A Rant About Life As I Am Currently

I have been on a long hiatus since college ended because I needed time to mentally and physically recover from everything. And life right now still isn’t sunshine and rainbows yet but at least right now I’m in a better place to actually write.

And I hate that I get so tired and too exhausted to write and most days I’m hardly doing anything save for binge watching cartoons or playing games on my phone when I’m not running a rehearsal. but those at least distract me from the rabbit hole my brain has been going down lately.

It’s not a good rabbit hole either.

Like anyone with anxiety…

My brain literally jumps to the worst possible case scenario and frightful things that shake me to my core and terrify me to the marrow of my bones. Maybe its because I’ve had an overactive imagination, or maybe I’ve seen or read too many stories that have god awful things happen to innocent people but there are just days where I cannot shut it off. They are becoming more frequent and paralyzing as the time goes on.

I become useless. I am rendered useless for a good while. Because all I can think about is oh god oh god what if this or this happens, the paranoia sending my heart thundering through my body and my breath in rapid gasps, like I cannot get enough air. The air becomes chillier, my fear gives me reason to quiver uncontrollably and I call out, reach out to anyone for help to talk me down, to tell me that I’m being stupid, to assure me that the world is not crumbling around me and that we are all going to die within minutes. More often than not I get no response until later.

It is times like those that I have to force my logical and rational side of my brain (of which I affectionately call Spock) to kick in. Because it’s been silent then entire time. That or it’s been trying to say something and the irrational Kirk side doesn’t listen.

When Spock kicks in, I move, I do, I research, I find something, anything to ground myself, to remind myself that it is okay, that I am okay. And it’s helped. It’s not always effective, but it’s certainly better than losing my damn mind over something so small.

There are times where someone will immediately respond and it makes everything easier.

And I am okay.

But because of the anxiety and the panic and the overactivity of my imagination I can shut down and cease to be functional. It also takes away valuable energy that I need to get through my day to do what I need to do. More often than not it renders me without spoons to use for that day, to where I have to draw upon spoon for another day. It is certainly going to bite me in the ass later on. I know it will, but sometimes I do what I have to.

It feels good to actually write again.

I’m going to do better to not let the anxiety and depression get the better of me as it has.

I still have no job. I’m searching and praying and hoping for one.

I hate our current people in power and I am praying that something will happen to change that.

I hate the fact that people have become so divided in the last year and lack empathy for others.

I hate the fact that I have lost interest in so many things and that I cannot get into a new series on netflix or hulu or on the television that I have recorded. Or even the fact that I can’t read a book for more than five minutes…

Right now there is so much I am not okay with in my life and so much I am working on. I’ve already made one goal. I have a bachelor’s degree. But is that enough? Is it enough to get me to where I need to be? Is it enough to get me a career where I can pay off the massive amount of debt I am in because of school?

Is it enough?

I’m going to refrain from going on another rant about being enough. That is for another day. Right now, I’m going to attempt to read a book or write something fictional.

~ The Brooding Dragon

An Open Letter To My Sister

First of all I’m sorry.

Sorry for the fact that sometimes I don’t think before I speak. I’m a passionate person and that gets in the way of the logical thought I want to express and it doesn’t seem like you care nor do you want to hear my side of the story.

I’m sorry that my selfishness gets in the way but the truth is I am a selfish person and my mental health is far more important to me than any person. That includes you.

I am sorry that my mere existence seems to put you off so much to where you take out everything on me when the tiniest little thing bothers you.

I’m sorry that I don’t stand up for myself when I firmly believe that your opinion is wrong especially when it promotes rape culture or misogyny. But it’s really hard to get in a fucking word edgewise when you lose your fucking mind about the fact that you may be wrong!

I’m sorry that I can’t take a joke, but one, I’m a squishy person and I’m sensitive. I can’t usually tell when someone is being serious or not, two, you always aLWAyS get pissed off when I react the way I do.

I’m sorry I don’t stand up for myself more. It’s really difficult when I have the fear ingrained into me that you might hit me for denying your opinion and expressing my own. It also make it harder when I hear your side, but don’t get to express mine because you refuse to listen.

