And then there were none…

I never thought it would happen this way.  I never thought my girl would move out to be with drippy dick.  To be with the person who mentally, emotionally, and physically abuses her.  But she did.  It happened today.  She told us last night.  I haven’t let it soak in yet.  I took a sleeping pill last night, so my mind didn’t go berserk.  Wrong way to handle it, I know.  Ironic thing is, a few nights ago – I believe it was Sunday night into Monday – I had constant nightmares about my girl and drippy dick.  I was fighting to keep her; he was fighting to take her from me.   My nightmare came true.  And I hate it.  I HATE IT. I HATE IT. I FUCKING HATE IT.  How did this happen?  How is this the life she wants?  When she told us, I asked if she was sure.  I told her I am scared for her mental and physical wellbeing.  I told her she needs to do what is right for her. I told her I will always love her.   My door will always be open, my light will always be on.

Happiness

What is happiness?  

Websters defines happiness as: a state of well-being and contentment.  

Let’s try to break that down.  

A state of well-being.  This is defined as:  the state of being happy, healthy, or prosperous.

Contentment.  This is defined as:  a state of happiness and satisfaction.

Prosperous.  This is defined as:  successful in material terms; flourishing financially.

Healthy.  This is defined as:  normal, natural, and desirable.

And so on and so on and so on.

We each have our own inner definition of happiness.  My happiness isn’t the same as your happiness.  Right?  

I feel the state of being happy when I kiss and hug my grandbabies.  But that’s not everyone’s happiness. I don’t know when I feel like I am in an actual state of well-being.  Is that horrible to say?  I thoughts of self-doubt constantly.   I struggle with feeling depressed, being enough.  That isn’t a state of well-being.

When do I feel contentment? Do I feel it?  Have I felt it?  Or do I pretend I feel it because that means I’m happy.  

Healthy. Ha, that I know I’m not.  I eat too much, drink too much, weigh too much, stress too much, sleep to little, exercise to little.  The list is endless.  Would changing these things make me healthy and happy?

Desirable. Dear God, don’t even get me started on that one.  No, I do not feel desirable.  No, I do not feel I am desirable.  I rely too much on others to make me feel that.  It is not something I have ever found on my own.

I think I can lump prosperous, successful in material terms and flourishing financially all into one group.  Do you agree?  I feel I am prosperous in some ways as I am successful in material terms; meaning I have spent too much money on material items to make myself happy, which in turn means I am not flourishing financially.

So, am I destined not to be happy because there is no way I can ever meet all the definitions of happy? 

Random thoughts on a dreary, rainy day.

Scattered

Scattered. My brain is scattered. My world is scattered. I’m trying to sit and get it all out. I can’t seem to find a place to start. There are so many places, so many things that keep rolling through my brain. The things that keep me awake at night. The things that scare the shit out of me.

I don’t know why I haven’t put anything on paper recently. Maybe because it makes it all too real for me. If I write it, it’sreal. If I don’t, I can pretend. Pretend everything is “normal.” What the hell is normal anyway. Normal, a preconceived idea of what life is supposed to be like, what you want life to be like. If only it were that simple. 

I apologize in advance it there are errors in the following. It is hard enough to write, its even harder to try to go back and proof and re-read.

My girl child. It happened again. February 6-7, 2022. He beat her again. She went to see him on February 6th, messaged me to tell me she was staying over that evening. I was at work (a new job that I have been at for only about a month). My cell phone rings and it’s my girl. I couldn’t answer immediately because I was talking to someone. She called back, I answered. She was crying and close to hysterical. She said they had a fight. I asked if he touched her. She said not as bad as last time. I asked where she was and she said she was in his car, driving to where her car was parked. I asked where he was, and she said she had no idea. They fought and she left. I pleaded with her to be safe, get to her car and lock the keys to his car in the car. I called my husband, told him what was happening and asked him to go to the parking lot where her car was parked and watch for her. He did. She never showed up. I tried contacting her with no luck. She called again, screaming, yelling, hysterical begging me to help her, begging me to save her, she was throwing up and dry heaving while she was talking to me. I got from her she went back to his house, they fought again, she ran outside and was at a convenience store and scared that he would find her. I have her on the cell phone and call 911 from my work phone. I give all the information I have to the dispatcher; he sends police. Her phone goes dead. She calls back from the convenience store phone. Still crying and begging me to help. The dispatcher tells me the officers are on scene. I hear them talking to her. She is beyond rational thought. I can hear the officers now yelling at drippy dick who found where she was. They were telling him to get away from her and stop talking and to listen to them. Drippy yelled at her for calling the cops. She blamed me. The phone went dead. I hear nothing for hours. I finally get a call from her saying she needed to figure some things out and she would be in touch with me, but she didn’t know when she would be home. Deep breaths. Trying to stay in “control,” trying not to freak the fuck out, trying not to let my new employer know what’shappening.  

