Well. I figured out like 20% of my issue.

So. Like, idk, the idea fucking came at me that what I’ve really been looking for all these years is a therapist. I started picturing what it would be like to bitch to someone for an hour about my parents and childhood and husband and drinking problem and weird sex habits and holy shit I started feeling better just thinking about it.

So trial and error after a few dead ends I find a counselor guy nearby who takes my insurance so tomorrow is my first appointment with him. We’ll see how it goes. I’m super not thrilled that it’ll cost me about $50 per week to see him. Why is it that if I want an hour of pole dancing and an hour of therapy it’s $72 a week??? Isn’t that insane sounding? I feel like it’s insane sounding.

Not going to lie I’m really really really uneasy about it, about going, for some reason. No actual reason why. That I can consciously identify other than the effort it’ll involve and the fact that the winter has been especially grueling this week. I try not to let it get me down but it’s also hard to want to leave your house if it’s -25 outside.

So. Therapy tomorrow. With a guy. Finally. The three times in my life that I’ve tried therapy/counseling before it’s been with women. No wonder it didn’t work. So we’ll see.

Yeah. There’s just SO. MUCH. TO. UNPACK.

Will let you know how it goes.

~Cassie

Guys. I came home to quite the drunk shit show. It’s still ongoing.

So it was -4 when i drove to work this morning. It was a whopping 13 when I drove home at 4pm.

And what do I see upon pulling into my driveway?

My husband in nothing but sweatpants. No shirt or shoes or socks or anything. He’s shoveling the sidewalk. So I yell at him, because it seems VERY stupid be be dressed as such in such cold weather and especially doing something that we always leave neglected so who cares?

I’m pissed before I’m in the house because I know. He’s shit faced. He has to be.

Then I on instinct lock the front door. He takes it as a sign I locked it on purpose, then when i insist otherwise, then he changes it to i I distinctly didn’t think of him and locked the door.

Then let’s see. It all deteriorated so fast. Because he does this thing when he’s wasted where he WONT leave me alone. Even if I like fucking scream at him to get out of my face, he’ll leave the room for s minute then be back. Like he can’t NOT antagonize me. And boy did he pull out the big guns today. I was told at least five times I was acting exactly like my father.

His pathetic attempts to wound me are sickening, if little else.

He drank what can be sure was a few beers and a pint of brandy after he got home from work.

The worst was around 5pm, because I started yelling back. I really don’t take it for long. And I’m not afraid of him. I’m just not. I’ve lost too much respect along the years. Anyway.

At 5 he did he usual just scream at me and act super weird and talk in the worlds most annoying tone of voice and then of course threaten to leave. He probably would have left if my car hadn’t been blocking the way. He told me he was driving to his parents. As much as I would love for his useless ass to be with them right now, there’s no way he would’ve made it. He would’ve died or killed someone else or close to it even attempting that drive. So I told him if he tried to leave I would call the cops and he’d get pulled over before he hit the highway and then he’d get to explain his dui to his parents from jail as he asked them to pay to bail him out. That seemed to work, because after that he let it go about leaving. That’s one of his go to drunk shitty things. There’s a lot of them. He did a lot of them today.

Then at some point he went out to the garage and was out there awhile, then he came inside and was in our bathroom a long time. Then he moved to the couch.

I went to use the finally vacant bathroom. He pissed on the lid of the closed toilet. There’s piss everywhere except IN the toilet. I used his bath towel to clean it up. I washed it, but the principle.

So that’s what’s happening.

Imma be the BIGGEST CUNT HES EVER SEEN about all this

He complains and complains about how I’m ALWAYS so angry?

Ahahahahah

I’ll show a mother fucker angry

If I’m so goddamn horrible why doesn’t he leave? Like seriously. Tf seems like I need him for, anyway? Because if I was alone there wouldn’t be someone to disappoint me and not listen when I talk?

Fuck today and fuck my life kids

~Cassie

The time I paid the $70 dumb bitch tax

Disclaimer: I call myself a bitch and a slut and a cunt and a drunk and a dumbfuck and all of that because 1) It’s me, I’m ALLOWED to refer to myself HOWEVER I please, also 2) I’m attempting to point out that men need to think of better supreme insults than calling a woman a bitch. My own father has called me a bitch. Do better.

