Positive Revolution!

Once again, it has been too long since I posted anything.

I have been writing posts. In my head. They just never end up where they need to be, either written down in a journal, or posted on this very public journal blog thingy. They just sort of bounce around in my head. Some have been more destructive than others, starting as a feather of an idea, floating on the wind. Slowly they morph into something more solid, like a rubber bouncy ball, bouncy around and knocking things over. Eventually, some of these ideas and forgotten notes turn into boulders, crashing through my mind, devastating everything in their path. The negativity then becomes like a desolate ruin of a town, with boulder crashed buildings, rotting bouncy balls in corners of forgotten homes, with a feather covered in soot in the middle of a broken road.

Most of the things I have been thinking about, and letting destroy my psyche, are negative. I once again find myself harping on all the bad things in my life, all the things I can't change, and all the things I have down wrong. From little social missteps in conversations, to failing as a functioning human in general. I feel like I should write them down, blog about them, to get them out of my head. To unleash this negative space unto the world, so that I am free of it. However, that is not really fair to the world at large, and I am afraid that it would just get replaced with more negative space in my head.

Instead, I am going to reconstruct the thought processes altogether! I am going to stop thinking negatively, harping on the horrible, feeding on the sadness. Instead, I am going to train my brain to think positively, focusing on the awesome, and living on the happiness! Notice I did not say I will TRY to do these things. I will do them. There is no try. You either do it or you don't. Right? Right.



Recently I watched a video on Ted Talks about the secret to happiness. My boss at work (yes, this amazing agoraphobe has a job! More on that epic piece of awesome later, hopefully) shared a video with everyone, and it really struck a cord with me. I hope the others at work watched it, contemplated it, and are thinking of implementing some of it's ideas. I kind of doubt it, but you never know. This isn't about them, though, it's all about me, so...as I was saying, I watched this video that resonated with me, and now I will share it with you:

This has inspired me to be a unicorn.
It has also inspired me to change the way I think. This video, and what he talks about, planted the see of revolution in my mind. By following some of the suggestions in this talk, such as journaling a positive experience every day, and focusing on three new things that I am grateful for everyday, I can turn that seed into a full blow happiness revolution! Changing the way I think, changing the way I feel, changing the way I perceive the world.

VIVA LA REVOLUCION!

Stupid Brain

Everything is going really well. REALLY well.
I have finally busted back into the work force, and am working a "dream" job of mine!

S and I are very happy, or, at least, I am very happy in my relationship with S. We are finally all moved into our place together, and we have been having a lot of fun decorating and putting things where they go.

We got a KITTEN! A KITTEN! IN OUR HOUSE! He is so sweet and awesome (more on him later).

So...with all this great stuff going on, why do I feel like throwing myself off a cliff? Why do I want to ball my eyes out at the drop of a hat?

Maybe it is because I keep having nightmares, like I used to. When I went "crazy." Every night another vivid fight with a family member, or someone telling me how inadequate, useless, worthless, and unattractive I am. Sometimes it's my ex. Sometimes it's family. Sometimes I have nightmares about old failed careers and forgotten goals. Every once in a great while it is someone trying to hurt me. And yes, the nightmares about abuse in the past. Huzzah. Thanks a lot brain. With this, I am not getting "restful" sleep, and wake up upset and on edge.

Throughout the day I try to pull myself out of this stupid funky feeling, only to get beat up emotionally in some other way. Mostly it is me that does the beating, it's true, but sometimes it's outside sources. The biggest thing I am beating myself up over is my new job.
I applied a year ago, tested in March/April, interviewed a month ago, and started a week ago. Government work takes a while to get into...and it is not an easy process. There was testing, interviewing (as I mentioned), and more testing! A polygraph test and everything! I passed all the things with flying colors, and was even accepted into one of the more coveted positions. I was hired at mid-range, even, not starting! But, I am terrified I can't do it. My headaches are back in full force, I am already not sleeping, and my retention seems minimal at best. On the way in on my third or fourth day, I had one of the worst panic attacks I have had in a few years. I couldn't think straight, I couldn't see straight, and I thought for sure I was going to pass out or throw up.

