Case in point:

Nike Dunk Hi 6.0 Sneaker

I’ve been in a Tegan and Sara-ish mode recently.  I’ve been liking the skinny jeans paired with high tops.  It’s probably a phase. But, I think it matches my hair well

Magic Rabbit Slippers

We got Meg some for Christmas with kittens on them–and I’m jealous of them because she just talks about how comfy and warm they are.  And we are cute and like to match.  Nerds.

Vans Zapato Del Barco

They just look casual and comfy.  I don’t have much to say.

Silence & Noise Boyfriend Blazer

NFL Football Sweatshirts

I’m a Philly and NY Jets fan.  I originally selected them due to their colors and logos.  And then I loved Donovan McNabb.  But, most of all–these are AWESOME looking sweatshirts!

Humane Society Tee.

Do I need to explain?  I heart animals and fully support any effort to save as many as possible.

Crocodile Menswear Watch

This is a chick watch in a menswear style.  And–menswear looks good on me!  I can rock a vest and blazer like nobody’s business.  Why not add an accessory?

First Day Plaid Tie

Oh.  Speaking of menswear…. I love ties.  I also love the preppy plaid look.  And I love skinny ties.  Win.Win.Win.

Reworked Leather Pocket Wallet

Nothing really special about this wallet–but I like the color, snaps and leather look.

Azure Stamp Quilt

It looks fun.  I typically have nothing of color in my house.  I’m all about neutrals.  I wear basically nothing but black, love black and white prints, and typical boring stuff like that.  This would be a pop of color in an otherwise blah apartment.

Floating Flowers Duvet Cover

I’ve always been a fan of this duvet cover–but, I don’t have a duvet insert so… it’s a no go.

A Place For Towels Hook

This is borderline tacky, but I like it for some reason.  And we always need a place to hang our towels to dry.  They seem to always be damp and gross.

NYC Map Collage Framed Print

This is fun.  I like the orange frame.  I’m not brave enough to stray from a black frame–and this might change my opinion about that.  I’m also a big fan of maps of any sort.  I’m geographically an idiot.  I don’t know how to read a map or even a compass.  I’m useless.  But, I think there is something interesting about grids and maps.

Paris Snow Globe by Clare Owen Wall Art

I have a lot of Paris themed framed photos and art posters.  This one reminds me of a concert poster and it’s cute.

Vintage Deer Multi Hook

I would totally use this during the holidays.  I think of these as reindeer frolicking in snow.  And I love that image.

Gregor Convertible Sofa

GAWD, I need a sofa.  We have two chairs.  We like to cuddle.  It doesn’t work out so well.  A couch would be a godsend–and this one is retro trendy and simple.

2×3 Welcome Home Rug

This makes me happy–and I would love to put it outside the apartment.  It would totally get ruined though, so I would settle for inside the door where the dog always lays.

London Map Collage Framed Print

Another map.  Still like it.

Punched Loop Shelf

I would put a plant and some books on it and it would make me feel so domestic and adorable.  I feel like a 50′s housewive in an apron looking at it.

Byron Coffee Table

I like that I can put magazines and crossword puzzle books in there.  We have no coffee table and it’s cute.  I typically like black furniture, but I don’t find this wood color offensive.

Twin Bell Alarm Clock

I have a serious addiction to clocks and watches.  In my old  house I had a wall of clocks.  I LOVE them.  And that’s bizarre because I never know what time it is and I’m always late.  *shrugs*

Cooperative Artisan Rolling Luggage

$99.99(Was $149.00)

I have NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO idea why I like this. I hate the color pink. So. So. So. Much.  But, I weirdly want it.  What’s happening to me?

Cupcakes Keycaps

Meg and I are huge dorks–and we have two keys that look almost identical at night.  One is the mail box key and the other the house key.  Having key caps would really help us out.  And these are cupcakes.  I’d be afraid Meg might try to eat one if she got hungry, though.

Bamboo Computer Keyboard

I have literally NO need for this. But, I want it….

I don’t know how to deal with my relationship issues. “Lost in Translation” does a better job.  I’ve been with this girl for two years and I still don’t know what is happening.   This is mainly because every therapist of mine has been more interested  in me than my relationship.  I never understood this theoretical deduction.   Clearly, if someone has found me promising in every one of my three relationships–I had something worth noticing–and clearly it wasn’t my looks!

But, recently I have been confronted….

My fiance has said that I’m not worth the effort.  And I kind of can see her perspective, because I don’t feel that I’m worth very much.  I don’t think I’ve proven myself as worth anything more than what my parents’ provide.  I abscond this position of high and mighty, just because my girlfriend’s parent’s have wealth.

I prefer to live the way I was brought up.  I have dinner at a kitchen table with a plate of vegetables and a lean meat w/ iced tea.   And that suffices me. But, when I visit her family (yeah, I am gay), her family gets mad and upset with me if I do not partake in a fine wine, sushi and proper table ware.   What is a girl to do????

Sincerely,

Me.

I love her now. No matter when.  She is the best woman that, I’ve ever laid my eyes in my whole life.  She knows.  How to change

a life.   She might know that she’s listening then.  But, I don’t care I’m listening then.  I hear that they’ll stay up all night, and I know

that I’ll stay up night, listening to what’s going on, listening to what’s wrong or right. I dont’ know how that I can change. I can only

hope that I’ll arange…something where you’ll stay so safe and strong, where you will know what’s right and wrong

and where you’ll come safe night and day.  and so you can come exchange, the nerdiness of you and I

the weirdness of the place that we call home and that’s our home and that’s ok… and you’ll remember

why you came…

I love you, Megan.  Please remember that.  Forever.  I’m sorry, I am a dork.  I am cheesy.  But, I love you so much!   And a  lot of people think I am funny, so there!

And here she sits on top this bed of sin, we aren’t of faith… the one thing I can’t give.. to her family… She is a-top this bed of sin.

And I will not touch her, forever, if that’s what it takes. To make this marriage right. I cannot wait. But, if I must…than I will wait my whole damn life.

I love you, Meg. More than you will ever EVER know. Kisses.

But, so far, tonight… nothing.

Right now…nothing but the clock ticks.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

It keeps informing me that time is passing, but I’m not resting.  I’ve ignored it for almost a year–why start now?   This is my way of ignoring that which I cannot and should not ignore.  I am getting older.

