Help Me, Help Me, Somebody Help Me...

I'm caught between telling my grandad tonight, and getting it done and over with - but having to do it alone... or waiting until tomorrow, when my Aunt has offered to face it with me.

But the more I think about it, trying to decide when and how I want it to happen... the more I realize, I don't want it to happen at all. I have absolutely no idea what I'm supposed to say to this man who raised me. (He's my step-grandfather, but he adopted me, so he's my "father")

I can't tell him the bare and honest and entire truth- I can't even give my husband that. I barely let myself -think- about the bare, honest, entire truth. I'm not sure I can even give him what I've given my brother, and subsequently, you anonymous people out there in the world. I don't think I can tell him any of it.

But if I don't tell him, he can never understand what's really going on with me. He can't help me the way I really, desperately need him to help me.

I don't know what to tell him. I really have no idea where to even start.

"Hey uh. I know I haven't seen you in like, a month. I've been spun out. Like, bad. Uh... what do you know about the time I spent in Florida?"

"Oh really? Well. Actually, as it turns out, it was kind of the worst experience I could possibly imagine. Then you know, with the "recent loss".... So... do you want to pay for me to get therapy? Because I'm too fucked up to function?"


Oh God, I can't do this.

Spun Out in My Room, On My Own, Here We Go...

I freaked out in the grocery store. I was doing okay, a little twitchy, very nervous... but it was just me and Timah, and it was after midnight. I was heading for the soda, trying to keep my eyes on the ground- but also trying to keep my eyes on everything around me. Any number of things- the man mopping, the wet floor, the high shelves covered in food products... any of them could be a potential threat. A young man dressed alternatively in a Nirvana shirt with brooding eyes glanced at me, and I felt as if my entire soul was bare to his gaze. Every flaw and insecurity was obvious to anyone around me- my fear radiated off of me in a terrifyingly tangible way. I ducked quickly down the aisle to the Diet Coke, momentarily filled with fleeting joy at the low sales price.

I would've been okay, I think, but then my husband walked in, and I felt trapped. All the air in the entire store instantly rushed out, and I was suffocating.

I stood in the middle of that aisle, scratching my forearm over and over until the skin began to flake... staring blankly at the bright packages in front of me. I forgot how to read. The letters blurred and jumped in my vision, and I broke into a sweat. My face was flushed, my heart was pounding, and I thought I was going to have a heart attack and die, right there.

I heard his voice in my head, "Chill out!" - I felt his firm grip around my wrist, forcing me to stop clawing at my arm. I responded with panic. I ran out as quickly as I could.

I haven't quite recovered from it. I'm shaken, and confused.

Also, a friend of mine took off for St. Louis today- almost two weeks early, with little notice. He didn't say goodbye, but he did tell me he loved me when he called earlier... and you know, there's nothing quite like hearing a friend say, "Please Rina... just promise me that you'll get some professional help."

No, sir. Nothing quite like it.

So Dreamy

I cleaned the living room today for the first time in like, two weeks. I also cleaned the dining room/computer area, and vacuumed. The bathroom is next, then tackling that 2nd bedroom and getting it set up to be an actual room, not just a place we lock the cat.

I also put my hair in pigtails, applied a small amount of makeup, and painted my finger-and-toe nails. The toes and left hand are white, with a pretty glitter called 'So Dreamy' on top... and the right hand alone is black, but also done with the 'So Dreamy' on top... makes them look dark and sparkly and pretty.

A friend of mine gave me the brilliant suggestion of "keep busy/keep yourself distracted" - and I thought, "Well... duh."

So I did.

Also, I've been listening to this song nonstop for 2 days:

Watson 385

Take 1 tablet every 4 to 6 hours as needed for pain.

"Maybe It Was Memphis" by Pam Tillis - Redone for Eberron

Looking at you through the misty moonlight
Katydids sing like a symphony
Soft rain falling like a Brellish lullaby
Melody blowing through a willow tree

What was I supposed to do,
standing there looking at you?
Lonely boy, far from home...

Maybe it was Menthis.
Maybe it was Sharn summer nights
Maybe it was you,
Maybe it was me, but it sure felt right.

Read about you in an Ajuran novel
Saw you once in a Phiarlan play
Heard about you in a Cyran love song
Summer night beauty took my breath away

What was I supposed to do,
standing there looking at you?
Lonely boy, far from home...

Maybe it was Menthis.
Maybe it was Sharn summer nights
Maybe it was you, maybe it was me,
but it sure felt right.