This, of course, has sent me into a wonderful hate spiral. If I can't do this job, what am I good for? If I can't do this job, will S hate me/resent me, as others have done before? I doubt it, but this also resurfaces all my trust issues. I don't trust myself to hold it together...I am afraid I will lose everything and everyone. Lose the job because I am a crazy person, lose the boyfriend because I am a crazy person, which in turn means I lose my living situation. Then it's back to the ghetto apartments, where I live out my life alone and crazy. This leads me to feel like I should just jump off the cliff now, avoid all the heartache and failure that is "inevitable." Again, thanks a lot stupid brain.

I have been dealing with my ex a lot lately, too. Well, dealing with is such a relative term. I have a lawyer helping me, but my ex still refuses to get my name off of our joint accounts, and is now claiming I need to pay him back for the gifts he gave me. Also, he isn't even talking to me, he is having his new girlfriend do it for him, which is typical. Although, somewhat surprising, as one of the reasons for him leaving me was because he told me he was gay. Weird to have a girlfriend when you prefer men, but maybe I am just not understanding what gay means. In "dealing" with him, it has just been the same emails back and forth, with no resolution. Every time I have to deal with an email, it reminds me that I am inadequate, unlovable, and broken. That I was sad all the time, and that I have to hide how I feel from people, or they will leave. That I am too far crazy for anyone to care about me, because it is too hard on them emotionally, again reminding me that I have to cover up how I feel, for fear of pushing people away. Not to mention the large amount of debt I am in now, because of him, which is keeping me from getting a car or any other type of credit loan.

On top of all this, I am fat. I have had enough people confirm this for me in the last week alone to know it's true, and that I am disgusting. A brand new coworker even said I could stand to lose 20lbs. Thanks. Now not only am I stressed about the job, I am upset because I am a tub.

So yeah. All the things in the world are going well, except I can't seem to focus on any of it. All I can see it the negative. All I can feel is the fear and pain and inadequacies. I can't enjoy the kitten. I can't enjoy the job. I can't enjoy the relationship. All because my brain is stupid, and I fall for it every time. Stupid brain.

Pamela Ruth Parker-Martin

One of my earliest memories is of running away. I was maybe two or three years old, and I had busted out (yet again, from what I have heard) from the confines of my room. Like a child Houdini, I broke out of the Fort Knox style bedroom my parents had arranged for me. I did this a lot, running away. I was always headed to the same place, though. Every time I ran, or toddled, as the case may be, I was going to Pam's house. She was going to CSU at the time, living in Fort Collins in her charming little house with her husband Bruce Martin. I was headed up there, hell bent and determined to live with Pam and Bruce.

When I was picked up by police, they asked where I live, and what I was doing. I remember this very vividly...I told them that I lived in Fort Collins (I was picked up in Evergreen. A toddler off on her wild lone), with My Aunt Pamela and Uncle Bruce. If they could please give me a ride home, I would really appreciate it. I was "lost" and needed to get home. It was ok, of course, they were expecting me. The cops didn't buy it. Strange, I felt like I was pretty convincing for a toddler. They took me back to Gran and Tata and my mum, where I was spanked and promptly grounded (again) and denied the Winnie The Pooh special that was on TV that night. I never gave up trying to get closer to Pam, though.

Pam, Gran, and Tata at Pam's Wedding

Even Pam's cat was a huge influence on my life, and my family. Pam loved Russian history, and would often name pets Russian names. Her first cat that I can remember was a striped tabby named Natasha. I was obsessed with Natasha! She was a KITTY! She was PAM'S KITTY! Pam had to leave Natasha with my family and me while she was going to school at CSU, as kitties were not allowed on campus (which is a ridiculous rule, if you ask me). I barely remember this, but I have heard many stories about how I would toddle after Natasha, trying to get a squeeze on her. Being my charming toddler self, I was not able to pronounce Natasha correctly, nor was I able to say Tasha, instead it came out as Tata. "Tata! Tata! Here Tata!" Well, my grandfather (the wonderful man who helped raise me, often referred to as my "Old Man") thought I was talking to him! Every time I called for Tata, he would come to me, thus giving him his forever nickname of Tata. (For the record, I tried to scan and post a picture of Natasha, but my silly scanner isn't cooperating.)


