Lose Yourself.

“Why don’t you lose yourself?”

Just casually hating on life again. My days, Wednesday to Sunday, are spent working as waitress in a pub I hate, with people I hate, and of course the job itself I hate, but as I said, I’m a waitress, I expect you to infer that I hate it without me telling you. Then when I’m not working, so Sunday evenings, Mondays and Tuesdays, I spend my time just waiting on you. What are you doing? Do your plans involve me? If not am I going to see you at all on my measly two short days off? Now that is not living. Because summed up, my days are all the same, waiting on people. Doing everything I can to keep my boss, a customer, you happy. I haven’t done something I love in fucking ages, like play my guitar for hours, sing, read a book. 

But you know what, although this is my life and I hate it, I have another problem.

It has come to my attention that I would like to work in a Nursery, with small children, I have printed the forms, filled them in, even addressed the envelope, but I’m still too chicken to end them off. Because I’m not ready to get up at 6 every morning, I’m not willing to trad in my nights out drinking, I’m not willing to see less of you and pathetically, I’m not even willing to take off my bracelets and remove my piercings so I can do the job I want.

And if that wasn’t enough, you have also decided you might change jobs, still a chef, but in a bigger, better restaurant. So, longer hours, harder work, fewer breaks and fewer days off. And because my job would be a standard Mon-Fri, 9-5 and yours will still be days off when you can get them and working from 9am till 10pm , we definately would see even less of each other than we do now, and then we did see each other, you’d be tired from the long days, you’d want sex even less than you do, you’d talk to me even less than you do now, and I’d get more and more frustrated and angry, and in the end we’d both just be tired, angry , unhappy people, stuck together because deep down we know we love each other.

Is it not so cruelly ironic, that in order for us to have some kind of financial stability, for us to have a home together, a holiday together, a fucking normal life together (!) we’d both have to basically give up on our relationship? How is that even remotely fucking fair??

So, in essence, my post today is not about me having no time to myself, or me not wanting to actually get a proper job, or me not being able to see you like I do now, although it seems that way, but actually , what I’m trying to tell you is quite frankly, I. Am. Done. I don’t want to do a 9-5 job, I don’t want to be trapped in this shit hole my life has become, I hate my routine and how I shit I feel about everything. I don’t want this anymore. And yes I get scared, because if I don’t go through all this other shit, then the only option is to die, and I guess that isn’t really an option, but I just think about how I feel now, and what the future seems to hold, and I don’t know firstly how to get from here to there, and secondly, if I even want to.

I’m so fed up of this. The world is just so full of crap.

 

 

Thought Catalog

When I was 19, the summer between freshman and sophomore year of college, I stopped knowing how to breathe.

No, like, I am not kidding. I unlearned it. I went to bed one night feeling “19 year-old fabulous” and woke up as an old man with emphysema, desperate for some air.

I didn’t know what was happening to me. I just couldn’t get a full breath in. I would sit with my friends and behave like a psycho, sucking in air and trying to exhale. I looked like Flounder in The Little Mermaid. I told my parents that there must be a problem with my lungs, which they immediately believed because my father has severe asthma and requires an inhaler 24/7.

So off I went to a pulmonary specialist in Oxnard, California where the doctor made me do all of these tests to see what the strength of my…

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Friday The 8th of March 2013

I lay on top of you, wrapped in one of your t-shirts, you stroking my arms, and I sobbed. I didn’t softly cry, or politely tear up, I fucking went for it, all out, I cried until my eyes were dry, my head hurt and we both soaked. 

I screamed at you for the times you’d upset in the last year and a half, I punched and kicked you, I told you I knew I wasn’t wanted, and I finally said those sad, sad words. I was raped. 

I have never ever cried in front of you and I hope I never have to again, especially after the fact that the first time I did, it was so horrific. But my God I hadn’t felt sadness like it in so long. All I COULD do was to just lie on you and make you finally hear my breaking heart, my crumbling self esteem, just me, my personality, my whole identity, dying.

I know you were angry at first, because I had a go at you, but when you just held me, and stroked my arm, and didn’t once say anything nasty or let me go in the entire 45 minutes I cried, I finally felt we were getting somewhere, I had never loved you so much, I had never let myself be so vulnerable in front of you before and you had never been just so there for me. 