She calls again on my cell. Upset, but not hysterical. She tells me that drippy dick was driving her back to her car, and he got stopped by police for expired inspection. The car smelled strongly of weed (shocking), and drippy was put through Field Sobriety Tests and then taken for a blood test. She now had to drive his car to the police station and wait for him to be releasedbefore she could come home. I offered to get her an Uber, she refused. 

I go home at the end of the workday. I message my girl a few times and finally hear back that drippy dick is driving her to her car. This would be about a 30-minute drive from where drippy lives to where her car is parked. She messages and says she would like to talk when she gets home. We wait and wait. We go to our bedroom because it’s getting later, and she isn’t home.  Again, my cell phone rings and it’s her. Again, screaming and crying for me to help her. She fears him. She got to her car, they continued to talk, and she drove away. He was now following her, and she did not know what to do. I told her to keep driving home, told her to drive to a police department. Again, she really isn’t hearing me. She stops her car at a gas station and tells me where she is. The phone again goes dead. I call 911, again. I tell the dispatcher the details of what has happened throughout the day and ask him to send officers to help her. My husband also leaves to go to the area where she is. Officers call me back. They can’t find her. I tell them the events of the day and what happened. I call my husband and relay to him that the officers can’t find her. He is in the area and sees the officers, so he stops to talk to them. I get a call from a strange number and answer. It’s her calling from one of drippy’s phones.  Her phone is turned off so we can’t track her. She will not tell me where she is but tells me she is safe and okay, and they are talking. But he is sitting in his car, and she is locked in her car and they are talking via phone.  We have an idea where she parks her car and my husband, and six officers are in that area searching and find nothing. She calls me numerous times from drippy’s phone, and the calls just keep dropping. I have no idea what is happening. Eventually, the officers must respond to other calls and my husband comes home. She eventually gets home sometime after midnight on February 8th. 

I don’t see her until the evening of February 8th because I had to work. 

Sorry, back up a minute. As the things were happening the previous day, I was advising my sons, so they knew what was happening. 

My girl messaged me at some point during the day on the 8th and said she would like to talk when I get home from work. I told her yes, we would definitely be talking. I asked my sons to be there as well. That way everyone hears what I have to say in case she isn’t thinking clearly, and she decides to go to one of them for help. She initially wasn’t happy that everyone was. I told her she needs to be honest and no lies about what happened. 

Drippy dick decided it would be a great idea to get them Xany-bars for Sunday evening (the 6th). She said she had never tried them before. They ate them. Apparently, they ate a lot.  She has little memory from Sunday evening at around 11PM to Monday evening around 6PM or 7PM. She knows they fought almost none stop. She showed us a few bruises on her legs. She was still very……. on edge. She said she could still feel whatever was in the bars was still in her. We asked that she tell us what she does remember. She knew they fought both inside his house and outside his house. She told him she was done and wanted to leave and was getting some of her things out of the back of his car. He was in the driver seat and when she reached in the back seat he started to drive away and drug her with the car, hence the road rash all over her ankle/leg. She remembered him punching her in the back of her head when she was trying to walk away from him. She said she knows at one point she was fighting for her life and had his skin under her nails when she came home. We all talked for about an hour. I could tell she was reaching her limit. She just repeated over and over that she wanted to sleep forever, she was tired of this, tired of making mistakes. She wants to be dead. We encouraged her the best we could. Knowing if we push too hard, she would flee. 

She has been at home since this happened. I know she has been in contact with drippy, but she has not seen him. Will this be her rock bottom? Will she want help this time? Will anything change? I am trying to get her to talk to a Domestic Violence hotline. I am trying to talk to her about maybe trying a wilderness program where she has no contact with anyone. Will any of it help? I don’t know. 

