The REAL Truth About Life, The Universe, and Everything (Besides 42 Obvs)

So I disappeared for about a month. 5 weeks to be exact (according to the website that I'm supposed to be submitting weekly content to at least.) I have my reasons, none of them really matter, but they exist. The important thing is that I'm back, and before the night ends I will have submitted my content to all the places that I am supposed to. I am officially back on schedule. TADA! (I'm pretty sure only like 3 people outside of myself actually care, but whatev)

Anywho... What I've learned in my short time away from some of my responsibilities is that being a full fledged, functioning member of society means that life can, and most likely will be equal parts totally amazing and fufilling AND mind numbingly horrifying. And on the occasion, life will be both.


Like right now. I might never see my car again, I'm having  to learn how to navigate my life with a child and NO vehicle. I am bumming rides and cashing in favors I haven't even earned yet. Because I didn't wear my seatbelt for approximately 500 feet, technically right now I am a wanted criminal. Seriously. I am a green-haired girl with a sparkly pink phone, and I'm considered a dangerous criminal right now. Seriously. This part really, really, really, REALLY sucks, and I have had a considerable number of freak outs and panic attacks in regards to how exactly I will be solving this mess. (So far, there are more questions than answers, fyi)

Flip the coin. My business is doing better than it ever has before. I recently got approved for a miniature loan just the right amount to finish furnishing the new space and pay rent for myself and my office manager's homes. I hosted a Seder for 12 people that had to be GF and vegetarian friendly, and it went off without a hitch. I even had people at the table who busted out into a Hebrew song in a round since I can never get the musical part of Seder down. The biggest drama at the table was that I am horrible at pouring bubbly purple liquids. I have people in my life that just a brush of their arm or a squeeze of my hand can make even the worst days better. My son is one of the smartest kids I have ever had the honor of meeting, and being his mom brings me more joy than I ever imagined.

That's life, good and bad, at the same time. The details for all of us are different, and no one should try to compare their mess to another, that's NOT the point. The point is for us to search for the solutions we need in life and try our damndest to be as cheerful about it as you can manage. Well. Cheerful might be a bit too much sometimes, but the point is to try...

Or give up completely, but that seems like a waste of a life... ;)

Is This The Real Life, or is it Fantasy?

Sorry, but no, this is NOT a link to the three girls in the car grabbing their boobs and flashing a crotch to Bohemian Rhapsody, but I'm pretty sure this was my first ever cultural reference to something that didn't happen in the 90's, so go me! ;)

Anywho, recently I've had some pretty serious shit go down, if not to me, around me, and more often than not; Anxious Megan (and her horrible weak stomach) has kinda been running the show while Logical Megan has been out of commission with a broken leg or something. It's been great making all this emotional progress as a human and all, except for the constant stream of emotions involved. I honestly don't know how normal people deal with all these emotions all the time, and I really wish sometimes the healthy thing to do would be to just lock that shit up and bury it, but didn't I just say a sentence or two ago that I'm glad to have made these personal growth things a reality? Being in touch with your emotions is exhausting!

Well, so, crazy all around, and in my head, and I've actually started to debate rethinking my current stance on medication. I love a clear head, and it is a BITCH getting those damn things configured so that I'm not a walking fuzz ball, but if I can't get more in control of these anxiety attacks I might have to go through that hell to knock them back down to a reasonable amount. I went from not having ANY in easily 2 plus years to having more than I can count in the last 5 months. I'm giving myself more time before deciding because I feel like things are finally settling down, and I really don't want to live in a fog, but since I don't like absolutes, we shall see.


Remember as a kid when you wanted something REALLY bad, and your parents told you that if you wanted it you had to earn it by your behavior? Or even better example: Abraham. According to the bible (yes I know it, even though I am not a religious person), Abraham and God had conversations and during one of them he told Abraham to slaughter his son as a sacrifice to prove he loved God. Last effing moment an angel stops him, and he was rewarded (with something, I hope).

