Living in the dark

I haven't updated in forever, mostly just...trying not to be super negative and thus ignoring a lot of my problems. I've moved into my new place now, away from the roommates. So that's one less stressor, however...I was already on my way to the depths when that happened a few weeks ago, so...It helped, but I'm still there.
Sometimes all the coping mechanisms in the world, all the positive thinking, all the attained goals, everything that can be used to stave off that inevitable darkness, just doesn't work. So I found myself there again, and it...wasn't great. My new job is incompatible with my crazy so far, apparently. It sets everything off and right now I have no idea how I'm going to be able to attend school and work and succeed at both. Yeah, it's that bad. Personal hygiene? Holding by tmyhe skin of my teeth, but still struggling. Keeping my house clean? Well...it's better than it was in similar situations in the past, but I wouldn't want anybody over. It got bad.
I have this thing about bugs and always have. I think they're really cool...as long as they're outside and nowhere near me. I've had waking nightmares (bordering on hallucinations) about bugs ever since I was kid. This was reinforced by living in a few places with bug issues. Now I live in an area with big bugs. And one was in my house. Based on stuff I looked up online, the bug I killed was an American Roach. I went off the deep end a little, though my friends talked me down online. Best brother ever. I was seeing and feeling bugs that weren't there. When I'd look closer I'd know they weren't there, wouldn't see anything, but the smallest piece of lint could explode in my mind's eye into...an infestation of bed bugs.
Sometimes bearing the weight of it all is the hardest thing on earth. I am so afraid of not being able to follow my dreams. I spent so long not even admitting I *had* dreams. Then I dismissed them as impractical, and went after something doable that at least wouldn't make me miserable. Finally I pursued them and discovered...I can have them. I am not a person whose dreams outstrip their abilities. But...having to battle back the dreck of my insanities every day so that I can have a paycheck that just barely covers my needs at this point...it's exhausting and disheartening.
But I keep on keeping on, as they say. I don't know what else to do. I'm holed up in my apartment most of the time. I'm starting to emerge in my head a bit, but interacting with other human beings face to face is an issue. Times like these I really wish I could win the lottery (lottery tickets are one of my coping mechanisms, actually. It tricks my crazy into thinking I can quit my job and thus gives me less grief about it) and just...get healthy. Go to doctors between now and fall semester, get dental work done (I have wisdom teeth rotting in my skull), physical therapy, regular therapy, and just...yeah. Have the time, money, and leisure to just get myself in a better place.
In the meantime I just soldier on, with my wonderful cheerleaders reminding me that I can, indeed, do it. The friends who say "AJA AJA FIGHTING" in spite of never watching the kdramas I got the phrase from. The friends who know to say "HWAITING" who have recommended more dramas to me. The friends who let me go silly on them, but can handle it when I become the angsty wonder. I love my friends, because I wouldn't be able to sustain a job that keeps a roof over my head without them.
And now I'm emerging a bit. I'm writing for myself for the first time in...months. I finally am working again on a project I started weeks ago. I'm hoping I'll be able to start reading more again (yes, that is how bad it's gotten. I couldn't READ). So hope remains, and keep your fingers crossed for me.

So much to do and so much to do

Still no job and it's getting to my self-esteem, I have to admit. I have the experience, but that also means I recognize bullshit when I see it. Maybe that's contributing to my lack of success? Who knows? I sure don't.
I cannot express how desperately I need to be living in the city. I'm driving 150 miles a day and it's completely wringing me out. I feel like I could accomplish so much more if I didn't have that commute. It's not just the time it takes (just shy of 3 hours), it's the energy it sucks out of me. I want to be exercising now that I can go days without painkiller. But I'm so exhausted that I'm usually resting for two of the three days I don't have class. I'm consuming romance novels at an INSANE rate to counteract the stress.
Oh, the stress. If I don't get a job soon there is a damn good chance I won't be able to attend next semester. If I'm lucky I'll be able to take ONE class and beg family for gas money to get to it. 150 miles takes a shit-ton of gas. (that would be the technical term, of course) Plus the drama of living with two people who seriously need to talk to a mental health professional about past issues. SERIOUSLY. I can't even fully express how much they need to.
I dream of having my own place. Do you know, I've never lived solo in my entire life? I've always lived with SOMEONE. Except for one winter that the ex spent pulling down drywall at his parent's house. It was two rooms, not enough for a winter. I kind of liked it, aside from the lack of a working heater in a shit-tastic old RV. I dream of not having people fighting and waking me up. Or constantly asking me to turn stuff down (that is not, by the way, turned up all that loud) when they have stuff playing loudly late into school nights. I can't complain because they're letting me live there rent-free...well, except for the babysitting when I watch their baby for 6-12 hours at a stretch. Just to have my own space where I could walk around naked if I wanted. Where I could watch what I liked. Just...UGH.
I'm actually not in the horrible mood this post makes me sound like. I'm writing an EXCEEDINGLY entertaining Regency Romance retelling of beauty and the beast that has me giggling (purposeful humour on the author's part, to be clear). I'm also slowly starting to get to know cool folks in my classes. Maybe I'll be lucky and stay in contact after the semester ends. We'll see.
I'm stressed, and I NEED A FUCKING  JOB, but in spite of that life isn't too bad.

