I’m at it again. I’d say someone stop me, but in the past I have NOT responded well to that.

I did one of the weird things that I do. Like I began to notice patterns in my behavior years ago (when I left my parents house, when I was away from the grating racket long enough to hear my thoughts, so on and so forth) but I’m still kind of like….but why? At most of it.

But the thing I did?

Even though I knew it wouldn’t make me happy, I did it anyway.

It’s always some weird version of consumption with me, anyway, isn’t it?

I spent a bunch of money, knowing that it wouldn’t make me feel better, but in fact might make it worse due to guilt, but I still did it anyway. Because nothing actually makes you feel better, but like, you might as well get/have shit you want, right? So goes my poor person for life logic.

What’s got me down? Nothing more than the usual shit. I’m always lonely. I really miss my mom. She’s two hours away but I haven’t seen her in three years. I think my husband has an undiagnosed psychological disorder…possibly plural there. I’m kind of (or just am) a raging alcoholic. The arduous work and turmoil that’s been the general tone of my life up until this point. The total lack of friends. The idea that I’ve worked a lot and for a long time and have no financial indication of such effort going on. The idea that if I want to actually have children I should probably get on that soon but also the idea of having an infant/child to care for and raise sounds HORRIBLE and life-ruining and most days I’m like eh, can’t afford kids anyway…darn…guess I better keep doing what I like with my time.

But that’s all pretty normal, I think, except for the my mom stuff. And there’s nothing I can do about that situation, so I’ve kind of moved on. Sort of. It still makes me really sad. But I mean, so? Some things suck.

But, lets discuss WAY more interesting shit, what I bought:

1) New winter coat. I wore a boring puffy coat the past two winters. I wanted a fancy pea coat that isn’t as warm but looks way nicer. The one I bought has a faux fur collar. It was over half off (So $99)
2) Since I was already on JC Penney.com, I was like well, better get more concealer while I’m at it
3) Since I was on the Sephora section of JCP.com I was like…better get good mascara…..
4) Then, this one is more confusing, I was like…I should buy foundation. I haven’t purchased foundation in at least five years. Since before we got married. It’s obviously a cool thing to have, but I don’t really need it, because I have no reason to get ready for anything. The last time I did a full face of make up was Halloween…then that one Saturday right before Halloween I went out (and I don’t see that scenario occurring again) so…..why did I buy it? It might not seem like such an important question, but the shit I buy is $39. So. More important than $8 foundation.
5) Two new pairs of glasses. I paid out of pocket for an eye exam in February, and was like…yep…gonna get on buying glasses off Zenni with that prescription anytime here…. and finally was like you know what fuck it. I haven’t purchased new glasses in….at least seven years. The prescription is pretty much still the same so that’s not the biggest deal in the world, but still. I didn’t know what kind of glasses to buy for my face shape, namely because I didn’t know my face shape. It’s diamond. That’s why I didn’t know it, that’s not one of the common ones.

So yeah. I’m at it again like always I guess. I at least bought some practical stuff. Not stuff I TOTALLY needed…but…eh. Stuff I sort of needed.
So you could take this as a weird list of stuff I spent $300 on.

Or you could see what I see. That I picked up on patterns of love/affection from the only stable people in my life when I was a child, that things/food=love. I’d blame my Grandma, it sort of is her fault, with her cold ass German upbringing, But she was the only reason I had a remotely normal childhood…so…should I really be finding fault with this woman?

I tried building a memory palace once. It seemed like a good idea. But, idk, it’s so visual. If I’m visualizing something, it’s CF, or the story for after the CF series, or me fucking, I’m not building a memory palace. Maybe I don’t need one? I feel like I should. If you aren’t awesome like me and DON’T know what one of those is…well first I would STRONGLY recommend you purchase these books and read them in this order (Red Dragon, Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal, Hannibal Rising). If you don’t want to read all that, which, I wouldn’t get why, but okay, Hannibal Lecter has a memory palace that he visits, and most of it is the expected hyper classy fanciness, but there’s parts he can’t control. Oubliettes, they’re called. What’s fucking eerie is I read Silence of the Lambs, where Hannibal describes them as “bottle shaped rooms with a trap door at the top” – in Hannibal’s memory palace, there are oubliettes that he cannot contain, filled with shit, with the memories he can’t stop, and when he’s distressed, particularly when his sense of smell is assaulted. And then right after SOL I read Daisy Miller…and what the fuck gets mentioned in there? Fucking oubliettes again. When Daisy and the narrator go visit that one castle together, Daisy stands at the edge of the of an oubliette and cries with dismay or whatever, and the footnote says something along the lines, “dungeons accessible through a trap door at the top, for forgetting prisoners.”