I went trick-or-treating with my niece the other evening.  She is going to be two on December 23rd.  Two years old.  What kind of future will she be prescribed to endure?  Who knows?  But, that is a question for a different blog.   However, I stated at one point…. how old I felt….  And my sister immediately retorted with, “Well, you are old now.”  And I realized that she is, in fact, correct.  I am old.  I am almost twenty-six years old and have absolutely nothing worthwhile in my life.

I almost vomited at the knowledge of this fact.   I have, literally, wasted the last eight years of life trying to “find myself.”  So far, I’ve come up with nothing.

This is entirely humorous–because I look at my facebook friends and realize that everyone I knew in H.S. has a prestigious job and a enviable degree.  O.K.  For those who don’t know… I was a 4.0 GPA graduate in all AP classes from a 5-A high school in Texas.  I had the credentials to survive in this competitive world, but didn’t get far enough to show my peacock wings.  I just gave up.

Yeah.  I worked really hard for that co-valedictorian status.  Then, I quit.  It wasn’t something planned.  It wasn’t something I was encouraged to do.  It wasn’t even something that I even wanted.   It just happened.  You ever see the film “Series of Unfortunate Events?” No?  Well.  That was me.

A series of unfortunate events.

One)  Feel unloved and ugly.

Two) Become anorexic

Three) Drop Out because Too Skinny

Four) Start up at A&M

Five) Come Out

Six) Become Gay and Anorexic

Seven) Go to England on Parent’s tuition

Eight) **** School

Nine) Unemployed, sad, and, and disinterested in everything

Ten) Sign me up for the Hunger Games.

Seriously…. I’ve wasted all my time here.  I have so much left to give but no admirable or effective way to give it…?  I want to help everyone, but no one can inform how to make a living while helping.  I watch these shows on National Geographic or other comparable channels about those who give their entire lives to aiding in the rescue, rehabilitation and subsequent adoption of dogs/cats…. but, I cannot seem to find the venue to do that.  I certainly do not have the money to donate–nor the ability to donate unpaid hours to the cause.   But, that’s all I want to do.   All I want to do is help.  All I want to do is help those who have no voice–whether it be children or animals.  It makes no difference.

So, anyone reading this blog–I’ve been faced with many adversaries… I’ve been the victim of domestic abuse.  I’ve been the victim of rape.  I’ve been the victim of infidelity.  I’ve been the victim of a lot of things.  But, I’ve never been wronged by a dog or a cat that I hadn’t earned it from.  I’ve been bitten by dogs and cats, but only by those that never had a chance to be properly socialized.   So, I’d love to help.  Any where and how in East-Texas area.  I lost a dog, “White Dog,” to the “system.”  And I want to prevent that happening again.  Ask me about her, if you wish.  :)  Thanks!  And… Gig’ Em Ags!

This poem shall explain

What goes on in my brain

When the silence becomes

all I hear

And it will help me stay sane

as I sort through my pain

and wish to just disappear

But, buyer beware for

henceforth’s despair

as heartache will quickly arrive

Yet from ashes i rise

Spread my wings and take  flight

as I rid myself of this blight.

—————————————

And to those who have seen

and heard this before…

To those I have failed

(and much much more)

To those who doubt

Each step I  take

and To those who wait

for me to break

To those all I say is to watch and to wait

For bleakness never sealed my fate

I slipped to the bottom, I created this hell

And it’s here and it’s now that I wish it farewell.

————————————————

Poem:

This protective shield, my body’s defense

This blanket of flesh, oh this armor of skin

Keeping everything out and yet everything in

As it serves as my savior, my one shining knight

It also displays my tumultuous fights

A war ravaged canvas displaying my sins

A landscape of trenches concaved from within

This outward expression of internal strife

All the pain, and the past, on this map of my life

The pale, the pallor, and these old sallow eyes

This constellation of sorrow

This collection of lies

Shall remain here forever

But, will fade over time

——-

I see them and tremble.

I catch glimpse and regret.

It’s clear that these mirrors

reveal more than reflect

they see through my guise

and dispel my disguise

——–

Now I’m caged in this box, with no exit in sight

Head’s in the clouds but afraid of the flight

so throughout this house i’m here walking blind

the shades pulled taut, and the sun she hides

I sit still in this chair as I try to waste time

i daze, and i dawdle and I dwindle away

Stare out of my window and watch the birds play

I long for a difference and pray for a change

I think and I ponder as to what made me so strange

I crave all the action and the sounds of the street

The light and the laughter. grass under my feet

but here  in this cave I shall rest and reside

and feed off of the visions I see in my mind

For I feel oh so safe, oh  so safe here inside

——–

Why yes it tis tragic this fate I endure

But, I do believe that I’ve found a cure

A way to escape all these wants and desires

A way to extinguish these curious fires

With a flip of a switch or a tap of the keys

All these feelings will vanquish and vanish with ease

I invest in these figures that I see on the screen

I slip into placation and soak in the scene

For these 2-D creations, my world is their stage

Technicolor dreaming in this colorless cage

——-

Alas credits will roll and the stories will end

And one must say goodbye to their fictional friends

Once again I shall suffer and in this chamber I weep

‘Til my eyelids are heavy, but still cannot sleep

In this cell I will hide

breathing and beating

but never alive.

——–

my focus is waning as desires still burn

wishing and waiting for tables to turn

I cling to the past as I reach for the future

The thread it unravels as I pull out the sutures

This procedure is brutal, my feelings grow numb

As I patiently wait for my freedom to come

I know grass is greener, but this room’s always dark

This change will be welcomed, the differences stark

——–

so i’m scratching and clawing

and escaping this maze

i’m entering into a recovery phase

this life– its been maddening

and these ailments unjust

but each scar i wear proudly

though in sight they disgust

They all tell my story

They humble my soul

They remind me of just

How far the chosen can fall

———

Now the world will not care

nor speak of my name,

know the battles i fought

or the demons I’ve slain

i shall slip through the cracks

and blend in with the skies

With my gaze left unmet

by compassionate eyes

in this world I’ll exist

as a person unknown

I’ll carve out my niche

as a hard-working drone

I’m a stat, I’m a number

on life’s  assembly line

I’m not special or different

I do what’s assigned

And My footsteps will fall

where others have been

As I complete all my chores

with this cheshire grin

This must sound so strange

So off kilter and wild

For most such a life would

be loathed and reviled

But all that I fought for

And all that I craved

Was a life that was simple

and a heart that was brave

So, I am doing what I must to achieve just a semblance of peace.  My brain these days is a muddled maze of uncertainties.  I can’t solve one internal conflict without another equally daunting challenge presenting itself.  This disarray has proven to be incredibly dizzying.  The world around me switches between full-throttle and stagnant.  Time is either whirring by me at speeds incalculable by man or inching by at a languid crawl.   I can’t keep up with the frequent inconsistencies.

