Own. Your. Shit.

Is anyone else as lost as I am when it comes to who we should be blaming for what? I mean, I don't have a pension and home buying isn't something I'm considering soon so the only real issue with baby boomers I have is that they are a bit overly assertive in their motor vehicles. I mean sure, I'll acknowledge the faults in our system in failing to calculate for erratic population hikes but I'm not going to tell Carol to fuck off when she tries handing me a re/max flyer she learned to make at a seminar for female realtors in Cancun last June that she took with some other girlfriends who were wanting to "get out of the house and be a career woman" and finally said oh the heck with hockey practice, I'ma do me bitches. But I digress, Carol you're doing just fine. Just watch your mid size in the turn lanes okay? We only got but one road to share.


Millennials, though, god aren't we supposed to really fucking suck, eh? Or some I'm told, I don't know....I've been doing drugs for the past 4 years I imagine we are probably acting like giant douche-nozzles but I've been too busy trying not to give a flying fuck to notice --- in fact I kind of have just gone on the notion that everyone is a tip on a bag of vinegar flavored vaginal fluid displacement. I guess the thing the ever so vague "they" tell me I need to blame is the people who got the whole War on Drugs thing going. I remind myself that every night when I'm furiously masturbating to a picture of Nancy Reagan with her eyes crossed out and little horns drawn on her head. (just kidding guys....the picture's actually in its original condition don't worry).

No but seriously, like is this the best we as a society can come up with? Trump is our president and we are trying to blame Russia and all that these fingers pointing every which direction are telling me is that no one is (wo)man enough to admit they done fucked up! No one had a shot of vodka waiting for them in those voting booths. Nancy wasn't the first trap hoe that shot me up with heroine and an entire generation cant be held responsible for the mere fact that people have been fucking around in our financial system for as long as its been alive.

OWN. YOUR. SHIT.
I don't want to know you if you can't

The Self-Loathing Egotist

I find that contradictions are the most common occurrences in human nature. Our psyche is designed to say one thing and do another. Opposites attract and likeness repel and this results in us hating in others the very thing people hate about us. Personally, I will honk at the slow going minivan in front of me at a green light but if someone finds my foot to be lead filled, I'll slow my acceleration to snails pace and hold my middle finger up so they are sure to see. It is this phenomenon that brought me to title myself a self-loathing egotist.

I brag and complain almost simultaneously about my self-awareness. I find I know exactly what people are saying behind the things they say to me. I can lay out my faults, weaknesses, strengths, uniqueness, frustrations, and more but my downfall lies in the drive to change them. No one will ever shock me with the things they say to me about me, my brain is in a constant mode of analysis. Where are they looking, what are they doing, are their responses engaging or are they attempting to push away the conversation; a particular friend of mine will talk with such obliviousness to how people around them are not wanting to listen and I stare and wonder if he is like me. That is, aware but without care.

I think this is probably a common concept among social intellects; which I, for the most part, consider myself. A polite person corrects themselves while a concieted person stands on the principle that everyone else is wrong, and they aren't that annoying. I regrettably admit the latter describes me most often. I laugh at my own jokes, interrupt others with *relevant* interjections, and mumble with the expectation that everyone can understand me. I'm learning to be better but I become so apathetic to change because I've never seen anyone change their ways for the benefit of me and our friendship but I know I can't compare my choices to others. I survive on the principle that we are to treat others how we wish to be treated and not how they treat us and before you yell at your screen, I know I'm not always successful; I'm human after all. I treat others how I'd like to be treated but I do not ever want to be friends with someone like me, isn't that ironic?

I'm thinking we can't help but love ourselves and we can't help but hate ourselves as well. We will do things out of character that even make our own selves go, "who the fuck are you?" and in those times in my life I find myself in crisis. I wonder if I deserve the good I have but I'm too selfish to give it up if I can help it. Am I going to go my whole life like this? Not knowing if I deserve the good and feeling wronged by the bad?  Is this in fact the true human condition, the very thing that separates us?

I'm leaving this topic for now, but trust that it stays with me every moment of every day. We all just want happiness and some are better than others at finding it. Those of us with complex intellectual minds are at a disadvantage because we question everything. But I wouldn't trade it for ignorance  if my life depended on it.

A return to the not so travelled road.

Now that I'm 26....

I have to ask, what the fuck?

What were they trying to teach us all those years, really? I've expanded my wealth of knowledge, no doubt, through high school and college but if I had to answer the cliche notion of whether or not they prepared me for real life, we'll I would just have to politely say Oh Fuck No.

I've returned to my home town recently. Well actually, a year and a half ago....holy shit.  The reason being that life after college and away from my big family was alienating, lonely, and depressing. I found myself spending my days off staying in bed and unable to keep interest; I was let go from jobs because I showed no eagerness or likeability. I didn't get it, because in my heart I knew I could be the weird funny likeable girl everyone loved me to be but for some reason I couldn't show it to new people and I didn't get why.

