The Anatomy of My Crazy

It’s hard to admit – for me at least – that you’re a little crazy; that you have issues.  However, I started this blog thinking I’d use it to work through some of this, talk about it some – even if only to myself.  So when it shows up, it’s not right for me to censor…as bad as I may want to.  I don’t want others to know about the crazy, but it’s real and it’s honest so here it is.

Now, my kind of crazy isn’t that scratches-down-the-car-bust-out-the-windows kind of destructive psycho.  Mine tends to be more of an inner turmoil with a side of ranting-crazy-psycho emails/texts/phone calls.  It’s not a cake walk for anyone involved, but I have a feeling I really get the worst end of the stick.

Anyway, this week has been somewhat strained between myself and Playboy.  I was pretty emo starting off because of the giant Valentine’s fail, and his week has been pretty rough having returned from the long weekend to a laundry list of complaints, catch-up work, and general BS.  When he’s in a stressful mood like that he’s not giving up much of the love and in fact, can be pretty salty at times.  Pair that up with me being emo and looking for comfort, and you can see why it’s been a little tense.

The day before we had a little altercation when he decided to spend his drive home, which I absolutely consider my time, talking to her.  Somehow he reasoned it was ok because she wasn’t ‘a complete stranger’.  Fail.  And when I asked why he would do that, he responded with a huge huff and a ‘Why not?!?’  Quadruple fail.  I am sure his salty mood clouded his rational mind at the time, leading him to believe this was a worthwhile response.  Or maybe his motivation was to hurt me as he can sometimes lash out when in the right mood, or when being pushed.  Regardless, fail.  Fail, fail, fail.

He did do a little good though.  He knows from past experience that leaving when we’re mad at each other is really hard on me, so though he wanted very badly to just get off the phone and step away from the situation, he stayed on until I had my peace with it. I want to give him credit for that because it did help.

We head into the next day with things ok but I was still upset about his choices the night before, and his responses.  We end up in another discussion – not entirely related – that boils down to him not putting any effort into things with me.  It’s one we’ve had before as I feel like, if there is anything involved that might incite the slightest question in her mind, I can forget it.  And look…I’ve said this to him as well…I don’t want her to ever find out about us.  My ideal situation would be of course, for him to be with me, but I don’t want it to be a situation where she ends things with him and I’m left to wonder if he’s with me because he wants to be or because I’m there.  So I’m not wanting him to be suspicious or make stupid choices by any means.

He arrives at work and we’re still mad but get off the phone.  About two or three hours later I send him a message ranting.  I explained my hurt regarding both situations.  I know it’s going to piss him off to read what I say, but I want him to understand my side of things and he’s not much for heated discussions.

An hour after this I still haven’t heard from him and this is where the crazy starts stretching its legs ready to pounce.  It begins with me being mad at him, thinking he’s not contacting me to hurt my feelings or make me mad…whatever I come up with at the time, this happened to be my idea this week.  At this point I still have some semblance of self-control in the situation.  I have a nearly constant inner dialogue going that goes between ‘I know he’s read that message.  He’s just avoiding me.  Asshole.’ and ‘Where is he?  Why won’t he contact me?’ This probably lasts 20 minutes or so.

I send him a text – a frustrated one.  My self-control is pretty tentative by now.  My mind is racing but I do try to fight it off.  I try to focus on my work, not going to send any more messages.  The frustration is still there.  I have glimmers of being able to calm down, maybe lasting a few minutes at a time.

Probably 15 or 20 minutes later I send the next text.  I would assume this is the point where my self-control loses any stronghold it may have once had.  My mood has switched from frustrated to anxious.  The worry starts to slide in and my mind is going a million miles a minute.  I am visibly down and/or agitated.

Maybe 10 minutes passes before the next one goes out.  I guess I did have a little self-control left because I fought with myself and didn’t send the message 5 minutes earlier.  This message is a little more desperate, practically begging for some response from him.  By now I’m fighting tears.

Probably another 10 minutes later, text number 4.  I say please.  Tell him he’s scaring me.  Ask him to say something.  I am convinced he’s getting the messages and just ignoring me.  Fighting tears, visibly upset, can’t really focus on anything but the fact that he hasn’t responded, why he hasn’t responded, and what is going on.  Self-control is but a dream.  There is none of that left.

Text numbers 5, 6, and 7 are beyond desperate.  I am officially freaking. the. fuck. out.  By now I’m basically convinced he’s never going to speak to me again.  Category 5 despair.  I am begging for some response.  Anything.  At some point in the midst of these three messages I also try to call, more to see if his phone is off than expecting an answer.  To say my mind was racing would be an understatement.  Reasons..what to do..send another message..don’t send another message..what is he doing..what do I do..he hates me..why did I push so far..how can I fix this..  There was some logic flitting through there as well but those thoughts were small and weak.  Discarded almost as quickly as they arrive.  Beginning to lose my fight against the tears, my face is red and hot to the touch, I’m jittery, my mind is a jumble of hot mess.