Oh Life, why are you so...you?

It's been awhile since I last posted. We had a looooong drive back from Kentucky and the friendship managed to survive. We didn't have internet for a bit and just got it back today. So that's a yay. What's not such a yay is my brain. Yay.
SO. Yeah. Financial Aid? Not so much this semester. I got 2500 over the basic federal funding and still needed another ten grand. That didn't happen. So I started crunching numbers like mad and...fall semester is probably going to happen, but I won't be full time (nor will I be living on campus, yaaaay hour plus commute. One way.). It's kind of frustrating because I'm losing half my pell grant and I'm only going to be 2 or 3 credits away from the full time that will give me the full amount. *sigh* BUT, I have managed to figure out how to attend this fall, and I have a lead on a seasonal job (which, as always, could lead to regular employment) that would allow me to save up enough to go full time Spring semester. I've got plans up the wazoo and am currently running a fundraiser to help me get the hardware I need for that seasonal job. https://fundrazr.com/campaigns/9ZJo8 (shameless plug)
So this is great, right? I've solved the problems in advance so there should be no problems, right? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA...ha...yeah no. My crazysauce is in such full force right now that I almost had a panic attack standing in line at the library. THE LIBRARY. AKA the one place I never have them which is why I was initially considering getting a Library Science degree. Yeah, that is so not a good sign. My heart was pounding, my chest hurt, I could barely breathe. Just...crap. I'm holed up in the room my friends have so graciously provided for me and pop out for less than an hour at a time in an effort NOT to be a complete anti-social leach. I'm freaking out on so many fronts.
First- My mind is both humiliated and unconvinced by my fundraiser. I'm embarrassed to ask for help and in my heart of hearts I can't really believe I'm going to raise the money which leads to
Second- Crazysauce says I can't get a job, keep a job, or in any way make enough money for school.
Third-I'm staying with friends who really grok the mental illness thing. Which, of course, means they're crazy too which means we can get into vicious cycles of crazy.
Fourth-My crazysauce is so ascendant right now that I cannot help but be fearful for my performance in school.
Fifth-I'm fucking CRAZY y'all.

