Author: A Girl & Her Wolves

I'm a clinically depressed fucked up individual who is using this site to just vent about the shitty things about MY life.

The Universe Is A Dick

Published on by A Girl & Her Wolves

I’m typing all of this from my phone because even though my desk is only about 10 feet away my brain is telling me to chill out and just lay in bed.

I’m a very wound up person. It’s gotten worse as I’ve gotten older. I’ve lost patience with people and I don’t want to be around them unless it’s work or family. I can’t stand the small talk and the fake conversations. I’m really angry and annoyed.

And I’m thisclose to giving up on life.

Please. Before you call 911 and report me for being suicidal, just remember that I have suicidal thoughts. It comes from my depression which used to be mild a year ago and then turned into major.

I think life is another person who enjoys picking on people and see how much it would take until they crumble. Growing up, I didn’t show emotions most of the time. I didn’t let my mother see me upset when she got upset. My lower lip didn’t quiver and I could feel my eyes dilating to where they were probably just black. This is how I learned to show people that I can’t be broken. So when life is fucking with me, I dig my heels in and refuse to fall apart.

But there are times when I feel like I should fall apart. Just to make myself feel human. Because when shit hits the fan I’m stoic. I don’t react. Inside, I’m screaming and I’m angry. On the outside, I’m that really calm person directing people to the exit during a fire drill.

Please don’t ask me to direct people to the exit during a fire drill or a real fire.

So here we are, life is kicking my ass again. I’m not mad. Maybe because I’ve gotten so used to it. And I’m not just talking about the shit I’ve done to put me in certain predicaments, I’m also talking about people who have shit on me in the past. Some of them have to bear the responsibility of why I am the way I am.

I’m not a people pleaser. I’m not one to nod and agree to everything. I’ve learned that if you let people walk all over you or jerk you around you set a precedent for everyone else to do the same. I’ve stood up for myself and got in trouble but at the end of they day, at least I didn’t take shit from anyone. Maybe that attitude is why I don’t really associate with a lot of people. I can count the number of friends I have with one hand and one of them is my sister. That attitude may be the reason why people don’t fuck with me at all. But I’ve also learned that other people’s opinion of me is none of my business.

Maybe there’ll be brighter days ahead. Maybe something will change the way I feel about the universe and everything else in it. But for now, let me be dark and angry because I deserve to at least feel something even if it feels like my heart is being crushed and my blood is boiling.

A New Chapter

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I lost my job. I was loyal to the company and I busted my ass to make sure my department went along smoothly. I was my manager’s right hand. My superintendents appreciated me. But I still got fucked.

The reasons are somewhat ridiculous. I felt like I was picked on. I was basically under a microscope and every move I made was being analyzed. I could’ve been redeemed but management didn’t like me. Can’t help that.

Am I okay? Yes. I will be. But on the other hand I’m relieved. So relieved that when they told me they were letting me go I didn’t have a meltdown. It felt like all the world’s problems was off my shoulders. But I still feel like they fucked me up the ass with a 12-inch dildo without any lube.

Could I have been a better employee? No, because no matter what management had it out for me. I left without lashing out and making a giant scene. But I know I did a great job there. I committed myself 24/7 without complaints.

I see this as a new chapter. For the first time in a long time, I slept without waking up in the middle of the night thinking about work. I woke up this morning without freaking out about work. I’m looking forward to waking up on Monday without dreading what the day will bring me.

I’ve decided to not rush my job search. I’ve decided to focus on me for the first time in a long time. I have to take care of myself. I was under so much stress at work that I completely lost sight of what is really important – me. I can take this time to finish books I started. Find a real hobby and actually go to the gym. Get my house straight. Spend more time with my pets. Maybe freelance again. Do things that I’ve wanted to do but never found the time. Maybe blog more. Take up photography again. Wake up on a normal time on Fridays. Get a full 8 hours of sleep.

Here’s to bigger and better things. It’s time to leave the past and get excited about the future.

Where I Complain About Being A Woman

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So in a few weeks, my womb will be removed. The pear shaped organ that carried my children. The one thing that differentiates me from men. The reason why I can talk about abortion and why it’s no one’s business why someone is getting one. That organ. My uterus.

I’ll be saying goodbye to my uterus. It’s not because I want to but it’s because I have a medical condition. I’m not supposed to have any more periods since I had the Novasure done. But for over a year now, I’m suffering from them. Sometimes they get so bad that it wipes me out completely and I end up sleeping all day.

Am I sad? In a way. This is not the first organ to be removed from my body. It would actually be the 4th. How fun. But I am also relieved. No more periods. No more PMS. And hopefully no more PMDD.

This is going to be a life changer. It’s still sad (and scary) but I don’t like that I’m suffering every month from something I no longer need.

I will have to spend the night in the hospital (remind me to write about the morphine machine). My husband will also be spending the night with me so yay! Hospital rooms are cold and creepy.

This isn’t my first rodeo so I should be really good at this. But goodbye, periods!!

Call Me Old Fashioned…

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I had a choice. I didn’t have to take his last name when we got married but I chose to. Not because it’s the norm or tradition…but my reasons were more than just because I’m fucking in love.

But I can totally understand why some women don’t and I commend those who made the choice even though people talked her out of it. Like this woman: http://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/9417350?

I took my husband’s last name because my maiden name started with a Q and remembering how much of a pain in the ass it was to be so close to the end of the alphabet. Especially when we had to line up alphabetically by last name in school or I had to look for a table that had the sign “P-Q” and it was always at end of the freakin’ hall. Also, I’m the type who likes to get stuff over with so I always almost wanted to just die every time I had to wait to present something to the class.

I remember when it was time to renew our parking passes where I used to work. Went to my table (A-C), told them my last name and I was the fourth one down the list (my first name is like smack in the middle of the alphabet). Shit like that makes me happy that I took Jeremy’s last name. It baffles people, too, because they didn’t expect an Asian chick with an American last name until they check my ring finger. Kinda funny to me.

Also, being called The [REDACTED] Family sounds awesome. I seriously considered naming my daughter Wednesday. Now I see how that was stupid idea but I was pregnant and all I could think of was the next time I could eat or nap so I wasn’t really thinking clearly.

I Wrote A Suicide Note

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Because…I don’t know. Because there are days when I’m terrified of tomorrow. Because tomorrow is unpredictable. Unpredictability terrifies me. Because I have so much bad shit going on around me that it’s literally tearing me apart inside. But at the same time, I’m clinging on to whatever sanity I have left and hoping for that proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.

I wrote a suicide note because if I do finally put an end to this “woe is me” life, there are no unanswered questions. It’s right there…the reason why I decided to strip the world of my existence. I wrote the reasons down…people I love wouldn’t have to ask why. The reasons would completely relieve them of what they could’ve done to prevent it. Because the reasons are there to say that there was no way it could’ve been prevented.

I wrote a suicide note because I don’t trust myself. I have been to that point in my life more than once when I tell myself that I’m done. Completely. That point when I’m so terrified to be alone because no one will stop me from swallowing whatever poison I could find. I was alone the last time I was in that dark place…clinging to life…my husband saved me. He didn’t let me die. He drove me to the hospital in tears while I begged for him to turn around and let me go. I didn’t have a suicide note then.

I wrote a suicide note and left it in my wallet to remind myself that I have something to live for. It’s a weird reminder, but it’s a reminder. I open my wallet every single day and every single day it’s a reminder that I am still alive. It’s a reminder that each and every single day, no one else knows what’s in that note. Only me and me alone.