I’m sorry that I suffer from anxiety, depression, ADHD, and slight OCD. I don’t know why I got picked to be one of those special snowflakes who suffer from at least four of those, but it really takes a lot out of me when I’m having a shitty day and my inner demons, and chemical imbalance work together to shoot me down and keep me there. I can’t just ‘get over it’ and ‘not worry about it’ because it isn’t as easy for me to let things go. It’s not as easy to just ignore it, or allow it to sit there. If you would like I will gladly show you MRIs and scans of individuals who suffer from what I do. I swear I’m not looking for sympathy. I just need understanding that my brain is different than yours.

I’m sorry that I see the world differently. My version of injustice is different than yours. Maybe that is because I’ve seen it more than you do, or maybe its because i’ve seen i in every history class I’ve taken.

I’m sorry that I’m not nearly as nurturing or as carefree as you want me to be. I don’t need to really explain myself here.

I’m sorry that you feel the need to invalidate my feelings because you’ve been through more in your life than I have. No. You’ve had a different experience.

I’m sorry I don’t think like you. No wait I’m not sorry for that. I’m not sorry that I don’t think the way you do.

I’m not sorry that I am mentally ill.

I’m not sorry for existing in your life.

I’m not sorry that I see the world differently.

I’m not sorry for anything.

You’re stuck with me and yeah right now it sucks that we live together. It sucks so much that we can’t have our own lives. But I hope you know how much I sacrifice for you. Mostly sleep, because clearly you forget that I am in the room right next to yours, and when you are up until wee hours of the morning with whomever you are with, with your dogs barking and making so much noise on nights where I actually have to be up early, it kind of takes a toll on me.

But I don’t complain to you because god forbid I complain to you. If I do of course you’ll say that your life is tougher because of reasons X, Y, and Z. That is invalidating to myself and that is not okay.

I don’t feel the need to judge you based on your choices of who you fuck, who you date, what you smoke, the list goes on and on. Yet you feel the need to judge me because my shirts are cut too low, or I’m more of a liberal thinking person than you are. Whatever. I don’t need to explain myself. Even when you shame me for what I wear.

I’m not sorry that my boobs clearly offend you.

And right now there is a list of thing that I am proud of you for but frankly I am too angry to express them right now. Maybe when I cool off and you take that pole out of your ass I’ll actually write them and give them to you. But right now I am too angry and too hurt, and too wounded to do that.

For now…leave me to my devices. And I’ll leave you to yours.

~ The Brooding Dragon

Total Control

“Total control,” said Moody quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. “I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats…”
~ Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire 

Yes. This is how this post is starting. Yes this is directly from the book. No I do not take credit for the passage above. That all goes to J.K. Rowling (thank you for allowing me to use Harry Potter to relate to every day things). And now I will tell you why I chose this passage.

I’m taking at least two psychology courses to finally finish up the degree I’ve been putting off for a couple of years and for extra credit we can do studies within the department for research. Naturally (because I want that extra security for my grade) I decided to partake in a study this morning. Phase one of a Hypnosis and hand writing study. I figured “hey why not this looks interesting might as well see what it is about and get extra points for my grade.”

Oh lord.

I was not prepared.

The thing about hypnosis is becoming relaxed and getting suggestions that filter to your brainwaves in this state. You become more willing to obey the suggestions and follow through with them as if you were totally and completely conscious. It also doesn’t help that you are placed into a relaxed state of mind to make you less obstinate  to what you are being told to do. Your mind is malleable. A thought is planted there and the body cannot help but obey sometimes. It just depends on willpower. Mine apparently was very weak.

Now I will say I did struggle and twitch in annoyance when I found I could NOT resist and that just frustrated me sending parts of my brain into a panic while others were telling it to shut the fuck up and let it happen. Being “controlled” like that so to speak is kind of horrifying in its own way especially if you are a person who gets really creeped out by mind control and fearing that the next suggestion might be the last.