Watching her is hard. Hearing her words is harder. Not knowing how to help is beyond words. Seeing her beat up body is debilitating to me. She took a video of her body. The bruises are unbelievable. Her neck, throat, shoulders, arms, legs, feet, and head all have bruises. But I am sure that her brain is the most damaged. That damage doesn’t fade like a bruise. That damage is deep and permanent.

My walls

Each day my walls grow stronger, taller, impenetrable; my walls are my power

Reinforced by the hurt, the sadness, the loneliness, the fear

My walls keep me safe; they keep my heart safe

Safe from feeling too much, safe from giving too much, safe from caring too much

My walls make me a cold-hearted bitch

Walls help me pretend, help me keep going, help me disappear

Behind my walls I can show you want I want you to see; not what is really me

I dare you to get inside my walls

Just one of those days, again

Some days I think I have my shit together and under control. And then there are days like today, where my shit is all over the place. Thoughts and feeling whirling around my brain like the twister in The Wizard of Oz. Images of important people in my world swirling around my brain evoking emotion after emotion. I can feel the turbulence in my chest. The pressure and force of the feelings is tremendous. I wish I had a magic pill to make it all go away, to make it all okay again. I don’t even need it to all be perfect, just to be okay.

I took a little me time a few weeks ago. I still can’t believe I had the balls to do it, but I did. I left my home and all the cozy comfort it brings me. I was fortunate to have a place to go and feel safe in. Why did I do it? To think, to feel, to cry, to scream. Did it work? I don’t think it did. I have been questioning my marriage and relationship with my husband. I can’t say exactly how long, but long enough. In the past I have tried to explain my feelings to him. I know I already wrote about that.

Communication. Communication is something I need desperately. Any major decision that needed to be made over the last 29 years of our marriage has been made by me. Why? Because there was no discussion. I would ask a question and get an answer of I don’t know. So I just made the decision I felt was best. Now that we are out of the kid stage, now that our lives have calmed down and there is more time to think and talk and make decisions I still get the answer I don’t know. And it makes me crazy. So, I left home the day after my birthday. I sent my husband an email from work telling him I wouldn’t be home that night and where I would be. He knew me leaving was a possibility from previous conversations. Yes, I sent him an email. I have also sent him text messages trying to explain how I feel and why. I do this because it gives him time to process, which I think he needs, but also so I don’t sit across from him staring at him waiting for an answer that never comes. That is the absolute worst.

I went to my safe place on a Monday evening after work. It was hard, incredibly hard. What was I expecting to happen? I don’t know. Isn’t that fucking ironic? What was my hope? That he would call me, text me, come to me (because he knew where I was) – anything to show me he cared and wanted me and that I mattered. I wanted him to fight for me, damnit. Why doesn’t he want to fight for me? Is it just assumed I will always be there, no matter what?

Monday night, I received nothing from him. Tuesday morning, I received nothing from him. Tuesday afternoon, I received nothing from him. Tuesday evening, I received nothing from him. Tuesday night, I was a puddle of tears and I broke. I called him and hung up. He called me back. Hearing his voice was a knife to the heart. Thinking back, I really don’t remember what was said. I was an emotional wreck. But we decided he would come to me Wednesday evening and we would talk.

He came to me. It was painful seeing him. The emotions, memories, feelings. It was overwhelming for me. We decided to go to dinner and have a kind of neutral place to talk. The drive was……..awkward in a sense. I asked a few question, but mostly surface stuff. We got to the restaurant, sat and ate. We talked, I guess. I asked him if he thought we would make it and if he wanted to make it work. He said he did. What else did we talk about? I’m not sure. I don’t think we really did. I think I thought it was more than it really was. We went back to where I was staying. He came in with me. We sat on my bed. I stared at him. I saw love in his eyes. I wanted him to hold me and stay with me. I think we talked, didn’t we? Did I do it again? Did I just let things slip back to the old ways? He didn’t stay. He honestly couldn’t, I knew that. Three dogs at home to take care of and all the other home responsibilities. I just wanted that to be the time he fought for me.

I went home Thursday evening after work. It was strange and weird. Do you go back to the old routines? Do you act like everything is suddenly okay? I think that is what I did. Why? I guess because it’s easy. Does he truly want me or is it the convenience of having someone take care of everything? Has our relationship become a convenience? Were we so busy during those early years of marriage, buying a house, having kids, raising kids, dealing with kid issues, working to pay the bills, that something just faded between us? I don’t know.

