgustingly unhealthy pattern that I ABHOR about myself. So often…I even KNOW when it’s happening….but I feel like there’s nowhere to run. I feel like an animal in a cage. Literally. That’s exactly how I feel, how I view myself. Like I want out, but there’s no way out for me. I can specifically recall particular events/moments in my life, that would unquestionably NOT have happened if I would have just been able…. to say ‘no’. And I want to apologize to young me. Hug her. Tell her I’m so sorry that she was put in those situations where she was taken advantage of. It wasn’t her fault. She had a CHOICE. She didn’t have to CHOOSE, to instead, carry guilt around with her for the rest of her whole damn life moving forward. But I can’t. Because 30-something year-old me IS STILL DOING THE SAME DAMN THING. 

I’m friendly. I’m very friendly. I always have been. Misconstrue this as flirting, whatever. I really couldn’t care less. I was at one of my favorite bars with one of my closest friends. Bartender/guy waiting on us- I’ve seen him before. He was nice and had my sense of humor. My friend kept telling me that he was into me. I was like, “I don’t think so”. But I’m obtuse in this situations. Every. Damn. Time. Apparently. At one point he had come over and picked up my phone and added himself to my IG & followed himself back from my account. So I decided to make a casual comment about how I had dated his co-worker (who he seemed to be friendly with) awhile back. I kind of figured that would squash any kind of…. anything, because… ew, why would you want to go there if your friend already has? That’s just me. Blah blah blah blah, he gets cut and goes to the bar next door and sits with a friend. I leave that bar and go to a different one. He messages me on IG. I was surprised, maybe, at his ballsy-ness, but not shocked. Everything after that though. I don’t even know what to do with. But this is the whole reason I brought up fawning. The whole reason I still sit here unable to….make the choices I want. Out of some fear that comes from….where? Clearly some childhood trauma. (I’ve got a great grasp on what.) I don’t know where to begin this story, and I don’t know where or how to end this story. But I can tell you that some grown man that I had known for a few hours, that is apparently good friends with somebody that I used to hold in high regard (and had a horrible & awkward time being pleasant with for the remainder of my trip), asked me a series of extremely uncomfortable questions, badgered me for nudes, SENT me an UNSOLICITED dick pic, & I continuously casually blew him off, gave him half-ass answers, AND (THIS IS MY FAVORITE), EVEN TALKED TO HIM THE NEXT DAY. 

WHAT. IN. THE. EVERLOVING. HELL. IS. WRONG. WITH. ME. Let’s begin. Did I feel dirty while all of this was happening? Um, yes. Yes, I did. And not in some hot & bothered sexy fashion. But in a “my clothes are being torn off of me by somebody that I don’t know who is violating every inch of my body & soul & I feel beyond disgusting & I need to shower immediately & I feel sick to my stomach” type of fashion. He asked me if I was flirting with him at the bar. My response, “I’m a friendly person”. “But were you FLIRTING with me?” he says. “…..I wasn’t not flirting”, I say unable to say how I truly felt. He asked if I thought he was attractive. I went with, “you’re my type.” Oh. Well, that’s original. Brown hair and brown eyes. (I’m rolling my eyes.) He asked if he could come to the bar that I was at. I told him I was about to leave to go home. He asked if he could go home with me. I told him it was actually my friend’s house and she’d murder me if I brought some stranger home. He asks if I would if I could. “Probably not.” That is incorrect. What’s the harm in ‘no’? I DON’T KNOW. ASK MY DAMN INNER…..WHATEVER. He told me, “I’m not gonna lie, I really want to fuck you.” My EXACT ANSWER, “Thanks, that’s very flattering”. WHAT. IN. THE. HELL. (Punching myself as I type this.) He asked me for nudes…over and over. I kept telling him ‘no’. He told me he knew I had been flashing him my panties that night at the bar. That was definitely the moment I was ready to strap myself to the railroad tracks out back. Um…..no. No sir, I had not. But that’s cool. Because I GUARAN-DAMNNNN-TEE you that he told all of his little co-workers that that chick over there is showing me her goods all night, when really it’s more like, that chick doesn’t know how to sit still with a skirt on. He then DESCRIBED MY THONG TO ME. Firstly, I’m already wondering how I’m going to go back to this bar now that a) he works there and he makes my skin crawl & my ex who has the WORST people judgement-making skills is there (causing me to reallllly wonder about HIM), & b) I KNOW THAT EVERYBODY THERE THINKS I’M A PANTY-FLASHER. That’s embarrassing. And please quote me, because those are words you will RARELY hear coming from this mouth. Needless to say, um….I fawn. I’m a fawner. Fawning is a HUGE problem of mine. 

