Get off of me, away from me, get me out of here.
Good. Fucking. God.
Yesterday started quiet enough. I got off work and came home to find Andy still awake. We stayed up, talked, ate stew he had made, and got into bed sometime around 9:30 am. I had a little trouble falling asleep because work had started wigging me out, and thus, trouble staying asleep. I got up at two after I heard my roommate making coffee.
The morning was slow and uneventful. When I was going to get back to sleep around 5 or so, Kelly sent me a message saying that she was at the Belmont Inn playing pool. I decided to go say hello, as she has been having a difficult time lately. I got dressed and biked over, spent maybe an hour there, slowly sipping a white Russian while I talked and watched her play pool. I stayed for maybe an hour, and headed back home. When I arrived. I checked my phone.
[6 missed alerts.]
Jesus christ. I only have 25 contacts in my phone, and only a handful of that contact me. Most days, I get no calls or alerts. It's how I prefer things.
All texts messages. And after I had ignored some and responded to the appropriate ones, I thought things would be settled. Then the calling frenzy started.
In one hour, I received six calls and several more texts messages. I could feel my social anxiety running high, and I wasn't even around people. The thing wouldn't stop. After the fourth call, I was about to turn it off when my sister called again.
Apparently, Emily (her ex), my mom, and her went to some concert. Emily got so smashed that she was making a scene on the max, falling down and running into people. Pissing everyone off. My sister asked if I would come with a car and take her home.
Reluctantly, I agreed.
Fortunately, call number six was received right before I left. My sister, again, telling me not to worry about it.
Good. Because I don't want to be responsible for your ex that you knew had a drinking problem. I don't want to deal with how awkward it will be, me sitting nervously, while Emily loudly bashes my sister. Tasha is 28, Emily is like 35. I'm 21. Why do I get to be the middle person? Why the fuck can't these people take care of themselves? I have worked very hard to eliminate drama from my life, and my sister drags me into hers.
I settle down. I get ready to take a nap. Tasha calls again. Christ. She starts talking about how she's upset because Emily accused her of being an alcoholic too. I don't even want to get into this. Tasha drinks most nights, but is not as irresponsible about it as Emily. Still, it doesn't mean that there's no problem. My sister is stubborn and sensitive, though, and will ignore me for months if I mention something like that, so I funnel my concern through my mother, who has a better way of talking to people about that stuff. As I am politely trying to get off the phone and return to my nap, my sister starts talking about how I used to be so wild and out of control with alcohol. What. The fuck. Ever. She is referring to an isolated incident after I turned 21, before I understood my limits. And now? I barely even drink beer. I keep my drinking at home, and if I happen to go out, I bike out to where I am going, have a 2 beer or 1 hard drink limit, and carefully monitor myself to determine if I need to take the bus or max home (biking drunk is not acceptable).
I take a deep breath, and end the conversation as nicely as possible. I roll over and take a nap, overwhelmed from the mix of social anxiety and my sister's drama. I hate what alcohol has done to so many people. My father was (and is again) an alcoholic. I haven't talked to him in three months. I saw Kelly go through a phase, when we lived together. Now I am seeing it take over my family and friends. I haven't hung out with Tasha in months because every time she invites me out, it involves a bar.
I had to envision myself as a single person, protected by a shell of white energy. Before I fell asleep, I had meditated myself to the stars, where I could escape from all the fucked up energy I had received that day, between work and the drama of my sister.
I woke up from my nap because my phone rang again (didn't I turn that off? wtf?) I was so bleary-eyed, I couldn't make out the name, but picture ID helped. It was Andy. Good thing, too, because chances are I would have thrown it had it been anyone else.
I wake up because he had called me on his way home. I turn off my phone and go outside, where the sky is clear and the clouds are prominent. He arrives, and I fall into him, finally able to feel and see like I did when I first fell in love with him. My mind has been clouded for months with depression and anxiety, and I have spent more time apologizing than I should have to. I breathe easy and know that things will be okay. With him, I have security. I have stability.
We watch a movie, then go back outside to watch the sun rise. I almost feel the words push their way out. But I swallow them. No, not yet. It's still far too early. But it is on my mind and I would say yes if he asked.