It’s been this way for fifteen days now.  My mind and body have both been unfrozen.  I am no longer in suspended animation.  I walk now and I feel the concrete beneath my feet.  I speak and can easily replay the words in my head.  I step outside and can hear and observe the sounds around me.  I am no longer in a perpetual haze.  I am no longer held captive by my alcohol dependency.  I am effectively sober.

No one told me it would be this hard.

I’ve spared everyone the details of my battle with drinking over the past two years for many reasons.

1)  I hate attention–especially negative attention.  Most of the time if I post something on facebook that involves politics, unpopular opinion, religion, touchy topics, etc.  I will never read responses that people post.  I don’t care to debate.  I don’t care to read something that I may find personally insulting.  I just don’t want my self-image being affected any more than it has to be.

2) It was no one’s business.  I knew the entire time I had a problem.  I knew that what I was partaking in was not normal, responsible, healthy, safe, or positive in any way whatsoever.  It was and is still an embarrassment to myself.  It was a major issue for everyone in my life and became a giant elephant in every room I entered.

3.  Most of all I kept the official diagnosis hidden because I just could not handle any more criticism or judgment from those who think that they knew me or the unfortunate situations that I found myself in.  I already deal with scrutiny from people in my life on a daily basis.  And just the idea of one more individual attacking my decisions was unbearable.  Those who knew… knew.  And those who did know also understood that there was nothing they could do about it other than voice their concern and disapproval.

So, I kept my mouth shut and my hands tied behind my back.  As long as I kept imbibing copious amount of liquor with increasing regularity I saw no reason to make mention of the seriousness of these problems because there really was nothing to gain from it.

I will now provide some back-story to supplement the experiences that would lead up to this posting.  It might help explain some things and as a result might actually help me sort through some of my own confusion with the process.  I’ll try to keep it succinct, but bear with me–as some of these memories have lain dormant for some time now:

Two years ago this month my life changed dramatically.  I started to drink heavily, frequently and irresponsibly.  Moderation has never been my strong suit.  Addiction comes quickly and without warning.  I cling to these obsessions, these habits and these routines until reformation becomes virtually impossible without some serious form of intervention–and even then there is no telling if success will be a possibility at all.   I’ve hopped from compulsion to compulsion and vice to vice where each one acted as a substitute for another.

I’ve been this way my entire life.  I use these infatuations as crutches to support me, as blindfolds to shield me from reality, as painkillers to numb my emotions, and as plastic surgery to carve out a sense of identity for myself.   In middle school I didn’t just like Star Wars but became completely enveloped in a world that revolved around the fantasy series.  I collected all of the memorabilia, I memorized every fact and figure about the characters, vehicles, planets, and so on, I wrote fan-fiction, I spent all of my money on SW related products, etc. etc.  This was my life.  This was my identity.  This pattern would repeat itself multiple times throughout subsequent years with film, Kate Winslet, Ireland, Brandi Carlile, James Dean, Blink 182, etc.  I couldn’t just stop at appreciating or admiring these people, places and things.  I had to go one step further.  I was always taking things too far.  The line between healthy and obsession blurred for me.  But, at the time it gave me purpose and an area of interest to devote my time to.

Those were rather harmless examples of my inability to moderate myself.  My constant struggle with finding middle ground would go on to manifest itself in more dangerous and detrimental ways once I hit college.  It was here that my freedom coupled with my blatant mental instability would amalgamize into a monolithic obstacle.

To summarize the downhill nature of my first couple of years at school…

I have always been good at sports.  I may not have been good enough to compete professionally or even on the collegiate level, but there is no denying the fact that I’m athletically gifted.  I’m swift, nimble, agile, quick-thinking, coordinated and competitive.  I had participated in basketball almost year round since I was in the 2nd grade.  I was always thin, slender and muscular because I was constantly engaged in a very rigorous and demanding sport.  Thus, when I went away to school I gained some weight.  Not a lot.  Not enough to where any normal person would notice, but I did.  I had almost no friends nor a way to meet any.  I had a poor complexion.  I had nothing interesting going on in my life.  I was bored.  I had nothing going for me.  So, I focused all of my attention on something that I absolutely knew I could control: my body.  I’ve never denied being vain.  Appearance is important to me because I feel that it’s the only thing that I can offer someone.  I’m almost completely unskilled or able to engage others in any way.  So, my train of thought was: make self more attractive, feel more confident, project confidence, garner interest from prospective date and/or hiring manager, profit.

So, I started cutting calories.  I concentrated on portion control and incorporating more exercise into my routines.  It began rather harmlessly, but then I became addicted to the results.  After that I just couldn’t get thin enough.  I began to feel guilty if I ate anything at all.  I moderated my calories to the point where I would refuse to eat more than 800 a day.  My brain became my worst enemy and dysmorphia began to cloud my vision.  It didn’t matter if a size double-zero at Aeropostale required a belt to stay up on my hips.  Or that my spine protruded from the sunken sallow skin of my back.  I didn’t seem to care that the room would spin and I would almost faint upon standing.  It seemed perfectly normal that all the notes I took while in class consisted of adding up calorie counts and writing grocery lists.  Sure, I slept more than I should have, wore sweatshirts in the summer, and feared having to go out to eat with my friends more than anything in the world.  But, I was skinny.

88 pounds skinny.  In a year I had seen my weight dwindle down from 135 pounds to 88.   Almost fifty pounds on a 5’5″ formerly muscular frame.

It was a really tough time for everyone.  My family was afraid of the health consequences.  And despite finally achieving what I thought I wanted–I wasn’t happy and I was too afraid of outside judgment to be comfortable going out looking the way I did.  These photos don’t portray the dire nature of the situation.  The truly horrific images are going to stay put away where they belong.