My body wanted to rebel. Parts of my mind were screaming “No don’t don’t give in! Why are you doing this!” but the larger part had much more control and sounded much like Emperor Palpataine going “Good good.” It was one of the most terrifying and yet calming experiences in one. But overall, I’m still a little freaked out by it. It gave me a taste of what could ACTUALLY happen if technology got so advances to where we all were mind controlled. But this was for science and I knew I was in a safe space where disaster was certain to NOT happen.

Now why did I include the mention of the Imperius Curse at the beginning. Simple. It’s a form of hypnosis so to speak. At least in my mind that is how it translated. You see (here’s where all the Harry Potter nerds tune in) one of the Unforgivable Curses is the Imperius curse. This gives the caster complete and total control of the victim.

It was the most wonderful feeling. Harry felt a floating sensation as every thought and worry in his head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness. He stood there feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of everyone watching him.
~ Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

This description is LITERALLY how I felt under hypnosis. Sure my brain still went on mini tangents while I was under but those were blurred and wiped away, like zoning out while driving. But holy sweet Jesus on toast this is literally how I felt. Even while there was a small part of me panicking and freaking out. That part was not nearly strong enough to fight against the hypnosis.

And yet I am insane enough to hopefully be invited to participate in the second part of the study for this. If I do I get to see the EEGs taken of my brain waves while under hypnosis.

Goddamn the muggle version of the Imperius Curse is trippy as hell.

I still feel hungover from it.

The things I do for science. Wait, I shouldn’t say that. Aperture Science will want me as a test subject and they will give me false promises of cake.


~ The Brooding Dragon


Usually on Facebook I try to remain a positive force or just an anonymous individual who posts about weird strange and cool stuff. I try to be positive and spread love, kindness, joy, whatever I can because I would rather be posting about that than my personal problems for the world to see.

But today…ugh. Today I don’t know why of all days today I posted something very vague.

“Dear emotions. Can you not? Thanks.”

I never do this to try to get attention. No. It’s a way for me to ease it out of my system so i can write about it later. And if people are curious then they can ask me about it and i’ll fill them in.

But for me…one picture, a stupid fucking picture was enough to send me into an emotional overdrive to where I just want to sob my eyes out. Why? How is it that one picture can set a person off into some emotion?

Well, in a way we are all guns. and we all have a trigger. Now usually were not cocked loaded and ready to go, the safety is usually on (I literally know next to nothing about weaponry so please bear with me while I make the general metaphor). But there are some days where that safety is clicked off and there is a finger resting on our trigger. Here is the fun part…sometimes we don’t even know it until we’ve gone off.

This is what people like to label as ‘triggered’.

It was the release to my emotions. Once that finger squeezed my trigger, all bets were off and the floodgates opened, pouring down my face and practically making me look more sick and exhausted than I already am. (I’m not sick. just exhausted.)

A single picture. Triggered me enough to feel rotten, undesirable, worthless, useless, and unwanted. It’s making the barrier I’ve slowly been letting down start to build up again because I don’t want someone to actually SAY that I am any of those things. Or to reject me again. Rejection only hardens us more to the world.

And I don’t want to have that hard tough shell around me. I want to feel more, love harder, and be all around more sensitive to people. But its so hard when I’ve built such a cast iron shell around myself to preserve my sanity. It’s a defense mechanism. One that has made me a pretty fucked up human and one that I need to destroy…

I’m trying. I’m working on it. Some days are better than others. It all depends on my confidence level, and my levels of insecurities.

I’m working on those too.

~ The Brooding Dragon


To the sweet little girl who constantly showered me with hugs…this is for you. 🙂


As I may have mentioned in previous entries I work as on of the local entertainers for the Arizona Renaissance Festival. It is every weekend two months out of the year and renders me absolutely exhausted.

This year people can locate me by my green skirts, red bodice, straw hat…

Oh and my favorite prop which is the trunk of a former pine tree Lucille. Yes I have a walking stick wrapped with scrap fabric and I named her Lucille, and the story goes, she was gifted to me by an old man named Negan.