Pam and Bruce moved to Tucson, so that Pam could work on her Masters (or PhD? I can't remember which). I remember one letter she sent to us that had a picture of her standing by her very empty mailbox. I vowed THEN AND THERE to write her every day! I was going to share ALL my stories with her, and help her to not feel so lonely so far away. I know I wrote at least one letter, and I feel like it was a thousand pages long...but it was probably one page, on one side, with a story about what the cat did that day. I am not sure if it even got sent to her, but I hope it did. I wish I had written her every day, even if they were all letters about kitties. (Again, I have this picture somewhere, but the scanner hates me)

My mum and I went to visit Pam in the exotic and distant Tucson. I was pretty pumped, I was getting to go on a trip, and I was getting to visit Pam and Bruce! Nothing could be better than this! I remember being told that I could pack a swimming suit, because the pool was open year round! The place MUST be magic!
I remember riding in the car in the middle of the night, and playing the license plate game with my mum on the way, all the while dreaming of things that we were going to do. Like swim! In the winter!

My memory is spotty at best, so my details of the trip are scattered. I remember trying desperately to swim in the freezing, but open pool. Determined to swim outside in the winter, but hating the cold of it. I remember that Pam had cable, and that the cable has this magical new cartoons only channel - Nickelodian! We went to the Sonora Desert Museum, where there were caves of awesome and big cats, and gigantic cacti! Mostly I remember being happy, and wishing I could stay with Pam and Bruce in this magical wonderland of palm trees, cartoons, and pools.

Pam and Bruce eventually moved back to Colorado, and into Littleton. This was a lot closer to where we were living in the Mountains, and I was beside myself that they were back! There would be sleepovers! Ice Cream! The world was a better place when Pam and Bruce were close. They moved into a little townhouse in Littleton, and everything was right with the world. Eventually, they started talking of having children of their own. This was beyond exciting! Granted, I was a little jealous that they weren't going to adopt me, but if they had a little one, I could come over and hang out with them and the new addition! YAY!

After what seemed like a lot of trying (I remember Pam was worried that they might not be able to have kids), she was pregnant! So exciting! When Emily finally arrived, it was the most wonderful day ever. Pam and Bruce were SO HAPPY, and Emily was so amazing. What a fun baby! I was lucky enough to help my mum babysit, so for the first few months I got to see a lot of Emily, which was awesome.

Pam, Sarah and Emily

Pam and Em at the Dino Park

When Em was still pretty little, Pam and Bruce took us to Utah to visit some of Bruce's family. We went to a farm, rode horses, then met up with Tata to go fishing and camping. Pam later made me a little scrap book of that trip, something I will treasure forever.

Then, in what seems like the blink of an eye, they were talking of a second baby! Sarah was born during a rather impressive snow storm, which had me worried. Em was worried, too. My mum and I stay with Em while Pam and Bruce were at the hospital. One of the sweetest things I have ever known was when Em was saying goodbye to her mum and dad, and she gave Pam a small toy to give to Sarah when she arrived. She wanted to make sure the new baby had something fun and comforting. Such sweet girls, but this isn't surprising considering who there mom was.

Time passed. Pam focused on her family, and I started to focus on my life. Pam was always my biggest influence, though. When I started failing in school, I remember being so disappointed in myself. Pam had gone to, and graduated from, Evergreen High School. I lasted one whole week there before I left. I was not doing well, I was not focused, and I managed to get into a fight in my first week. So, I transferred to a charter school in Lakewood. It was a hard decision, because I wanted so much for Pam to be proud of me, but at the same time all my friends that I was close to were going to the charter school, and I felt like it was the only place I could do well. I was teased relentlessly by Pam and Bruce for going to the charter school, and even though it was just teasing and sarcasm, it hurt. I wanted to be like Pam. Smart, successful, happy, and it started to feel like I had let her down. I was just some dumb dropout, not worth investing in anymore. To be fair, I was in a very dark place in my life, and was not handling ANYTHING well, let alone teasing from my idol. I eventually figured out that she still loved me, and was proud of my accomplishments, and was able to joke about my school choices with her.