I finally pulled myself out of this particular period of darkness only to find myself quickly careening to the other extreme.  I refused to seek any sort of professional treatment and instead decided to tackle it myself.  So, I started to eat.  And then I found myself eating too much.  Apparently it’s quite common for a recovering anorexic to find themselves slipping into a state of binge-eating.  And this is what happened with me.  Not coming to terms with the underlying reasons for the initial disorder led to my clinging to another.  I began to use food as a coping mechanism.  I abused it in order to satiate the emptiness and loneliness that would continue to plague me.  After work, every night, I would go to the grocery store and buy boxes of cereal… not one, not two, but three.  And I would sit there on my computer, staying up until morning, while stuffing my face with handful after handful of cereal.  I would then either eat nothing the next day or force an emetic down my throat and spend the afternoon involuntarily vomiting. This was undoubtedly worse than not eating at all.  It was expensive.  It was stressful.  It was unhealthy.  It was embarrassing. It was just another example of my inability to moderate any aspect of my life.  I gained a ton of weight after doing this for over a year.  The damage I’ve done to my metabolism throughout those periods is immeasurable.  I still do not eat like a normal person.  My weight still fluctuates.  But, the progress that I have made is incredible.  It’s the one area of my crazy that I might actually have finally tackled.

It was during the aforementioned episodes that my school career went from fruitful and successful to non-existent.  I tried to take time off to heal myself but never did get back in the swing of things.  And if I don’t get all A’s and high B’s then I’d rather fail out. *smacks head*

Continuing on:

In the spring of 2007 I admitted and accepted the fact that I was gay.  I had known that I was attracted to women long before this, but for a multitude of reasons I just didn’t put much thought or effort into it.  I hated myself too much to want a relationship.  My family’s approval was of the utmost importance to me.  I had no gay role-models, friends, acquaintances, etc. I was going to one of, if not the most, conservative schools in a very conservative area.  I was scared. I was ashamed. I was confused.  I just did whatever I could to avoid the situation entirely.  But, eventually I just came out to myself and that was that.  I had never so much as held hands with another girl at that point, but I knew and was sure about it.  So, I sought out support any way I could, which was when I found a wonderful online community that proved to be an extremely pivotal point in my adult life.  It was through here that I would meet my first girlfriend and begin my first real relationship.

Despite the tumult and irreconcilable differences that plagued and would eventually spell out the demise of this 1.5 year long courtship… I experienced love and stability for the first time in years.  It felt good.  It felt right.  I was happy and cared for. I was with an incredible woman who I admired and looked up to.  It was a very important time for me.  But, a little over two years ago  the dissolution of this relationship took place.  Unsurprisingly, this was my fault.  I truly am responsible for every misstep I have taken on my life’s journey thus far.

Without going into much detail… it was my own anxieties and insecurities that ruined everything.  I was too scared to try new things, too shy to go out with her friends, too self-loathing to instill trust in her, too stubborn to try and change and too much of a coward to end it the right way.  So, I lost everything.  I lost my future, I lost my partner, I lost a friend, I lost a home, I lost a cat, and I lost hope.

When I knew the end was quickly approaching I started to seek out solace in any way I could find it.  I found a group of like-minded, lesbian, interesting and spirited individuals in College Station.  I liked them and at the time I thought they liked me.  I began spending more and more time with this group and in turn began to lose more and more of what I used to like about myself.  I stopped caring about anyone but me.  I was reckless.  I was stupid.  I was essentially making up for lost time that I had spent alone in my room.  I finally had friends.  I would have done anything for acceptance–and I did.  I became a liar, a cheater, a stereotypical lesbian slut, a drunk, a homewrecker, etc.  I had transformed into someone I despised.  But, I couldn’t turn back.  I couldn’t quit.  I was addicted to the care-free nature of it all.  There is something initially thrilling about that type of existence.

Luckily for me that entire situation proved to be ephemeral.  However, the drinking continued on…

What began as a way to quell my social awkwardness while partying it up with strangers led to full-on dependency.  No two ways about it.  I used to be able to control it.  I would know when to stop.  I would drink intermittently.  I would take a few days off after a night of debauchery.  And then one day I could no longer regulate it.  It just happened.  I found myself the villain once again in the relationship I was in. I had fallen in love with two people… two people who happened to be exes themselves.  I was too weak to make a decision of breaking it off with my girlfriend and taking the chance on the other girl–so I strung them both along.  I was a horrible vile human being.  And I was using the alcohol to avoid dealing with the crushing guilt and emotional despair that would have accompanied this situation otherwise.  I didn’t want to feel anymore.  I didn’t want to be me.  Vodka helped with this.  Or so I thought.

During this time I found myself completely entangled in this web of crazy I had constructed.  I ruined so much in such a short period of time.  I broke hearts. I broke friendships.  I broke promises.  I mutilated myself with razors, glass, or whatever sharp object I could get my hands on.  These drastic measures stemmed from the need to feel SOMETHING, from an overwhelming longing to free myself from this crippling guilt, from the twisted desire to have my outer shell match the gnarled decaying darkness that existed internally. I have to live with these scars for the rest of my life.  I have people stop me in the supermarket to inquire about the origin of the multiple disfigurements on my left arm.  Children stare at them. I can never wear a swim-suit again because of the hideous nature of the scar on my upper leg. It wasn’t just the superficiality of the wounds, but the fact that one almost killed me and landed me a stint in a psychiatric ward that proved most detrimental.

This was in April of 2010.

After that my drinking escalated more and more until it became all I did and all I could do.  In recent months my girlfriend and I would go through a 1.75 liter bottle of vodka every other day.   Since she would be at work the bulk of the day–I would be the main consumer of the liquor.  I’d wake up and start taking shots until I would pass out.  I would wake up from that and drink more.  The cycle kept repeating.  I would go to work drunk.  I became what is known as a functional alcoholic.  I was adept if not extremely proficient at my job.  I was able to carry out thoughtful, intellectual and insightful conversations about a breadth of topics.  I could easily pass a physical sobriety test.  And had learned to control my emotions to the point where I was consistently stable and complacent.

I was having fun.  I’m a funny drunk.  I laugh more.  I enjoy more.  I’m outgoing.  I want to see and be around people.  I feel more confident and more willing to try new things.  But, I reached a point where I stopped being able to remember chunks of time.  Days, weeks, and months would run together.  I would get violently ill from withdrawal within a few hours after last drinking.  I was no longer strictly emotionally addicted, but physically as well.

Two weeks ago I hit a brick wall.  After running out of alcohol early in the morning (5am-ish) I began to experience extremely terrifying withdrawal symptoms that could not be quelled.  I began to hear things.  I wasn’t hearing “voices” per se.  But, was encountering what I would eventually learn was a phenomenon called “musical hallucinations.”  I had been having these episodes a few days prior without having any clue that they were coming from within my mind.

