Emo

So, I was inspired by the voice of my friend in my head, yes I hear voices sometimes, telling me that I sound like an emo. Weird right?  Then I thought about my last blog post.  Homer was right.  It was kind of depressing.  Have I now become that person?  Shit.  Am I the annoying person always crying about something?  When did that happen?  I never considered myself a whiner.  I was a do-er.  Have I been sitting on my ass on just whining and not even trying?  I did.  I really, really, did try.  I’m sitting here trying to remember how far back this goes.  How long have I been depressed?  How long have I been stuck?  I don’t even know.  Now I have the motivation back.  When did that happen? It wasn’t all of the sudden.

Things aren’t as hard as they used to be. I’m not constantly down about my shitty position at the moment.  I’m going to work hard and prove to myself that I am capable of functioning ….that’s it.  I was looking for the rest of that sentence in my head…but there isn’t any. I have to prove I can just function.  Get out of bed and work every day.  I guess I was that bad at one point.  If I wasn’t depressed and didn’t have my kids I was mostly likely drinking somewhere.

I am really trying to stay positive people. But I am in the first 90 days of sobriety and it’s no picnic.  It is unbelievably hard.  I just got invited to happy hour by my friend Amber and sat staring at the phone trying to decide my answer.  Habit was to send an ok.  Then I stopped and didn’t hit send.  Should I say yes?  I’m not supposed to be drinking.  I want to say yes.  I really fuckin want to say yes.  I want to drink and walk around town square laughing at other people like an asshole and have fun.  But then I feel like shit when I’m sober.  Because I don’t to want be that asshole anymore.  I guess I kind of did turn into that annoying emo person of the group but it’s better than the previous versions of me.  The next one is coming on.  I’m soon to be the super annoying always think positive one that quotes those damn affirmations all the time.  I’m totally becoming that person too.  But I’m ok with that.  This version will be followed by one even better and then a better one I hope.

This must be what growing up must be like. Will I finally be strong enough to pull it together and stay focused and sober for a month in LA?  I’m growing insane imagining scenarios of me with my family members in LA.  Which one is going to either piss me off or annoy me first by some off handed comment or dig?  Why am I even assuming that it’s going to be a negative encounter? Because it’s the Miranda women.  Sidenote:  The “Miranda” women are women from my mom’s side – my grandmother and her 7 daughters including my mom of course and their daughters.  There’s always someone not getting along with someone else for who-knows-what.  It was habit to get edgy and on the defensive around them.  Or is that just me?  No – it’s not.  The Miranda women are notorious for being difficult and stubborn.

I don’t want to assume the worst, though. I’m fuckin nervous about my first encounter with each one of them.  I hate the open ended “So what have you been up to?” or “How have you been?”  No simple one-word- answer questions.  No open with a difficult one.  Shit….um I can’t say, “Being a drunk because I feel like a total failure.”  What a buzzkill, right?  Gotta go with the vague, “You know, same old thing.”

I can’t stand the questions that grandma hits me with, “So are you working?” “Do you have a boyfriend?”  I’ll avoid her as much as possible.  I don’t want her asking if I have been going to church.  Ha!  I haven’t gone to church in like 20 years.  I kinda figured everyone just quit doing that.  But she’s old fashioned.  Good for her.  Gotta keep up them old fashioned values.  Her judge-y catholic guilt crap is the best.  No thank you.  I have enough guilt without your help.  Bi-polar here – depressed enough.  Thank you for the help though.  Much appreciated but I have enough from my parents leaving to Paris when I started chemo.  They have it covered.  We all know that makes a child feel important . “Take a trip while I suffer from a life-threatening illness and start the only thing that might keep me from dying. I got this.  Go have fun.  Bring me a souvenir.  It’s ok.  No, no.  I’m over it now.  It’s only taken 15 years, hundreds of hours of therapy and a lot of whiskey to do that but I think I’m finally ready to stop being a whiner.”

It wasn’t only that one incident that caused me to be such an emotional wreck though.  What was I supposed to do?  “I’m just going put all the fucked up shit in an little box and put it next to that fucked up shit and save that for later in life.”  Just when you think you’re about to succeed at something – bam that’s when the new fucked up shit comes.  All dressed up in a pretty little box.  You think is a present.  Don’t open the box.  That’s how it happens.  You never see it coming.  Or you somehow block it out.  All those signs that you going the wrong direction. Were they always there?  Well fuck I sure missed them.  Or maybe I was just drunk. One of the two.  I’m going to be positively annoying and assume that the first encounter with my family is going to great and we’ll toast to mental health awareness.  

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