I feel like background noise.
the anti-fall girl
I’ve been in Birmingham now for 4 years. For the past 3 years I have been getting allergy shots to help reduce my allergy symptoms. I became rather close (well, as close as a patient and doctor can become on a professional level) with him. He was a really great, joyous man. Always had a smile on his face. He always called me his “anti-fall girl”. He always thought it was so funny that I was so stubborn and refused to submit to the norms of the seasonal color schemes. I’ll gladly wear a big hippie skirt and other bright regalia year-round. I tend to either dress how I “feel” or dress how I want to feel. And yes there is a difference. Maybe I’ll get into that in a later blog.
And why not? Why follow color schemes and patterns. I’m not a seamstress, I’m not a straight line kind of girl (although I do love symmetry, but that’s just the OCD in me!) It makes me smile, that I made his day so. And I genuinely think I did. You can’t fake a smile like that. I’ve always been odd, different. And not because it’s the “cool” thing to do, but it’s just how I am. I was called, “Kristin Grace from outer space” as a child for a reason. Clearly, it wasn’t hurting anyone. So anti-fall girl, in his eyes, I became. I embraced my new nickname, much like my childhood one. Much like the many random ones (non-explicit ones-my crass friends!) I have now (i.e. Kitty, kitten, Ricky, sickly, special).
As obvious, in my not-so-recent posts, I have some sort of deficiency, some fatal fall, some hubris so-to-speak when it comes to relationships. No matter how hard I try, or how hard I don’t try, I cannot seem to make one work. I’ve been engaged twice, married, divorced, and dumped more times than I can count. I can’t keep a stable friendship and eventually run the people I love out of my life. ** I’m always heartbroken, not to be confused with “emo”. I don’t want to be this way, I try to fix it, but I just can’t seem to get it right.
DISCLAIMER **with the exception of my family. They embrace my eccentricities and for that I am thankful.
My doctors say it’s because I’m “borderline” and “bipolar II”, but why should I conform to that? I don’t do it in any other aspect of my life, so why now? Why should I say, “okay, I’m screwed up. I’ll take these pills; I’ll feel better, I’ll be better, and people will love me.” Maybe artificially, but it’s love just the same, right? It’s like a substitute sweetener. I used to hate LOATHE Splenda, but after drinking it long enough, I’ve become accustomed to it. I actually like and prefer it. Real sugar is too sweet and just makes my heart race.
Do I like the idea of making someone’s heart race? Absolutely, but eventually people become tired of that, too. I did, so I started taking my beta blockers, avoiding sugar altogether. Now maybe that’s because I have a “nervous system disorder” and mitral valve prolapse, but it became old just the same. Do I like the idea of becoming accepted, even if only artificially? Absolutely not. I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me. I don’t want someone who pities me, and I don’t want someone who wants me only because the “real thing” is unattainable or unavailable at the time. But all in the same breath, I don’t want to be alone. Don’t get me wrong. I am very specific about my personal space, but when it comes down to it, I’m actually a–prepare for cliche-hopeless romantic. I love having someone to cuddle up to at night, someone to hold hands with while I watch a movie, or while I’m driving. Maybe it’s why I like my cats so much more than I like humans. My cats are always up for a good cuddle, and if they aren’t (stole this from a friend) “I corner them, hold them down with a stick, and make them love me”. And according to him, eventually they did. Maybe it’s how I handle relationships, stick in hand, ready to attack.
Maybe that’s my problem, too. I try to force people to like me. Force them to love me. I’ve let myself believe I deserve something good and pure, but do I? Do I deserve anything at all? Even if I’ve felt I deserve it? After all, being a good person is just that. It’s not about “just rewards” or happy endings. It’s doing what is necessary, and beyond necessary to make someone else more comfortable, safe, and loved.
Maybe I’m selfish. Maybe I’m spoiled. Those are words I wouldn’t ordinarily use to describe myself. But look at me. I’ve created a blog that I only seem to write in, in times of self-loathing and affliction. I don’t want, “sorries, hugs, or sincere sympathy”. I just want to be embraced for me. I just want someone to be okay with me. Maybe I have to learn how to be okay with myself. For the most part, and most days I do. Then I get the rug pulled out from under me and see that particular situations in my life are no more than a facade, a game, a mere passage of time for the other people involved. I truly hope I have not done this to any other living being, not my friends, not my enemies. It’s the worst feeling to truly believe something and then realize you are wrong. And not in a black and white, right and wrong, scenario, but in a listening to my heart, following my soul wrong. I’m tired of my soul being wrong, is that so damn bad?