So. It was two weekends ago. The weekend right before New Years Eve (which was obnoxiously on a Monday). I had just finished transcribing draft #2, and was very excited to get it printed at Office Max to give to my beta reader (N).

When I was ordering this manuscrupt on Office Max’s website, I SPECIFICALLY asked my husband, “Now you DON’T want a copy of this as well, right? I need to know because I need to order it now.” He said no, don’t do that, save the $, he’ll just read the pages I print at home.
YEAH

Except my husband did that ~adorable~ thing he does, where as soon as he SEES something, he’s very overtaken by the need to have it. So that same evening we’re leaving OM and he’s freaking out, saying things along the lines of “Oh I’m so excited to read this now.”

WHAT THE FUCK

WHAT THE FUCK

Is it just me, or is that him being a crazy controlling brat who tries to make everything about him? Because just wait

I specifically said to my husband, I told you this copy from OM was for N, I told you that and I ASKED you if you wanted your own copy and YOU SAID NO. BUT NOW, NOW THAT THERE’S A CHANCE TO ACT LIKE THE WOUNDED VICTIM, OH FUCK KNOWS YOU COULDN’T PASS THAT ONE UP.

He was terse and pissy and rude the rest of the evening, telling me he was “just trying to get excited” about my writing. OH BUT THE WRITING THAT’S BEEN WAITING FOR HIM TO READ AT HOME FOR MONTHS, THAT HE JUST COULDN’T GET EXCITED ABOUT. OR MAYBE he’s just trying to take something that’s SO important to me and make it about himself.

That’s how that makes me feel.

So. I noticed a few issues with OM MS #1 (if you’re not in the know, MS means manuscript, so fancy word for draft of unfinished work). and was like, okay husband, I’m going to order a second MS, because this first one is missing an index I want it to have and it’s missing page numbers (my bad, not Office Max’s).

SO I was like, all right husband, I’m going to print a SECOND $35 MS at Office Max (same weekend, same worker who was super rude the first time I picked the MS up, but was really nice the second time…and he seemed super gay, so like…did he read a part of it? hahahahhaha that makes me laugh. I don’t blame him if he did….how often does that Office Max print epic shit?) and I do. And I’m showing the second, slightly better copy to my husband, and he PULLS THE SAME SHIT.

In that, he starts “getting excited” about reading the better MS I $35-printed. EVEN THOUGH I told him the better one was going to N. Because why would you give a beta reader a copy without page numbers? Like really? If I couldn’t have paid for the second one I would have written page numbers in, of course, but I had a little $ from Christmas so I was like fuck it lets do this.

SO my husband pulls the same But-I-wanted-that shit with me, like he has done so many times in the past with so many other things, not the least of which being my physical body of course. Like there were MANY times during our multi-partner sexcapades that he made me feel like a tree he needed to piss on after he saw another dog pissing on it.

Yeah, anonymous sex with a bunch of different peopele didn’t make me feel great about myself. GO FIGURE. I just wish the guys were hotter. The girls were all right, I found the first one super hot, and the second one was one of those like I’ll do anything because I know I’m a 5 types. We all know I like ordering people around. Anyway.

So. After much angry storming off and sullen silence, my husband’s usual, along with getting this specific facial expression very akin to something his father does when upset. I just wish my husband also NEVER yelled or grew violent like his father as well, my husband came to peaceable terms with the notion that I would want to give an “outsider” beta reader the more polished/professional looking copy.

SOO GOOD OF HIM, RIGHT? Like for real I was discussing this with my best friend via text the entire time. She never really offers much an opinion, but she did point out that his excitemnet for reading my shit shouldn’t be so contingent on how it’s printed. She definitely didn’t word it that way, but yeah.

So I messaged N on Twitter (because that is the only way we’ve interacted at all since…well, like I need to elaborate…think I’ve done that enough elsewhere) about having it ready for him, and he said, and I quote, “Next few days for sure” around December 29th. YEAH. IT HAS YET TO HAPPEN. He does have some shit to deal with in his life, and yeah like I DO get that…but…at the same time…..should I just like…keep prodding about it? Like I somehow doubt he’s forgotten that I told him I had a specially printed MS for him to read? SOOOO?… ?…..? LOST.

