I can make me hurt (Trigger Warning!)

Hurt Nine Inch Nails (live)

I can’t stop listening to this song. It makes me feel some kind of way that I can not ignore.

TRIGGER!! I used to have a problem with needles when I was in Jr. High and High School. We didn’t call it cutting back then, I don’t even know if there was a word for what I was doing to myself. I hate to admit that I used to hurt myself, I know it is sadly not uncommon. I have learned it is not uncommon around girls. I am not a unique snowflake (ha ha, Fightclub reference…).

Sorry, I got distracted… Needles. I used needles because I could explain why I needed one. Hey, I need a needle I have to hem my pants or fix this pocket or, whatever. I had a flashback the other day to being somewhere in my teens and keeping a safety pin pinned to my jeans at all times. I never talked about it, I don’t even think I wrote about it in my kid diary. It was like I knew what I was doing wasn’t “normal”. I would use the needle to rip up my skin or even scratch lines, shapes, initials, whatever. I check myself out every once in a while after a shower and count the scars.

Listening to this song… the lyrics “the needle tears the hole” have me so stuck. I feel like I got hit in the stomach.

Don’t worry, I am not in danger. I am just feeling shit. I work so fucking hard to keep my shit tucked in and the wall is crumbling, kids… I am not sure how I feel about this. I am remembering things that I had kept blocked, things I didn’t even realize were blocked.

I’m not sure what to do with emotion, no matter what it is it always feels weird. I cry at the drop of a hat (my ex used to say when she was on the rag she cried during those carpet cleaning commercials where someone spilled red wine on the white carpet, I’m in the same boat), I am prone to strong bursts of anger, I feel sad and reflexive. Like I just want to cut open my chest in front of the mirror and examine all the gooey stuff in there. Metaphorically, of course. In real life, blood and guts are icky.

I don’t know what it is that made me stop playing with needles. I know that one ex pissed me off to the point that I tried to jump back into the bad habit about 6 years ago (an answer to the why is there a triangle shaped scar on my hand), but long before that I had out grown it. I am lucky that I outgrew that habit, I know some people don’t make it that far. Some people have way more and worse scars than I do.

This song doesn’t so much make me want to, just makes me remember what drew me to it. I really hate feeling empty, I hate that I can’t process my emotions “correctly”. I hate that I can’t smile for real anymore. Dude said a few days or weeks ago that he can’t remember the last time I laughed without it being sarcastic or fake. That’s doing pretty bad, man. I didn’t have words and I still don’t. I just can’t get happy. Most of the time I feel lost and alone.

The best way I could explain to him. I don’t want to hurt myself, I promise I don’t. I just don’t have the motivation to live. I wouldn’t play in traffic, I wouldn’t ever tempt death. But there are days where I could flirt with him a little bit.

Hurt reminds me of those times, thoughts. I never listened to music then the way I do now, I never held on to lyrics like they were written for me. She taught me that. She taught me to take music and use it as my voice when I could not speak. I don’t think she knew it then, but I think she taught me how to heal myself.

As always ❤



Untitled for now

I have tried glue, staples, and a neele and thread but I can not keep this shit inside. I feel like I am drowning in my emotions. I am so overwhelmed with my head. I have buried ME inside my head, I am just an empty shell. If I keep going with school I can “check out” just enough to look like I am functioning. I really feel such a strong urge to scream, I  am choking on it.

I have had such a surge of memories lately. I don’t know if it’s because the super blood moon, eclipse, mercury in retrograde or Ileana is desperate for release. I feel electrified and so pent up, caged, locked, no door, no windows; just a fucking box.

I need help. I promised old habits would stay dead, but I find myself just scratching at my skin in old places that burn and itch. I have been staying away from sharp objects. The urge is there, I won’t lie. Its screaming at me, but I will not give in.

October is Depression Awareness month. Watch for signs and get help. I need help.
Why doesn’t it bother me that I opened my relationship?
Why is it “ok” that I am in a relationship with absolutely NO intimacy? No sex? I do not allow him to touch me. What the fuck is wrong with me?! Why am i doing this to him? To me? How the fuck do i stop this train? I REALLY want to get off!

I am so locked in this emotion I cannot think clearly. I am so angry and then so very tired. If someone tried to hurt me I do not have the strength to fight.
And I feel so fucking alone. How did I get this isolated? I look around and I am in the center of strangers.

I don’t know about you, but I need help. I can’t live like this and I sure as hell don’t want to die yet.
I think my purpose in sharing this is we are not alone. This space allows me the freedom to get this shit out.
Thank you

So, this is what happened…

The worst part of this post is figuring out exactly how to start. I know it has been awhile, I owe an update. But, oh man… I need to talk.

