Exploring My Roots

Unexpected Twist

So originally I planned to revisit my previous post yesterday to write up the “Here We Go Again” part. I promise to get to that, but I need to get something else out of my fucking head first.

Mothers’ day FUCKING sucked.

No, I’m not a mother.

Yes, I know, the day wasn’t about me.

But I can’t help the urge to cry and punch everything in sight when I think back to yesterday. I should have went with my fucking gut when I called her in the morning — my mom, that is.

“Hello,” my mother answered, mid-yawn.

“Hi, it’s me,” I replied, my upbeat tone slightly disappearing as I get a bad feeling in my stomach.

No one knows my mother like I do. That is a blessing, and also a curse. It’s a blessing to have a close bond with your mother, but it is a curse to see right through her.

I am the one and only person who can tell the minute my mom starts drinking. I can say this with confidence, and my grandmother, grandfather, father, and ex-boyfriend – among countless other individuals – would undoubtedly reaffirm this. So the minute I got that bad feeling in my stomach during our phone call, I wish I would have believed in myself and called off the plans.

But I showed up anyways. As I walked towards her first-floor apartment, I noticed her window was open and poked my head inside; I shouted for her to let me in. Mid-shout, I was attacked by the overbearing smell of cigarette smoke.

This wasn’t just any regular cigarette smoke. This was an alcohol binge cigarette smoke.

What do I mean by this? See, when my mother drinks, she smokes one Newport after another, and doesn’t stop until she runs out of cigarettes or passes out. This is a stark contrast from when my mother is sober and smokes, at most, 5-6 cigarettes a day.

So I walk in, now with an already bad taste in my mouth. The first thing I notice is that she is smoking in her apartment. “Mom, you’re not supposed to be smoking in here,” I exclaimed. She puts her finger to her lips, signaling a sssh, and replies, “I do it sometimes, don’t worry.”

It only got worse from there.

My mom then cancelled our plans for bowling. She claimed she “worked too much this week” and was just “too tired.” She was still up for ordering Chinese food, though, so we did. Once I got back with the food, she ate two spoonfuls of pork-fried rice and shut the container. “The food’s good from here, huh?” she asked. How the fuck would you know? You’re too out of it to even taste it I thought; “Yeah, it’s not bad!” I replied.

As I sat on the couch, watching her nod off to some CSI: Miami re-run with a lit cigarette in her fingers, I felt the most helpless I have in years. Just like 7 year old me. Stuck with a drunk mother with nowhere to go. Here I was imagining we would take selfies together and post our matching Alex & Ani Bracelets on Facebook for Mothers’ Day. Too bad all I got was just a bad trip down memory lane.

I know none of this is my fault. I grew up with my mom being an alcoholic, so trust me I get it. This is just the same bullshit at the end of the day. But what angers me the most is the fact that she still thinks she can trick me. She still believes that she can hide her drunkenness from me and put me through that suffering. Well, jokes on her. I am making a promise to myself here, right now, that I will not stand for this.

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The Roots // Here We Go Again.. 

First off, Happy Mothers’ Day to all you amazing mothers out there! Being a mother is equivalent to being a superhero, so take a day off today. You deserve it.

I guess that’s a good transition to the first part of this post – “The Roots.” Without getting into too much of my history (which will surely come out as I continue to post), let’s just say I didn’t have the easiest childhood. That is not to say I was not privileged. I always had a roof over my head, clean clothes, and a full stomach. But growing up with a single mom, who also happens to be an alcoholic, is not the simplest feat. Thankfully, my mom is recovering and working on her sobriety each and every day. 

Ironically, it’s my dad who drives me fucking crazy. And more so, his girlfriend of 10+ years, aka the closest thing to Satan walking on this Earth. A former cocaine addict, my father is a piece of a work. Don’t get me wrong- he’s been a wonderful father in terms of supporting me financially and being in my life. But he fails in the social-emotional category. His out of control anxiety and ignorance eats away at me, and living at home with him day to day is severely eating away at my consciousness. Today my room wasn’t clean enough for him – apparently there were “crumbs everywhere” and “it looked disgusting.” Minutes later I checked my room, and came to the conclusion that the “mess” he must have been referring to was a small bag of chips I forgot to throw out on a table and a bowl from the cereal I ate last night. 