Some people are meant to be alone, even if they don’t like it. I’d rather be alone than have someone have pity on me and be my friend or partner.
I’ll become the true anti-fall girl. The last time I fell, I fell hard. And when I got to the bottom, I looked up, and there he was, looking down on me. Shaking his head, with that look of pity. He reached to help, but it wasn’t sincere, it wasn’t genuine. It was more of a “your zipper is down” or “you have something in your teeth”. How did I become this? I envisioned my life so different. I always said I didn’t want kids, but maybe it was because I always knew, deep down, I’d never have any. No one would ever invest so much into me that they’d want to “father” my child. I guess I’ll have to do it on my own.
Being the crazy cat lady isn’t so bad. It makes people laugh. It keeps people at bay, and most importantly, I feel I’m helping animals who otherwise would be homeless, hungry, and cold.
A few months ago, I went to get my allergy shots. I had missed a few rounds (I was at the every two-week dose for those of you who do or don’t know how that works) because I had been sick. I finally went to get my shots and was proud of myself for getting back on the routine bus. When I got there, the nurse told me I had a new doctor. She said my old doctor, the one I adored so, had died suddenly. He was so young, he seemed so healthy, he was a DOCTOR for crying out loud. How does something like that happen?
I was genuinely upset about this. He was a very nice man, and I didn’t even get a chance to give his family my condolences. I remember my then husband and I went to dinner that evening. I was telling him about how upset I was about my doctor. My ex worked in the funeral business. His jaw dropped and he asked me to describe him. He then informed me that it wasn’t a heart-attack or anything like I had suspected. He committed suicide. He shot himself straight through the chest.
Since then, I have discontinued my allergy shots. For multiple reasons: I take beta-blockers now, and it can piss off my heart and send me into cardiac arrest; the shot plan is only for 3 years, I was working on my fourth and still unsuccessful; and it was overwhelmingly sad, how quickly he was forgotten.
Some may call it selfish, cowardice, what he did. We never know what people are really feeling on the inside. What skeletons they hold, what secrets they keep. I wish I hadn’t missed those appointments with him. Not that I could have made a difference, but I would have felt some sort of solace. Maybe I would have some sort of profound understanding.
All that I can take from all of this, is I need to be more grateful for the things I do have. I need to learn that being alone is okay. I need to learn that some people are they way they are, much like myself, and they can’t be changed, or forced to care.
One day I’ll be happy, truly happy. Until then, I’ll remain the anti-fall girl.
NOTE: this is not a “pity-party” blog. I find it cathartic to write about exactly how I am feeling. Some people are too afraid, ashamed, or just can’t put it into words. This is for myself and for those like me.
help
Okay so my best friend/room mate has a movie coming out on DVD February 9th. It won the “People’s Choice Award” at the Athens film festival. It’s a comedy horror film and has some awesome bonus features, INCLUDING a short co-created by YOURS TRULY and starring my little sister (Kaylin). So check it out. You’ll laugh for a kazillion hours and you’ll be part of history. You can say you own the first copy of the infamous Jay Burleson’s debut film.
Featuring Jeff S. Anderson (Last of the Mochicans), Aly Sutton (Model on the “Price is Right”, “One Tree HIll”, and “The Promiseland”), Kevin Wright, Joseph Ray (Alabama of the McRyatts and Six Figure Suicide), Zac Harding (Alabama native), Bob Delaposta (my personal favorite Blues musician, Professor at Nashville Community College co-starred with Ed Neal, from “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre”), Brandon Quinlivan (my brother).
you can also order awesome gear at www.cafepress.com/fotvmovie
Keep in mind he’s my room mate….if he sales dvds that means I can continue to live in my nice warm apartment:) smiles.
Some of you that live closer can get a copy hand delivered and can skip out on the shipping fees:)
If you have any questions feel free to contact me or Jay Burleson jon.burleson@gmail.com
Thanks!!
I’m pop-u-lar
So apparently someone doesn’t like my blogs and keeps giving me thumbies down.
To this I laugh, I realize I’m not some talented genius, nor will discouragement keep me from ranting, but please note that it MAKES my day that said person even looks at my page to give me a thumbies down.
Thanks for the blog hits there, smartie!!
When I grow up
Have you ever read something, or heard someone say something, and it just took your breath away?
That’s the type of writer I want to be when I grow up. Everything I write has a meaning, even if it’s nonsense, I just hope one day, someone can find me in the madness, in the labyrinth that is my mind. I’ll likely take flight, but it would be nice to know, if only a fleeting moment that someone “gets me”. Yes, I love my clichés.