SO. I’d like to start off with- I feel SO much better now that I got that out. Because I hadn’t said a word of that aloud. I feel lighter. I still have a fawning problem. But I know it’s a problem now. I didn’t always. I’m trying to let go of the guilt of the past. Not making everything MY fault. But…it’s always seemed…like the thing to do. This last major “fawning experience” made me grow. It was ever so damn uncomfortable. But it pushed me. It pushed me to a higher place within myself. So yeah. Maybe that was my best birthday present I could’ve given myself. A hard slap in the face of “YOU NEED TO START HEALING THIS ASPECT OF YOURSELF”. Because damn. I do. I am so loving. I am so compassionate. I am so empathetic. I am so nurturing. This isn’t how I’m supposed to live. And it’s absolutely not how I want to live. 

I'm on vacation. For my birthday. Laying in bed. I can't really decide if I'm tired. But I know that I feel awful. I feel used, unloved, like there's nothing right about me, like there's not any loveable qualities about me. I feel alone. I feel SO alone. I want to cry so badly. But I have no tears. I just feel empty. And I now know this is because of my PMDD because last night I had the WORST headache for no reason. Except now I understand that it was due to hormones. This is hardly even bearable. Living this way. I just want to sleep forever. Never see anybody again. Except animals. That would be the only necessity. People don't want to actually stay in your life though. They die. Or they get tired of you. Or betray you. Or men just want you for sex. Or they find somebody else that they feel they don't have to rise up to meet. They settle in comfort. After wasting my time, but moreso my emotions and love. That I'll never get back. It's gone, taken with them. Another piece of me is torn off. And PMDD's got me so fucked off the rails over here just wishing I didn't even exist. Wishing my aunt would just magically come up from the dead and tell me that I can do this! I can get through this! If I can JUST make it through these next few days...until the next month hits.........And maybe, just MAYBE it'll be one of those random few and far between months where I don't feel COMPLETELY worthless and hopeless and wrestle with suicidal ideations. Or maybe it won't. And I'll be here again. Struggling to get through another month of another year, until one day, it's just over. I wonder what it feels like to look at yourself in the mirror and think to yourself how beautiful you are. I wouldn't expect anybody to stay. They always leave. I've learned I was meant to be alone. Loving from a distance. I can't think of many things that hurt as much.

It's hell week. And I can't move. I'm tired, but my mind's awake with self-hatred and it's only 7:01P. I want to burst into tears, but per usual with this life and identity-sucking disorder, there's no cause. I want my bedroom light off, but am just staring at the chain. I feel completely unlovable. I just want to be alone. And the thoughts fight to the surface that I want to go to sleep and not wake up. So naturally, my mind wanders to my aunt. And then I'm enraged and sad. But I'm used to this cycle. All of it. I read an article the other day that said that women with PMDD, while able to menstruate (so not including pregnancy and menopause and particular birth controls) spend an added up average of 4 yrs total of daily life-debilitating symptoms. FOUR. YEARS. That's 365 times FOUR. I just..... couldn't. I'm thankful I don't experience the rage so many women experience with their PMDD. But some days, I honestly think that I'd trade the rage for the worthless & hopeless feelings. Because I. Can't. Describe. Them. I literally cannot think of a way to do justice for just how extreme the lows get the months that I get hit with the feelings of hopelessness, feelings of worthlessness, depression, random weepy nature, & suicidal ideations. But it's a form of me that makes all dark things in the universe sing, because in those moments in time, they're winning. Making me question what's REALLY worth it. Whether it's REALLY worth sticking around for. Reminding me that suicide runs in the family, so..... A form of me.... that's not me.