Does anyone else play the what if game? What if there is a person out there that would fight for me? What if there is a person out there that would sit down and talk to me? Would someone else find me valuable and beautiful and special? Do we love each other, but aren’t really in love with each other anymore? Does he deserve/want more than I can offer him? Do I deserve/want more than he can offer me? What if we separated or divorced? What does that look like? What happens then? Can I be alone? Can he be alone? How will I feel if he finds someone else? How will he feel if I find someone else? Is it time to find someone else? He knows all my scars and what they are from. Will someone new overlook all my flaws? What about my love handles? What will they think when they feel or see them? What does he think when he sees or feels them? What happens to the house I love; the house that we created together? What happens to the unfinished projects that we are both excited about? What happens to the stuff in the house? What happens to our kids and grandkids? What if he becomes a drunk? What if he doesn’t stay in contact with the kids and grandkids? What happens when there is a holiday or a birthday party? He has no one else. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? What does starting over look like? Why is my heart racing right now? Where do I go from here? How do I know what is right?

I found myself staring at him many times over the weekend. What is happening in his mind? What is he thinking?

To top things off, I also received an incredible job offer. After three or four years of applying and interviewing, I received an offer. It terrifies me. As of June 19, 2021, I will complete 32 years at my current job (please remember I started at the ripe old age of 19). I am 51 and seriously considering switching jobs. Am I fucking insane? Is the universe trying to tell me it’s time for a change? How will I make the right decision? Will I make the right decision? Do I want the stress of a new job? Do I want to feel like I am valuable again or stay where I am comfortable and just a convenience to those around me? Why do I feel like I am being pushed out the door in my current position? Is money and leave time all that matter at this point in my life?

Fuck. It’s just one of those days………………..

Your words

Your words fill my broken heart with happiness

Your words heal me

Your words soothe my wounded soul

Your words make me feel alive

Your words create a melody in my mind

Your words are my oxygen

Your words make me feel beautiful

Your words surround me in warmth

Your words are love

I surrender

I surrender to all the feelings that I can’t show; to the love that is lost and will never be found. I surrender.

I surrender to being almost happy; to almost being whole. I surrender

I surrender my heart; because only pain and anguish come from from the heart. I surrender.

I surrender to the pain; which I need to remind me to keep pushing each day. I surrender.

I surrender to the music; the lyrics will guide me and keep me safe. I surrender.

I surrender to the unknown; because I need the unknown to continue. I surrender.

I surrender to the darkness; because I can hide in the darkness. I surrender.

I surrender my spirit; no matter how broken and tattered – it is still mine. I surrender.

I surrender my soul.

I surrender.

WORDS

I am a self-proclaimed WORDY. I love words. I love to talk, I love to listen, I love to read, I love to write (not well, but it’s for me so ….), I love song lyrics. I want to wow and amaze people with what I write. I want my words to start conversations. I want my words to invoke a feeling. Even if you hate what I write, hate is still a feeling – right? I want to use big fancy words, but that’s just not me. I like big fancy words. I love learning the meaning of words that are new to me.

I love writing a note in a card, or sending an email or text to someone that makes them feel special. It is my hope that they feel special because of the words I have carefully chosen to give them. The words aren’t always eloquent, but they are always heartfelt and sincere. I have used my words to write poems and letters to loved ones that have passed. I have used my words to write speeches for special occasions. I just love using words and seeing people respond to my words.

Three songs hit me in the face this morning with the lyrics. First, Macarthur Park by Donna Summer. The lyrics for your reading pleasure. What do they say to you?

Spring was never waiting for us, dear
It ran one step ahead
As we followed in the dance

MacArthur’s Park is melting in the dark
All the sweet, green icing flowing down
Someone left the cake out in the rain
I don’t think that I can take it
‘Cause it took so long to bake it
And I’ll never have that recipe again
Oh, no

I recall the yellow cotton dress
Foaming like a wave
On the ground beneath your knees
The birds, like tender babies in your hands
And the old men playing Chinese checkers by the trees

MacArthur’s Park is melting in the dark
All the sweet, green icing flowing down
Someone left the cake out in the rain
I don’t think that I can take it
‘Cause it took so long to bake it
And I’ll never have that recipe again
Oh, no

MacArthur’s Park is melting in the dark
All the sweet, green icing flowing down
Someone left my cake out in the rain
And I don’t think that I can take it
‘Cause it took so long to bake it
And I’ll never have that recipe again
Oh, no, oh

The second and third are from my girl crush. Seriously. P!nk (sigh). First would be the song Happy. Again, lyrics for your reading pleasure. I swear she read my mind. Can you relate?