I wish I could have bit my fucking tongue. Unfortunately, I’m hot-headed like my father, and frankly I don’t take shit from him. I literally CANNNOT talk to him. No one can. When he is anxious, especially, there is no getting any of your words across.

So I yell, assuming he will hear me. Maybe my screams will penetrate his thick skull and make it to wherever his supposed heart is.

But he never does. And I know this. So why do I continue to strain my voice?

And that brings me to the second part of this blog post, “Here We Go Again.” Please stay tuned. 

Love Addict

Free Time is The Bane of my Existence 

And so here we are.

The dreadful free time.

I’m a teacher, so does “free time” actually exist? Well, in essence, no – I could always be getting some grading or lesson planning done. But everyone tells me I need to take a break from work. So here I am trying to do that, and we meet: the devil in disguise; free time. 

It’s during this time that I come to an utter realization of how alone I truly am. I’ve lost ties with most friends, and the fuckboys I’ve been “talking to” only text me for nudes or to sext. It’s the immense sense of loneliness that then leads me to believe that I NEED to connect with someone. It’s like I crave some sort of intimate social connection. 

Now don’t get me wrong – there are aspects of being alone that I love. I can play music as loud as I want to, have some personal girl time (if you catch my drift), and sing extra loud in the shower. 

But none of these “perks” seem to outweigh that sense of emptiness I often times feel.

My ex kept telling me this is why I needed to establish some hobbies. Besides smoking weed and playing video games, there’s not much I do to fill up my free time. I argue that teaching and developing curriculum is my fun pastime, but obviously it would be healthy to have a non-work related hobby. But my anxiety makes it so hard to go out (alone) and meet new people, let alone spark up conversation. I’ve tried things like photography and reading, but I often times get bored. Ideally, I should work out, but I don’t find that enjoyable (it’s hard to believe there are people who do..)

So I’m stuck; stuck with this black, gaping hole of loneliness inside of me, trying to somehow make it through this free time without just deciding to grade or plan curriculum in order to distract me.

I deserve happiness. I deserve to enjoy my free time. I deserve to love time with myself. 

But something inside of me seems to think I’m not strong enough to have those things. And I just wish I fucking knew how to shut that thing off. Why is it so self-destructive?

Love Addict

Will Anyone Ever Read This?

I’ve started a blog because I’m close to losing my mind. I guess that’s a hyperbole; but it’s becoming closer and closer to the truth every day.

Without going into boring details, here is some context:

  • I am a 22 year old, highly-functioning female, with a full-time career
  • I recently ended a 5 year relationship
  • I identify as a “love addict,” as I depend on intimate connections with others for my happiness

As a recently single 22 year old, life has drastically changed. I get a lot more attention than I used to, and many of my guy “friends” have revealed their intentions. At first, it was fun. I signed up for Tinder, got bombarded with matches, and even contemplated meeting a couple of them. I couldn’t believe all of the attention I was getting, and from guys that were MUCH more attractive than my ex. I started texting, and sexting, and felt like a brand new person. I sent 3 guys nudes in the matter of two days – something I would have NEVER thought I would do. One I met on Tinder, and two have been friends with me for quite some time. They were all straight up with me about their intentions; they wanted to just have fun because “I deserved it,” but that meant “no feelings.” Of course, I played the cool girl and acted like I was fine with this. Actually, I think I even convinced myself I was fine with it. I need to have more fun in life. I haven’t been with someone other than my ex since my senior year of high school. I have desires that need to be fulfilled. I truly thought I had this shit all figured out.

But then the feelings of guilt and loneliness eventually overcame me. I found myself waiting for them to text me. Fantasies started running through my head — what if I could “change” one of them and convince them that I was worthy of more than just a quick fuck?

And that’s when I realized I am a love addict. I guess it’s something I always knew, but I never knew it actually existed (until I watched Netflix’s original series Love). Am I saying that sexting and sending nudes is bad? No, of course not. But when you constantly crave and actively seek out these types of intimate connections, it becomes a problem.

I do not know how to love myself. I am fucking terrified of being alone. I feel incomplete when I am not in a relationship with someone. When I meet someone, and we click, I immediately fantasize our life together. My happiness becomes contingent on whether or not the guy I am most actively interested in at the time talks to me that day. That is no way to live. I know I am better than that.

And while I am aware of this, I am in no way adequately prepared for how to overcome my addiction. Hopefully this is a good first step…