For you TWD fans…I ain’t even sorry.

And I will try to post photos from AZRF to share on here because I mean…shenanigans.

But yes. If you see a young lady walking with a large stick that is about waist height and you are at AZRF that would be me.

Opening Weekend left me thoroughly exhausted. Like Im literally sitting here before class with my eyes glazed over because I am in dire need of Rest and Recovery. But it is all worth it! I swear.

I get to run around this year flirting with everyone and trying to “steal” their baubles. I go by Siria Blackhook, but you can call me Siri for short, and ask me anything. (Yes I did this on purpose.)

Highlights of the weekend:
– I apparently made a drunk college boy very ‘happy’
– I stole the timepiece from our Geoffrey Chaucer (I returned it to the actor don’t worry)
– Aquired a fanc new timepiece (because I needed one)
– Flirted with one but TWO Captain Hooks
– Nearly stole the crown from Prince Nicholas’s head. Unfortunately my plan was foiled and he outed me as a Bandit. (But dammit if that actor isn’t enchanting with the patrons and he is so much fun to play with)
– Managed to win the Queen Mum’s favor to the point where she was concerned about me when our Catherine Di Medici decided that she was above the law (in and out of character. the queen Mum likes me and gave me some very good sage advice which I will be ADHERING to in the future)
– Played with Robin Hood, Will Scarlet, and Little John. I really do adore the Robin Hood gents. (I may adore them all but Siri well…Will is her favorite.)
– Pleased the Queen by lowering myself as far as I could to the ground. I found myself on my knees and my belly a lot this weekend.
– Was personally picked by one of the small princesses to be a part of her collection of peasants and parade around with the gaggle of princesses and royals.
– Gave a rather detailed description to the Cardinal about how I acquired Lucille AND received a very genuine reaction. He proceeded to gift me with a piece of the Holy Wood.  (I’ll post the stories here after the faire season is over)
– Said Cardinal read the best confessions at a pizza parlour where we all gathered on Sunday night. (they tend to be pretty…interesting)
– The Lady Mayor employed me as her personal thief. She gets a cut of anything I steal. Which is especially fun because not only is she an incredible performer, but she has this wonderful and dominant presence about her.

– A little girl wearing a flower crown made a beeline towards me whenever I was in her line of sight (this includes me reverancing to the Crown and company). Her name was Emma and she was the sweetest and cutest six year old girl I met at faire. I swear that little girl was filled with so much joy and gave so many hugs. Me being me I love hugs ESPECIALLY HUGS FROM CHILDREN because they are the most pure and innocent of creatures on this earth and I must make sure to make them smile or happy or even make them feel better.

In order for me to spread positivity though I will not be posting low lights unless there is something that REALLY bothers me at Faire. Then I will express it explain and reflect upon it.

But I really just wanted to post highlights of my weekends because really…Faire for me is home because I am loved. I am welcomed. I am wanted. And I am Valuable. I have found family here even if there is drama between people I still have found family. We have each others backs and we love each other.

I always look forward to returning home in the spring. Fairehaven is my home.

And Home got alot more mischievous now that Siri is there. 😉

~ The Brooding Dragon

In Which I Totally Make A Paper Entertaining To Read

So for the first paper for a class we had to write was a time we had an action slip or even let our mind wander. Of course being the lover of pop culture and the nerd that I am I had to insert references to The Silence, and I blamed them for making me forget my deodorant.

Fun fact. The paper was supposed to be a page long. Mine turned into a three and a half page saga of how I forgot to put on Deodorant one day.


Yes The Silence, as in The Silence from Doctor Who the Silence. They are the culprits responsible for making individuals like you and I forget why we looked into the refrigerator, why we bypassed the store on the way home from a long day at work, or why we even walked into the room…it is because they are there, hiding, lurking, waiting…

That would sound like the ominous selection from a fanfiction or a wikipedia article, and it does. In the nerd culture, as I am a part of, we blame our forgetfulness upon an enemy known as The Silence. You cannot see them but they are there and lingering and they are the creatures that would make someone forget something. At least, that is the excuse for when someone walks into a room and forgets why then set foot in there or even why they went on autopilot on the way home from work when they forgot to pick up the milk.

