Tuesday, August 30, 2011


Give me an "F'.  Give me an "I".  Just finish that off by yourself you know how to spell it.

Kickboxing.  I started on the 23rd with a 30 minute class.  I have done two hour classes now.  I have to say, it is torture.  I love it.

Not only will I be going to two hour long kickboxing classes this week, I will also being attending a 6am bootcamp.

Fit is about to be my middle name.  If I'm not hard as a rock in 6 weeks I am never exercising again.

My goals:

  • 6 weeks- Be able to outrun most anyone, backwards
  • 2 months- 25 pushups, be able to touch my nose to my knees
  • 3 months- wallow in all that goal accomplishment
  • 6 months- Gain 7 pounds of muscle
I have spent the last year in a pit of self loathing and misery.  I will spend this year looking and feeling amazing.  

Monday, August 22, 2011

On being sick

I wasn't realizing just how tired I was.  All this time I, and everyone I know, thought that I was mentally ill, turns out I was physically ill. I have a gluten intolerance. I was not absorbing nutrients from my food. I was sleeping 9 hours a night, minimum.  Plus a nap.  Everyday. And everyday I was so tired. I could barely function.  I would try to stay awake as long as possible and when my head hit the pillow that was it.  No thinking, no nothing, it was like a switch flipped and I was asleep.  I slept less that 6 hours last night and feel rested.  OH. GOD. THE FEELING.  I am not used to it. It wasn't good sleep either. This used to happen to me all the time.  I used to be a bad sleeper at one time in my life.  It used to take me hours to fall asleep.  I would wake up in the middle of the night and go watch tv.  My brain will not turn off.  I have forgotten all my brain quieting techniques.  I need to eat some gluten to get some rest apparently.  And the dehydration.  That bit about your pee being clear so you know you're hydrated. Lies.  My pee was crystal clear.  I was always two skips from dehydration at any given time.  I drank alcohol the other night.  A lot for me.  I had 2 mixed drinks plus 2 shots of whiskey in 4 hours with only one and a half glasses of water.  I was not dizzy.  Repeat, I was not dizzy.  Not only that, I did not feel as if I had been beat with a stick.  My muscles were not sore at all.  I didn't not have a horrible headache by the time I was going to sleep. Nothing. It was amazing.

And the feelings. Oh. God. The feelings.  I am having actual, honest to god, feelings.  Good ones. Not just shitty ones.  Excitement.  I can't tell you how long it has been since I have felt excitement.  Because I don't know.  I was living off experience and trying to participate in feelings through the old Lauren and facial expressions without ever feeling anything.  I was starting to get real discouraged about life.  I thought maybe I was changing forever. I didn't like anything that I once did. Or it didn't  make me feel the way it once did. Turns out all feelings were gone. I think I have read one, maybe two books this entire year.  I was getting so discouraged with myself.  Now, when I read it is like I am on fire.  I can finish a book.  And I enjoy it again.  My brain doesn't feel like it is overheating and needs to shut down. Just thinking about reading all day is a lovely thought again, as it once was, as opposed to the oppressive fatigue I would feel just thinking about it.  All I could do was turn on some tv noise and stare.  I was making stupid mistakes.  For example, holding two things like milk and a glass put the milk in the cabinet and the glass in the fridge type shit.  It was so frustrating.  I would spill things constantly, break things, I was so clumsy.  That is not my style. Sure those things happen every once in a while. All the time?

I don't know what's what. Is it all my diet?  Is my mental health starting to turn the corner otherwise? Am I feeling good because a confluence of things or just my diet?  Either way, I feel 20 again, and not like a 60 year old lady.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Loser Alert

I laugh at my own jokes.

Sometimes, when no one is around.  Maybe it is something I just thought up, maybe I said it days, weeks, or even months ago.

Jessica commented the other evening about how something I said will make her laugh much much later.  When she said that, I was reminded of something that I laughed at for a really long time, but couldn't remember the joke.

This morning in the shower I remembered-
The two of us had gone to Double Dave's.  I had pigged out on pepperoni rolls. They are so good and I would like to eat about 25 right now.  The point of the story is this.  After we ate I couldn't leave without pooping.  Dire.  When I walked out of the bathroom I gave Jessica the "Oh, damn. That shit was crazy" look.  She said, "Did you have a lunch baby?"  My response, "I had a lunch miscarriage." Oh god. It's so funny.  It works with "lunch abortion" too.  I guess technically that would be what a bulimic does.

While I'm laughing at my own joke I then realized.  HELLO! RED FLAG! Emergency shitting after gorging on gluten.  Ugh.  Lauren.  You are a huge loser.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

I am ready

I am ready to move from this soul sucking house.  I am ready to feel good again.  I am ready to get away from a person who is constantly lying to me.  I ready to get away from a person who is constantly trying to tell me something is wrong with me and I should fix it.

Nothing is wrong with me.  I feel like shit.  What is wrong with that?  Should we tally the past year?

My house was broken into.
The thing I most cared about in the world was sick for months, I had to make a decision to kill him.  Then watched as the vet killed him and he died in my arms.
I have moved umpteen times last summer, and am on the road to a few more moves. It's stressful.
I have broken up with my "boyfriend" repeatedly, yet continued to live with him in an incredible uncomfortable situation of confusion and misery.
My grandfather died.  And I never knew him and now it is too late.
My Aunt died.  The week after I saw her lively and taking care of people.  The week after I was feeling guilty for losing touch.  Now it is too late.
To top it off, constantly feeling like I have no control over any part of my life.