Augh, I feel like I’ve lost this blog before I even began it. Cursed jobs and scheduled lunch breaks.
Digression phase one: So everyone that knows me knows I’m not religious by any sense. I’ll drop the JC bomb like it’s my car keys, but I don’t want mom to beat me up, at least not today, anyway. But I am incredibly spiritual if that makes sense. I think I’ve touched base on this subject before when I had my dream about Connie, if not, it’s best to just smile and nod so I bore you no further. I don’t know about heaven and hell and all of that, but I believe in something stronger than us, not necessarily a god, but a force. Something natural in an unnatural way. Not a fearful, controlling, manipulative form of social control, but something beautiful and pure, and in no way contrived of or derived of evil.
Digression phase two: Did I ever mention my perpetual state of contradiction?
So I don’t think I’m psychic by any means, but I think things happen for a reason, call it Kismet, fate, I don’t really care, I just know when I feel something whispering to me, calling my name, I listen. Sometimes it’s nothing, or a message meant for someone else, but when it’s meant for me it feels like poetry.
Yesterday I was driving to work. I heard Dave Matthew’s “Grave Digger” on the radio. I wouldn’t exactly call myself a “Dave” fan or anything of the sort. This song has been out for several years and this was the first time I heard it. The lyrics were breath-taking, to me anyway.
I was struck by the chorus, “grave digger, when you dig my grave, could you make it shallow, so I can feel the rain.”
I hope I can relay this message in a coherent way, if not, refer to the beginning.
I called my mom because I forgot our family cat of 14 years, Tigger, my lil man, had an appointment. He got sick about the same time Logan did, and both had the same diagnosis: cancer. Logan had surgery and started his chemo, and I’m not going to lie, I was pretty scared. I tried to keep an about-face and keep a positive attitude about it, because I know from experience, that can make all of the difference. Tigger seemed to be fine for a while. He was a little ornery and kept doing things out of the ordinary, but all in all, he seemed fine. Then all of the sudden it’s like the scripts flipped (I’m not complaining, just bear with me).
Tigger started losing weight rapidly and it looked painful for him to walk or move. Logan, on the other hand, finished up his first round of chemo and they did another scan. Logan had made AMAZING progress, and no new cancer cells had formed. I believe he has eight more months of chemo and he’s ‘home free’ (again with the clichés, but it’s for a good cause). I couldn’t be happier for Logan. That’s the best news I’ve heard in a LONG time. He’s going to be around for eons with his big head and his dorky jokes, and that makes me, and a lot of other people, elated.
Despite this elation, I still couldn’t help but begin the grieving process for Tigger. Tigger has had way more than his share of ‘nine lives’. I’ve nursed him back to health when a certain old-hag-of a neighbor “accidentally” gave him rat poison. The vet said there was no way he would make it. My mom nursed him back to health when his kidneys where so blocked with stones they had to do emergency surgery, and again, they said he wouldn’t make it. It seemed to be one ailment after another with that lil man, but he was always a good cat, and he never ‘complained’, except when he wanted his food, ’stirred up’, yes, he demanded fresh food from the bottom of his trough.
Digression phase three: So I called my mom before she took Tigger to the vet to get her take on the whole situation. Basically, the vet said, he was going to do an exploratory surgery on Tiggs, if it was a solid mass he could remove, he would do so and he’d be on the road to recovery. If he got in there and it had metastasized, he would not bother waking him up. I asked her to call me at work as soon as she had word.
Of course we were hopeful, in an unhopeful way. Tigger was visibly uncomfortable and was too good of a cat to suffer for our selfish desires. So the vet called my mom to let her know the cancer was really bad and there was nothing he could do. My mom had lost her 14-year-old child. We were all heartbroken. If anyone says, “it’s just a stupid animal” or anything of the sort, I will slap, kick, punch, stab, whatever is necessary to do to harm said person. I’d like to ask said person, “how would you feel if your child/brother/sister died?” Frankly, it’s the same thing, yes, to a different degree, but there are bonds you can share with an animal that cannot be created with people, and visa-versa (this isn’t a human bashing blog, as that would be a very ricky-like thing for me to do).
It rained a miserable rain all day. I felt the world was grieving for my cat, my brother, whether it was or not, I felt it.
I know it sounds bizarre, but I feel as if Tigger did a noble thing. Like he was given the option to live, or to save Logan, and he chose the latter. I don’t really care if you agree with me or believe it, but it’s beautiful just the same.