I feel better now. Writing helped. Channeling helps. *Breathe in, breathe out.* *Thinking of Ariele & breath work 😜.*

In this moment.... I'm thankful that I got Starbucks earlier, & still have the majority left. I'm also thankful that my personality permits me to rejoice over the little things in life. Haha

"If I was gay, I would think hip-hop hates me

Have you read the YouTube comments lately?

"Man, that's gay" gets dropped on the daily

We've become so numb to what we're sayin'

Our culture founded from oppression

Yet we don't have acceptance for 'em

Call each other faggots behind the keys of a message board

A word rooted in hate, yet our genre still ignores it

"Gay" is synonymous with the lesser

It's the same hate that's caused wars from religion

Gender to skin color, the complexion of your pigment

The same fight that led people to walk-outs and sit-ins

It's human rights for everybody, there is no difference

Live on and be yourself

When I was at church they taught me something else

If you preach hate at the service those words aren't anointed

That holy water that you soak in has been poisoned

When everyone else is more comfortable remaining voiceless

Rather than fighting for humans that have had their rights stolen

I might not be the same, but that's not important

No freedom 'til we're equal, damn right I support it."

This afternoon into the evening has been such a dark fog for me. I know it's my PMDD really pulling out my emotions towards the situation I'm currently stuck in. I've been trying to shake it on and off. It was easier when my sister was here earlier, soaking in the time spent with her. Time I'll never get back, time I'll never regret. The reason I am where I am. My mind was distracted. But now I lay on my bed and just feel....I don't know. I don't know how I feel, but it's not pleasant. It's a definite sadness. A deep sadness. Continuously wondering why people can't treat life the way I do; Like you have to grip it with everything and hold tight to the people you realize should be in your life. But I know that's not fair of me to ask. I know most people haven't had experiences that have caused them to have these eye-opening, punch in the stomach, awful realizations. And I don't want them to. You don't ever get to go back to a "before" time. When things were innocently sweeter. When everybody didn't look like they'd leave you as soon as you told them all of your darkest moments and revealed your deepest vulnerabilities. Loving is so easy for me. And it makes me angry. Why do I have to be that way? Why do I have to feel so strongly? Have so many levels of awareness about needing to make sure you do whatever it takes to make things work with the right person. It's painful. Because most people can so easily go their entire lives without ever coming to the understanding that being with someone, no matter where they are in the world, no matter the challenges, is WORTH it, if it's real. That settling is weak and gives a lackluster life. You get one. One life. Why not gorge it with the passion from the person you crave because you're lazy??? I will never understand this. Ever. And it goes along with how I'll never understand running a puppy mill, horse racing, sex trafficking, and pineapple on pizza.