When I started college, Pam, again, was the biggest influence in my choices. Pamela was the only member of my family to go to college at that time. She had majored in Psychology, so I figured that was a good place to start. I had a passion for it, but like most college freshmen, my passion was sort of wild and unfocused. I knew I wanted to get into psychology of some sort, but I also really wanted to work with people. Specifically criminals. I had an obsession with abnormal psychology, but I had no idea what to do with it. So, I started taking the pre-reqs at Red Rocks Community College, and hoped for the best. Pam was one of my biggest supporters! It was so awesome to be able to talk to her about all the things I was learning, and ask her the thousands of questions I had about psychology, college, and life in general. Being able to reconnect through my going to school was amazing. I was finally pulling myself out of my darker days, and I had a real cheerleader in my successes.

When her mother, my grandmother, died in 2005, I literally began to lose my mind. I lost my job, I was losing my house, losing my mind, and was starting to really believe there was no reason to live.  I had dropped out of school, and was floundering through my existence. There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think about doing something drastic. Losing my Gran, the woman who raised me, who loved me, who was one of my best friends and confidants, who was the family glue, tore me apart. I had struggled with some dark issues before, and with losing her those all came flooding back. I was a mess.

Pam and Bruce literally saved my life, again. Whether they knew it or not. They invited me over to their house, and sat me down outside on their deck (they had long since moved into a bigger house). I remember Tata was there, and I imagine my mum was, too. Again, my memory is spotty at best. Pam and Bruce were so calm, cool, collected, and kind. I remember it felt like an intervention. They asked what it would take to get me back into school, and what it would take for me to finish. How many credits did I have left until I finished my degree? What did I need to do to get back into the school? How was I planning on doing this? I didn't have any answers. They offered to help, and in doing so, saved my life. They offered me free room and board, if I went back to school. Bruce would build a room in the basement for me to use as a bedroom, they would feed me, and I could focus on school. I couldn't say no! They opened their home, their lives to me, just to I could get back on track.

While living there, I was still an emotional mess. One of the biggest regrets I have, and may always have, is something I said to Pam once. Well, indirectly. I was on Myspace, and wrote a blog post about how I was feeling at the time. It was hurtful, and rude, and I was ungrateful about my surroundings. I was still so dark and twisted up inside, no longer on the medications I should have been on, still reeling from the loss of my Gran, and after finally getting something I had wanted my whole life, the chance to LIVE with Pamela. I felt like an outsider. I shouldn't have written a blog about what was going on. I should have talked to her about how I felt. Mostly I was upset that I was letting her down, again, and that I was never going to be on her level. She read the blog, and confronted me about it. It was the only time in my life I remember ever seeing her cry, and I had made her. Out of all the things I have done in my life, of all the stupid mistakes, and trauma and everything else, hurting Pamela is the worst thing I have ever done. It still makes me feel sick to know I caused her pain. I feel like that changed all my relationships with her family forever.

I was young and stupid, and continued to make stupid mistakes. I dated abusive idiots, I rebelled against help that was given, and fought to be independent, hell bent to not rely on anyone. Stupid. The whole time, though, Pam was helping me to get through it. I managed to finish my degree! Well, mostly. There was a little bit of a mix up with one credit, that took four years to fix (again, with Pam's amazing help!), but I managed to finish all my classes! AND get a pretty decent GPA (I graduated with a 3.14 - enough to qualify for honors). While living with Pam, I was nominated to be on the National Dean's List for the second time, which was a pretty big deal, AND I made some strong contacts in my final classes. Even though I was still a mess, Pam and her family were able to help me pull through. While I was living there, Emily and Sarah became huge influences in my life, and decisions. Both girls are brilliant, and were doing so well in school, it drove me to do and be better.

My Mum, Me, and Pam at my Graduation.

When I was finally able to officially graduate, Pam was so happy for me! I wasn't planning on walking in the graduation ceremony. I finished my degree in 2007, but wasn't able to walk until 2011, due to that one credit mix up. I was sort of meh about walking, thinking that no one was really interested, and that I should just take my degree quietly and move on. Pam, however, was not having it! She convinced me to walk in the graduation ceremony, and I am so glad I did. She welcomed me into the Elite Club of Graduates that day. Finally! She was not the only one! Pam and Bruce were kind enough to throw me a little graduation party at their house, with balloons they picked out, yummy little noms, and some of my friends. Graduating college was one of the greatest days of my life, and I know I would not have done it without Pam's never ending support.