Several hours later, my mom was allowed to pick up Tigger’s remains from the vet. My brother-in-law buried him in my mom’s backyard, in the pouring rain, and I couldn’t help but think:
“grave digger, when you dig my grave, could you make it shallow, so I can feel the rain”.
Gooderist
Well, hell, I’m in good spirits and that means I have nothing to say of interest. Happiness makes for a good life I reckon, but a poor blog. I’m sorry my dear friends. But, alas, I am bipolar so we shall meet again. Perhaps in an hour, perhaps a week, but I will come through. I always do.
sorries
So I signed my papers on Tuesday. That kind of sucked, not going to lie. I wasn’t supposed to sign until Thursday, but you know how that goes. I didn’t want it to “ruin” my off day on Wednesday, since I had plans Tuesday night.
And, ready for the shocker, it did. I cried the whole day at work on Tuesday, but luckily the boy was a total ass and it 100% reminded me that this is the RIGHT choice. I wasn’t crying because I “love” him or anything, I guess it’s just the finality of it. He was my best friend. Luckily, I am lucky and have SEVERAL besties, but it still sucks. But such is life. <—note: Every time I type “such is life” I ALWAYS managed to type “suck is life”; some sort of Freudian slip I suppose.
Anyway, you know I like to get off track, a lot. So it’s done, well, officially in thirty days, but once my signature was notarized, that was official for me.
I’ve met some interesting new people as of late, and that’s pretty rocking. I’m the shyest person in the universe (if you don’t believe me, think back to the first time we met. I likely didn’t say anything and avoided eye contact) so that’s “new” for me. I’ve been forcing myself since I don’t really have a crutch anymore. I guess I was too dependant on the boy, and I definitely used him as my crutch. I won’t be doing either one of those again.
Sorry to those of you I’ve blown off recently. I’ve been so up and down I don’t know from one minute to the next what I want to do or what I will do. Matt: I totally have to edit your story! I may do that tonight, although I DO have to make my awesome book list tonight (have to in an OCD sense), maybe I can do both; Jamie: sorry I keep blowing you off, I really don’t mean to. Jazz and Matthew are experts on my making “plans” and not following through. It’s usually best to not expect anything then it’s an awesome surprise later! But it is really something I have to work on. I have a total fear of commitment in certain areas. I can have a “relationship”, but I don’t like to commit to plans, because I never know if I’ll be depressed or antisocial that day. BUT I do need t start calling folks and letting them know, that is a definite flaw that I 100% acknowledge (along with others I won’t mention) and need to correct. I guess it’s part of my see-saw of a journey.
Oh, and a big sorries to Jonny Jay;) haha.
I lost my train of thought. Work + texting + emailing + yaddayadda =distracting!
Oh, got it back, score! Remember that I have a SUPER heavy heart, even though I’m tough and all of that crap. It takes only an iota to get me in le depressed mode. So just a gentle lil nudge will do, at least for right now.
It all works out one way or the other. I know this one isn’t very entertaining, but I promise to deliver later.
Oh here’s a good ending note: My sweet lil Oedipal kitten, Shadow, left me a shiny quarter in the shower this morning. haha. I love how he totes crap around in his mouth. Usually I wake up covered in toys and bits of trash (i.e. gum wrappers–not actual trash, ha). This was a pleasant lil change and set my day off to a good start.
Oh WAIT, I remembered an even better ending. How can this be so, you ask? Because it’s me!! SO I had contacted divorce court back in October because I didn’t think I’d be able to come up with money for the divorce. I totally, forgot about it. So I got contacted by them, and they are recording again in January and wanted us to come on. hahah. Too bad we just signed. They’d pay both our airfares, hotels, and give us $570 a piece. haha. That sounds like a forking vacation to me! This is the second show I’ve gotten an offer to be on. Dr. Phil offered it awhile back=score. I’m a big wimp, so of course, I didn’t go. But how is that for awesome?? Even the boy thought it was hilarious and would have gone to d. court. hahaha. score.
D-day
is coming soon. I want to sound tough and say I’m super excited, but I know I’ll cry like a little girl the whole time. At least we won’t both be there at the same time, so that will make a big difference. But, not really much I can do about all of that. It’s just scary and uncertain right now. I’m a control freak, and my paychecks still aren’t back to normal and we are having “federal audits” where we have to turn in our resumes. I’m certain that means, “job cuts”. But I can’t change that now either, can, I. Oh well, such is life.