Yesterday… Dude actually felt like talking, actually wanted honesty and openness. I couldn’t deny him anymore, I was too tired to get mad.

We actually sat down and talked or planned out what happens next. He wants to get laid, I guess I can understand that. I guess I can realize how “not normal” it is to be in a relationship and not want to be touched, not want to fuck, not want even a single scrap of intimacy. I know that I am broken, I know that I need help. I want something, I am just not sure it exists out there. I just want to be happy, that is what I keep telling myself. I just want to be happy, like a mantra I keep repeating over and over… What the fuck does it even mean to be happy? To want happiness? Would I even know what “it” is if I was looking right at “it”?

I can tell jokes, and side-step the reality of what goes on inside my head, but the reality is I am fucked up. I can say it, I can write it, I feel it within every fiber of my being that I need help beyond writing this blog. I don’t want to be broken anymore.

He tells me that his biggest ear is I am going to get my degree and leave him, I told him that the reality is my MO is running, shit has gotten rough and mentally I am running. I have shut down and locked myself up so tight that I can’t function. I just want to run away. I keep saying that my problem is that I am pretending to be into a guy, but I am “almost” positive that if I was with a female this issue would still be alive and kicking.

I realize that yes, I have been through shit in my life. I realize that most of it has been unpleasant. The problems stem from the fact that I have not dealt with any single issue or unpleasant thing that has happened. I said this to dude last night: I was hurt by guys, I started dating women, I was hurt by one woman, and I started dating guys again. I don’t do anything without reason, I knew why I was with a dude. I was hurt and did not want to be hurt again. It was easier to blame ALL women instead of THAT ONE woman. I have only barely dealt with my mother’s death, my father’s abandonment, being cheated on, being raped, miscarrying… the list goes on. Wanna know the thought I fell to sleep with last night? Why did I “allow” myself to fall for Superman? Anyone wanna guess? Let’s look at it for a minute… Superman lives in Texas, I live in CA. I don’t have a car, so I can’t drive to her. I don’t have a job, so I couldn’t buy a plane ticket to go visit her. Do you see it? How easy it is to love someone you can’t in reality have. I do; it’s like a neon sign. Of course, I would give her my whole and entire heart. She is “unavailable”. Even before Lois Lane and her became “official”, the distance between us makes her unavailable no matter what. So, it’s easy to love her, feels great that she loves me back. But the reality of what that love actually is, even though I can clearly define all of the labels and stipulations; the reality is heart breaking. I set myself up for failure and then blame someone else when I get hurt. Told you I am fucked up.

So, I don’t pretend to know what happens next. I was waiting all summer to end so that I could request help from my school and now that I am in school I make every single excuse possible not to walk into that building and ask for help. Now, I am at a stand-still. I keep saying I just want to be left alone, but that doesn’t really solve my problems or “fix” me either. I feel so isolated and alone. Even while standing in a full room, I feel locked in this box where I am looking out just hoping that someone will notice me. I just really want someone to notice me.

As Always…<3

My dad

I don’t talk about my dad much with too many people. I think in all honesty I would prefer to believe I was hatched or created by a spontaneous event. Ready for a HUGE confession/acknowledgement? My name is Lily and I have “Daddy” issues. I both hate and love the man, in a lot of ways he is the reason I am fucked up when it comes to men. Don’t be offended on his behalf, he doesn’t deserve it. I am not going to give you all the dirty, but I will share enough to give you an idea.

I was somewhere between 6 and 7 when I lost my mom and although I had only recently met the man, my father really really wanted to raise me. First off I will say that he wasn’t all bad, I do have some great dad memories. The sad reality of my childhood is that my father was a very bad alcoholic. I was very emotionally messed up because of my mother’s death and he tried to handle the situation by staying at work or staying pass out drunk. Until he met his wife, I pretty much raised myself.

We had a routine, Monday through Friday he went to work and I went to school. When I was younger I had a babysitter, but by the end of 4th grade I had the house key and an indentation on the couch from my ass. I had to stay in the house and not go outside to play and my friends could not come in until he was home, of course he didn’t come home until too late for friends to come over. Saturdays and Sundays he began extremely early (between 3 and 5) with coffee and then quickly changed to vodka which he would then switch to beer through out the day. He would often pass out on the couch mid to late afternoon, usually while dinner was either in the oven, on the stove, or the BBQ. His moods would change erratically from moment to moment and drink to drink, sometimes happy and jovial and then switching to crying and self hate then rage and anger. The worst times were when he got awkward and when he got mad .