Me, being the nerd that I am I had to throw in as least a Doctor Who reference in there, but as far as action slips go…well, my list is far too long and would wrap around the world a thousand times over. I am forgetful and possibly suffer short term memory loss like Dory. Nah, I am kidding. That is another conversation altogether.

However, I do constantly suffer from action slips and absent mindedness, most of the time it happens when I am driving down to the valley, up to Flagstaff, or even to Gold Canyon for the Arizona Renaissance Festival. For the intent and purpose of this paper, I am going to go with the Faire example, because it is that time of year for me. Two months out of my year I am performing in Gold Canyon as a street entertainer for AZRF.  

To get to the Faire site, I drive down the US – 60, as do our patrons, to get there. Along the way, there are a couple of fast food places, a grocery store, a couple of mom and pops places, and a Walgreens. One day, in my haste to get to the faire site to get my costume approved, (because this is something that has to happen every faire season, I mean we need to look good), I had forgotten to put on the ever so important Deodorant. In addition to that, I had also forgotten to bring it with me on my way out the door, in case I had forgotten it. I was about ten minutes away from home when I said to myself:
“Self, did you put on deodorant?”  

To which I replied:

“No self, no I did not put on deodorant…but there is a Walgreens on the way! We can stop there!”

I had drilled it into my brain that we were going to stop by the Walgreens and pick up some deodorant so I did not have to worry. Besides, it was also a nice day. The sun was shining, the birds flying overhead, I had my tunes hooked up to my car stereo and was rocking out, like I always do when I drive.

The next thing I knew…I had arrived at the Faire site…and had completely forgotten to pick up some deodorant. How could I have forgotten to do such an important thing?! Oh woe is me! God above forgive me for such a transgression! I get over theatrical when I tell a story. It’s just a part of who I am and what I do with my life. I am an entertainer and artist after all.

Now I am sure you are thinking ‘get a grip it is just deodorant’, but for someone like me who works in an industry where I perform and I am constantly around people, interacting and working with them, deodorant is pretty bloody important! I hate smelling like a prepubescent teenage girl who has not learned the value of how imperative deodorant is.

Well…I suppose I had to go through the approval process, which in reality is not so terrible, without my deodorant and the gripping fear that I would smell like some preteen boy who does not know how to shower or know that deodorant exists. This was a terrifying thing for me. As well as nerve wracking. But if anyone noticed, no one said a thing. So I am still hoping no one noticed.

I figured this was a more entertaining tale than me having my mind wander during class. It does happen but usually when I am incredibly exhausted from either being sick or from overworking myself, or not getting enough sleep.

But as far as making sure that I do not bypass the store on my wait to the Faire site or even home…well obviously repeating and drilling into my head that I needed to stop somewhere clearly did not work in the case of my deodorant story. Perhaps I need to have a friend join me in my drives to remind me of things. That or invest in post it notes to place all around my car to remind me. I can possibly set an alarm on my phone or a reminder at least to remind me. Even then I might forget but I can try my damndest to make sure I do not forget!

Maybe I should just keep a stick of it in my bag.

Because really I don’t ever want to go anywhere without wearing deodorant again. I even shudder at the thought.

I suppose I could blame The Silence for this. Yes. I will blame The Silence.


Yes I plan on turning this in and I hope to god it give my professor a laugh. Because I certainly had a laugh while writing this.

~ The Brooding Dragon

Monsters in My Head

So I am exhausted. Blanket statement, could mean a number of things.

There is college student exhausted, there is parent exhausted, there is exhausted from work, the list goes on and on.

But there is also exhausted from having your mind turn against you like the son of a bitch that it is. I’m talking of course of anxiety.

The most amusing way I can describe anxiety is it is that friend that you all know by face and that kind of lingers around like a fucking creep just waiting to crash a party or group gathering, and when the chance is given, BAM, he fucking comes out of nowhere and makes everyone feel weird or uncomfortable and just doesn’t get the hint to fucking leave until someone forces him to or he says “thanks guys I’ll see you all later bye!” And the cycle begins again.