We fall into slumber at about six. I am ready for a restful night, free of interruptions. I want to sleep solidly for so many hours.
[7:30 am]
I wake up to the most horrible screeching noise ever. It had pierced my dream and rattled me awake. Of course, Andy is deaf and cannot hear this. I try to ignore it, knowing it has something to do with cats and some poor creature that had been their victim. But the sound is coming from the living room and it is too big for me to ignore.
I get up to find feathers everywhere, from the back door all the way to the front of the living room. In the corner, the cats are looking behind a chair. I think the bird is dead, and go whine for Andy to get it outside, as I am 1. psychologically damaged from waking up to that sound, and 2. a lot less into dead things than he is. He is mad at me, confused and tired, and doesn't want to get up. I think, fine, it can wait until we get up. Maybe they'll take it outside.
Just then, I hear a fit of flapping and screeching and I scream. I beg Andy again to get up, and he does. At this point, Nintendo has taken the cat to the back door, but will not take it outside. Andy yells at him, covers the bird with a shirt, and tries to inch it out. It's still alive and starts flapping. Andy jumps back, then takes a piece of pvc pipe and pushes the bundle of bird and shirt out on the back porch. He shuts the door and locks the cat door with the cats outside.
We return back to bed, and I stay awake, unable to sleep through the less piercing, but still audible sound of the cats finishing what they had started, only on the back porch instead of inside. I wake up when Nintendo jumps through our window to get inside. I wake up when he jumps out. I keep waking up, hour by miserable hour, and decide to get up at two when I hear See-Jay return home, swearing about the cats (we got the bird out but didn't clean up the feathers yet). I get up. Fuck it.
I have since been mostly lying around, attempting to find motivation. I would like a nap, and may take one. I just can't seem to want to get moving, as my sleep has been less than awesome lately. I may take a nap and go bike when it gets dark, after people have gone home and stopped driving for the night.
[Today]
1. Clean kitchen
2. Do something (write, bike, watch a movie, read, just something besides eat and sleep)
3. Bathe.
Yesterday started quiet enough. I got off work and came home to find Andy still awake. We stayed up, talked, ate stew he had made, and got into bed sometime around 9:30 am. I had a little trouble falling asleep because work had started wigging me out, and thus, trouble staying asleep. I got up at two after I heard my roommate making coffee.
The morning was slow and uneventful. When I was going to get back to sleep around 5 or so, Kelly sent me a message saying that she was at the Belmont Inn playing pool. I decided to go say hello, as she has been having a difficult time lately. I got dressed and biked over, spent maybe an hour there, slowly sipping a white Russian while I talked and watched her play pool. I stayed for maybe an hour, and headed back home. When I arrived. I checked my phone.
[6 missed alerts.]
Jesus christ. I only have 25 contacts in my phone, and only a handful of that contact me. Most days, I get no calls or alerts. It's how I prefer things.
All texts messages. And after I had ignored some and responded to the appropriate ones, I thought things would be settled. Then the calling frenzy started.
In one hour, I received six calls and several more texts messages. I could feel my social anxiety running high, and I wasn't even around people. The thing wouldn't stop. After the fourth call, I was about to turn it off when my sister called again.
Apparently, Emily (her ex), my mom, and her went to some concert. Emily got so smashed that she was making a scene on the max, falling down and running into people. Pissing everyone off. My sister asked if I would come with a car and take her home.
Reluctantly, I agreed.
Fortunately, call number six was received right before I left. My sister, again, telling me not to worry about it.
Good. Because I don't want to be responsible for your ex that you knew had a drinking problem. I don't want to deal with how awkward it will be, me sitting nervously, while Emily loudly bashes my sister. Tasha is 28, Emily is like 35. I'm 21. Why do I get to be the middle person? Why the fuck can't these people take care of themselves? I have worked very hard to eliminate drama from my life, and my sister drags me into hers.