I think I am about to type something that I have never in my entire life shared with anyone, I don’t think I have ever said it out loud. My father, he would get drunk and act creepy, if he wasn’t yelling at me and sending me to my room (which was all the damn time) he would stare at me or look at me and as a little girl I felt so uncomfortable. He never made a direct pass at me, and he never touched me EVER; but there were times that too much alcohol got the better than him. He was never physically abusive, he was way too subtle. He liked to call me a bitch when he was drunk, he liked to push me around and scream in my face. I am pretty sure he only ever hit me twice in my life and both times were pretty traumatic for both of us. He could look at me with such hate and disgust. What made things so confusing was all that hate with a bottom of the heart feeling that I knew he loved me, I knew he was just too fucked up. He is mental in too many ways to mention, I think his biggest crime is being a father in the first place. As much as I love my life and my siblings, my father should never have been “allowed” to reproduce.

When he married his wife he pretty much stopped drinking, you would think this would have made things better. Unfortunately, hateful people are still hateful drunk or sober. He still looked at me with rage, he still talked shit to me, he belittled and made fun of me in front of other family. I left at 19 firmly believing I would never talk to him again, but at the same time wishing like all hell I had a father. I still find myself missing him, it’s crazy. As much as he hurt me, I still wish I could have my dad. A few months after I moved out I finally came out of the closet and told my dad I was not only gay, but I was in love with a woman. He stopped talking to me for 2 years, told me I was disgusting. That was the day I lost my father, for all intents and purposes he was dead to me. It took 2 years and a funeral for him to acknowledge I was his kid. After that funeral my sister tried to keep us together and force some kind of relationship. Every once in awhile he would call me drunk and make me cry, sometimes he would pick up both of us and take us out for “dunken lunches” (we all got shit faced, barely ate, I usually cried while he and my sister called him an asshole- great fun…). It was Thanksgiving when after feeling the drunk buzz and being asked if I was coming for the holiday dinner I worked up the nerve to ask him if my wife would be welcome. I don’t know what hurt worse, the fact that he refused or the fact that he refused to look at me. He may as well have called me a disgusting faggot again. I went home and cried my ass off. It was that same Thanksgiving where he got into a huge asshole fight with my sister and cut her out of his life and of course I followed. Longer story short that was the last time I spoke to him, last time I saw him (except when I saw him at another funeral and he wouldn’t look at me). Again, for all intents and purposes he is really dead to me.

The problem with treating him like he is dead is that I have burned the images of “good dad” into my brain, I mean of course “bad dad” is in there, but those memories only come out when triggered (which thankfully isn’t often). This Elton John song brings out a very good memory. Makes me want to call him if only to hear him pick up the phone and say hello before I hang up.

Although I am not yet a driver on the road to life one of my absolute favorite things to do is go driving (or you know, riding shotgun lol). When it was just my dad and I, we lived far away from my sister and often on weekends we would drive the however many million miles (I was a kid, it felt like days) to go see her. What made these drives special was he would keep the radio on until there were no more stations and then I got to play DJ. He had all these cassettes and even an 8 track of Janis Joplin that I LOVED to play. But this Elton song was probably one of my absolute favorites. I think I almost always started with this tape and just let it play through and I would sing along with all the lyrics I knew and fake the ones I didn’t, sometimes he would sing too but for the most part it was me singing and him drinking and driving (yes I know illegal and unsafe, but it was the 80’s and 90’s- its not okay so do not drink and drive, kids). I don’t know what it was about this song, but for some reason it just made the drive better somehow.

This post got a whole lot longer than I originally intended, so if you are still here thank you. Looking over this whole post I realize my life could have been so much worse, I have read some really bad childhood stories. I think I was more traumatized by my mother’s death than my father’s drinking, but who knows. I do think that the way I feel about men and women is related to my experience with both of my parents. I don’t think either of them intended to hurt me, I know for a fact that I was loved by both of them. Some kids hurt themselves far worse because they don’t know if their parents ever loved them, I think sometimes it’s hard to see things when you are a hurt little kid. I could stay a hurt little kid forever, it would be easy. But I think I have come to realize that there is no point, no growth in staying here. I have learned everything my father tried not to teach me, and he did the walk away better than anyone.

As always…

Perspectives on Pain

Yesterday was a bad day indeed. The brightest light in yesterday’s otherwise dark day was the call from Superman. It’s funny how being in pain puts so much into perspective for me. Something hurting almost makes the brain clearer, like all of the sudden I can see where the dark crap lives and all I need to do is call the exterminator. My tooth is just the catalyst that is paving the way for me to blow up in a way that forces me to deal with the shit that my head is clouded with.