I am tenacious. I am kind. I am sentimental. I am passion in the raw. I am compassionate. I am empathetic. I am forgiving, merciful. I am introverted, yet not expected to be. I am shy in situations where my heart is really on the line, but have it all within me to be outspoken in most areas of life. My mind is a steel trap. I have nightmares that play on repeat. I am emotional. And I tend to overthink. I am a writer. I am a painter. I am a singer. I am a surfer. I am a soccer player. I am a kick-boxer. I am a rock climber. I am an ice hockey enthusiast. I am an exhibitionist. I am modest with my inner workings. I am layered to the core. I am spiritual. I challenge physical pain. I am impatient. I am becoming, evolving. I am mourning; Loved ones lost, blows yet to be struck, the lost innocence of my younger self who never had a chance at escaping particular destinies that would come my way or instances where I wasn't offered a leg up, that perhaps, could have changed my entire path. I mask my vulnerabilities. I am guarded. So guarded. I am a best friend, a ride or die. I am a close friend. I am a friend. I am a sister. I am a daughter. I am an aunt. I am a granddaughter. I am a cousin. I am far away in my mind. I am next to you wherever you need me. I am a procrastinator and a perfectionist. I am physically scarred; Reminding me how many animals I've touched, reached out to, pleaded with to let me help them. I am not afraid of the dark. Or his, or yours, or theirs. I am a cook- when given the mental fortitude. I am working on myself. I am one with nature. I am an acai bowl aficionado. I am a Phoenix. I have been broken and put my pieces back together in a different and sturdier arrangement. Multiple times. Always on the edge of my seat, ready for the next fall. I am a watcher. I am a giver. I am a lover. I am a fighter. I am aware. I am an activist. I am a humanitarian. I am seeking. I am flawed. I am worth fighting for with every ounce of your being. I am thriving. I am a defender. I am a voice. I am artistic. I am conflict-avoidant. I am independent. I am experienced. I keep it all inside. I am an old soul. I am intuitive. I am maternal. I belong to the ocean. I am thoughtful. I have demons. But I keep them tied up with a bow. I have a survivor mentality. I am hard-working. I am not afraid to get down and dirty for what I believe in. I am fair. I am loyal. I am free-spirited, wild as the wind. I am trustworthy. I am battling. But it'll always be alone. I am expressive. I am from the Eastern Band of Cherokees. I am German. I have Swedish roots. I am deaf. I am a slave to chapstick. I have the legs of a dancer, minus the coordination of a dancer. I am a bikini and lingerie fiend. I am a swimmer. I am a biker. I am a stand up paddle boarder. I am a long boarder. I am bruised. I will get back up again. And again. And again. I am stubborn. I have a mind on overdrive. I try to turn off my brain just for a few hours a day. Just a few hours of rest. I believe in compromise. I am jovial. I am joyful. I am spirited. I am feisty. I am sexual. I have dry humor. I am a reader. I binge watch TV apps. I am a rescuer of all creatures. I am a rehabber, a wrangler, a fearless liberator. I am tenderhearted. I have stumbled. I am running. I am a runner. I am a listener. I am a shoulder to cry on. I am terrified of intimate loss. I am a vegan. I am a model, a role model. I am being watched. I am faithful. I am hopeful. I am organized. I am reliable. I know who I want. I am a coffee devotee. I am all or nothing. I am in it with all of my heart.

What can I learn from this experience? Well, I'm not completely sure yet. I'm still too busy feeling it and being engulfed in the suffering. I know I'm in a lot of pain. I've sat here weeping in a bar on and off for a couple of hours. I'm sitting alone. My thoughts are going to torment me. I wasn't ready for this to be over. Why do I have to pour my everything into each person that I care about??? There's no way this can turn out well for me. Like, ever. People leave, people die. NOBODY STAYS. This is why I do best completely alone. Completely alone. I need my dog so badly right now. She's on her way to Florida though. I can't breathe.

AND I FEEL LIKE I'M NAKED IN FRONT OF A CROWD 'CAUSE THESE WORDS ARE MY DIARY SCREAMING OUT LOUD AND I KNOW THAT YOU'LL USE THEM HOWEVER YOU WANT TO

My best friend Eren messaged this to me. It hits so hard and tells you everything you need to know about her understanding me- that she's one of the people I love most and am closest to in the world, and I'm still like the FBI. I've always felt that when you hold your own pain, you keep it from bleeding into others, ya know? Yet, I want everybody else's pain. Every last drop. I'm limitless. The whole "I'm not afraid of the dark". It's true.

I wish everybody to have an Eren. ❤️

My mind has always been one of my largest weapons, hands down. I need no match to burn myself completely to the ground. What makes some peoples’ minds so intricately webbed? So...labyrinth-like? 

Within the last couple of years, I’ve taught myself how to harness my mind. Pull my thoughts in and shift them. Harness the hurricane that is my mind, really. I’ve never forgotten how I once read that such large presences are referred to in terms of being a female. Mother Earth. You never hear the ocean referred to as “he”. It’s always “she”. Nobody says, “Did you get caught in that storm? He was a big one.” I am a water sign. I wouldn’t have guessed differently if I knew better. Anyways....

