So… that was randomly fitting. Not amused that it showed up today, though.
Yesterday, I was talking to a coworker about a coworker that left. Former coworker once told me that I wasn’t as tough as I thought I was.
I never told him that the scar between my eyebrows is from a cigarette. I was five or six when my mother chose to use my forehead as an ashtray.
But. Yeah.
Just because I don’t talk about all those “that which doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger” moments, doesn’t mean I don’t have them.
Back to the scar through, because that was the trigger.
Current coworker said that he’d be willing to go back and fix his mistakes. I said I wouldn’t change a fucking thing.
When he asked why, I didn’t really have an answer.
I just wouldn’t.
All the shit I went through - the chance to fix things - to have my father live longer - all of it… nope. Wouldn’t change a goddamn thing.
(Which makes me question my mental health, but that’s nothing new.)
There’s no way I’d trade my scars for better ones
Yeah.
I had this dream last night about my mother. I NEVER dream about her. When I dream about family it’s always my father… and it’s always the nightmare of finding him dead in his apartment.
I can’t even remember all the details, but it was upsetting.
LIKE SUPER UPSETTING.
I am obviously not as tough as I think I am if that dream rocked my world… and not in a good way.
Other than the dad-mares, I’e never woken up crying before.
I was back to being young me, pre-divorce, pre-death…
I’ve been lost and I’ve been sinking / Broken, coming back together / I’ve been stalling, slipping, falling…
Fuck, dude. You have no idea.
She fucking broke me and I relieved some of her greatest hits (yup, I went there) last night.
It took moving out and her dying before I could finally start to heal.
I’ve been lost and I’ve been broken / Finally coming back together
I’ve never been suicidal, but I’ve gone to dark, dangerous, places. She sent me there. Often.
I don’t wanna be afraid of my thoughts / I don’t wanna be scared of my shadow
It’s taken a lot of work to put her behind me… but, of course, I’m not free of her. I doubt I’ll ever be.
The part that I always come back to, the part that I can’t shake, is who my mother was before she became a monster.
She graduated from UConn with a degree in something like Home Ec - child development or some such nonsense.
She was a social worker.
A perfect PTA mom.
Everybody looks for love where it’s not // Everybody wants to know they matter
I don’t think I was ever truly loved.
I don’t think I ever mattered.
The pull of the bottle was stronger than the pull of her only child.
Sooooooooooo…
I’m already in this stupid bad headspace because of the fucking dream and my iPhone decides to play this during my commute.
I better dream of fucking puppies and unicorns tonight.
And so, Don’t Panic - the most recent BotF winner - heads into the finals
I should have posted this AGES ago, but the last Battle of the Fandoms team I was on was Hitchhiker’s themed. It’s a bit of an odd book, one I don’t read often enough, but it was transformative when it came into my life. I can’t read it without thinking of the ex who forced it on me (and who I almost stole it from.) We are still friendly and I’m glad… he was such a huge part of my life.
I digress.
Right now, I’m running for another Hitchhiker’s team in the ‘season finale’. This team will most definitely lose. (There are a LOT of miles between us and first place. Possible, but highly unlikely. I mean, ANYTHING is possible during Racery.)
Normally, I let it bother me… but after a bunch of low milage Racery events, I’m done.
D.O.N.E.
Done.
I’ve gotten to the point where work is almost manageable. I’ve been working half weekends instead of full ones, so that’s progress.
I ran my first miles for Not Again last night. A 10K. The first long run in a while.
And…
Fuck me.
It felt good.
Running hasn’t felt that good in ages. Probably since COVID shut the world down.
Bipolar is a random bitch… some days I’m on top of the world and some days, the Ick is so bad, I want to dig a hole and hide.
Not going to lie, self-care hasn’t been high on my priority list. Surviving has been. Which includes getting the disaster that is the accounting department under control. (It’s been a year-long process…)
My new AR person is finding five figure mistakes - invoices there weren’t collected in a timely fashion. We still haven’t collected all the receivables from Hurricane Laura. That was 9 months ago. Most of that is the fault of the insurance company we worked for, but still. Then there’s the two guys who owed $20K+ - she never followed up on either, even though all the insurance proceeds went to the homeowner. Her replacement hunted one of them down - turns out the homeowner opened a claim, but the job contact was the tenant. We went after both of them until they finally paid us in full. In MAY.
Then, there’s still the small matter that I can’t get the books cleaned up. Every time I try, I seem to fail. Still haven’t closed January 2021.
Or the fact that I’m trying to squeeze HR and IT into already overflowing days.
I’m on my second AP person in a month and so far I think it’s love.
Better than the first one, at least.
So, yeah. I’m back to running. Back to training for Dopey, even though runDisney has been radio silent regarding the future. I’m not even sure I want to run Dopey any more, but I think that’s the depression talking.
I’ve signed up for ALL the Boston races since they’re offering all of them as virtual. No time requirements. I’ve already run the 5K. The 10K is at the end of this month, the half is in mid-September, and the marathon is in October.
This means that I will have my first marathon under my belt in 5 months. FIVE MONTHS.
That also means that I could upgrade my entry into the Palm Beach Marathon to the Marathon. It also means that I might run Miami, too.
I don’t know.
I have motivation again.
SERIOUS motivation.
OH! I almost forgot! We were watching some documentary on BBCAmerica and there is a fucking festival for people who like to watch cat videos on the internet.
Let that sink in for a moment.
The talking head said that people who watch cat videos find their anxiety lessening, they seem to be less depressed…
I HAVE FOUND THE PERFECT CURE FOR MY DEPRESSION AND IT IS NOT MEDS.
IT IS FUCKING CAT VIDEOS ON YOUTUBE.
My shrinky-dink is going to fucking love that. Especially since I can’t take anti-depressants.
It might also explain my desire to own a cat again.
Of course, we can’t because the dog hates them.
He just turned ten and knowing him, he has another full decade or two before he leaves us. So, there might not be a cat in our house for a long time.
But that’s OK. I have YouTube to get me though the dark days.
- - - - - - - - - -
The Battle Fish is improbable, yellow, prone to winning, and definitely the oddest thing in the universe. It feeds on the miles logged by other teams and transforms that energy into miles for Don’t Panic. It absorbs all unconscious mental frequencies from each member of the team. It then excretes into the minds of every runner a telepathic matrix formed by combining the conscious thought frequencies with an insatiable desire to win. The practical upshot of all of this is that if you stick a battle fish into your Racery team you can win Battle of the Fandoms. The miles you log are fed into the Racery application and designate the Don’t Panic team as the Season Two, Episode Three victors. Possible side effects may include extreme giddiness, a desire to compete in all Racery events, the overwhelming need to translate English hashtags into German, fatigue, and some blisters.