Resisting the urge to maim

Tom is lucky to be alive.
You know how some people become first time parents and there's like this amazing flowering of personal growth because having a child has pulled them outside of their own minds and you're just like "WOW, you're actually a worthwhile human being! Who knew?!?" Okay, now think of the opposite of that.
He's fucking lucky to be alive. It's a wonder his body wasn't found in a ditch on the way here (here being Kentucky).
 I am sympathetic, because some of his behaviour has to do with the shitty relationship he was in before. She was a piece of work...in the bad way. She fucked him up, over, and under. She was also a skunt. BUT...if my brainmath is correct, it's been over two years now. His new wife (the wonderful Wendy who has her own problems from a previous relationship but is a LOT more aware of that) is NOTHING like the old one. Serious upgrade. His family agrees. I would submit that continuing to react to her like she was his ex is a fucking insult.
IN ANY CASE. While some of his reactions are because of the former and I can understand that...there's a line. And he keeps crossing it.
He also is failing at parenting because he can't stop panicking. Here he is with a teething baby in his arms, a crying teething baby, and what is his reaction? YELL. When his wife (who has two much older children and thus experience) asks him to stop yelling? He continues yelling that he's sorry, he's not mad, he just doesn't know what to do. At which point she tells him AGAIN to stop yelling. Somehow he can't seem to clue in that a baby doesn't understand that he's not yelling because he's mad, a baby just knows that she's in pain and now her daddy is being LOUD AND YELLY. He also can't understand why his defensive behaviour and inability to take constructive criticism might piss wifey off. Tempers fray. Muchly. and now we segue.
I was asked to tag along so I could help Tom bring home malted shakes for everyone. Fine. His adorkable niece ends up tagging along. Great. He goes around supposedly making a list of what malts people want so he's all organized (theoretically). Reasonable. He keeps repeatedly asking me if I'm going and when I say "sure" snaps at me to get ready to go...repeat this step over a period of twenty minutes to half an hour. Eyetwitch. Niece and I have been goofing off and harassing each other all day, he asks us to cut it out in the car, as this is a reasonable request we comply. We get to the store and get in line. He has forgotten the list in the car. Niece and I step aside and goof off (she was bopping my nose and trying to keep me from bopping hers). He comes back in and orders. Great. We continue goofing off. He bites our fucking heads off. At this point I am thinking "okay, that's legit, I can understand how the immaturity would get annoying. I will accept this even though his tone is completely out of line." He screws up his order. People get in line behind us. He screws up his order again. And again. And again. We (niece and I) try to help keep him calm and figuring out the order. This is not a rewarding experience. After umpteen order changes (I felt so bad for the guys working and the people in line behind him) we finally end up with an 8 malt order. 5 chocolate, 2 cherry, and a cookie dough. If you couldn't guess I KEPT HEARING THIS FUCKING ORDER. While talking to us he keeps screwing up what's in his order. So when the guy says "Here's cookie dough and 2 chocolate" and tom responds with a comment that sound an awful lot like he thinks that's all the chocolate he's getting I let loose with a flippant and dramatic "BUT WAIT, there's more!" He starts going off on me, and as it seems like it has to do with the order takers I think it's reasonable. So I politely say that I'm sorry, that's not what I intended I just meant that there were more chocolate malts coming. HE FLIPS THE FUCK OUT AND ORDERS ME TO GO STAND OUTSIDE AND WAIT BY HIS CAR. He's six fucking years older than me. I won't let my own MOTHER talk to me in that tone, and she went through three days of labour for me! This does not fucking fly. I don't know if my eye was twitching, but I must have had a murderous gleam in my eye as I stared him down. I think I said something like "Oh, WE can TAKE this outside." He starts apologizing and trying to blame his alcoholic consumption of the night before, or the fact that his wife is cranky (because he wouldn't stop fucking yelling around their teething and vomiting 6 month old baby), or that they didn't get enough sleep OR OR OR. All that's going through my head is how many times he has lashed out at me over the past month and apologized for it. People don't realize it, but I have a pretty potent temper. I made the decision to leave before I lost my shit in public. As I turn and go towards the door he says "No, you don't have to wait outside." I informed him that I thought it would be a good idea and leave to go pace behind the car. I think it made him uncomfortable because he ended up bringing his keys out to the car. When he and Niece come out with the order he apologizes, stating it's nothing personal. "It never is," I reply. I also ratted him out to his wife (and feel no guilt about that) and he apologized again.
I should add that the man does have PTSD. Which is why I have endured a LOT more bullshit from him than I would normally consider acceptable. A LOT. Because the asshole thinks it's okay to dish out teasing and shit on me, but if I reciprocate (or, heaven forbid, aid his WIFE in teasing or shenanigans) he flips the fuck out. I keep telling him "Don't dish it if you can't take it" and he keeps insisting he can.
Bullshit.
You can just IMAGINE how much I'm looking forward to the trip back :/

coping and planning and moving and...