Anxiety is that annoying friend you hate that invites themselves to your parties and workdays and classes. Which just makes your life so much harder and all around weirder and by the end of the day your so fucking tired of spending all this energy on them and they just leave without compensating you.

I think I just described it as a really shitty sitcom.

But the reality is, anxiety is more of a monster. You know the types that you might have been afraid of as a child, the ones that lurk in the shadows at night or under your bed, even after your parents or guardians say there are no monsters under the bed. As a kid, sometimes that was enough to comfort us. But when you’re a teenager or an adult, the monsters are much more real, and incredibly exhausting to deal with. I run out of spoons because of this sometimes.

They don’t go away easily. They linger, watching and waiting to pounce when you least expect it, or when a fucking tragedy has befallen your family. They attack when you are weakest, clutching, gnawing, squeezing you until you can’t breath or think logically to even move. You can’t do anything. Control is gone and in their hands now and all you can do is act as their puppet.

Anxiety is the real monster under the bed, the one that lingers in the closet, the shadows, the creeks and corners of our minds.

And by the gods it is just an exhausting monster to fight.

At least in my case.

I’ve been dealing with it all day today, in highs and lows. It was totally frantic one moment, sucking me dry of all my energy and patience, and the next it slunk back into its dark little corner all the while leeching my energy rendering me exhausted and forcing me to draw spoons from another day.

Truth be told its ridiculous.

Ridiculous how I let this monster control me and how I feel with one little trigger. Especially when I have logic saying otherwise and that I am being irrational. But then again this monster isn’t at all rational. Not to me who only suffers a mild case of it with huge attacks from time to time. And certainly not to those who suffer more moderate to severe cases. Or even mild cases like me.

But regardless, no matter how exhausting it may be, or draining or even petrifying…

I will rise.

I may be fucking exhausted after having a day filled with three attacks and low key rumblings.

I will fucking rise, and get my shit done.

But please excuse me while I look like a permanently exhausted pigeon doing it.

I need more spoons.


~The Brooding Dragon


The Show Must Go On

I haven’t posted in a couple of days. I have gotten distracted by life, costume construction, being the Best Auntie Ever, and schoolwork. But recently tragedy has struck the family and it came so quickly that I’m kind of still in shock. However at the same time, I saw it coming. It doesn’t make it hurt any less.

But as the title of this entry says…

The show must go on.

As a theatre practitioner I have lived much of my life by this mantra, and it is absolutely essential to getting through every day. Because you can’t just stop life and make it start again when you are ready. No.

The show must go on.

Yes you can take time for bereavement, time to grieve and time to try and collect yourself, figure out how to move on when tragedy strikes. But that is not a place you can reside in forever. You cannot ignore everything else in the world forever.

The show must go on.

So I work in theatre and tragedy has struck me and my family. Right now we are doing what needs to be done to take care of everything and not let it completely disrupt our lives. We are still working, performing, caring for one another, cleaning, reading, everything.

Because the show must go on!

This show we call life, this show we live in, not ones we watch on television or Hulu where we can just pause when we need to. And we can’t just cancel it because we’ve had an accident, or a death in the family. We work with it. We make it happen by any means possible even if it means stretching and straining ourselves thin.

After all…

The show must go on.

We live in a world where sometimes we don’t get the time we need to grieve…where we don’t get that time to heal, or even process what has happened to us. This is because we are always in “the show must go on” mentality. And when this happens…

It is so damaging to us as humans, as a society, as individuals.

When we set our baggage aside to deal with later or forget about it. We brush it under the rug so we can’t see it and pretend like everything is fine, everything is normal and happy. And the more and more it happens…it starts to pile up and all of a sudden it collapses upon you like an avalanche and you can’t breathe, you can’t think, you can see, you can’t do anything because you’re paralyzed by your grief, by your baggage, by your problems!

It is here…that we must make a decision.