So, that weird foray into literature is brought to you by the idea that I tried to make a memory palace. But the only positive places from my childhood are my Grandma’s apartment, and my bedroom, alone, all by myself, with my cat and all my toys. Those are the two places. I mean I liked the library in my school, and the public library by my house, but the other kids/people, the my mom bitching that she had to drive me to and from the library….so lesser than the first two places I mentioned.

So what I’m saying is, in Hannibal Lecter terms, saying someone’s apartment is the largest portion of your memory palace is really making a statement.

So I try not to fault my Grandma for the ways she specifically made me fucked up. Or my mom. The two of them were/are actual humans who loved me. W is just a fucking monster and J is just soooo fucked up and saddening. And that’s the list, besides my best friend and husband, and that’s different.

So, I’m using my positive relationship with my Grandma as a means of excusing spending excessive amounts of money on myself, because that’s how she showed affection, that and overfeeding. That’s a grandparent thing, and a German thing, so there was no hope there.

At the same time, whatever. I work a lot. Possibly I deserve some nice things.

That’s all I got.

I literally have ZERO idea how I’m still awake.

I did a standard Friday caffeine intake. First pot of coffee from 6am-8am, second pot of coffee 8am-10am, third 1pm-3pm, then I had four shots of espresso in a drink from Starbucks around 8:30pm. This is standard level for me. Beer wise, I had one tall can (Coors light) before the grocery store (Starbucks and grocery store coincided, duh) then two more tall cans after, and I just finished a regular bottle of Modelo especial. I’m going to be pissed if I drink all of my Saturday beer tonight. But like I don’t feel fucked up or tired. Am I magic? Of course I’ve been smoking weed…but…it’s been a LONG LONG time since I’ve legit felt fucked up from weed. Like. For real. But anyway. I SHOULD go to bed.

I’m going to try and truly crank out the writing this weekend.

OH.

Something else I bought, finally, pole classes! I’m going back on Sunday. It feels like it’s been 10,000 years. I think it’s been 6 weeks. But up until 6 week ago, I was going EVERY Sunday for like eight months. But back to it on Sunday. So excited, but also unexcited about how sore my arms are going to be. But so worth it.

Well, I should be off.

Have a good weekend. Enjoy the cold weather. I like how it makes me want to cuddle. All summer long I was like “Get the fuck away from me,” whenever my cats or my husband were trying to get affectionate. Now it’s enjoyable. Plus it makes you want to be inside more, which is appealing to me in many ways as it is. Clearly all of my life activities revolve around being inside.

Anyway. Have a good weekend. Love you.
~Cassie

N, or No, but really though

Okay. I think I’ve discussed it enough with the two people in the world I trust (besides my moms, but she’s different, I don’t burden her with my life) and I THINK I figured some shit out as to why I was SO FUCKING UPSET today and yesterday.

Luckily, I have the world’s chilliest best friend (she rewards you for positive behavior with kindness/more attention than your whining ass was getting…it’s hilarious to watch when you know it’s coming) and the world’s warmest husband. IDK how I’d still function without the too-much-one-way approach they both take.

So. What happened that upset me so much? Ha. Okay. See if you can keep up.

N, guy from grad school, not to be confused with R, and I had been flirting hard for about a week over DM/text. You know the thing I alluded to being excited about? Well, blog, I know you knew it had to do with fucking, but yeah, it was the fun of talking with N on a really regular if not constant basis for about a week. Not long, I get it. We were talking enough so that I felt comfortable enough to ask him if he wanted to hang out this past weekend. He said he was into it. His words. He proposed plans and I agreed. I was super excited.

And, instead of getting into the details, because I don’t want to do that more than I already have mentally and in other blogs that are private, let me just tell you TWO exact quotes from N, spaced 5 hours apart, both of which were said on my couch:

5:30 pm (first arriving to my house) : “So we’re going to have sex….let’s just hang out first.”
That was all well and good. We’d already blantantly discussed fucking over DM. He did. He brought it up.
10pm: “I don’t think we should sleep together. I’m sorry. I feel like a prick. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

What the sweet fucking shit was I supposed to respond?

I was really embarrassed and confused. After he told me what was going on, I was still really embarrassed, but also fucking super pissed and just overwhelmed by how stupid I can fucking be.

I bothered to be myself around someone and to let my guard down and just be honest for once. And THIS happens.