I had been complaining to Megan about how I could hear the music and television shows that our neighbors were listening to or watching.  I found this curious because it had never been an issue before, but nonetheless I in no way doubted my observations.  She claimed to not hear them, but she has shoddy hearing so I just chalked it up to my superior auditory senses.  I would be able to make out songs quite clearly… patriotic music, Dora the Explorer, Ke$ha, football games, oldies, talk radio, etc.  I even facebooked about being able to hear them listening to a football broadcast one morning.  This turned out to be part of these hallucinations.  I heard the same play-by-play about thirty times over the next few days.

It wasn’t until I decided to go on a run that the truth made itself known to the logical part of my brain.  I was hearing the song “Staying Alive” blaring out of every door I passed in our apartment complex.  I was hearing lines from movies or parts of a strange conversation repeating and echoing from the meadow and the trees.  I heard my name being said by my dad and by Megan.  I kept seeing shadowy entities out of the corner of my eye.  The song selections kept changing.  I can’t recall all the tunes I heard during that forty five minute run, but I was scared.  I was crying while running.  I had no idea what was happening or any idea as to how to make it stop.

I made a decision right then and there that I was done.  The next couple of days I had to keep asking Megan if things I were hearing were real or not.  I couldn’t hold a pencil or a glass of water because my hands were shaking so much.  I stayed up for four days in a row because I couldn’t sleep.  But, eventually these symptoms would dissipate.

And now it’s been fifteen days without so much as a sip of alcohol.   Megan even brought some into the house the other night and I resisted having even one drink.  Granted, it’s only been two weeks… but I hadn’t gone more than three days in two years.  So, to me… it’s an accomplishment.

Healthwise I feel better, but mentally I’m as unstable as ever.  The sad but honest truth is that I hardly know who I am anymore.  I’ve spent two years completely under the influence of a depressant.  I’ve been its puppet.  Megan has dated me for over 1.5 years and has never truly known the real me.  She doesn’t understand this.  She insists it’s always been me, but I know that it hasn’t.  I abused alcohol for the sole purpose of avoiding being me.  The real me still doesn’t exist.  I’m comfortable around so few people.  Even around my own family I have trouble ever feeling entirely at ease.  That’s just me.  That’s who I am. It takes years of constant and consistent interaction with someone for my true colors to emerge.  And people rarely have that kind of patience.   I’m a tough nut to crack.

Things have been tough here since I stopped drinking.  I feel as though I do not know Megan anymore.  I’m viewing it as starting the relationship from scratch.  So much of our history together was spent drunk.  We were always having fun, laughing, goofing off and talking incessantly–because that’s what I do when I drink.  I turn into a social person.  When I’m sober I am much more reserved, much more of a quiet observer, more of a thinker than a doer.  I am not as easily amused or entertained.  I am shy.  I am less willing to accept flaws or to ignore or brush off annoyances.  I don’t forget things and instead dwell on them until they turn into a bigger problem.  I’m having a tough time adjusting.  The problems are arising from the fact that I am at a loss of things to talk about with her, that our conversations have become almost non-existent, that I’m not as affectionate physically or emotionally, that I’m distant, that she doesn’t feel loved, etc.  And I cannot deny any of these allegations.  All of them are true and I’m aware of each as being a huge issue that must be addressed at some point.

It’s a terrifying thing to think about.  Sobriety is important for me and for my future.  But, at what cost?  I know that there are many stages that one goes through during a recovery period of this magnitude.  Who I am today will not be who I am in a month…. But, who will arise from these ashes?  Will it be someone who can fulfill her needs as a loving and caring partner?  Will it be someone who recovers the ambition and drive that she once possessed?  Will it be someone who finally stumbles upon the path that has remain elusive up ’til this juncture?  Or will it be my time to pay for all the harm that I have caused others during the past six years?  Will I lose it all?

Now that my brain is fully under my control again I am finding it difficult to escape my thoughts.  There are a million things going on at once in there and my body is struggling to keep up with the ever expanding list of tasks to accomplish, projects to begin and bridges to mend.  Fingers crossed everybody.  It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.

Saddest of all… I no longer wake up in the morning feeling like P.Diddy.

Won’t Miss This:

Things That I Desperately Need for my Cheap Apartment:

We are poor.  We have a crappy apartment.  We are hardly investing in our future here.  So, this is my attempt to find decent looking substitutes for little cash by shopping at places that cater to our frugality.  One day I’ll get that Pottery Barn dresser or that Restoration Hardware coffee table.  But, until then we will shop at real people stores.  Everything represented on this list is from Target, Ikea, Walmart, Urban Outfitters, West Elm, CB2, etc.  Nothing too expensive.  Nothing too showy.

1. Key Rack.

I am always losing my keys.  I don’t even necessarily mean losing in the sense of misplacing them somewhere in our 750sq ft apartment.  I mean… losing them as in I’ve had stores mail them back to me at more than one occasion.  I’m absent-minded.  My brain is always being pulled in several different directions at once and the part that is assigned the role of paying attention to any detail of mundanity whatsoever has been on holiday for, um, ever.   So, I need all the help I can get.  Upon entering our humble abode directly to the right is a pony-wall with a six or seven inch ledge that we just empty our pockets onto upon arrival.   This isn’t working out for us.  We have one teensy weensy basket that serves as a catch-all for EVERYTHING.  It’s stuffed to the brim with coins, dog poop bags, sunglasses, wallets, keys, schedules, leashes, phones, etc.  We need order here.

Ikea: $14.99

Urban Outfitters: $39.99

Urban Outfitters: $12.00

Urban Outfitters: $8.00

Urban Outfitters: $20.00

Anthropologie: $12.99

2. Vases:

 I’m a sucker for vases and flowers.  I grew up in a home where the beauty of nature was revered and gardening was just a way of life.  Unfortunately, real flowers and plants are essentially out of the question here.  But, that is just completely unsatisfactory!  I need the color.  I need the glass reflecting the sunlight.  I need the feeling of the outdoors to assuage my cooped up soul.  So, I am forced by necessity to invest in artificial plants.  I do my best to steer away from tacky.   These little bursts of color do so much to break up the spartan stark nature of this white and beige apartment.