Since I was 17
I’ve always hated my body
And it feels like my body’s hated me
Can somebody find me a pill
To make me un-afraid of me?

Seen every therapist, but I’m a cynical bitch
Don’t like to talk about my feelings
I take another hit, I find another fake fix
‘Cause it’s easier than healing

I don’t wanna be this way forever
Keep telling myself that I’ll get better
Every time I try, I always stop me
Maybe I’m just scared to be happy

Since I was 22
I’ve been with somebody who loves me
And I’ve been tryna believe it’s true
But my head always messes up my heart
No matter what I do

Seen every therapist, but I’m a cynical bitch
Don’t like to talk about my feelings
I take another sip, I swear it’s my last fix
‘Cause it’s easier than healing

‘Cause I don’t wanna be this way forever
Keep telling myself that I’ll get better
Every time I try, I always stop me
Maybe I’m just scared to be happy
I don’t wanna be this way forever
Keep telling myself that I’ll get better
Every time I try, I always stop me

Maybe I’m just scared to be happyMaybe I’m just scared to be happy
Maybe I’m just scared to be happyI’m so scared of having something to lose

I’m scared of being somebody new
I’m so scared of all them seeing the truth
‘Cause right now I’ve got nothing

But I don’t wanna be this way forever
Keep telling myself that I’ll get better
Every time I try, I always stop me
Maybe I’m just scared to be happy

Maybe I’m just scared to be happy (Maybe, yeah)
Maybe I’m, I’m scared to be happy

And the final P!nk (sigh) song. True Love. If you have been in a relationship for any amount of time, this fits, PERFECTLY! Don’t you agree? Lyrics for your reading pleasure. I know I am smiling as I sing along off key with my girl P!nk to this one!

Sometimes I hate every single stupid word you say
Sometimes I wanna slap you in your whole face (whoa oh oh)
There’s no one quite like you, you push all my buttons down
I know life would suck without you (whoa oh oh)
At the same time, I wanna hug you
I wanna wrap my hands around your neck
You’re an asshole but I love you
And you make me so mad, I ask myself
Why I’m still here, or where could I go
You’re the only love I’ve ever known
But I hate you, I really hate you
So much I think it must be
True love, true love
It must be true love
Nothin’ else can break my heart like
True love, true love
It must be true love
No one else can break my heart like you

Whoa oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Whoa oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Just once tried to wrap your little brain around my feelings
Just once please try no to be so mean (whoa oh oh)
Repeat after me now R-O-M-A-N-C-E-E-E
Come on I’ll say it slowly (Romance!)
You can do it babe
At the same time, I wanna hug you
I wanna wrap my hands around your neck
You’re an asshole but I love you
And you make me so mad, I ask myself
Why I’m still here, or where could I go
You’re the only love I’ve ever known
But I hate you, I really hate you
So much I think it must be
True love, true love
It must be true love
Nothin’ else can break my heart like
True love, true love
It must be true love
No one else can break my heart like you

Whoa oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Whoa oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Think it must be love (I love you)
I think it must be love (I love you)
Why do you rub me up the wrong way?
Why do you say the things that you say?
Sometimes I wonder how we ever came to be
But without you I’m incomplete
I think it must be
True love, it must be true love
It must be true love

Nothin’ else can break my heart like
True love, true love
It must be true love
No one else can break my heart like you

Whoa oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Whoa oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

No one else can break my heart like you

Whoa oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Whoa oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

No one else can break my heart like you

So, having said all that. As much as I love giving words, I love receiving words. I need words from those around me. I need words to really believe how and why you need me. I need words to really believe you want me and no one else. I need words to really believe you will always be my side. I need words to believe you truly love me and only me. Maybe you can’t find your own words, and that’s okay. Poems use words, songs use words. Is there a song you hear that makes you think of me? Why do I need words so desperately? I’m honestly not sure. I just do. Maybe the words give me something I can hold onto or I can reflect on when I’m doubting myself. Does that make sense?

I just need your words.

Self – part II

I will make this disclaimer on any and all posts titled Self. I do not know many of my followers personally, but I do know some. And all of the followers I know are from different realms of my life. If you feel you may be uncomfortable reading personal stuff – STOP HERE. If not – let’s go.