I settle down. I get ready to take a nap. Tasha calls again. Christ. She starts talking about how she's upset because Emily accused her of being an alcoholic too. I don't even want to get into this. Tasha drinks most nights, but is not as irresponsible about it as Emily. Still, it doesn't mean that there's no problem. My sister is stubborn and sensitive, though, and will ignore me for months if I mention something like that, so I funnel my concern through my mother, who has a better way of talking to people about that stuff. As I am politely trying to get off the phone and return to my nap, my sister starts talking about how I used to be so wild and out of control with alcohol. What. The fuck. Ever. She is referring to an isolated incident after I turned 21, before I understood my limits. And now? I barely even drink beer. I keep my drinking at home, and if I happen to go out, I bike out to where I am going, have a 2 beer or 1 hard drink limit, and carefully monitor myself to determine if I need to take the bus or max home (biking drunk is not acceptable).
I take a deep breath, and end the conversation as nicely as possible. I roll over and take a nap, overwhelmed from the mix of social anxiety and my sister's drama. I hate what alcohol has done to so many people. My father was (and is again) an alcoholic. I haven't talked to him in three months. I saw Kelly go through a phase, when we lived together. Now I am seeing it take over my family and friends. I haven't hung out with Tasha in months because every time she invites me out, it involves a bar.
I had to envision myself as a single person, protected by a shell of white energy. Before I fell asleep, I had meditated myself to the stars, where I could escape from all the fucked up energy I had received that day, between work and the drama of my sister.
I woke up from my nap because my phone rang again (didn't I turn that off? wtf?) I was so bleary-eyed, I couldn't make out the name, but picture ID helped. It was Andy. Good thing, too, because chances are I would have thrown it had it been anyone else.
I wake up because he had called me on his way home. I turn off my phone and go outside, where the sky is clear and the clouds are prominent. He arrives, and I fall into him, finally able to feel and see like I did when I first fell in love with him. My mind has been clouded for months with depression and anxiety, and I have spent more time apologizing than I should have to. I breathe easy and know that things will be okay. With him, I have security. I have stability.
We watch a movie, then go back outside to watch the sun rise. I almost feel the words push their way out. But I swallow them. No, not yet. It's still far too early. But it is on my mind and I would say yes if he asked.
We fall into slumber at about six. I am ready for a restful night, free of interruptions. I want to sleep solidly for so many hours.
[7:30 am]
I wake up to the most horrible screeching noise ever. It had pierced my dream and rattled me awake. Of course, Andy is deaf and cannot hear this. I try to ignore it, knowing it has something to do with cats and some poor creature that had been their victim. But the sound is coming from the living room and it is too big for me to ignore.
I get up to find feathers everywhere, from the back door all the way to the front of the living room. In the corner, the cats are looking behind a chair. I think the bird is dead, and go whine for Andy to get it outside, as I am 1. psychologically damaged from waking up to that sound, and 2. a lot less into dead things than he is. He is mad at me, confused and tired, and doesn't want to get up. I think, fine, it can wait until we get up. Maybe they'll take it outside.
Just then, I hear a fit of flapping and screeching and I scream. I beg Andy again to get up, and he does. At this point, Nintendo has taken the cat to the back door, but will not take it outside. Andy yells at him, covers the bird with a shirt, and tries to inch it out. It's still alive and starts flapping. Andy jumps back, then takes a piece of pvc pipe and pushes the bundle of bird and shirt out on the back porch. He shuts the door and locks the cat door with the cats outside.
We return back to bed, and I stay awake, unable to sleep through the less piercing, but still audible sound of the cats finishing what they had started, only on the back porch instead of inside. I wake up when Nintendo jumps through our window to get inside. I wake up when he jumps out. I keep waking up, hour by miserable hour, and decide to get up at two when I hear See-Jay return home, swearing about the cats (we got the bird out but didn't clean up the feathers yet). I get up. Fuck it.
I have since been mostly lying around, attempting to find motivation. I would like a nap, and may take one. I just can't seem to want to get moving, as my sleep has been less than awesome lately. I may take a nap and go bike when it gets dark, after people have gone home and stopped driving for the night.
[Today]
1. Clean kitchen
2. Do something (write, bike, watch a movie, read, just something besides eat and sleep)
3. Bathe.