Ikea: $3.99

Ikea: $14.99

Walmart: $49.99

Urban Outfitters: $29.00

Target: $6.74

Target: $59.99

Urban Outfitters: $19.00

West Elm: $6.00

West Elm: $19.00-$29.99

3.  Coin-Dish:

We are the type of people who rely on debit cards almost exclusively to pay for purchases.  But, I cannot even begin to tell you how many times we find ourselves checking our wallets for spare change for one reason or another.   This, of course, makes little sense considering we have a stockpile of change strewn about the house.  We definitely need a little dish where we can place all of the coins together in a little happy family.  And owls are cute.

Urban Outfitters: $6.00

West Elm: $6.00-$16.00

4. Mugs:

Ikea: $1.49

Walmart: $20.00 (for 2)

Walmart: $29.99

Walmart: $16.00

West Elm: $10.00

West Elm: $6.00

Urban Outfitters: $12.00

Anthropologie: $8.00

5. Plates, Cups, Bowls and the like:

We do dishes almost every day. But, somehow we still never have any dinnerware in the cabinets. Not to mention that our microwave is essentially equivalent to putting food outside on a hot rock to heat up. I think it was made in the 80′s. It has no rotating tray and has gone on to crack almost all of our “microwave safe” plates.

West Elm: $8.00

West Elm:  $20.00

Ikea: $2.99

Ikea: $3.99

Ikea: $4.99

Urban Outfitters: $6.00

Ikea: $2.99

West Elm: $8.00

West Elm: $8.00

Anthropologie: $8.00

CB2: $3.99

Target: $19.99

6. Shower/Bathroom Organizational Tools:

I have never been to the Container Store, but I can guarantee you I would be completely overwhelmed by the awesome.  I love organization.  I love order. I love clean. I love neat.  And I can never keep the shower area as tidy as I would like.   I hate having clutter on the edges of the tub.  The shampoo will leak and leave sticky residue.  The razors and shaving cream leave rust marks.  There’s nowhere to hang the loofah.  It’s just way too stressful for me.  This is such a cheap solution that I cannot believe has eluded me all these years.   And while we’re at it–let’s just get rid of the ridiculous stainless steel toothbrush holder/waste basket situation that we have going on.  Stainless steel is the worst!  Finger prints finger prints finger prints!

Ikea: $6.99

Walmart: $35.00

Walmart: $13.00

Walmart: $16.00

Target: $70.00

Walmart: $19.99

Walmart: $39.99

Ikea: $9.99

Target: $39.99

ModCloth: $24.99

West Elm: $39.99

CB2: $29.99

7. Rug:

Now, I have a rug.  I’ve been very fortunate to always receive my older sister’s hand-me-downs in this area.  I have an attractive rug with fairly neutral colors currently in my living room.  I have no qualms with it per se.  But, I’ve also had this same rug for six years.  And it has been marred once or twice by a renegade vacuum cleaner that left some intense divot marks on the top.  Rugs can be very pricey, but because I’m more concerned with superficiality rather than longevity–these would definitely do the trick.  I always have to be careful about dog-fur showing though

Ikea: $19.99

Walmart: $69.99

Walmart: $69.99

Target: $150.00

Urban Outfitters: $49.99

8. Place-mats:

We have few possessions of great quality. Most of our furniture and the like comes from big-box stores: Target, Walmart, etc. But, Megan actually has a really nice dining room table. It’s a beautiful piece of furniture. We are not “sit down and have a formal meal” type of folks. We find ourselves much more content sitting on the chairs in the living room, doing crosswords with one another, watching Netflix and otherwise satiating our ADD brains. But, I do appreciate the aesthetics of it and want to capitalize on the attractive nature of if by making it a show-stopping focal point. UNFORTUNATELY, other than some Pottery Barn plates, a rag-tag bunch of assorted flatware, three wine glasses, and a modernized center piece…it’s barren. Place-mats are a start!

Ikea: $2.99

Urban Outfitters: $3.00

Target: $9.99

Target: $39.99 (4)

9. Entertainment Console:

We are lucky to have nice electronics.  Our television isn’t HUGE, but it’s close to 40 inches and has a really great picture.  We also have a Wii, Xbox 360 and PS3.  So, our console is pretty full with games, systems, etc.   The current piece of furniture housing it all is actually a sofa table I had purchased from Target a few years ago:

It is currently selling for $140 from Target’s website and is part of the Georgetown Collection.  We also had the corresponding coffee table: ($120)

Please do not buy these.  I know that I am advocating buying inexpensive pieces in lieu of a higher caliber product.  But, if I am paying over a hundred dollars for something I want it to not just fall apart on me.  ESPECIALLY, if it’s something like furniture that is rarely moved or messed with.  The coffee table lost all of its legs and had to have them all gorilla glued on.  And the console table has a noticeable separation where one of the drawers is super lopsided and has to be hammered from the bottom to close the gap every day.  Meg had turned the coffee table into an art piece after it broke last time:

But… when we moved from College Station we couldn’t fit it in the car and then never made it back there to pick it up.  So, we are fairly certain that Mr. Table has met an untimely demise.  So, we need new pieces of furniture for our place.  A coffee table is essential so that we can stop using our ottoman as a place for plates and cups–a bad idea to begin with and an even worse idea with a ridiculously wiggly dog and a food-obsessed cat.   And a console is a must to hold up all of our prized possessions!

Ikea: $199.99

Target: $189.99

Walmart: $39.99

Walmart: $199.99

 

Ikea: $19.99

Target: $129.99

Walmart: $89.99

10. Art:

Luckily, I have a fiance who is a brilliant artist (check out her stuff here: http://www.redbubble.com/people/strobot), so typically I do not ever need to purchase any pieces for the walls.  I am more than proud for our home to be adorned with the love, effort and brilliance that emanates from her works.  But, I can’t help but love framed posters, prints and photographs.  So, we try to strike a balance.   I know that when I look at Pottery Barn or House Beautiful magazine that clean, crisp and clutter-free are the way to go in regards to wall-art.  And when I move in to my first real house that will be the direction I take.  However, at this point in time, I love having all of the canvases and framed pieces greet me when I come home.  They make me happy and that’s really all that matters.

Ikea: $9.99

Ikea: $12.00

Target: $39.99

Target: $59.99

Walmart: $31.99

 Urban Outfitters: $24.00

Urban Outfitters: $24.00

West Elm: $49.99-$69.99

11. Mirror:

Walmart: $20.00

Walmart: $56.00

Target: $28.99

Bed Bath and Beyond: $39.99

Bed Bath and Beyond: $29.99

12. Comforter:

Urban Outfitters: $79.99

Urban Outfitters:  $109.00

Target: $79.99

West Elm:

Macy’s:  $190.00 (2 shams, bed skirt, comforter)

Macy’s: $99.00 (Bed in a Bag)

Target: $69.99

West Elm: $99.99

The Great Indoors: $169.99

Well, it isn’t.