Then within a few minutes, a response.  That’s all it took to chase the crazy away.  I immediately calm down, my mind clears.  It’s a big enough change that I mentally take notice of it.  Huge difference.  I suppose I could say I was on a bit of a high though I was far from giddy.  It was more of a sigh of relief.  Welcome back, sanity. Turns out his boss was in, he had a meeting, and he couldn’t contact me.  He did not get my messages until after the boss left.

After that “high” wears off a few minutes later, I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.  I have very little energy and I’m just there.  I spend the rest of the day like this.

When Playboy started responding, we had a conversation about what happened.  He suggested things like, ‘Just stop thinking about it.  Focus on something else.  You shouldn’t do this to yourself.’  I told him he didn’t understand what it was like for me.

Trying to explain to him, I likened it to a phobia.  It makes no rational sense for a 5’6″ person to be afraid of a 1/2″ spider.  I’m sure the person knows that.  I’m sure, much like me, the logic runs through their mind and they do realize it doesn’t make sense.  I assume they have no control over it though.  The fear controls everything in that moment.  And that is what happens to me.  I have no control when it gets to a certain point.  I try to fight it but there is a line where there’s no fight I can make that will stop it.  Certain triggers make it worse.  Things to do with arguments – not good.  Being ignored – even worse.  Leaving – oh, you can forget it.  Leaving is the worst of the worst for me.  My own personal hell on earth.

So there’s my crazy.  Laid out bare for you to see.  It’s ugly, but it’s me.

Side note:  It turned out fairly well though.  That night Playboy spent his overtime talking to me on the phone, light banter-y conversation, instead of messaging like we usually do.  It was like the salve I’d been looking for to heal my emo from this week.

He didn’t say as much, but I have a feeling that’s why he did it.  Maybe he felt sorry for what I went through.  Not necessarily his fault, but he manned up and took care of his girl when she needed it.  He may lash out, and he may hurt me sometimes, but when it comes down to it, he will take a step back and make it better.  I hope that never stops because it means the world to me.

Am I still a vegetarian if I eat a Chicken Sandwich?

I haven’t eaten meat since some time in November.  I don’t remember the exact date, but vegetarian-ism had been swirling around my mind for a while as I have a few friends who have “taken the plunge”.  It intrigued me.  So one day this past November I’m sitting at work with my mind rumbling along out in La La Land, as it often does.  I notice the time and it’s 10:42 AM.  (I remember this, but not the date…such is how my brain works.)  As I notice the time, I think to myself, ‘Hmmm…it’s 10:42 and I haven’t had any meat today….I wonder if I could become a vegetarian?’  And so began my vegetarian venture.

Surprisingly – to myself – I have found it to be quite agreeable with me.  I have made the comment more than once that I couldn’t go without meat.  However, it hasn’t been a big deal at all.  Most of the trouble – if you want to call it that – comes from people around me.  I live in the south and we live and die by our meat and potatoes so I get lots of shocked responses and disbelief.  Why would anyone want to go without meat?!?!?

Lots don’t really have any concept whatsoever of what vegetarianism is.  Which, to give them credit, there are lots of different ranges of vegetarians.  I personally do not eat meat, including fish, but I do eat dairy and eggs.  But I get lots of…’Oh she can eat that, fish isn’t meat.’ and ‘Why won’t you eat that?  It’s green beans.’  They don’t understand that the green beans aren’t the problem, it’s the bacon or whatever meat they cooked with it for flavor.

Almost no one understands the choice I made.  I have no semi-traditional response like, ‘for the environment’ or ‘for the animals’.  No real purpose behind it.  I did it to see if I could.  It just so happened I liked it and so it’s stuck.

That is, until this week.  Aside from when I let myself get beyond hungry to starving, I haven’t missed the meat.  Honestly, half of it looks gross to me now.  However, for two days I had the strongest craving for a chicken sandwich combo from Wendy’s.  Why, I have no clue.  I mean, if I’m going to eat meat there are lots of better choices to make.

Regardless, the craving was strong so I gave in.  I was somewhat intrigued as to what this would mean.  I assumed I would no longer be a vegetarian, that the dam would break and I would eat meat with every meal again.

I am happy to say that is not the case.  Happy because I enjoy not eating meat.  I ate that chicken sandwich and it sated my craving.  I have not craved nor consumed meat since.  It’s been a day or two now.