Unless he’s just waiting until he’s done dealing with his shit, then he’ll be like yeah let’s get that over to me.

I told him awhile ago that I didn’t want to mail it or email it…I mean, printed a physical copy is the fucking plot to this story…so….but at the same time, like a simple hand off at a starbucks midday on a Sunday would’ve worked for me, or something equally as innocuous/not seeming like I’m still trying to fuck this guy. Because, like, I REALLY do want someone else whom I consider “smart” (I mean I know him from grad school and he teaches at a college…so….) to read this and tell me what they REALLY think. Like…Aghhhhh I was SO fucking close to having that happen…and NOW he’s stringing me along when it comes to this like the other shit and ahhhhh

I know I go on about how I’m patient, and I really am, but I also get really angry all the time. It’s not so easy reconciling these two things.

Speaking of impatient, I’m probably writing on this upsetting topic and crying a ton about it because I’m probably due to start my period in a few days. And, I think we all know why that’s a little depressing. You never know it until you’re at that point, if you ever are, but each month it’s some annoying painful defeat to get one when you don’t want to. You tell yourself it’s for the best and you’re not financially ready and to not think about the fucking idiots you know who who DO get to have kids….but it happens anyway.

But I now have in my possession 2 $35 manuscripts printed from Office Max. The better one, the one intended for N, is almost completely pen-edited by this point. I’m on page 242 of like 265. So, yesterday I DM him and am like, well since i’m almost done editing this, you might as well wait until I’m done with it and have it printed again….and then he more or less didn’t respond…like he said something in response, but it wasn’t an acknowledgement of ANY sort of action taking place on his part soon. So….should I be taking this as a sign to let it go? WTF. I mean, who doesn’t love being brushed off right? It’s not that I don’t understand not dealing with something because you’re dealing with your own shit, I just KNOW I wouldn’t do this if the roles were reversed. Because I have a VERY strong subservient/desperate for a specific kind of male attention streak. I mean. I know this. My mom and Grandma and all. And like…why do you think I put up with R so much? You have no idea some of the fucked up shit that happened with him. I don’t write about it because I’M TRYING TO FUCKING FORGET because it gives me anxiety because it COULD have gone so wrong. Blackout alcoholics are fucking scary and need to be kept on a farm somewhere, together. Until they’re all dead. There. i said something really fucked up this far in so only my TRUE followers will see it.

You can’t blame me though, really. Not after W. And R. There’s no going back from breaking certain things. Nope. I get I put up with it for some time so it seemed like that would go on forever…but I always surprise people when I like snap and am done with them FOREVER.

ANYWAY

BACK TO THE $70 dumb bitch tax

So the copy I had to buy because my husband suddenly needed his own spiral bound MS that was to go to N, I edited and will input those edits and then this will go into the keepsake bin (i have a lot of those, ONE DAY I’ll blog their contents because some of it is actually awesome, I’ll show you, one day, when I have time, KINDA busy right now)

And the copy intended for my husband, the first MS from Office Max?

UNREAD.

I mean, I get my husband works out several (like 30) hours per week, and he works like 25-30 hours as a barista, so he’s like somewhat busy…BUT OMFG THAT IS SO IRRITATING HE’S NOT EVEN READING IT. AFTER ALL OF THE BULLSHIT AND LITERALLY WASTING $35 ON A SECOND COPY SO HE COULD HAVE ONE, HE’S NOT READING IT.

I wish I was the “scream into a pillow” sort. But I smoke too much weed, I can’t scream unnecessarily.

I guess it was nice having a spiral bound copy to edit, because I actually enjoy editing on paper, MUCH more than on my laptop. So it was $35 well spent, in a way, but the second one….AHG. I can’t. NEITHER of them read their copy. Do you realize how sad and poetic and metaphorical this is for me? Like, okay…..OKAY, fucking tell me to breathe here…but…..THERE HAS NEVER been a man in my life is who didn’t DISAPPOINT THE FUCK out of me on a regular basis.

what the fuck

is that

supposed to mean?