We lived together since March of 2010 in a 1100 sq ft condo with only one roommate–who was barely there.  Then, in August we moved to Plano to her parent’s condo in Plano.  That didn’t work out well.  I fell in love with the city.  I found a great place to work.  But, her dad and I didn’t really, um, mesh well.  So, we moved to my parent’s house.  This was fine.  I think my family, extended and direct,  are among the most honorable and selfless people on earth.  However, that does not mean they are without their flaws.

So, we stayed throughout January, which far surpassed our welcome, and moved to an apartment in southern Conroe.  I love our apartment.  It’s small, yes.  It’s outdated, yes.  But, it’s ours.  And that’s important to all of us.  We have one of my pups here: Raleigh.  We have Meg’s cat here: Starbuck.  And they coexist amicably enough.  They don’t interact, but they don’t fight… and what more could we ask for?

I’m not happy here, no.

I miss people. I miss my friends.  Meg and I hang out all the time–every night and morning.  We share inside jokes and keep each other rolling on the floor in laughter and tears. But, that’s all we have.  Both of us having extreme anxiety is not exactly conducive to forming new friendships with the outside world.  Megan has been popular since she started attending A&M and entered the Corps of Cadets, but I think that I have dragged her into my world of avoidance and hermitism.  Sad day.

In recent months, since quitting Hastings Hell, I’ve grown to become afraid of the outside world.  I’ve become conditioned to believe that drinking all day, sleeping, communicating with my cat and dog, alienating myself from friends and family was normal.  But…uh, it’s not.

So, I’ve been forcing myself to get out and face the scary outside world.  Unfortunately, it’s been difficult.  I started with visiting my parent’s home every day.  And that’s helped more than I would have thought.  I anticipate it now. I go to bed thinking how exciting it is to go interact with my family.

I know that to those who view the world in a “normal” way think that this seems absolutely insane.  And to be quite frank–it is.  No one is supposed to have these kind of  insecurities.  Trust me.  I get nervous walking the dog. I get uncomfortable getting the mail.  I tremor having to check my mail next to someone else.  I wasn’t even brave enough to stay at my own apartment when my FIANCE’S brother and girlfriend stopped by our apartment yesterday.   I’m a big hot mess.

I’ve been spending my days lamenting my past, watching re-runs of tv shows, and napping the hours away.  I’ve been wasting everything.  But, I’m twenty-five.  I’m twenty-five freakin’ years old.  I’m not a kid anymore.  I’ve been saying that for awhile, but every day it becomes more and more evident.  Sure, I’m never going to be a rich person–and that’s something that doesn’t matter to me.  We never go out to eat, we never spend more than 25 dollars on groceries, we don’t spend any money outside of rent and food.  That means nothing.  I don’t care.   I won’t have a fancy degree to hang in my home.

That doesn’t mean I’m not smart.  I’m very intelligent.  I’ve been told by countless people close to me that I’m among the smartest people that they’ve met.   I’m very sharp.  Very sharp.  You can’t graduate from a 5-A High-School in Texas only taking AP classes without having a degree of intellect.  I’m smart.  I know it. Whatever.  I keep seeing my friends or peers statuses switch from student to graduate on facebook and can’t help but laugh.  These are people who were absolutely ridiculously stupid in elementary, intermediate, junior and high school.  People that I looked down upon even then…. they are now graduates or going into grad school…

It’s insulting.  Instead of inspiring me with a will to go back and get that degree–it makes me sad for what a diploma has grown to mean.  It doesn’t mean anything but the willing to have money and perseverance.   It has little to do with intelligence at this point. My parents tried to pay for my education, but I wasn’t ready.  I wasn’t ready for high school, but I had no choice.  I had someone pushing me to class at 7 something in the morning.  In college I had no one to look after me and I wasn’t ready for looking after myself.  I routinely skipped classes, I hated my coursework, I viewed everything as inane and unnecessary, and NEEDED someone to whip my ass into SHAPE!

I made the Dean’s List as a freshman.  I never read the books. I never went to class. I never could.  I got my first “C” in College–and after that I quit.  I quit caring.  It’s like in “talladega nights,” — If you aren’t first you’re last.”    That’s my philosophy.  If I’m not the best–I’m the worst…and by then…what’s the point?

I view athletics the same way.  I’m a phenomenal athlete.   I’m fast, I’m nimble, I’m shrewd, I’m skilled, etc.  I’m a wonderful basketball player (among other sports,) but even as a kid I could never capitalize on this because I’m so afraid of failure.   I’m in no way content being the 4th top scorer on a team.  I need to be the best because I’m capable of being the best.   I see these dumbasses playing basketball on the court at our apartment…who are clearly TERRIBLE– and I say to Meg, “I am so much better than these douches.”  And she urges me to join the games.  But, I’m so scared of not being the best on the court that I abstain altogether.

That’s weird.  I know that.

I’ve been seeing a psychiatrist for over a year now.  Ever since my stint in a psychiatric hospital back in April of 2010 I have been heavily medicated.  I have been put on so many meds that I can’t even remember all of them.  Only recently have I decided that it was too much.  It clearly wasn’t working.  I had quit my job, withdrawn from friends and family, and sequestered myself from…well…everyone.   At this point I was on 600mg of Lamictal (mood stabilizer), 20mg of Buspar, 20mg of Lexapro, 1000mg of Campral, and 70mg of Adderall.  Well, technically I still am.  But, I stopped taking this ridiculous menagerie of drugs about a week ago–and only kept up one pill of adderall, one pill of lexapro, and campral as needed.

I feel so much better now it’s unbelievable.   I’m starting to believe that I know better than the nurse practitioner I see once very two months.   I thought I knew my issues.  But, it wasn’t until I started taking all of these drugs that I figured out what my real issues are.

I lack confidence. Yes.

I hate my appearance. Yes.

I think I’m unskilled. Yes.

People’s opinions frighten me. Yes.

I trust other’s opinions over my own. Yes.

I let old relationships cloud my opinion of my current one. Yes.

I hold onto things and never get over old relationships. Yes.

I am too literal. Yes.

I expect too much of myself. Yes.

I think I am worthless. Yes.

I think I am worth too much. Yes.

I think I am destined for greatness. Yes.

I am conflicted. Yes.