But then I figured it out: heroin. All consuming addiction of which I was in full denial of. I just did it when my boyfriend did, I'd say, but soon I'd seek it out even when he was gone. I'd wake up before him to make sure he didn't do any without me. I sacrificed time, money, trust, relationships, and I suffered a loss of myself. And dying from it didn't stop me, friends dying didn't stop me, I can't say for certain what stopped me but it certainly wasn't moving home to Fargo which I had hoped would be the trick. But demons find you even if you aren't actively searching for them. And they get angry when you try to deny their power.

I was always a level headed person. I almost hated what little psychological problems I had; I was boring, bland, forgettable. I'd think "maybe I get anxiety? I think I'm depressed?" But little did I know the real thing would feel like a thousand stab wounds to your heart. Constantly. Anxiety, real raw crippling anxiety, is unbearable and unbelievable. Your ability to avoid problems becomes that of acrobatic level. I couldn't believe this was me; ignoring bills, debt, grocery stores, and sadly my family.
My family. Oh my god.
I moved here to be closer to them, and as it turns out the smoke and mirrors I had laid down between here and Colorado were what was best for me and my family. Now my weaknesses, anxiety, insecurities, anger, and irrationality all get laid out on my family. Likely because they're the only ones that care so they're the only ones I bother to argue with. I want them to be different sometimes, I admit that.l; I see the way my friends' families handle their addiction and sometimes I feel jealousy while other times I'm greatful for how good I have it. When I sat them down that day after my friends funeral  (from an overdose using the same batch of drugs I was getting) and told them that their youngest daughter, the honor roll well behaved never hated her parents child, had been battling s 2 year addiction with heroin and worse she was putting it in her veins, that the following months of struggle would face me. Struggle to be sober, to be honest, to be present. Ithe isn't fun to feel like no matter what drug you're on or not on, your mother is going to look at you differently and over analyze the way you fell over your words just there. And how do you tell your family that their constant pressure to stop using only makes you want to use more? How do you show your family, with little experience in drug addiction, that you need them to believe that you're still in there and treat you the same? Otherwise we are fucked. Truly.
People often wonder why even though we desire to be sober, we fall back into the same crowds. I can tell you with 100 percent certainty it is because they have no holds, no judgments, and no ultimatums to be your friend. And I guarantee you most of them won't push drugs on you if you ask them not to. Unfortunately weakness is a human condition and when life doesn't get tackled, we turn to our numbing devices. It isn't hanging around our old friends that causes that but rather vice versa. Don't condemn me for going back to old ways, but try to understand why and figure out what you can do to make it better. I'd start with welcoming your addicted friend, daughter, son, brother or what have you over or out; show them that their addiction doesn't define them. Sometimes they just need to be shown.

I want to blog more because it heals me. I hope you take the time to do what heals you too. I can promise I won't be fully candid here because I fear judgement and try only to describe myself and my problems and not others but I will peel back the pages and try to show someone what complexities lie beneath the funny girl.

Until next time,
Kelly

What Three Year Olds Can Teach You

I try not to think that my nephew is exceptional. He's three years old, and I find conversations with him more stimulating than the words I exchange with my peers. His name is Vincent Jerome, and to be frank, the kid's funny shit.

Vinnie cares very little about current events or celebrity gossip. He simply wants you to notice him when he does his "naked dance" or sings along with the sesame street crew. He always laughs at my jokes, as long I keep a strictly fart noises and knock knock jokes line up. He always notices when I'm sad, and offers me his favorite toy to try and cheer me up. Never afraid to say I'm sorry or offer a big hug and kiss, there's just nothing you can't look to Vinnie for.

Every expression Vincent makes can make you smile. Joy, sadness, confusion, and anger are emotions Vinnie wears on his sleeves. If you yell too loud, he'll run to the corner and give you the cold shoulder for all of five seconds; you then feel such guilt that you can't help but offer him a cookie, to which he'll respond with a pouty but proud "Yes."

Though only three, Vinnie has shown me truer friendship than those I used to call my closest. He doesn't judge me for my job, my taste in boys, or my life choices. He'll always run to me with a giant smile and arms open wide no matter what I did the night before.

I'm leaving home in a week, and though I am twenty kinds of excited, there's nothing that saddens me more then to watch my nephew grow each and every day.

Vinnie has taught me that true priorities are family and love, and there is nothing that can compare. The ignorance of children has been something admired by adults who have learned too much about life for generations, and it is easy to see why. Vince cries when he's sad, smiles when he's happy, and loves everyone for who they are, not what they pretend to be.

Thank god for children, and thank god for the funniest, cutest kid I have ever had the pleasure to meet. He's truly changed me. That is why I chose to kick off my blogging career with a post about him; this way you can attribute a bit of my immature humor to the fact that I hang out with a three year old almost everyday.