Do the women? NOT NEARLY AS MUCH. My mom and my best friend are the ones that actually surprise me sometimes, even now. My Grandma is the ONLY reason I had even the semblance of normal shit in my childhood.

Ahhhhhhhhhhh

This was supposed to be complaining about one thing. Way to creepily become about some weird theme in my life like I planned it. SEE, if I’d tried to plan a blog like this, it would fall flat and I would go on a million different tangents only I find interesting and so on and so forth.

I should have gone to pole today, but I just didn’t. I could’ve scrounged the $20, but eh, I just don’t feel like working out that much. Just eh.

Anyway, I feel like I should take this as some sort of lesson. But. Should I? Am I just being a hugely self centered hyper critical bitch, because boyyyyy does that sound like me…… Who’s to know?

OFF TO EDIT THE MANUSCRIPT I PRINTED FOR MYSELF

This is what happens when I do something for someone other than Cassie. THIS is what they do when I try and like reach out and shit. THIS. BAH.

Happy fucking January, y’all

Brightside: days ARE getting longer…..wait that’s it

~Cassie

I panicked and picked a fight

No time BUT I wish someone could tell me how long the “you deserve better than someone who treats you like this” feeling wins. Because. Otherwise. Always.

My husband lost the lid to my grinder. Like it’s just fucking gone. I woke him up and picked a a fight with him over it.

I hate how lonely I am

But I don’t

Because it’s one of the things that I know makes me human

Like, I know I feel feelings. That might not sound like much but it is.

Plus like, just like I found my husband at 21, I know I’ll find what I’m looking for one day, perhaps more than once.

I’m a patient fucking being, don’t forget

Im a lot of things that people like to forget but most of the time I don’t blame them, I’d be distracted by my appearance too

Pussy luge

DISCLAIMER: I wrote this on my lunch break, while I was both angry and physically in pain…..but I think that much will shortly become obvious.

Well, I have every necessary trappingto work on CF this lunch break, and I just freaking can’t. I’mpissed. And now, more than ever, what needs to be done is so clear.It was just like all those months with R, where I fucking knew whatwas supposed to happen, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I wanted them both. Conglomerating the pieces of them, I almost had a complete man. I remember once, when I forgot myself, and I was talking to someone I used to think of as a friend and I said something about how R “seemed” like my boyfriend, but I was like, “What, why? Why would I want someone else to disappoint me and not listen when I talk?”

Because, then, that’s all my husband seemed like.

We did not have a good weekend. We had sex like twice, which for us is like off the charts (not to mention the like four times I masturbated, yay endorphins and their temporary succor) but we fought EVERY day. And it’s starting to become those horrible long term relationship fights. Like my husband had music playing on his phone,and my picking his phone up to turn said music off was a HUGE mistake, blog, HUGE.

I don’t want to dwell because it’s not the point of this blog, but IHATE NOISE. WHY THE SWEET LIVING FUCK IS EVERYONE IN THE GODDAMNWORLD TERRIFIED OF QUIET? WHAT, YOU MIGHT THINK A THOUGHT?

And then on Saturday when we were getting into it because I started telling him that it upset me that he was lazy AND self righteous about our petcare (Like be one or the other, don’t get haughty with me because I’m not handling EVERYTHING like you need me to so you can keep living the life of an infantile teenager) and I started talking to him about how EVERY time I speak, in an argument-type situation, HE FUCKINGINTERRUPTS ME.
It’s like he CANNOT, his fucked up idiot fucked idiot ADHD I snorted WAY TOO MANY PRESCRIPTION DRUGS from WAY TOOYOUNG AN AGE brain from talking while I’m talking. He CANNOT let me get a sentence out. And I’m trying to tell him that on Saturday, so he has to turn it into I’m yelling at him, and I’m swearing at him. If you’re interrupted and talked over every time you speak, would you NOT start yelling???? I won’t be meek when I’m dead, much less anytime before that. Because nope. Fight. Be shitty. Stand the fuck up for yourself (because guess what Princess ain’t no one gonna do that for you, or even notice anything about you besides what THEY might want from you). And I’ve been this way since day 1, so he can fuck right off with any accusations that I’ve changed.