Do we suffocate…under our own bullshit.

Or do we dig a way out? Do we search for that path to enlightenment? Do we find a new normal?

And do we do it to actually recover? Do we pick ourselves up and deal with each issue one by one?

Or do we just brush it off again…and let that mess sit there for the cycle to start back up and repeat?

Do we brush it off because…

The show must go on?


~The Brooding Dragon

Bullshit and Pressure Gauges


No not literal shit that comes from a bull.

I mean metaphorical.

Sure I could talk about how this election was bullshit, and how our country is fucked up because of our own bullshit but that would just be me writing a political paper heavily supported by the liberals with only a hint of conservative. Let’s face it Liberals have more control over media than conservatives do. That is another rant for another day.

I’m discussing personal bullshit, with toxic individuals and idiot people who clearly do not know how to function in society unless they are given praise, attention, and have an ego the size of the fucking Milky Way.

I’ve already ranted and bitched about this to a few close friends of mine and they are seriously lucky they are not me and they empathize. See my bullshit with a few individuals I will openly admit I brought upon myself and I have told them in either a few words or none at all that they are being, oh how shall I put this bluntly, absolute fucking morons who need a goddamn reality check.

Now a couple of the individuals who have incurred my wrath (as my dear friend put it) are not so high on the list. They are still on the roast list but their transgressions are mostly due in part to their over inflated ego and over-sized libido to get them things that they want. Again, another rant for another day.

No I’m talking about an individual who has single-handedly used up all the stores of loyalty, caring, and patience I have had with her (and for the privacy of these individuals no names will be mentioned. Because they already know who they are.) I have become much more jaded, salty, and incredibly shady. I mean who doesn’t want to throw shade from time to time. And I have enough salt in me to keep the demons from possessing me.

So this ‘friend’ I had… I wish I had never met her because then my life would be so much easier and filled with so much less drama. At fist, she seemed like this nice, bubbly, giving sort of person. Which she was for awhile. As time went on she did express to me her struggle with depression, anxiety, and her familial issues (which I theorize have contributed to those.) And to be fair she has helped me out a few times as well so she isn’t a terrible person. Just a fucking problem child that needs to pull her head out of her ass and grow the fuck up.

But inevitably…

They fucking morphed into her bitching and moaning about how she didn’t have a boy to kiss and cuddle and fuck. Like what the hell? A boy is going to make everything better? Bitch no. That is not going to solve your problem. It is going to cause more. This is a fact she doesn’t realize nor is it something she wants to understand let alone acknowledge. Also she is like in her super early twenties and doesn’t realize that she still has time. I’m almost in my thirties and I’m still single. I have ridiculously high expectations (Another post for another time).

This was just the beginning of the downward spiral of my patience. Now let me side track for a moment to explain how much patience I have.

It depends upon the situation.

So lets pretend that patience is a pressure gauge. Visualize it, think about it. Got it in your mind? Okay. Good. We will be referencing this later.

I used to work retail, and in customer service so that gauge fluctuated depending on the idiocy of the situation I had to deal with. Generally, I’m incredibly patient with individuals in a professional setting and in a personal setting, depending on who has incurred my wrath or not. (I really like that phrase and I am keeping it). Like a frustrated and stupid customer can make that gauge start to increase slowly, and the more flustered they get the higher it gets and yet there is no explosion, despite the fact that one probably should happen to give them a reality check. But there is none. There is a safety mechanism that stops the explosion. It’s called screaming in the break room or bathroom.

Now with a personal friend it can be different. The mechanism may not kick in and an explosion happens. Or someone loosens a valve and that pressure is released slowly and eventually the gauge is back to zero. Like when you have to explain to a friend ‘Hey I’m angry with you and this is why but I am not going to paint it out like some Bitter Bill and take low blows that strike below the belt’. There are some interactions that are like that, and, double side note, if you communicate correctly and politely in an educated, intelligent manner (unlike some people who are constantly in the spotlight. I’m looking at you politicians and celebrities) generally the pressure gauge won’t explode and things will either dissipate slowly or work out in their own time.