That's kinda how life has been feeling lately, horrible, dramatic events happen, where I have to make really hard decisions; fight back or roll over in defeat; stand up for yourself or shrink away silently in fear; give up something super important to you, or lose even more. Just like in the parable, when I steel myself to give up the important things to survive the situations, I end up having something happen that wasn't even a reality for me when trying to plot a course. It's like I'm constantly being tested on how willing I am to try to do the "right" thing and when I do, these horrible things almost instantly become these things with easy solutions and the stress I felt earlier feels dramatic and annoying so I end up feeling foolish, even though I know I had crappy starting options.

I also feel like I need to mention that I have two incredible friends who for some reason keep helping me deal with life in general. Like I have a good handful of friends that are above and beyond in caliber of people, and they all make me smile on the regular. But these two people.... I just don't understand their motives. They are seriously two of the best people I have ever met in my entire life, and this week especially, I'm not sure what I'd do if they weren't a part of my life. I have absolutely no clue what I can do to express to them how amazing they both are to me, but I welcome the challenge, and will one day figure out the right combination of words and actions to properly articulate how much of my heart they occupy.

Sorry if this is too vague or what have you, I debated whether or not I would go into actual details over any of the recent events that have unfolded, but ultimately decided that I don't want to have to put anymore effort and energy into these things than absolutely required of me. Also, even though it seems to follow me around like a homeless puppy, I really don't enjoy the drama constantly circling me so I'm trying not to feed it. I work in the service industry, the drama from dealing with people all the time is truly enough for me. ;)

Sometimes, The Demons Win....

So my last post was the night after a really intense night for me and then I went silent. Surprise surprise!! I swear I try really hard not to run away every time things get scary, but some habits are hard to break. In my defense, I half wrote posts for here in my head about 4 times, but never was able to commit it to paper (or keyboard), and only part of the reason is because my laptop at home takes an average of 10 minutes to acknowledge anything I type or click on.

Thing is, I've been fighting a spiral, and it has been winning more often than I'd like. There's been quite a few days where there's this heavy weight sitting on my shoulders and chest and brain and just making it through to the end of the day where I can be alone is as much of a battle as I could stand.

I'm lucky in the sense that I have a pretty solid group of friends that I can be honest with when I'm not doing the greatest fighting my internal battles and just sitting next to them being distracted from the extremes going on inside of me has been the greatest gift of all.

I've never really had the freedom before to talk about the demons inside of me, I've always tried to keep them hidden, and to only show my face when they're sleeping or when my mask is glued on tight, and they've always felt so...... ugly. And, I mean, they are, but for some reason, they aren't as strong as they used to be. Maybe I'm doing a bad job of feeding them or something, but it's becoming easier to fight them, and my spirals are getting easier to get out of. Sure, just last Thursday I felt like I was a walking boil on society and I made all sorts of dramatic noise trying to rationalize walking away from something that makes me happy, but that's not what I'm going to do. Last week was rough because I had a lot of things happen in a short time period that made me start questioning myself. But it wasn't rational. My demons aren't rational, and don't care about my happiness. Sometimes I have the energy to fight them off, other times they come out of left field when I'm already behind.

So yes, sometimes they win a few battles in a row, but I refuse to let them win the war for me. Hoohah? (I dunno, I feel like I should have some sort of battle cry here or something... )

Let's Have a Hard Conversation...

Last night was the opening night for an exhibit entitled:1 in 3: Multidisciplinary Art Exhibition on Gender-Based Violence, Slut Shaming and Reproductive Rights. (Presented by Treeo in Phoenix) I attended the opening, not just as a viewer of art, but as one of about 20 woman who participated in the creation of said project. Having my picture taken for this project was hard for me, on multiple levels, the most basic being that I do not like having my picture taken, and the more complex being that I don't usually talk about the violence I have lived through. Seeing the photo part of the exhibit was moving, and I felt a sense of pride about it all. Seeing the video though, where were all talked about why we chose to participate put me into a slight amount of shock. Hearing a woman recite a poem about her own experience made me remember how it felt to have hands around my neck.

After my first experience with abuse, my mother threw me into counseling so I wouldn't have to burden her with my tales, instead I could talk through my issues with a revolving door of strangers. But whenever she met someone new, she would pour out her sad Woe Is Me story about how her life had been torn apart by events that, honestly, she was just collateral damage. Everyone she met, she told, and then they pitied her, and me, and my sisters. The standards for us became lower because we were all victims, and therefore couldn't amount to as much as the "normal people".