And I DON’T WANT to have problems or fight. But my fuck there’s going to far with that, there’s putting up with shit and enabling bad behavior to look out for.

Last night, when he freaked out that I picked up his phone I was like, “Yeah, guess there might be something you don’t want me to see.”

I’ll never not suspect him.

I’ll never wake up to find him gone from bed without thinking I need to check the house to make sure he’s still there.

I’ll never be able to look at our wedding pictures without thinking of theunbelievably hurtful and rotten and horrible things he said to me STILL WEARING THE TUX HE MARRIED ME IN on our wedding night.

What a piece of shit.

I should have known then.

I should have known when he ruined my laptop when I was 22 out of sheer carelessness. Then he had the fucking GALL to act traumatized because I was angry that he did that (sat down in front of my laptop too fast with a full cup of water, causing water to slosh out onto thekeyboard).

It was a sign.

I never listen to signs. I guess. I mean look at N. I should’ve never bothered finding his Twitter. I should’ve kept him written off as some guy from grad school who one time, long ago, asked if my husband and I wanted to swing. I should’ve suspected he’d pull the old switcheroo again. Clearly that’s something that gets him off (whether he realizes it or not).

And R, R destroyed a $200 water cooler in my apartment that first debauchedweekend of ours.

And SPEAKING OFN….yeahhhhhh…….I don’t know what has happened there, but things feel different than they did a week or two ago. And, I mean, the way my mind works, I would suspect he’s found someone to flirt with/fuck on the side. I don’t really care, so that’s not like my issue here, my ISSUE is…well hold on.

It went like this, 10-27 was when he was like “Hey we’re gonna have sex” (five hours pass) “Hey I don’t think we should sleep together I can’t cheat on my wife” then I didn’t speak to him for like a week. Then I refollowed him on Twitter and he read some of the blogs I wrote about him (not all….I don’t think…..) and DM’ed me to apologize.Then we kind of spoke intermittently on DM ever since. Mostly about memes, or Archie comics, Myers-Briggs, or King of the Hill, sometimes my writing.

He would always go completely dark on the weekends. Which is kind of like…sure…yeah….normally people don’t go on social media oncefor 48 hours every week…..

I’m saying this because I fucking know when I’m being ignored. Like really. I don’t BLAME the other person. In the sense that not everyone is going to be into you, no matter how dope you are or how hot your are, and they have that right….but when it SEEMED like there was some interest, and now it’s just 100% dropped off….yeah….*suspicions form* I am naturally inclined to believe that no one likes me or wants me around, and the only time my presence would be requested is if someone desired something of me/needed to use me for something (as a teen, I screamed “Use talking to me as a vehicle for getting back with your ex”….apparently….)  and then my one usefulness is in that person getting what they want. LIke really I act in such a way to make people think they should treat me like shit. I’ve accepted that as fact, but I TRULY wish I knew how to fix that. Or even how I did it. Because. It’s something. 

And I don’t know if this is my deep, innate narcissism, but sometimes I’m like…..did you Tweet this so I would see it? Because I mean, that’s something I would do. Of course. But, also, it’s hard because I am defensively self absorbed. It’s this “No one else cares about me, so I’m going to be REALLY obsessed with myself and if my mind can’t make something about me I straight up need a logical reason for doing it or I won’t.”

But you know I was actually being genuine with N, and I actually cared.

I really did.

I actually did want to be his friend.

I told him he could talk to me about his problems.

Do you realize what I would give for someone to say that to me?

I don’t. Because sure fuck has that never happened.

It sickens me how much I’m willing to put myself out there for attention.

Like truly I am pathetic in some STRANGE ways. Like not appearance wise. Like I’m an 8, I’d be a 9, but, beer and food and a largely sedentary profession…..you’d THINK that would make me happy.

Holy fuck are ugly people happier?

Happiness is subjective and relative and easily faked so it’s not like that could be proven or disproved, but it’s a fun question.

I’ll write more in CF later today, and tomorrow…and the next day…forever and ever until it’s done.