Pam and Bruce in France

I could talk about when she was diagnosed with Cancer for the first time. I could talk about how she is the strongest and bravest woman I know, working and supporting her family, while fighting a battle for her life. I could talk about how she beat cancer, and how it seemed to make her a little stronger and a little wiser. I might even talk about how, when she was diagnosed with Cancer a second time, well...I don't have words for how it made me feel. I won't, though. Pamela was bigger, stronger, and so much more than being a cancer patient. Even while she was fighting for her life, she was still the most vibrant, adventurous, and amazing woman I may ever know. She traveled the world! She CHANGED the world! She changed my world, and saved it a few times. While Cancer may have taken her life, it was not who she was.

Pamela Ruth Parker-Martin was the most influential, supportive, strong, beautiful, vibrant, brilliant, kind woman I may ever know. There are a lifetime of wonderful memories I have of Pam, a million pictures from her live that I want to share, a thousand and one things I want to say about her. All the times we laughed, the times we cried, the family we shared, the bonds of our lives. Her sharing in all of the good and bad...I know I am a better person because she was in my life. She taught me more than I can ever convey, especially in a blog like this. I loved her. I love her. I am so so thankful I was able to know her, and I will miss her for the rest of my life.

Pamela Ruth Parker-Martin

November 9, 1961 - August 4th, 2013

The Parker Family Flower - Daylillies. Pam had a tattoo of these on her ankle.

Unreasonable Rage

It is a good thing I am home alone today. I think I would have killed another human being if there had been one within reach.
It took every fiber of my being to not break something expensive, also.

What could possibly cause this amount of unbridled rage? What could be so horrible as to make me want to smear blood on the walls and scream like a banshee?

You would think, or like to think, that it was something epic. Something so mind blowing that no jury in the world could put me away for blowing up entire buildings.

No.

No this is a special rage only seen for the most ridiculous of events. Today's rage-out was brought to you by me trying to stuff a resume/application of seven pages into too small of an envelope.
Yup. Nations could have been destroyed today because I could not get my papers to go nicely, or professionally into the envelope I had available. To add to this, the bombs were going to drop because my scanner has decided that it no longer scans important documents (or any, for that matter, I am not sure. All I know is that it seems to be on strike), it is lucky I like it as much as I do, and that it is as expensive as it is. It almost died today. *glares*

Watch yourself printer...this could be you...

I don't know why this well of rage started to spew forth at this doll sized envelope. I don't know why I couldn't get the guts up to ask the landlord if they had a normal sized envelope I could have. I am not even sure I am qualified for the job. Now, however, due to this monstrosity of an event, I am not only sure that I won't get this job, but I will never get ANY job. This teeny envelope has cursed me to a life of disability checks for ETERNITY. I don't know what I did to piss of suck strange gods, but I hope they are happy watching me flail with the envelope, scream at it, and start rage crying. I hope they are happy.

Tiny Envelope Gods are scary indeed

Fuck you Archer

Yeah, I said it. Fuck you, Archer.

Just in case you don't know who/what Archer is, Archer is a cartoon on FX that is aimed at adults. 99.9% of the time it is funny, nay, hilarious! Last night, however, I watched the one episode that wasn't funny. At all.

In case you have seen the show, the episode I am talking about is the one where Archer gets diagnosed with male breast cancer (Season 2, Episode 8, in case you were wondering). The basic premise, in case you haven't seen it or don't plan to, is that Archer's mother Malory goes in for a Mammogram. Archer decides to get checked out, too, and they find a huge lump. Archer is diagnosed with breast cancer. While terrible, it changes his whole attitude, he is going to "stay positive" and be nicer to those around him. Archer gets it removed, the Doctor says they got it all, and then everyone goes off to celebrate.

During the party at his flat, he gets a call from the Doctor. The Doc states that he was wrong, and that the cancer has spread to his lymphnodes. Archer quickly falls into a deep depression, and starts handing out deathbed confessions like candy at Halloween. Just as he is about to get to Lana, the female lead, and confess (or not) his undying love for her, the phone rings again. It's the Doc! He got the charts mixed up! Archer is going to be fine and is totally cancer free! YAY! Celebration begins again.