So many things said… I have to finish one chapter before I can begin another one. I know that I am at the end, but just like when I try to write poetry or stories I have the hardest times trying to put that ending into words so I drag it out for a few more stanzas or paragraphs and the end result is a bit muddled. Knowing what needs to be done really does not make it any easier. I am at the spot where I can look at both sides of the argument and know for a fact I do not want to keep trying, I know that I have no desire to fix this. I just want it to be over so I can start working on me.

In a perfect world, I could say exactly what needs to be said in a way that causes the least amount of pain. I could say I need space and time with my thoughts, I could say I need time to heal from my past, I could say that the shit I have left to “deal with later” keeps haunting me and the only person I want to play ghostbuster with isn’t you. I don’t want to hurt him, but everyday I keep up this charade I am hurting him more, it has become this vicious ugly cycle that I am so sick and tired of repeating. I have been this mean and awful monster for far too long and I don’t want to do it anymore.

In a perfect world I could say we have been together for too long to keep hurting each other like this, maybe it is time to lay it to rest. Who the fuck am I kidding? I can’t even remember the last time I broke up with someone, I have no fucking clue how it should be done. I am always the one who gets left, I have never had the balls to do the leaving. Shit, even when the damn ex kept cheating on me, I couldn’t stop being the doormat, I let her keep doing it! She would come home with fucking hickies on her fucking neck for God’s sake and I still let her keep doing it and crying myself to sleep because it hurt so much, but I couldn’t let her go because that would hurt in a whole different way that I wouldn’t couldn’t deal with.

I thought that I needed a month to figure out if I was really done, but Superman is right I don’t. I know the answer, I know what I am feeling. I know that no matter what I do or he does nothing will change because I don’t want to change, I don’t want him to change. I don’t want to fix this, I want to walk away.

In a perfect world the fact that he keeps telling me that I am his best friend should mean that this could be easier. It should meant that we could be honest with each other and this could be mutual. This isn’t a shock and as much as I know it is going to hurt there is no way in hell he doesn’t see this coming. I mean, shit I can’t even remember the last time we had sex! No relationship could survive with what little we are putting into it. If our relationship were a cactus I think it would still be starving. Neither of us are trying, there is no communication, there is no common ground, there is nothing but work and arguments.

In a perfect world, we could break up without stabbing each other in the heart. This is going to hurt both of us, but there is no reason we have to hate. I really don’t want him to hate me, I mean I know that I have no control but still I really don’t want to be hated.

It is going to make me sound like a terrible person, but I think the biggest reason I am scared to break up with him is I am really scared he is going to kick me out on my ass. I know that I say I don’t have anywhere to go, but I am pretty sure that if I called a sister I could crash on a couch. But I really don’t want to do that. I feel like we have helped each other out for so long, we have so many bills together, we have a life together. It is so much more than “hey, yea I want to break up. Okay, bye felicia…” I think this is the part that I don’t know what to do with. How do you break up with someone and then ask if you can stay on the couch until you find a job or get money? And what if he tells me to fuck off? Then I am supposed to swallow the big lump that my pride has become and beg my sister to let me stay? She isn’t even talking to me right now, how the fuck am I supposed to ask her for help?

I keep telling myself that since he asked for an open relationship last month, being honest and pretty much telling him I don’t want any type of relationship should be a step that I could bring up, but how the fuck do you even bring that up? “oh so, you seem to be having a great day, let’s talk about something shitty…” How the fuck do I do that???? I wish this was easier.

I feel like it would have been so much easier to leave 2 years ago before his mom passed, at that point at least he had her here to help if he needed it. She knew I wanted to leave, her and I actually talked about it. She was the only person who knew how I was feeling, she was the only person in this house I let see how crazy I was really feeling. Sometimes I miss her so much. She was the only person I could actually talk to here. I didn’t have to hide my crazy like I do when I talk to the man or son. I didn’t shield my real emotions from her.

So, this is where I am at this exact moment. I want my sister damnit. I want to talk to her, I want to hear what she has to say, I want her insight. But I will be damned if I am going to pick up the phone, I am so fucking bitter I refuse. I keep saying I want my mom, but damnit I need my fucking sister. I can’t do this anymore, man. I just can’t.