I got into one of the most dangerous relationships of my life my senior year of high school because I met a guy who had been through the ringer himself, and so he didn't treat me like a fragile flower. I loved how it seemed that he didn't treat me different than anyone else. Problem was that he didn't see me as weak per say, but he got inside of my brain and used my previous abuses to  manipulate me into thinking that the new types of abuse he subjected me to was actually what functional relationships looked like.

I hated it. I still hate it. I don't want people to look at what I achieve and say, good for you, most people like you couldn't do what you did. I don't want someone to love me in spite of my past, or even more because of it. The things I achieve in life should be congratulated because they're hard to achieve for ANYONE, I don't need the added label to make it an achievement.

Last night I was stripped raw to my core, and I was really glad that while I was at the exhibit I had two dear friends with me who both held my hand for most of the time we were inside. But then I had to go home and put my son to bed. And be alone. I sent a couple snapped photos I took from the exhibit to a couple people that are closer to me than most, and this portion of conversation sums up how I felt:

 So today is a new day, and I'm less raw than I was last night, but I realized something. I keep trying to separate the different parts of me, like the person who went through the trauma is a different person than who is a mother, and that the person who runs a business is different than either of those. Like I try to make it so the parts of me that has feelings and emotions never touches the parts of me that are practical and sensible. That's not normal though, that I'm pretty sure is schizophrenia. And I'm not crazy. Neurotic? Absolutely. OCD? Always an ongoing battle. But I'm not crazy. I keep wanting to make a difference in the world, and I want to say something worth being heard, but I can't keep acting like Megan Who Was Abused is anyone other than just Megan. It's all a part of everything I do, not just on nights where I actively talk about it, but in how I relate to people, and how I make decisions. I am not a broken mirror where only parts of me are usable at a time. I'm a piece of stained glass, where all the different pieces come together to make a work of art.

To be completely honest, I still want someone to come over and hold me, and have that outside reassurance that the harm I've lived through is over and gone, and that all that's left is some scars that are still apparently healing, but I probably don't need it. (Or I'm lying to myself) I was on the phone last night with my ex who had a terrific day and wanted to share, and I was happy to hear about it, but there was no hiding the pain I was feeling. This morning when I dropped my son off before I came to work he mentioned that I had sounded like I was in a bad place. I was, but we both knew his presence wouldn't have made it better, it might have even made it worse.

So I'm a bit of a mess right now, but even writing this all out helped me feel a little more at peace, and maybe one day I'll be like some of the women last night able to laugh and enjoy themselves at events like that.

I Really Should Have my Keyboard Taken Away After Midnight...

So life is on a pretty great upswing. My business moved locations over the holidays to a brand-new, built to my specifications space. I feel very, adult going into the office, like I look around trying to find the adult who signed the lease on the space, but I'M the adult who signed the lease.

I'm not used to things going my way, or for my dreams to come true. Like, good things happen, sure, but then really horrible things to balance it out. This is the longest upswing I've had in a really long time, and I'm really enjoying it, but it's made me wary. I'm an over thinker by nature, but right now my brain has made me come to a standstill. So many decisions in such a short time has made my brain short somewhere, like seriously, I had to decide where freaking light switches go because apparently "next to the door" isn't the obvious answer.

Anywho, I had a little stress tangent there, all better now. :)

So, a while ago I made a weekly commitment to write original content for a website. I've been trying to use my life experiences to write meaningful things, so it's been closer to bi-weekly. 3 weeks ago I started writing an article about how easy it is to be in a toxic relationship without even realizing it. Kinda heavy subject right? So I did something I've never done before, I wrote a skeleton and started filling in the blanks as words for each category came flowing. I worked really hard on it, and put it through my strongest editing I have ever done. Then I accidentally deleted half of it. I thought it was saved to my Google Drive, and was working on it from my laptop, and poof, buh bye hours of work.

So I haven't submitted anything to my weekly commitment in three weeks, because I've had to re-write HOURS of work, and I'm not done yet. I'm a word vomit my emotions type of person, and once I've gotten them out all it can sometimes be difficult to re-feel processed stuff. (Except for some new sort of feels, I can talk myself blue in the face and nothing, but shh, different subject for different time) Re-writing what I've already written, and get the same visceral responses as before, is hard. Almost harder than writing it the first time.