Every night now since I've been back home
I lie awake drifting in the memory
I think about you and our walk home in the rain,
Talking that way, so softly...

Unsent Letters

I am more broken and spun out right now than I have ever been in the whole of my life. My entire existence is in shambles- from the core of who I am, to the events surrounding me in my environment. Everything is broken.

But somehow, you always manage to stand strong next to me. Even when I'm fighting desperately, trying to push you away, I feel your arms around me- supporting me, protecting me, comforting me, loving me.

I am completely worthless in every sense of the word- but for some reason, you're still here. You hate everything about this state... but you're still here. Through all of this, you apparently still find value in me, even when I can't find it myself.

You have accepted and re-defined the role of husband, even though our marriage is a sham. There were no promises of forever, no expensive ceremony, no engagement period to speak of. It was spur of the moment... we eloped on a whim- driven by our intense love for each other that had blossomed in only a few short months, and by our fear of losing one another to the shifting tides of life.

And you followed me here, leaving your home and your friends and your family... to be here, to support me and take care of me through this difficult period in my life.

Now it's fast approaching 2 years since we finally got to hug each other in that cold Connecticut airport... and you really are my husband. January, we'll have been married for 2 years... and you have done far more for me than I deserve... more than I could ever hope to repay.

I guess I'm going to have to do what my brother says. It's time to tighten up, and do what Grandmama would do- what she would advise me to do. Not for him, or for anyone else... but for you. It kills me to watch you suffer silently, because I am just incapable of offering you the same comfort you offer me. I've been so impossible... and you've been so patient.

Every day, I see my friends... miserable in their relationships, heartbroken by infidelities, trapped in the aching void of, "I just don't feel the same any more."

And every day, I ask myself, "How did I get so lucky?"

I love you, my husband, more than I think you will ever know.
But I'm going to start trying a lot harder to show you, just the same.

What I Really Meant to Say...

It appears I stayed up all night, writing journal entries/backstory for my character, Zen.

It may not be healthy, but if I'm thinking about Zen, I'm not thinking about myself.

If I'm busy creating her world, I don't have to think about the shambles of my own.

If I'm consumed with understanding how she felt, I can try to forget how I feel.

It's not all like that, though. Zen has insecurities, and failings. She's had troubles in her past, and comes with her fair share of damage... some of it projected from my past, and my life... onto her.

But it's all just so much easier to process, to understand... when it's someone else.
When I can just... be somebody else.

Is it Sunday yet?

Fuck You

(A message sent to my 'brother')

"To me you are letting her down. I dont care if this sounds mean because you need to hear it. I love you Rina but you have got to tighten up and stop letting this rule your life. Because you can be stronger than this."


In case you missed what happened over the past 2 years:

I was choked into unconsciousness by someone I trusted. On more than one occasion. (That alone can cause brain damage, even death.)

I was abused, regularly, with submission holds, nerve strikes, humiliation, degradation, and psychological manipulation. For nearly six months, with the only happy breaks being the ones he allowed for as part of his twisted plan to break me down, and own me completely.

I was raped, forcefully, in the less-common-and-twice-as-painful fashion (I hope you don't need more hints than that)- without lube of course (I bled for -days- afterwards)- and then forced to suffer indignities that I can't even tell you about without making myself vomit from thinking about it... just to get him to fucking stop, because I thought I was going to -die-.

I was tied up, and held a gunpoint. For hours.

I had what I thought was a LOADED GUN... BALANCING in my mouth, while being mocked, verbally torn apart, and physically manhandled and abused. All at the same goddamn time.

He pulled the fucking trigger while the gun was in my fucking mouth.

I was raped then, too, just for good measure- and mocked relentlessly for it.

Then I finally managed to pull everything together to get out of there, and then I have to come home and watch Grandmama FUCKING WASTE AWAY over the course of a year, and then DIE.

Over the course of that year... my CONFIDANT, my best friend, my MOTHER... had to be left in the dark about all the things that had happened to me, because I couldn't tell her. I had to be fucking strong- for my friends, for my family, and for her. I couldn't talk about what had happened to me, because it didn't FUCKING MATTER because Grandmama was WASTING THE FUCK AWAY.

And you know what?
FUCK YOU, I WAS FUCKING STRONG.

I was the fucking PILLAR of strength and rationality throughout last year.
-I- was comforting -you- at that fucking morbid-ass birthday party.
Don't talk to ME about strength.
I kept my cool while the rest of my family was BREAKING DOWN.
I kept it together for Grandmama, and I never gave her ANY reason to worry about me. Not ever. I only even cried where she could see me ONCE.