Now…back to this bitch who clearly needs a lot of help.

I’m not talking ‘like a friend approaching her because of an issue’ help. I’m talking like full on ‘intervention go see a fucking therapist because were sick of your shit and were not paid to help you’ help.

Let me explain.

There were often times she would come to me with an issue or what not , explain in a garbled way how ‘woe is me, my life sucks, I don’t have a boy to make it better, my mom is a terrible bitch’ etc. (Side note: Her mom is actually not a bad person, I can only handle her in doses. But her aura is still a bit intense). Anyway.

She would express an issue to me. I asked how it came up, what happened, why she’d feel that way, typical questions a therapist usually asks, at least in my experience when I started therapy. And I would get no where. Sure I would find out what happened and how she felt, but she’d never tell me why. She tended to dodge the question, which is a pain because we cannot get anywhere if a question is dodged. (I’m guilty of this too. I get uncomfortable and I literally change the subject or try to run. Defense mechanism in action). She relied so so heavily on that defense mechanism.
And after what seemed like hours pulling teeth, I would offer a plethora of suggestions. Many of which she shot down like birds, in the game Duck Hunt. Like I kid you not with how many suggestions she shot down she would have gotten a perfect score in Duck Hunt and not had that stupid dog laugh at her when the duck got away. Bastard.
She wouldn’t take anything. Nothing I said, nothing I offered because it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. It was disapproval. My disapproval of her behavior. And she hardly ever owned up to her own bullshit she accumulated. If she did, I never knew about it.

Unfortunately, I ran out of suggestions, I ran out of room where my pressure could go.

I ran out of patience.

And I snapped at her. Exploded like an over inflated balloon.

I told her what she needed to hear in the harshest way possible and honestly I do not regret it one bit. Any normal person would regret it. But I don’t because I couldn’t think of any other way to get my point across. I did not care if that explosion had collateral damage. I was just so goddamn tired and frustrated with her beating a dead horse and not doing anything about it! She couldn’t bury the fucking horse because god forbid her brain wouldn’t let her! At least that is what her excuse was. Because she depended so heavily on people sympathizing for her because of her mental illnesses. Those became a crutch for her, as does many people, but its not fucking okay to be an asshole to someone or take advantage of them because you suffer from severe anxiety or depression. You have to own up to it. recognize it, but don’t use it as an excuse to gain sympathy or get out of something you hate. (I am guilty of both. I will admit but I am working to make that not happen anymore in my life.)

Because my pressure gauge exploded with her, I have had to repair it. However…I have learned to not be so coddling. Being clear, blunt, and concise is a much better way for me to get straight to the problem, or address an issue. I still have trouble with this as well but I am working at it.

We did still talk, but not nearly as much. Because I was done. I couldn’t handle her fucking problems anymore when she wasn’t doing anything, but run away from them (like she typically does). My pressure gauge was broken and I was on my way to repairing it.

I called her out on her bullshit and proceeded to let some of our mutual friends know what had happened. this was complete with screenshots of our conversations.

I didn’t tell this story to make you think ill of this person. Although considering what I’ve expressed you might. It’s disappointing she pulled this bullshit because she has the power and potential to do so much more and be so much more. And yes. She’s young, and stupid and she probably won’t grow out of that until god knows when.

In truth. I don’t want to bring her down. I want her to own up to her shit and stop running because once she does that, she will start growing into a better person. I want her to pull her head out of wherever she has stuffed it, and get the help she needs to deal with her problems, which are so deeply internalized, she doesn’t even realize it.

I mentioned before that I wish she and I had never met. That was a blatant lie. Because the thing is if I hadn’t met her she wouldn’t have taught me that I can only handle so much bullshit. she wouldn’t have taught me that I need to be a better judge of character. She wouldn’t have taught me that no matter how hard I try I cannot help everyone who needs it.

And in order for her to shine and be the best she can be…

She needs to figure out how to deal with all the baggage she’s carrying.

Because no one, absolutely no one can do it for her.

Except for herself. 


~ The Brooding Dragon