Today is a really not so good shitty as all fuckin hell day. It began with heartburn then moved into tooth pain. I have a pretty bad ache that started bugging me last month, unfortunately I just have to deal until September when I have an appointment. With a tooth ache you can’t really get relief until the tooth is dealt with. There is stuff to numb it, which I have been using. But that stuff just coats it in low grade Novocaine. In the mean time, I have over the counter and herbal medicine I am trying to use as needed. The worse part is it begins so simply and then turns into being depressed so fucking quick the transition almost causes whiplash.

I can’t stop crying and although my tooth hurts it is more of a dull ache. I feel blue and sad. I feel so fucking disappointed with myself and my life. I had to go to the store this morning and all I could think about was where I am at and the why and how of it. It’s not like it hit me as a surprise, I can look back and see everything so fucking clearly. I did what I always do, I just move too fucking quickly, I don’t listen to reason, I don’t think, and then something happens to push me one way or another. I usually chose wrong. I too often want to only see the good in people, which to an extent is good but too much isn’t very helpful at all. I don’t usually see the bad until it’s like bright as fuck headlights in my face.

I feel so fucking stupid. I jumped when I knew damn and well that I should not have. I knew I wasn’t ready. I knew that I was NO Where I was supposed to be, I just moved anyway. The cards fell where they landed because I let them. I keep thinking about all the things I could have done differently, I mean shit I met him in a chat room. Every time I should have taken a left I went right. And I am sitting here feeling guilty because I want to leave, guilty because I am so fucking cold to him, guilty because I am so fucking mean to him, sad because I have pushed my sisters so far away. I feel so damn alone and when I really start to think about it, it really is my own damn fault. I push people away from me then punish them for not being here for me.

I feel such a mess. My emotions are so outta control. I don’t have the energy to get up and turn the tv on, I picked up the laptop because it was the closest thing to me. I know in my brain (the rational and not in pain side) this is all “normal” for me and when I am depressed. I know that this will pass when I have slept and my head doesn’t hurt so much. I know that everything will be ok. But the depressed fucked up part of my brain sees this as some deserved punishment for me being such a horrible person. I feel like I am such an asshole, it’s no wonder I am alone all the time.

I hate feeling like this, all anxious and jittery. I am angry at nothing and everything. I feel so mad and just too much to name. When I stretch out my fingers my hands start shaking, is that normal? I feel like I am a minute or day away from saying things I can’t take back, like if he asks me to “make love” one more time I might lose my shit all together and end up sleeping at the bus stop across the street. I am so scared I am going to explode. I can feel it. This is not Ileana, this is all hot and fire and rage and it has no real reason or rhyme. How do you dispel rage like that?

I am thinking I might take a nap…

As always ❤


I’m sure I am not the only one in the world that dreads the holidays. I remember being a kid and any holiday the calendar showed was coming up I was excited. I think I have learned that as an adult holidays don’t mean the same as they did when you were a kid. When you are a kid the holiday is usually made into a big deal, something for you to press into your memory like a flower is pressed into a book. Once you move into your own family the definition of holiday is redefined and may no longer look like it once did.

If you are an adult living with depression, the holidays could mean something else entirely. I don’t want to pretend to speak for anyone else but myself, I am very aware that everyone’s story is different. The day my father disowned me for being gay was the day I was no longer a child. The holidays were something I felt uncomfortable about. I knew my own family didn’t want me. When I was married I could tag along with her to her family’s functions, but the reality is those moments always made me feel worse. Where was MY family? Where were MY people? Oh, that’s right, not here…

After the divorce some family came out of hiding and in some ways included me. In a lot of ways I was included. Those celebrations made me feel even lower. Everyone had a spouse and kids, I was the one loner. I would often be found hiding or taking frequent smoke breaks, trying like hell to keep my tears in. To this day I don’t believe my sister understands why I don’t do the family holiday with her anymore. I can’t say anything right without hurting feelings, my greatest sin is envy. I am the kind that can’t stand happy, in love people. I am miserable in my life, I don’t want to be around a bunch of happy people trying to fake smile all day. I am not happy in my relationship, I am not in love. I wish like hell I was, but I am not and being around happy in love people just really freaking sucks.

Yesterday, as expected was terrible. I was even invited to be around people, but I just couldn’t do it. My neighbors are a lovely couple that just got married in Vegas last week, guess how badly I want to hang around them… He had to work and life is what it is, it sucks. I spent most of the day laying on the couch nursing a tooth ache.

The holidays can be a really tough time for people with depression, doesn’t matter how “happy” the holiday might be for some, for others it is a nightmare. Sometimes it could be as simple as a phone call inviting that loved one even though you know she will say no. I miss being invited. Sometimes all it takes is that small little thing that just make me realize you do care. Be kind to one another, my friends. We are all we got. ❤