Then, as one might expect. The phone rings a few moments later. Oops, it's the Doc again. Turns out he was wrong, again, and that is HAS spread to his lymphnodes. Crying again, more deathbed confessions, once again skipping Lana.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

The sad thing is, I feel like this has been a lot like my life for the past few months (even years, if we are really getting dramatic). With my Mother and my Aunt both battling breast cancer, and now cancer in their livers, I feel like their various doctors have been throwing us on this same roller coaster. Yay! You beat breast cancer! You are fine! Nothing to worry about! This felt especially true, because just like Archer got a lumpectomy and was "fine," the same thing happened with my Mom. She got a mastectomy and was "fine." No need to even get regular scans to see if anything had spread. That would just be silly.

Then, WHAM! Oops, we were wrong, you aren't fine, the cancer has spread to your liver. It is now totally eating your liver, and you have seconds (well, weeks, but you get the idea) to live. They told us it has probably spread to all of her lower half.
But wait! They were wrong! It's just in her liver! Or is it? Perhaps it has spread? No...wait...it's...um...just...oh let's just do chemo and hope for the best.

That has been a roller coaster, too. Yes, it's working. No, it's damaging the rest of her too much. Yes the levels are going in the direction they should! The levels started at 100, no, 1,000, no, was it 10, 000? Is that possible? Well, now they are at 100. No, 75? Wait, 10? 100? Is that a kitten in your liver? You should do more chemo. You shouldn't do more chemo. Yes, but no, but maybe yes?

FUCK! Make up your damn minds! You went to ALL the schooling! All of it! You are a specialist in CANCER for crying out loud, and you have no idea what you are talking about. I feel like the Doc's are either crying on my Mom because she is at death's door, or throwing themselves ticker tape parades because they figured out what numbers her levels are actually at.

Not to mention my Aunt. Luckily she has a great support network, and a very fierce couple of daughters. Which is good. I would have snapped one Doctor's neck, after slowing roasting his eyeballs over a spit (with them still in his head) and popping his eardrums with needles.
I won't say what he said, or how he said it, but needless to say he is one of the worst doctors on the planet. My poor Aunt seems to have the worst luck when it comes to that, she has had a few very horrible people. To be fair, she has also had some AMAZING doctors and nurses, and she seems to be doing a lot better. Which is good. She has been on a hell of a roller coaster with her cancer, too.

So, while Archer was probably meant to be hilarious, it hit WAY too close to home for me. While the flip flopping phone calls all in the matter of an hour were funny to some, it was so much like real life that I thought I would cry, throw up, and break something expensive all at the same time.

Honestly, I am not sure why I am telling you all this. Mostly to get it off my chest, I guess. A chest, by the way, that I am increasingly paranoid about. I thought I felt a lump last week, and almost ran to the doctor. After a lot of further inspection, I figured out it was my ribcage. I have been so chunky for so long that when I felt something, I assumed the worst. There is no way it could be bone! Now I feel stupid...and glad. I don't want to be that girl in the office every five minutes because I am scared of the cancer demon.

In conclusion, fuck you cancer episode of Archer. The rest of the show is still very watchable, just this episode sucked. Also, more importantly, fuck you cancer.

The Usual

I know I said I was going to post every day. Or at least more than once in a blue moon. Or at all. I just haven't felt like writing lately.
Not much of an excuse, but there it is. I feel like all I would write down is negative and whiny crap that no one wants to hear, thus annoying the few readers I do have, and annoying myself in the process.

So there's that.

I also don't want to jinx what feels like the only good luck I have. Like, if I talk about what is good in my life, monsters will come and destroy it all, then laugh while I go back to being a depressed puddle on the floor.

Instead of writing about my MANY failed attempts to gain employment, or how my mother is doing, or how my aunt is doing, or how I feel I may never leave this Hotel California apartment, I shall leave you with a cat video, and perhaps I shall write again. Sooner, rather than later.

blegh

Yup. Blegh. I can't think of a witty title, and I don't want to be stuck here for a few hours, not writing anything, trying to think of a witty title. So there.