My heart is too big. Yes.

I’m too smart to not have a degree. Yes.

So, these are things that plague me constantly.  It’s frustrating.  But, I have to admit that once I dropped some of those drugs I started to realize that I am better than mediocre.  It’s not a delusion of grandeur.  But, it’s an acknowledgement that I’m not satisfied with the life I have.  I’m trying to get out of the house.  I’m not Howard Hughes.  I’m making plans one day at a time.  Even if it’s just to go pickin’ fruit with my sister and my niece at an Orchard. It’s a plan.  Even if it’s going to the Mall with my Fiance.  It’s a date.  Even if it’s dinner with my Parents–it’s a night out.

I’m trying.  I’m working. I’m realizing that medicating the youth might actually be counter-productive (thanks Garden State for the insight!).    Anxiety pills and ADHD pills might of been all I needed the whole time.

I haven’t felt this confident or able in a long time.

I’ve realized that if you are “suicidal crazy,” the results might be hospitalization, over-medicated, over-therapied, and over-observed.  When really all you needed was a supportive partner, family, and enough stabilization to let your brain catch up to the rest of your desires and aspirations.

Even my GF can tell that my eyes are brighter, my movements lighter, my sentiments happier, and my actions healthier.

All I needed was stability.  All I needed was stability and love.

Cheers!

Megan and I have been living with my parents in Conroe for the past month or so.  Despite it being crowded, cramped, and ofttimes awkward (They still refer to Meg as my friend… my friend who partakes in naked shower time with me), I have never felt more happy and at ease.   There is constant hustle and bustle as my parents are homebound the vast majority of the time.  My father is a photographer who is easing his way into retirement.  And my mom retired from a thirty-something year teaching tenure at the local high school this past May.  She substitutes every now and then.  But, for the most part they are puttering around the house throughout the day.   My sister and her little clan (10 month old niece, Caitlin, brother-in-law Josh and their 10 year old Husky Kayla) just moved in September to a house two streets over.  So, we are visited frequently by them as well.  It’s wonderfully chaotic!

I forgot how nice it is to be around family.  The mistake of taking that built in support system for granted will never happen again.  I am beyond fortunate and its only in the past few months that I have recognized this.

In fact, Megan and I moved from College Station to Plano in order to kind of escape the familiarity, routine, and mundanity of the lives we had been forging.  It just wasn’t working for she and I.  There was really no reason to remain in the College Station area anymore.  Nothing held us there but bad memories.  We both had tried to die there (unsuccessfully in her case and half heartedly in mine) and it was just time to move.  I selected Plano for Megan to be closer to her family and for me to be able to carve out my niche in a new and unexplored terrain.

But, as with most areas of my life–that venture too proved to be an epic failure.  Despite being able to find full-time employment options easily and with little work on my behalf– the slow accumulation of funds combined with her parent’s uneasiness with our apparent trespassing on their lifestyle led to an unfortunate confrontation between her father and myself.  Well, it was more or less him yelling obscenities and unsubstantiated (not to mention undeserved) mistruths in my direction.   I was drunk, yes.  I was having a disagreement with Megan (we are both crazy y’know?).  But, it was a private issue.  And I had been a model house-mate.  I had cleaned up after myself (and others).  I had lowered the volume on the television when they went to bed.  I had recycled.  I had taken the trash out.  I had cleaned the litter box.  I had turned off the AC at night.  I had organized their pantry.  I had eaten only my food.  I was quiet.  I was respectful dishing out ‘yes sir, no sirs’ like candy.  I did it right.

And the truth is–I treat Megan like the queen that she is.  I’m a great girlfriend.  Or at least I’ve become one over the past eight months we’ve been together.  I started off shitty, but damnit I’ve grown into an incredible person.

Anyways.  I will probably not be inviting Mr. Strohecker to the wedding, but I’m not sure he’d be interested in attending anyways

But, here I’m able to breathe easy.  I have my dogs to keep me entertained when I’m down.  I have a big screen tv with DVR to record all of my treasured HGTV shows.  I have a family to cook for, clean for, and talk to.  I have a neighborhood, a yard, a basketball goal, etc. etc.  I’m so happy!

The only thing that’s been lacking is employment.  I’ve been quite down on myself for that reason.  I got a decent job–starting wage of 9.00/hr working for a retail company that’s been around for 25 years and their sister online luxury candle store.  It’s a job that I could have learned to be great at.  But, my raging insecurities forced me to quit within two days.  I had panic attacks, breakdowns, and drinking/cutting sessions because I hated myself so much for it.  I needed that money to take care of my girlfriend–to take care of my little family.   And I failed.  I started thinking about death and how I’m not meant for this world–and part of me still believes that.

I saw a therapist a few days after that.  It was a horrible experiment.  That crazy old woman treated me like a five year old child who had suffered some severe psychological trauma.  I’m not five.  I don’t need to do fill in the blank exercises.  I need someone to listen to me, identify the issues that plague me, and help me fix them.  She wasn’t going to help me. And the next day I got a call from my old employer: Hastings.   I worked there for almost three years during college.  It’s a safe zone for me.  I need to work, get my confidence back, and then try to go back to school and get a real job.

I start working there full-time this week.  I’m not nervous, really.  I’m going to have to learn a different skill set than what I was accustomed to– music/entertainment instead of movies.  But, I’ll learn.  I am determined to learn.  For me. For Megan. For my pups. For Domo. For my parents.  Out of necessity.

I have this master plan of moving into a rent-house.  My dream is to take over the lease at the rent-house my parents home in my grandmother’s old neighborhood–it’s around the block from the house my dad grew up in.  It’s quaint.  It’s old. It’s got character.  It has a breezeway connecting the garage to the main structure.  It has a fenced in yard.  A big picture window looking out into the front yard.  Three bedrooms–one that is absolutely perfect for an art room for Meg. Big closets.  Brand new wood-styled vinyl floors (durable!), W/D connections, etc. etc.  And the rent is only 800 a month (excluding utilities, but still).  The money would stay in the family, we’d have privacy and a cute little starter home to renovate to our taste (and increase the value in doing so), all while staying within a mile or two of our family.

So. Paychecks are essential.  Megan has been working her ASS off as a custom framer at Hobby Lobby.  It’s a perfect job for her.  She gets to work with her hands, use tools, and create art!  It’s a lot of work, but that girl never once complains about anything except for not seeing me enough.  God bless her.

All in all things are going well for me.  Finally.  FREAKING FINALLY!