So what's my solution? Toil until my brain goes pop, distract brain, repeat. Tonight's distraction is this bright pink blog so yay you anonymous eyes?

Before I shut this down and pretend to sleep (9pm coffee plus insomniac means pretend sleep only tonight), I'm going to leave you with a Random Megan Factoid. Friends recently hit Netflix, and I watched it originally when it came out, and it's a different show as an adult. Ok. So it's the exact same show it was when it originally aired, but it's a different experience not as a hormonal teen. ;) Anywho, factoid is that apparently this show seeped into my brain a little more than I would have expected and I can still quote this show with scary accuracy. (And I still want to be Phoebe when I grow up) ;)

Bah Humbug

I'm in a foul mood, and have been since Tuesday. On the one hand, professionally, I am on top of the world. I'm getting a great new office space and it's bigger and better than anything I could have hoped for. I am truly excited for this, and I get happy butterflies thinking about it, and talking about it apparently makes me glowy. 

That doesn't change the fact that this time of year always bums me out a bunch. I get wonderful tokens of appreciation from people that I flutter in and out of their lives that makes my heart smile, but to the people that hold the most real estate in my heart, I get their leftovers. I don't do things so people will do things for me, that is a gross way to live life. That doesn't change the fact that every time I give someone a gift that I put a little bit of myself into, and in return I get their scraps nice enough to pass off as gifts, that it stabs me deep inside. 

It goes back to something I mentioned a couple of posts ago, if I am constantly pouring myself out, but there's nothing to refill me, eventually there will be nothing left but a shell. 

Luckily my birthday is towards the end of the year, as well as these heart-wrenching holidays, so I only have to feel like this all at once for a couple of months. Come the end of January/beginning of Febuary I will have gotten over these sad pity me feels, just in time for me to start planning birthday gifts for the ones I love. 

Wash, rinse, repeat. 

(Next post, I'll word vomit some happy on you)

The Other Kind of Block....

A handful of posts back I mentioned a brief stent of writer's block where no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't figure out how to get the words out of my brain so I got stalled. That is no longer the case, but I currently am dealing with the exact opposite problem; too many ideas.

I want to write about how it was starting my business, and I want to write about my coffee obsession, I want to write about toxic relationships and how strong people can still find themselves in bad relationships. I want to successfully write a fluff piece based on a prompt. I want to work on my side project and push through that because it's important. I recently realized why I dislike the holidays and that would make a FANTASTIC blog post if I could calm myself down. I want to write about feeling like a walking life lesson, and how that kinda sucks sometimes.

That little "paragraph" (sorry English majors) is a small sample of some of the things in different parts of progress that I'm currently working on. With the exception of my project each of those things are ::mostly:: done, or could be within an hour (plus an editor's eyes) if I could just pick one.

Wanna know a secret?

I'm scared.

Writing scares me. I love it, I feel like I have potential to do something with all the words swirling around my brain, and I want so badly to write something meaningful that changes someone's life for the positive. BUT. What happens if I succeed and then never have another thought worth sharing again? Or, what if I'm wrong and I'm just some foolish gal sharing her crazy anonymously through the internet, just another red dot on a map somewhere? If I can stop myself before I succeed then it all stays a what if, but keeping consistent, and going after what I really want means there's a chance for it to go either way. It could be amazing, or it could be a disaster.

Wanna know another secret?

"If I can stop myself before I succeed then it all stays a what if, but keeping consistent, and going after what I really want means there's a chance for it to go either way. It could be amazing, or it could be a disaster. " Doesn't just apply to my writing. I have been a huge coward in a lot of ways in my life, and I hate it so much. This is my MO, right here: want something, go for it, get a taste of success, get scared, self sabotage, fail, throw small pity party over losing something I never really had. I am trying so hard right now not to turn and run away from the things I want, and instead I'm at least standing facing my wants, sometimes taking steps forward.. No steps backwards at least, but still.

I am a grown woman facing a lot of hopes and goals and desires all at once. I am scared shitless. And trying really hard not to run away.