I know you didn’t want me to say those words out loud, but I fear if I never got the chance to tell anyone, I would constantly try and sabotage us, and we would end up ruined because of how someone mistreated me. 

I know I’m insecure, because I constantly feel unwanted, I constantly need to ask you how you feel about me, do I annoy you, are you bored of me? I know I act so confident in front of EVERYONE, but my dear, I am so unstable. But after that Friday night, I still get sad, but I feel more comfortable with you now, and it’s like a weight has been lifted.

That’s a reminder to everyone though. If EVER someone you really care about is upset, and you can’t think of anything to say that could help them, just hold them, it’ll make the world of difference.

You Got A Friend In Me.

New friendships are always difficult, there is always that awkwardness as two people slowly become acquainted and get to know each other. Wanting to confide in each other, but not wanting to be the first one to say anything and look weird.

Perhaps that’s why I’ve been hanging on to the wrong people all my life. I’m so scared of being the awkward one, having to start from scratch with a new person, having to slowly win the trust of a new friend, that I told myself it wasn’t worth the effort, either I would stay in contact with my ‘old’ friends, or I wouldn’t have any at all. And that just isn’t fair on me in the long run, or people around me, like my boyfriend. He has friends, so when he wants a guys night he has, where do I go, when I need a girl to talk to about my boyfriend, or shopping, or just the fact I’m having a bad day? Plus due to the fact  I have no friends, I am always bugging my boyfriend, and that annoys him.Obviously. 

But well I’ve just met you, and you seem nice, and I’d like to think we get along. We went out for a meal last Sunday, and I think it’s safe to say we enjoyed ourselves, nice little nando’s and a bottle of wine, And made even easier by the fact that neither of us have our own friends, so we understand each other and find solace that we kinda sorta now have each other. 

So I don’t want to freak you out, and become to friendly too soon, but I am quite glad to have finally found a girl who I can see myself becoming good friend with. 

 

Where do the lines blur?

Those of you who know me, will know very well where I stand on the ‘No is no’ issue, unless consent is given, sex is wrong, no matter how short her skirt, no matter how many units she has ingested, rape is rape. As the saying goes “Why should my clothing be blamed for your lack of self control?” 

My debate today however, is when does consent stop being necessary?

Now unfortunately to put this into context I will have to explain something sad, whilst I did not see it this way at the time, my doctor told me, that the experience I went through was in fact rape. Now the reason I struggle with this, as do many others , is because actually, I DID consent to sex. So I imagine, you will now all be wondering, how could I have been ‘raped’ if I did consent. Well how about this, half way through the act, he started to hurt me, well I was in pain, and it was due to what we were doing. I asked him to stop. Now being that this man supposedly loved me, he should have stopped and accepted I was in pain, and that my pain wasn’t worth his pleasure. But he didn’t stop, not when I asked the first time, nor the second, or the third. Not even when I started crying. So this is where my debate comes in. Yes I consented, but why is it when I removed that consent my wish was not respected. Nor the thousands of other woman who have been in a similar position.

Now there are many nasty blokes that will not help my cause, they will call me a tease and say I’m just looking for attention, although that cannot be true, as although I write this, to this day I have never actually told anyone about this, not even my current partner. But in my case my reason for removing consent was out of a physical issue, not a silly little girl playing a nasty game.

So, you tell me, when does a yes stop being a yes? When does no start becoming a no? Oprah says “No is a complete sentence.” And it is, and yet it is also one most ignored. This is why today, I would not say I was raped as I realise, I did give consent in the first place, but using my example can you people see why it is so hard for rape victims to convince a defence lawyer, witness’,a jury and a judge, that they were used and abused against there will, when the odds really aren’t stacked in the favour, because the lines between yes and no, have become so fucking blurred in this day and age.

A woman isn’t raped, she is drunk and has a one nigh stand she regrets. She’s a little whore who likes to tease. She’s a young girl who got in too deep too young. There’s always some excuse for why it’s ok for men to take advantage. Never one for why a woman might change her mind half way through, like because she’s in pain, she’s been hurt before and finds it hard to be that intimate again, maybe she just innocently changed her mind (common in those about to have sex for the first time)

Something needs to be done regardless, and not just in rape cases. In any case of abuse, whether that be abuse of a power, a person, of trust. I just don’t feel comfortable right now, knowing I could bring a child into a world where she could be hurt so viciously and just be told to deal with it as she probably asked for it. How does that make you feel?