But…idk, seems like N isn’t too into my beta reading idea. When he like completely cut off from me (still talked, but never about anything worthwhile or meaningful so what’s the point?) I started only talking to him about my book. But I sent him a question about titling Saturday morning and he has yet to respond, yet he’s tweeted like 100 times since then. Some of them things like “on to the next thing”and “that pretty barista with a septum ring is just as fun as you thought” (paraphrased, but still) yeah, I hope you’re fucking her, if not, I hope it works out real soon, or with that drummer you’ve known for a really long time that you surely made sure I knew about….which confused me more than anything.

And speaking of that.

Guess what I know.

I know what I fucking deserve, and it’s more than this.

I had high hopes for you. I really did.

I don’t know why.

You’re a less hot version of my husband in every way. And I mean…I refuse to believe there was TWO horse-hung guys in my grad problem, probability just doesn’t work like that.

My husband probably still hates me for R. He probably always will.When he’s REALLY drunk he tells me how I’ve done stuff that should make him hate me. I want to tell his bitch ass that is a two waystreet, but you have to be SO careful about triggering him when he’ sdrunk, he’s always half a comment away from a tantrum/meltdown.

Jesus no wonder I was meant to be alone.
I’m fucking awful.

I put myself through pain because I REFUSE to give up when I want something even when I’m telling myself to get over it.

I’m planning a surprise dinner with his friends and then a surpriseovernight date with me for my husband’s 30thbirthday in January.

Before you go thinking I’m sweet….just…..just realize this…..my mind has already weaponized this. After his bday is said and done, and th enext time we’re fighting after that, I’m more or less DYING to tell him that “At least one of us made the other feel special for their 30th birthday” because he did the same bare minimum fuck all like normal for my 30th last April.

That’s how fucked I am.

That’s how deep it goes.

It’s NOT easy, being around me I guess?

Or maybe I just tell myself that because everyone man in my life is a worthless bastard.

This is the first Christmas in 14 years I won’t see my best friend at all. But I already told you all about that.

I have a tension headache from earlier, it put me in a bad mood, can you tell?

~Cassie

Well then

Hmm. Well I’ve been feeling pretty rejected lately.

I guess it didn’t help that last night as I got out todays outfit, the rotation brought up the fancy undies I wore the night i thoooooought I was getting laid. It just makes one sad. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, young Cassie would be appalled at my underwear game at 30. But I don’t have a Victoria’s Secret charge anymore so….

But, they like set me up. Because they’re like ha, REMEMBER when you got these out of storage and were all excited about having a good time then fucking someone you ACTUALLY liked? Ahahahahahahahahaha of course you do you desperate bitch.

And this morning was kind of sad enough, because I was waiting on a text I still haven’t gotten. I don’t know what’s up with that whole situation. I thought that things were okay…..but I’ve been wrong before. And she likes to just not tell me shit and act like it’s not the sort of thing best friends would tell each other. I’m not trying to make her stuff about me I’m just saying that if the roles were reversed I would tell her you know? I guess there’s some shit she doesn’t know but that’s stemming from her withdrawal not a cause of it.

That’s my issue

However I act with someone is how I want them to treat me

And so many people are shitty to me

I’m not saying I didn’t think I was the problem I just don’t know what to do about it or myself or anything

I wish I had friends, like people to talk to who I could see in real life and spend time with and know and like be a part of each other’s lives. If I’m not mistaken that’s how it works. But fuck I have one friend and I suggested getting together in a city equidistant between us for a night and she just didn’t respond. Okay cool. Guess I’ll wait that one out. Fuck knows I’m not saying anything more until she does.

Then I mean I guess I could’ve tried being actual friends with N, but I don’t think that’s the sort of thing that you can go back on, now. I mean we still converse on a fairly regular basis. I’ll admit, it’s still that usual fun/disappointment roulette of “diiid they respond yet….” of my adolescence, and it’s a fun conversation. But I know what my heads doing, I start wanting attention from someone, then I just wait. My husband thinks he’s just biding his time so he can try and fuck me later on, best friend said the same thing one added that he jerked me around at first so he could protest to his wife that he tried to not have it happen. But that’s just how she thinks.

What I’m actually very torn on is how I feel about that.

And no time to go on, don’t feel like being late again. I won’t lie and say I’ll pick this back up on lunch because I’m way busy with CF right now.

Anyway.

Peace

~Cassie