The Big Little Mermaid

When I was a kid my Dad would take us on fancy ass vacations to make up for all the time he never spent with us. We didn't know they were fucking fancy vacations because we grew up like that. We had no concept of money. We just knew the nannies travelled with us and we went to all sorts of badass places.

One particular Summer trip our family went to Destin, FL....I think. Maybe it was Miami. I can't remember. I was 11 years old, chubby as hell, weird gangly, jacked up teeth, big ass Coke bottom glasses....I looked a hot mess. I was totally interested in boys but they were not interested in me. And I understood. Didn't even really blame them because, well, I wouldn't wanna kiss 11 year old me either.

But this one particular vacation, I met a boy. Elliott. There were several pools in the resort we were staying at but I had a favorite. It was the night time pool area, the one where you have a couple pools indoors that are heated + a hot tub....that was my SPOT. All the hot chicks were all sunburned and inside or out at a bar or something so I had it all to myself.

The night before my family was set to leave, I was taking my nightly swim. Then this boy came up to me while I was still in the pool. He asked if I minded if he went swimming in the pool too. He looked to be probably my age and he looked nerdy as fuck. Which meant kissable in my eyes. (heh...still does) So Elliott hops in the water and starts swimming around, introducing himself, talking about school, etc. His parents have stationed themselves at the far end of the swimming pool, so we had privacy.

He asks me about my school, and I explain about my former science teacher, Mrs. Dishman. We picked on her at school because she wasn't a traditionally beautiful woman. And she was kind of mean. But it was probably because the students hated her. We would call her 'Mrs. Dish Pan Booger Flicker', and looking back on it, we could have done better. We could have been more creative.

Anyway, I tell Elliott about the nickname and the kid laughs so hard he starts sucking water into his throat and lungs, choking like hell. I laughed, I thought he was playing.

He was not.

Elliott choked so hard on the water from my simple story that his parents had to dive into the pool, drag his now limp body to the cement and commence CPR. After about a minute he rolled over and puked into the pool. He had eaten shrimp, obviously. He was completely white and had blue lips and black hair and I thought, "I can't believe I would have kissed that guy. He just puked everywhere. Gross."

I had no concern for his well being, just that he had barfed and it was disgusting.

This is why I worry about my child growing up.

This. Is. Why. I. Worry.

So, there's this girl....

Agoraphobia.

Agoraphobia.

Agoraphobia.

Agoraphobia.

I feel like if I say it enough times it might not be an actual word that actually applies to me.

Except it does. 

For the people that know me IRL, I know you're looking all weird right now, faces all screwed up like "Dafuq is she even talking about?" But it's true. It's horribly true. Except maybe it isn't.

I don't have a legitimate fear of leaving my home. At all. As long as I have someone with me. I do not like to leave my home alone, not even to put gas i am n my car. I will often wait for my Peanut to get off the bus to go out and handle stupid little tasks like that because I won't have to be by myself. 

I'm not afraid to be alone. In fact, I spend the majority of my time quite alone. Except when I'm working, which is kind of always....but you know how you can still be very alone, even in a room full of people? Yeah. I do that. 

I don't have panic attacks over leaving my house. I have some basic anxiety but it's pretty mild. I just find myself unable to just get out. 

The therapist -- who is awesome, may I just say -- says it may be agoraphobia. I don't totally get it. I mean, yes, I don't like to leave my home alone. Some of the best times in my life have been had while riding in cars with other people. One of my most favorite activities is a lazy Sunday drive to nowhere with loud music and windows down. (yes, I am a basic bitch. Thank you for noticing)

I'm just not uber-positive I have a full blown case of agoraphobia. Maybe it's just laziness, or depression. It could be both. 

I have been super fucking proactive about my mental state lately though. I went on a bender one night after my birthday and got just white girl wasted, and while I'm not proud of it, I feel it is necessary to bring it up and keep bringing it up so as to serve as a reminder to not be that douchecanoe. I am taking my medication every day. I am scheduling biweekly appointments with a therapist. I think that I am prepared to learn some new methods of dealing with being a bipolar person.  And PTSD. Because that shit is strong, ya'll. I seriously don't know how I functioned for so long in such a crazy and emotionally and physically painful marriage and survive. But I did and I came out of it kind of fucked up. And now I'm doing something about it. 

I'm scared, though. I'm afraid it isn't quite enough. I'm afraid of walking down this road and not gaining any useful insight, or not learning anything. I am terrified of people judging me, which is exactly why I just make all my blog posts public. No need or ability to lie about where I am in life, who I am, what's going on with me. No hiding. This is kind of a part of my own personal therapy plan. If it's entertaining, well, fuck yeah. That rocks. I fucking hope it is, I've got some damn funny stories. 

There's some really sad shit too, though. I'll address it all. But for the most part, this is like.....and version of eJournal. One that my therapist can access because I suck at taking notes on myself, so, yeah. Here ya go miss Therapist Lady. You're fucking welcome.

My Cat Only Loves Me When I Have Crackers

Anyone who knows me -- at least lately -- knows I have adopted the cutest little Siamese kitten, Suki. Suki is a great companion.....except for her farts. And her poops.

This cat is fucking adorable. But allllll that cute just melts away with one whiff in the wrong direction. I still love her though.

The problem is, Suki really only truly shows her love when I'm eating. I can be eating absolutely anything and she wants it. She will BEG for it like a dog. This CAT has straight up ripped fettucine Alfredo FROM MY MOUTH and eaten it. Then she licked the bowl clean. (no need for a dishwasher, amiright?)

Anyone else experience their cat only wanting to eat human food?