Now she's gone, and you cannot POSSIBLY understand - not even a LITTLE - how I feel. Losing your grandpa when you were 6 is nothing to belittle, but it isn't the same as losing a PARENT... particularly a parent as close to me as Grandmama was.

I know you've heard all this before, in various degrees of detail, but considering all the shit you're talking about 'strength' and 'keeping it together' and 'letting Grandmama down'....

If you can read all of what I just wrote, and you still feel that I am in some way letting her down, then FUCK YOU buddy, and the HORSE YOU RODE IN ON.

Take some time to learn about grief, the grief process, and how someone actually OVERCOMES it- the symptoms of someone who's grieving, what happens to their behaviors and their emotions after losing someone in their immediate family... and look up what abuse victims go through, and RAPE victims, too, while you're at it.

DON'T JUST TALK TO ME ABOUT HOW MUCH IT HURTS YOU TO WATCH ME HURT, BECAUSE YOU HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHAT IT *MEANS* TO HURT. DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT HOW I NEED TO JUST GET OVER IT, AND BE STRONG FOR EVERYONE ELSE.

FUCK everyone else. I'm DONE being strong for them.

And FUCK you. If that's all you have to say to me, that you think I've got to just 'tighten up'- then you can go right to hell.

Ding!

So, it's almost 5am. I couldn't sleep, was out of bed at 2 or 3.. I forget when.. regardless- crying. I miss Grandmama so much, it just fucking aches.
Also, I've been really sick the past few days. I hope it clears up soon.

I have a few things I'd like to write this week, assuming my sickness doesn't keep me down all week again...
One of which is the combat scene from Sunday's game. Wow!
I'm very sad Bill's character, Shade, died.
Most people seem to either be of the mindset that playerdeath is just a part of the game/without it, what's the point in playing?- or that it shouldn't happen, no sir, not ever.
I am of this second mindset. I figure, I'm playing D&D to make a hero and play through a story and damnit, it's only fun if the hero dies when -I- want the hero to die. Also, I'm spoiled rotten.
But I'm very obviously in a group where the DM isn't afraid to PK. Even a little level 5 halfling. I'll have to really be careful of this... If Zen died... I don't know, I think it might damage my psyche a little, at this point.

One of my friends called me on being 'obsessed' with my character, actually... in a very "being serious" fashion- he even had 'serious face'.
I just laughed at him, and agreed.
Why not? It's the first obsession I've had in years that isn't inherently self-destructive. I'm going to go with it.

Also, because Shade died, we all dinged. So, yay level 6. Zen got her first level of bard. Druid levels next, then back for another bard, and EVENTUALLY.... Lyrist goodness.
Also, Zen 'popped' a dragonmark.... and so many other cool things happened to the rest of the party members.
Sunday was full of win, despite how crappy I was feeling... I really hope I can get around to writing it out. I think it's worth writing.

So, in short: Boo grief, boo sickness, boo playerdeath, yay leveling, yay game days going smoothly again, yay hopefully writing soon.

"Three times you can bite me!"

It appears that I have stopped writing, and started living on Youtube.
This is not a fair trade.
I am going to write an angry letter.




I love this song. My little sister would love this song, too.
I wanted to leave it as a comment on her Myspace page.

But I can't. The Orange Box, and subsequently, Portal and it's Credits Song, was released less than two weeks after Grandmama died. I remember listening to this for the first few months, and feeling pretty mixed up about it. On the one hand, it's amazing. On the other hand.... I had just lost my mother.

Better not leave it as a comment. I'll stick with the Gummy Song.

More Filler

Zen leveled today. ;) Wooo, level 5!

(4 rogue / 1 sorcerer)

Under My Umbrella

As much as I generally like Rihanna, I despise the song Umbrella with a passion- unless Mandy Moore is singing it, or David Sides is playing it on the piano. I'm ridiculously obsessed with this piano cover.

My Aunt and cousin (the preppy 13 year old) invited me to go to Red Lobster with them for lunch, assuming I could pay for my own. Which I very, VERY obviously can't. I was offended that they even asked.... until my little sister stepped up and earned crazy cool points by offering to pay for me. I think she's worried about my anti-social behavior, and I can't blame her. But.. it should be nice to go out with my family today. I really do love my family.
And I'm going to go nom nom nom on tasty salad and amazing Cheddar Bay biscuits... overall, I'd call this a 'win'.

Then I'm going over to my grandad's and taking over the computer and my piano.