Oh. My. Fucking. God.
Well, I mean I don't have a god of fucking, and I'm not sure how God as an incorporeal entity *could* fuck.
But I digress.
I'm walking the knife's edge lately. There's so much to do in such a short period of time and all of it involves change. Change is scary. Good, but scary. I'm looking at less than a month before making an incredibly HUGE life change. Seriously, I've never lived outside the Pacific Northwest. I just have no real concept of what this is going to be like. And it's a really important change because it's going to give me the chance to acquire the skills and training required for my dreams.
But it's so stressful. The stress is effecting and affecting everything. I say both effect and affect because my brain is so fried and drained that I can't remember which is proper to use in this instance.
While I've had reassurance from my teachers that I *WILL* be passing my classes (and thus getting my associate's degree), I can't help stressing. And I've also got a move to plan. And financial aid for out-of-state university tuition to worry about. And feelings. And people. And changes. I sometimes can't focus for more than a minute at a time, except for my trashy romances. And even the trashy romances have trouble holding my attention. Even writing this post has taken way longer than it should because I can't just stay in this window and right. I've checked three social networking sites and followed links from all of them, all while "writing" this.
I'm a mess. Such a mess.

Well meaning friends and not-so-surprising revelations

A sweet and well-meaning friend who knows of my past took the time not too long ago to inform me that Washington State has removed the spousal exemption from rape in third degree. Another friend (who doesn't know) shared a pertinent article. I'm just...
I appreciate that my well-meaning friend was wanting to share progress in something that has very directly affected me. I do. But at the same time...Just because I've shared something like that with you doesn't mean I want to talk about it. I probably *should* talk about it, but I really really really don't want to. I'm exhausted, I have so much to do currently. I canNOT deal with the emotional fallout of dealing with this shit. I really can't. I know I have to. I do understand that. But I don't want to.
It's been great lately. Physically I've been kind of crap, and my brain has fluctuated the levels of crazysauce periodically, but I have not ended up in crazytown for awhile. I've been really happy. But... I don't know. I think I'm getting some not-so-subtle hints from God that I really need to deal with this shit. Yes, I said from God. I sometimes flippantly say the universe is trying to tell me something, but this is different. I'm being nudged quite strongly. And I know he's right.
Side note: I do not believe God has a gender, I've just been culturally conditioned to use the male pronoun. I acknowledge this. Moving on.
There are some really wonderful people in my life who I could be pursuing "something" with if I weren't so petrified. Because I finally realized that I am. Petrified that is. I'm scared of intimacy. I'm scared that I'll be okay with it up to a certain point then panic and call a screeching halt to it. Based on past experience (yes, with my ex, yes,I realize the fucked upedness of it), I expect that the response will be far from pleasant. Recriminations, guilt, names, and...I don't know. I know that wonderful people won't do that, but my judgement has been bad before. I've trusted the wrong people and had boundaries breached that were never open for negotiation.
I can be kind of casual with my breasts. A grope isn't a big deal to me, as long as I know the person and permission has been granted. A grope is different than fondling though. Groping my breast is also far different than trying to slide one's hands up my inner thigh to FORBIDDEN TERRITORY when I am in such a sleep-deprived state that I am basically intoxicated. Yes, this is a specific instance and yes it was someone I thought knew me and respected my boundaries. No, I have never confronted this person. Yes, I cut them out of my life.
I have someone in my life that I would love to trust more. I'd love to loosen my boundaries somewhat. Not necessarily to the point of intercourse, but I would like to have a slightly higher level of intimacy with them. But I can't. Because I am scared that either I am wrong in my judgement of them, or that I will panic and fuck up a solid friendship. I don't think this person even knows that I feel this way, because apparently I'm actually pretty good at hiding this particular type of thing. I think it's because my boundaries are so different than other people's. In any case, I've been kind of grateful for my busyness lately, because it's allowed me a legitimate excuse to avoid the subject.
I'm kind of ashamed of my cowardice, but I know if someone else came to me in this same situation I wouldn't judge them a coward. I'd tell them they were rightfully cautious and help them talk it through. But I feel like a coward. And I don't want to talk things through and figure things out because I'm going to be leaving soon.
I have plans to get counseling whilst at university, so long as I can get student insurance figured out. But that doesn't help me now. And my emotions are all up in a heaval now. And I hate that a friend's kindly wish to inform me of the spousal rape stuff is what cued this in my brain. Because I don't want to associate wonderful with bad. And it confuses the issue. And...
I just want someone to cuddle and hold me and let me ramble and rant and maybe cry. I just want to heal.