What is so bad about feeling lost?  What is so bad about feeling like I can't get a grip on life?  I'm hurting. I refuse to hide it.  I am working through it the best I know how.  Am I doing a good job, probably not.  Should I be expected to shoulder all of this in a mere 365 days, when this is a lifetime of bad shit, and not go a little crazy?

Saturday, August 13, 2011


A friend of a friend posted on facebook that he was bar tending at a bar that my grandfather used to frequent.  I have a picture of myself in this bar close to twenty years ago.  I told myself, I don't have anybody to go with so why don't I just go alone?  I did.  In the parking lot all these memories were washing over me and giving me chills.  I go in and immediately I ran into someone I used to work with, who now works at a succulent nursery.  Cha-ching. I order a drink from my bartender friend.  I say I want vodka.  He says fancy or plain.  I say not too sweet.  He gives me vodka, soda and grapefruit.  That is pretty much my grandfather's drink, only with gin. Eerie. One of my friends ended up coming out with me and we had a really great time.  My friend encouraged me to hit on the woman of my dreams.  I ended up giving her my number.  I might think that was a stupid move in the morning.  I definitely won't if she calls me.  Holy shit, if she would only call me.

All in all, go out somewhere new (ish) alone.  It will all work out.  You will have fun.  Yes, I'm talking to you, Lauren.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Looking back

If I had my life to do over again I would make the same mistakes, they were fun.

I'm really thankful for the fact that when I was falling in love with people in my past (or lust or whatever that feeling is) I went with it.  I fell in heart first.  It is a wonderful feeling.  I'm afraid I can't feel that anymore.  I'm too closed, too jaded, to old.  Maybe I'm overreacting.  Maybe this is just a phase.  But I can't tell the future, and there is no way for me to know.  And it if it were to never happen again I'm glad I experienced those feelings so completely.  I didn't hide.  I was completely me.  I let my guts pour out of my heart like I didn't have a care in the world.  Maybe it is a foolish way to behave, but it is also beautiful.  It's the stuff that brilliant lives are made of.  Fear makes a person dull.

Saturday, August 06, 2011

Reoccuring Nightmares

No, this isn't a metaphor for my relationships.

I woke up very traumatized from a bad dream where an old man chased me out of an old farmhouse, down a dusty drive way and up a tree. He had been beating me with what looked to be the handle of an ax.  I somehow managed to get away and run and climb the only tree around. It was a huge oak.  The old man was screaming at me to come down with a southern accent when I woke up.

I was pretty upset and I couldn't relax.  Then I remembered a dream I had previously. It was the only thing that calmed me down.  The same house, the same dusty driveway, the same tree, but the previous dream was a crime scene.  Everything was taped off, police everywhere and the dead body of an old man.  It was very graphic, very bloody and I was being questioned.  Naturally, the cops were wondering why I killed him.  The idea that this guy was dead even if it was just a dream was comforting.

Then I fell back asleep.

Friday, August 05, 2011


Relationships are hard.

I don't have the first fucking clue about how to be in a healthy relationship.

I do know that I'm sick of worrying about some else all the time.  I'm sick of altering my life to ensure someone Else's comfort.  I'm sick of changing.  I'm sick of talking and not being heard.   I'm sick of mothering a person who also wants to fuck me.  That's twisted.

I know I don't want to look back and wish I had all the time I wasted back.  Life is too short.  I refuse to waste my time on people who aren't contributing to the greatness that life can be.  I refuse to waste my time on people who are only dragging me down.

I don't want to be constantly resentful.

I don't know why I have expectations that a person who wants to fuck me would also want me to be happy.  It's weird.  But I do.  I don't know why I have expectations that a person who wants to fuck me would also respect me enough to observe my boundaries, to treat me like a human instead of a glory hole, to listen, to understand (and if they can't understand at least remember that something they are doing is insulting and hurtful when I clearly state that something they are doing is insulting and hurtful and not do it anymore).  It's outrageous and I'm the only one in the world who feels like this, I know.  But these are the things I'm dealing with.

I will not be blamed.  There are TWO people in a relationship and it will ALWAYS be those TWO people's fault if it isn't working.  Not just one.

Maybe I am a crazy, overreacting, bitch.  However, it seems that when I'm not constantly needled by a childish, egotistical, oblivious, socially retarded, lying, cowardly fucktard I stay on a pretty even keel.  There is just something about those combination of traits that drive me up the fucking wall.  Call me crazy.  Don't bother.  I'll do it. I'm crazy.

Please remind me of this the next time I become involved with someone.  Wait, you don't have to.  It is all I can think about in all social situations that could possibly lead to romantic involvement.  You can guarantee I won't be romantically involved very soon.

I never want to be jaded and bitter either.

Tuesday, August 02, 2011


I read this book by Anne Lamott, who I really like, called Traveling Mercies.  It is non-fiction, autobiographical, whatever you want to call it.  Well, towards the end of the book is a disturbing story about dog abuse that she witnessed at a park.  It took me days to stop thinking about it.  Now, I have nightmares about people abusing their dog.  In the nightmare I had last night I was fighting someone because of it.  I took his dog, a big dog, handed the leash to someone else and in order to keep this very tall man from getting to his dog I jumped on him and started hitting him about the face and head.  That went on until I woke up.

It's hard to live in my head.