I can't wait until my husband and I can buy a house- I want my piano. There's just no point in dragging it into my upstairs apartment right now, sadly.

Also, I'm down to my last three or four hits. (I finally found the ever-elusive one hitter that 'looks' like a cigarette) This may not seem like such a big deal to most people, but I am a shameless addict.
I get really anxious when I get low... and by 'really anxious' I mean 'moody as hell'.

Hopefully I can get some more tonight. Otherwise... well, I don't want to think about it.
The last thing I need is a repeat of the 10 days we spent in MA. Ugh. NOT 'win'.

I Don't Believe in Filler, Baby - If I Could, I'd Sit This Out

It's already August. I can't believe that it's already August.
Where have the past 9 months gone? It's all a blur.
Because you might as well have climbed into that coffin with her, with as much as you've contributed to society since then.

It's Friday already, too. I don't know where this week went, much less where the last month went.
Time has almost entirely lost it's meaning, and surprisingly, I'm okay with that. I'm obviously fond of my current lifestyle, as it's the one I'm choosing to live. Right? The people that give me shit for it are just jealous that they can't live like I do. Who wouldn't want to be able to live like this?
Who are you trying to convince?

I'm nervous about Sunday. Last Sunday went well- better than the Sunday before, anyway- but it was brief, and still a little awkward. We cut the players down from 6 to 3. That's half the game, gone, in a poof of temper and childishness. I'm still feeling remarkably unsettled about that day. I've never fought with any of my guy friends like that before- I've only ever seen that level of bitchy cattiness from girls.

But Randy doesn't have to work on Sunday, and that means we'll be able to play at least a little!
I'm... too afraid to really get my hopes up about it, though... in case it falls apart again.
You're still fidgeting.

Being the overwhelming escapist that I am, the opportunity to "become" a different person is one I can't let pass by. Any chance I have to dive, headfirst, into another world- to lose myself in a beautiful story... I'm going to take it. And be ever-excited about doing it again.
It doesn't hurt that you're playing a character that is merely an exaggerated, idealized version of what you wish you could be. She has and does everything you only wish you could.

I've also found that it's easier for me to leave the house and talk to someone, if I imagine that I'm Zen, and not Rina. They're talking to Zen. The world is really seeing Zen.
You realize how unhealthy that is for your already seriously damaged self-image?

I remember, years ago (2003), when I lived with Josh and David... we played the Original: Zen and Eric Game. Constantly. We were poor college kids, stuck in a 2 bedroom apartment together without cable or internet. We did what any self-respecting gamers would do: we gamed. A lot. Josh was an amazing DM, with an infinite imagination, and David and I were both really into it. We played all. the. time.
It got to the point that they called me Zen, even when we weren't gaming.
I remember the first time David did it, while he was washing dishes in the kitchen and I was sitting in My Chair (MINE, bitches) in the living room. He called out to ask me, "Hey Zen, are there any dishes in there?"
I couldn't have been happier.
And the time we were in Buy For Less, and they kept calling 'Rina' to get my attention, but I didn't hear them... Josh called out, "Zen!" and I turned without thinking.
That summer was one of the happiest of my entire life.
Do you have any idea how lame that sounds? I mean... really? Do you hear yourself? Your happiest summer was the summer you spent completely ignoring the rest of the world, and YOURSELF?

On an unrelated note, I woke up at 8am with -serious- lung pains... I mean, I've taken a deep breath and felt discomfort often early in the morning.. It comes from being a smoker.
But this morning was different. It hurt bad. For about 20 minutes, I couldn't breathe without coughing, and I could barely cough/breathe without crying. That shit hurt.

I just kept laying there, analyzing the pain.
I imagined my lungs filling up with black, tarry, sludgey cancer.
I also imagined Grandmama's body, and how she must have felt, with lungs and bones full of cancer...
I wondered if my lungs were going to collapse and if that would just be the end of it.
I silently wished they would.

It finally faded, and I was able to fall back asleep, but it was really freaky. I wonder what happened?
Oh, I don't know. It was probably because you smoked twice as many cigarettes as you normally do yesterday. At least five of them were smoked in the 2 hours before bed. Why are you fucking surprised?

I'm going to spend the afternoon at my grandfather's tomorrow, if I can manage to get the computer away from my cousin, because I want to use the internet to re-acquaint myself with the piano.
That's the best idea you've had in months. But do you really think you'll stick with it?

I've been awake for almost 3 hours. It's 4:20 somewhere. Fuck this, less writing, more smoking.