I guess some would look down on me for making such a slip.  Of course, there are others who look suspiciously because I haven’t made a slip before now.  Me being a vegetarian began as my own little whim with my own little reasons and rules.  It doesn’t necessarily fit into the pretty black or white box people like to put you in sometimes, but it’s mine.  This isn’t any different.  I ate a chicken sandwich, but I’m still a vegetarian.

Just some randomness…

Some things that I’ve noticed recently that must exit my head:

First, I listened – really listened – to Mariah Carey’s ‘Obsessed’ a bit ago.  Mistake!  Has anyone else noticed that she has a background track on there saying ‘He’s all up in my George Foreman!’.  Seriously, she does.  I wonder…was it really so hard to say ‘grill’?  Or how about just be Mariah Carey and take the gangsta-speak out of it?  Seriously.  She said ‘He’s all up in my George Foreman!’.  Consider my mind sufficiently blown.

Second, on last week’s Grey’s Anatomy (which I finally watched last night) there was a line that may be the best ever on TV, in my humble opinion.  “Please don’t..don’t cry on my ass.  Please don’t cry.”  I really hope I’m able to use that in conversation this week.

I have discovered Moe’s.  Oh. My. God.  Previously not an option on my list of eateries because I have a general anxiety when forced into “buffet-style ordering”.  There’s a lot of pressure at those places!  What do I get?  Am I too fast?  Too slow?  Does my plate/sandwich look like something a 5-year old would order?  But yesterday, I pushed the anxiety aside and entered the southwestern haven that is Moe’s.  “Welcome to Moe’s!!” they yell as I enter.  I look around me for their best friend who obviously just walked in behind me.  No one.  Me?  They’re that excited to see little ol’ me?!?!?  Awesome!  I ended up with nachos, and my plate did not look like something a 5-year-old would order.  I added guacamole.  lol

Introducing….me.

I’m finally giving in to the madness and starting a blog.  I estimate I’m around 13 years late jumping on this trendy bandwagon, but that’s about par for the course in my world.  In high school I didn’t get the one-piece clown suits that were all the rage until they were already out of style.  I rocked that thing for probably an entire school year regardless.  Raise your hand if you think I was one of the popular kids….  Anyone?

So this 13 year delay – give or take….you know, I am aware there are millions upon millions of blogs out there.  What do I have to say that is different?  That has been my internal debate whenever the urge hits me.  Well look, I may not have the first interesting thing to say ever – I make no promises – but I’ve decided it gets me writing and that’s what I want to do.

To give a little info about me…well, full disclosure first, I will be anonymous for this blog.  My name is not Myra or any variation thereof.  I am not 22 and that number has nothing to do with anything about me.  They both fell from the stars as I was creating my user name.  🙂

I chose to do it this way because this will be my outlet for the ‘crazy’.  (We’ll get into that a little more later, I assure you.)  I will be completely and painfully honest about myself and my life in this blog.  I make mistakes, I do things I am not proud of, and I’m trying to find my way in life.  So though I am putting this out here in blog world, I do not want to be judged.  With that said… Hello, my name is Myra.  Nice to meet you.

I mentioned the motivation for starting this blog earlier was so I could write.  Writing is, for me, like standing in line to the ferris wheel but never actually making it to the ride.  It’s a pretty masochistic process.  Despite a virtually constant desire to put pen to paper, I can not seem to make the connection happen.  Any brilliant ideas I have fade away as soon as I sit in front of a computer.  What does make it endures such abuse it’s basically dead in the water.  Therefore, I have decided just getting something out there can possibly help me to get those creative sparks firing again.  We shall see what happens.

What will I write about?  Well, that ‘crazy’ I mentioned earlier…basically, that.  I’ve been working for quite a few years now to become a person who is not governed by my fears.  I’m still working.  It has been a long and difficult process, believe me.

The big fears I am fighting are abandonment, rejection, and trust.  I basically stopped living any sort of life at one point.  Can’t write because what if someone doesn’t think it’s good?  Can’t trust because what if someone hurts you?  Can’t let anyone in because what if they leave?  Can’t love because all of the above.  Not only did I allow myself to stop living, each fear has caused me to make any number of asses out of myself over the years.

This, Blogging Back to the Middle, is my journey back.  India Arie has a song titled ‘Back to the Middle’ on her first album Acoustic Soul.  In the song are the lyrics:

“Needing to protect yourself now that’s just a part of life.
If you let your fears keep you from flying,
you will never reach your height.
To get to the top you must come back to the middle.”

I allow my fears to hold me back.  I allow them to cause me to act erratically at times and send me into a near panic attack.  I have alienated friends and family, as well as myself.

I fight daily with this.  Sometimes I win the battles, and sometimes I lose.  I just want to end the inconsistency.  I want to stop the paranoia.  I want to find my middle.  I hope you choose to join me on my journey.  🙂