The reasoning behind his massive/sudden change of heart stemmed from his having lied to me from the get-go about the exact situation in his relationship, which is intermittently open….and this was glossed over/straight lied about. He had a PERFECT out, when I asked him if he wanted to get together. He could have said right then that he wasn’t able to do such a thing at this time. OR he could’ve said he wanted to hang out but sex couldn’t be part of it, THEN waited until he was in another “open” period. But N didn’t do that. N just fucking lied to me and made it seem like we were definitely going to fuck (because he literally said the words…more than once….) then at the end of the night gave me a comic book and then was like oh by the way I’m completely not okay with this.

I mean. No one owes anyone sex, ever. And I’m not desperate….do you see me?….but JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. THIS was a weiiiiiiird amount of bullshit.

I do NOT do well when I put myself out there only to be rejected.

NO woman does well with sexual rejection. It’s literally like the one thing we don’t deal with, that and prostate cancer.

I let my guard down, and got fucking socked for it, AGAIN. You’d think I’d goddamn learn, but the day I learn is the day I stop feeling feelings…I think…

It’s a very disappointing thing to happen to anyone.

It’s not easy for me to connect with someone, or want to, AT ALL. Now it was all for nothing.

N could have SO EASILY just like…NOT fucking talked to me and started this whole process. Or he could have just NOT made hang out/fuck around plans with me, like he so definitely did.

That’s what bothers me.

And like…I had to stop myself last night when I was texting him because I didn’t want to be TOO mean because like…I forget only one other person in the world was raised by W, so only Justin (my brother) knows what it’s like to be eviscerated with verbal abuse and threats of physical/sexual abuse on a daily fucking basis. Our mom knows too, but she was a fucking adult then, wasn’t she? My husband tells me how good I am at cutting down, through all the layers, between the bone, with the craft of a surgeon. He doesn’t word it like that, but trust me that’s what he means. So I told N I was going to stop talking to him, but that it fucking destroyed me that this happened because I let my guard down. My fuck all my life has ever done is teach me not to do that. And all I’ve ever done is tell it to fuck off.

Now is no different, of course. I mean….I can’t help but think things along the lines of “Well, YOU’RE the one about to miss out, guy.” Perhaps my arrogance is some strange mental illness I developed to shield myself from the chaos that was my childhood.

But you know what. Adults get to make their own destinies. Even if its just fighting back against what you can’t help/couldn’t stop.  You’re responsible for all of your own shit, but that also means no one gets to take credit for things you do.

I tried teaching R that. But I don’t think he was listening. He was too far gone with alcoholism. Hot as he was. And you know what R NEVER fucking lied to me. It’s really not a good thing when you can’t reach the bar R fucking set.

I shouldn’t be so mean. He did mean a great deal to me at one time. I was always hyper attracted to him.

Like I said, I’m lucky to have my husband around for situations like this. He’s been so great about comforting me through this.

I know it’s fucking fucked that my spouse was consoling me for my “poly” hookup rejecting me hard, but it’s what fucking happened, all right?

I had to ask for an explanation.

When I said I’d stop talking to him, N said “Thank you.”

So. Yeah.

That went well.

The comic book still seriously confuses me. Like why. I have so many questions.

But it’s like N doesn’t get how hurt I was by what he did. I don’t think he gets it at least.

My husband tried helping me figure out what it was that fucking upset me so much. He was like, was it your self esteem? Did you just want to fuck? Were you super into this guy? Was it just wanting something to look forward to?

I’m not sure. But again, it was nice having him be there for me.

Still. One can’t help but wonder why you couldn’t have just been left alone if this was how it was going to go. Did rejecting me make N feel better about some shitty part of his life? Did he seriously just think he would be able to convince himself sleeping with me fell under the “okay” category when he “realized he wasn’t comfortable with it” hours into our meeting up? Then of course there were his many mentions that it freaked him out that we got along too well and talked too easily. But oh don’t worry he acknowledged that that’s a self-defeating loop that’s super unfair to me so I feel super not stung by that.

I wish I wasn’t so upset by this.

I wish I didn’t feel like this.

I wish I wasn’t so bothered. And hurt.

 

Also….I wish I could afford therapy……might be able to unpack why I only look forward to casual sex anymore….or why it means SO MUCH to me that someone would bother even paying attention/talking to me….

Yes….so…so….hard to figure out…..

But just because you know the cause of your feelings, that doesn’t mean you can fucking stop them, now does it?

 

 

~Cassie