Super Powers! I think I need a bubble pipe, too

I feel like crap. Emotionally and physically. I have had a migraine now for what feels like an eternity. Have I always had this headache? Will I always have this headache? Is my headache my brain trying to come to terms with new super powers I am getting, and soon I will be able to read minds/do magic/fly? Or is it just stress, like it always is?

I am going with super powers. My brain is having growing pains because of the new super powers. That HAS to be it!

 It probably has nothing to do with the fact that I am, in fact, torturing myself to death.
How am I doing that, you ask? Well, let me tell you ALL about it!

First and foremost, I refuse to cry. REFUSE. In fact, I have gotten so good at NOT crying, that now I don't even think I can. Like my tear ducts have sealed themselves from lack of use. The little workers have packed up and found jobs elsewhere (like using lightning and jackhammers in my brain). Sometimes I want to cry, but then I mentally kick myself in the face, and buck up. Like a soldier.

He wasn't THIS bad...

When I was growing up, it was made VERY clear to me, at a young age, that crying was a sign of weakness. Being raised by a Marine from the 50's could be a little rough, sometimes. Especially when he was under a lot of pressure and stress. My crying would usually make whatever was going on a hell of a lot worse, so it was best to just never cry. Ever. MAYBE if we were watching a movie, and there was a really sad scene, you could MAYBE shed a manly tear (I am not a man, by the way. I am a pretty squishy girl, just in case anyone forgot). Otherwise you had to be strong, all the time, no matter what. Your Mom just died? Nope, no tears in front of the others, because THEY need to be able to cry, and someone has to be the strong one, and since you are pretty strong it might as well be you. You can cry later. Alone. In the shower. When everyone else is asleep.

I finally began to relax a little, and trust a little. Mostly after my Old Man passed away. I guess I figured he couldn't retaliate against me for crying, especially for crying because he had died... This didn't last long, however.
I never mention my ex-fiance. Mostly because he is not even worth mentioning. That, and I have nothing nice to say about him, and you know the old saying...BUT, he is important in this part of our story. SO, I was finally opening up and crying. I would cry on his shoulder. Which, at the time, I thought was acceptable. He and I were going to me married, right? I was going to sign a contract stating I would spend the rest of my life with him. *shudders* So, one should be able to show emotions to their soon to be spouse, yes? No. Apparently that is not in the contract.
I was mourning the loss of my Old Man, and had a lot of other bottled things I was dealing with that kept bubbling up. This was in the thick of my mental breakdown, to be fair, but I was at least crying about it, right? And not going to the hospital because I was hallucinating! I wasn't breaking things! I was finally getting a little sleep!
Well, apparently crying is still a sign of weakness. The ex-fiance said, in his long litany of reasons why I was a horrible human being, that one of the MAIN reasons why I was a horrible human being - and deserved to die alone - was because I was sad all the time.

Yup.

I was sad all the time. So he bailed.

My Old Man had recently (like that year) died. My biological father - who didn't even really know my name - had killed himself. My Aunt was battling cancer. My Mum was battling cancer. I had lost my career in a firey ball of ridiculousness. Now, I understand how you can think these might just be excuses, as he said they were. Maybe they are excuses. Maybe a grown Agoraphobe shouldn't cry in front of anyone. This was why I was "sad all the time," though. That, and, well, my fiance was a **comment deleted for obscene language, violence, and partial explosions**

I know how stupid that sounds. I know that crying is important and whatever else you are about to tell me. HOWEVER - I do not think in LOGIC! That is just silly! So, because I have never had any real luck crying, I just don't now. I feel like maybe this makes me a little bit of a sociopath, and adds to the whole "No one will ever love me" thing. Because...I don't cry...so...right. Anyway... Don't get me wrong, I don't think you are weak if you cry. Quite the opposite! I am happy to console (or try to, I sort of fail at being consoling. I make the stupid consoling face and never know when to hug or man-pat), and hear you out. I think you are a strong person for showing your tears to me, and I even feel honored sometimes when someone feels safe enough to cry in front of me. I know, I sound like a hypocrite because you are allowed to cry - sometimes encouraged to - and I am not. Like I said, though, someone has to be the strong one. Might as well be me, right? ESPECIALLY if you need to cry. The LAST thing you need to see is me crying, too, right?