I feel like talking about personal relationships, like very personal relationships. There might be sex talk. Correct that, there will be sex talk. So be warned.

I am currently 50. My significant other is 51. We have been together since 1987. That’s a loooooooooooong time. We have been married 29 years. As with everything in life, relationships change with time. And I think that’s supposed to happen and it should happen.

We basically grew up together. We learned from each other, we hurt each other, we grew apart, we grew stronger, we learned what buttons to push and when to stop pushing those buttons! We had loved ones pass and shared the miracle of child birth. We have shared life’s triumphs and life’s failures. And we continue to love each other.

It’s a love that changes and grows with us. One day it’s the rush I feel when he walks out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. One day it’s the feeling of wanting to throat punch him because I’m tripping over him while I’m trying to make dinner! And it’s all those feelings in-between.

So, I will admit that it has been way too long since we have….you know. I don’t know about you, but there are so many words and ways to describe “it”. In my humble opinion, being intimate doesn’t always have to be about sex. There are so many different facets to both intimacy and sex.

The intimate side of the relationship is a feeling for me. It can be his hand on the small of my back. It can be a look that makes me feel desired. It can be a kiss that makes me warm in all the right places. It can be his arm draped over my hip when we are laying in bed.

Now, the sex part – there are just so many directions I could take on this topic. I think that in any adult relationship there various types of……….you know. We can have sex. To me, that is when we are both into it, let’s go, and we go from point a to point z. We might skip some points, but we are both getting what we need. We can fuck. That would be the wham, bam, thank you ma’ma. That might be one of of us just needs that release – NOW, and the other is more than happy to oblige! It’s really a win/win for both participants, again, in my opinion. Who doesn’t want to have their lover look at them with that wild desire?! And last but not least, we can make love. That slow, touching, feeling, tasting, licking, love making. We pick the pace, we pick the way, we are one. It’s like I can’t get close enough to him. I need to find a way to crawl inside of him to get just a little closer. It’s languishing in the afterglow. It’s complete togetherness.

Let’s not forget about self-love. Why this is a taboo topic for so many people I don’t understand. Who knows you better than you? Who doesn’t occasionally need the release without all the extras? It is okay to say the word – masturbation. It’s not a bad word! Now, I will say that solo play should not take the place of or have a negative impact on your relationship togetherness. I mean, if you are having alone time multiple times a day and there is nothing left for your partner – that’s not cool. And don’t pretend it doesn’t happen! What is hotter than (again, in my opinion) hearing from someone that they were thinking about you and just couldn’t help but touch themselves?!

And yes, I know there is much more to a happy, healthy sexual relationship. I think I could honestly write page, after page, after page on the topic. It’s something I enjoy doing, as much as talking about it and writing about it. I have written many stories for my significant other. And I will tell you, they are damn good. However, here is where I ALWAYS fuck up my mind regarding sexy time. Try not to get lost in my mind on this one! I wish you all the best.

Let’s take last night, for example. I have been feeling particularly amorous recently. As I stated before, we have had a bit of a dry spell. It’s no one’s fault, there is no blame – it’s just life. Anyway, in my mind I create this scenario of what/how I would like to seduce him. Who doesn’t want it to be like a movie scene, what could go wrong (LOL)?! Last night was just one of those nights where I felt like I needed a shower before bed. I know TMI! But, it gave me a great scenario in my mind. So I shower, smell nice and I am squeaky clean. I didn’t dry my hair, I let it wet, and sexy in my mind. I put on a men’s v-neck white undershirt and nothing else. That would certainly get him! In my mind it played out like a soft porn. In reality I looked like a wet manatee in a white undershirt. And nothing happened. Which is okay.

I keep overthinking this and trying to delve into why things aren’t happening. This is where my self-doubt enters. It has to be me. I’m not appealing to him anymore. I am too fat for him to want me. I am too ugly for him to want me. My super short haircut makes me look like a she-man. (This is no joke – prior to my shoulder surgery I had my hair cut very short, like basically buzzed short. I needed it to be something easy. I have always had short hair, but not this short. Negative comments from people made me so self-conscious that I paid to have eyelash extensions put on the week after my surgery so I would look more feminine. The joke is, I had more positive comments than negative) And then my favorite go to thought is that he found someone else.

Am I seriously the only person who undermines their own sex life?