Within harnessing so much of my energy, oftentimes, I have taught myself how to throw out the bad without even having to touch it. Letting it roll off of my shoulders and deflecting it away. I see it in my mind’s eye. Being around negative people drains me. It affects me, there’s no denying that. Hematite. Labradorite. I wear these things. I never looked into how being an Empath affected my life until I started looking up/figuring out how to help myself/manage my life in the most positive manner. I had known I was an Empath. I had been told since I was little. I had had several people throughout life tell me. I’m empathetic, to the point of physical ailment and mental, physical, & emotional exhaustion; as well as several other things. Might as well look into it, right? For the first time in my life, I was able to understand why I’m such a tired person (*FULL DISCLOSURE: I also have a hormonal disorder that creates an abnormal amount of fatigue for up to 2 weeks each month). No rare autoimmune disorder, syndrome, disease, ANYTHING. It’s because I’m an Empath. Figuring that out was one of the best things I did for myself. Understanding yourself and learning how to manage that introspection is beyond gratifying. 

As I write all of this, I am exhausted. Lack of sleep from not being ABLE to sleep. My mind has been on overdrive due to the inner workings of my life. Biology. Moving. Saving $ to buy my own house. I need to get back to the roots of it all. Literally. The soil that grounds me. Again, literally.

-animal cruelty rescue/rehab

-BMOD-dogfighting rescue/rehab

-neonatal kittens

-neurological cats

  *cerebral hypoplasia

-radial hypoplasia cats

-fiv+ cats

-owl rescue/rehab

-equine rescue/rehab

-sea turtle rescue/rehab

-TNR

-feline/canine pharmacology

-shark conservation

-fospice felines & canines

-carapace/plastron repair

I guess these are what you would call my niches. My vet medicine niches. Tooooootally not all over the board. My heart bleeds for animals FULLY. But, these are the things that REALLY get me running. Racing. Extra excited to wake up in the morning. 

A very close friend of mine once told me that I reminded him of a wild mustang. He said I was very free-spirited, independent, strong-willed. People wanted to be near me because I exuded a beauty in spirit and in looks, but I always had an innate way of not wanting people too close. Without even trying. Like instinct. I'd always run my own path. His words really struck me. Words I respect because of how well he knows me and because of my deep love of wild horses and their struggle for land & the peace of being undefiled. Educate yourselves on the BLM (Bureau of Land Management). 100,000 horses are sent to slaughter annually in America (REAL #). (AND THE USDA DOCUMENTED THAT 92.3% OF THOSE HORSES ARE IN GOOD & HEALTHY CONDITION TO BE ADOPTED.) But that's a wholeeeeee 'nother INFURIATING topic... Now that I'm off on a rampage though...WTF ARE WE SLAUGHTERING HORSES??? This is why life is so exhausting when you care. But there is no other way to be alive. Simply put.

Do you know what it’s like living with a debilitating hormonal disorder where you feel like you’re perfectly in line with what’s going on around you in a moment and then *snap* all doom and gloom? Where picking up your feet to move them to the next step feels like you’re PHYSICALLY lifting weights? (Why is my body so heavy all of a sudden???) It’s no wonder so many women get misdiagnosed as bipolar who have PMDD. I, as well as anybody close to me, can tell you without a doubt, that am not bipolar. But right now, I am sad. I. Am. So. Sad. I have no reason. The only reason being, that I have PMDD. And for as much as “they” (researchers? doctors? scientists?) have figured out, all of my hormone levels are normal, but my body responds to my own hormones as if I’m allergic to them. Right now I feel like my major life choices were poor, like I’ve wasted my opportunities, like I hate the skin I’m in. It’s a feeling I wouldn’t wish upon ANYBODY. It’s a feeling you can only escape via drugs or death. Or when this wave of PMDD subsides. Until it comes again. Either this round or next round. But that’s the thing with PMDD, you never know which symptoms that you experience, to expect each cycle. Some months are way better and some months are so. So. So. bad. Maybe this will be a bad month. Who knows. This is only my first appearance of symptoms. No, nix that. Headaches. Horrid headaches. And I just want to crawl underneath the covers with my dog and cats. I’ll live though. I will. Always do. :)