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[whatsunderneathme-blog1]

Halo

There's this song I've been really into called Halo by Boston Manor. It's really this song about addiction; to me, it resonates to someone who is addicted to Heroin... I mean, c'mon, the first verse of the song are: Here we are again A thick brown belt's on my arm again A table spoon of tar again I've let go and it never felt so good I've sold out my friends And ruined my life over again My energy and my money's spent

Anyway, it's a super catchy song, with a great punk "vibe" to it. It's 0327 right now and that's all I've been doing... listening to that song on repeat. I did some ab and stretching stuff on the engine bay floor earlier but it's mainly because I am dealing with some pretty intense insomnia lately. I think it might be a sign of something darker that's been going on. To come completely clean, I am definitely on the edge of insanity. Insanity is a noun and the first definition that pops up on Google is "the state of being seriously mentally ill; madness". I don't think it's at that point, but it will if things continue to run the way they are, it probably will. I'll enlighten you. You see, I'm an EMT/FF at this firehouse right. I'm one of three "live-ins". The three of us live at the firehouse. Yeah, crazy right? When I mention it to people, it's like they have no idea that such a thing even existed. I never knew about it until I actually joined the firehouse, so I can see where they're coming from. But anyway, we pretty much staff the ambulance when we don't have a crew signed up. Basically, to sum this up quicker than I am.. I run calls like it's a fucking job. I have ran well over 80 calls since I've been a cutloose EMT (cutloose = running as an EMT with no one to sort of, help you out.. besides a medic). I got cutloose at the end of February, March basically. It's fucking April 5th. Yeah, crazy right? Most of those calls are during the night which then run into the day. Two words. NO SLEEP. I've been trying to stay sane. I think that's why I can't sleep. And it doesn't help that I've been having absolutely the worst night terrors. I think a couple times, I've found myself waking up in random spots in the firehouse. Maybe I'm sleepwalking. Haven't done that since I was in middle school. I need to get out of here. I am dying to sleep in an actual bed. I'm lonely. I'm always trying to shake the fact that I'm tired but I'm restless. Hence that's why I'm writing. Trying to make myself so exhausted to the point where I can't keep my eyes open. They're getting close to that point so, almost mission accomplished. My boyfriend has been unavailable to talk since he's busy with his lil career thingy. I mentioned that in the last entry. He won't be able to talk until next Friday. Half way there. He helps me sleep. Talking to him is therapeutic. My mind won't shut off though, and I'm suffering from the inside out. I hate eating, afraid to sleep, been hustling for money, and to make matters worse that were mentioned above, my department is running me into the ground. How am I supposed to help others when I can't even help myself? When my department won't help me? The words I've written are starting to blur into each other now.

One word. INSANITY. Two words. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

[whatsunderneathme-blog1]

Day 2

It's pretty funny how life works. I feel like I'm good at it some days. Others not so much. It feels like everyday is a game. Like whoever the fuck claims, "you win some and you lose some" was spot on. Sometimes I wish I had some sort of cheat sheet to it, like when I was a kid, I would use one of those for GTA. There was a "ladies' man" cheat one where all the CPU women would always come lurking towards you. I would drive an ambulance and they would just hop in, filling the seats to max capacity. Then I would drive them to an alley where I would beat them with a baseball bat until they died so I could take their money. Yeah, maybe I shouldn't do that in real life, but you get the point. Cheating. Real life shit. Cheating may seem fun. Maybe when it applies to the people who truly seek it out. But not me. Cheating is a lot like fire. It destroys. Literally everything. Which brings me to my next topic.

It's pretty funny how life works. After my "big move" to Maryland this takes place. Well, summer was over pretty quickly for me. I mean, hey, I moved to this lovely place in July... the time when makeup is not an option. And don't attempt to even do up your hair, because it's going to evolve into some sort of fuzz ball. Especially when your hair hits your waist. So yeah, no to straightening. I spent most of my days either in my Aunts office, running, or drinking the Budweiser or Molson Canadian out on the water in my bikini. Which of course revealed my lovely inverted cross. Not really appealing to the church-goers of "southern" Marylanders. Kinda reminds me that I regret doing that.

October. 2018. I was involved in the FD pretty often. I was also heavily involved in my EMT class. But this took place on a lonely evening in my room. No, not that kind of fun. But the kind where you contemplate your social life and join something called Tinder. Great move on my end, because *spoiler alert*. I met the love of my life. No, like really. The kind where you literally want to just cry a bunch of fucking tears because you're so happy you can't sit right with yourself. That came out wrong. Lol. The good kind of hyper. But it didn't really go my way for a while. I ended up super-liking this bitch. Like I wanted to swipe right 1000000 times. He looked just my type. Had his shit together. Even listened to the same music as me. My inner little girl that had a list made up titled "Dream Husband" was screaming on the inside. Tall. Dark hair. Light eyes. Talked a bit and things were awesome as fuck. LOL. He even stood me up the first time we were supposed to hang out. I had invited him over to my house to have some beers and chill. Well, he had another idea... to cancel on me. But I won't make it seem that depressing. I mean, I didn't think at the time he was actually going to keep me in his life since he was leaving the state soon. I would give more information regarding that so y'all could have like a better idea of things, but this shit is public, so my EMT self is saying "errr, HIPPA violation"? Yeah, I'll go with that. HIPPA violation. But the time frame of him leaving was coming up. Sooooo I sent his ass a nude. I know, I know, not very classy of me.. but with most things, fuck it. Why not. And damn right, you guessed it.. Yep, like most men, that caught his eye. He fell hook, line, and sinker into that one. Ladies, throw some VS lingerie on and you're golden. Maybe straighten your hair a lil bit. So, one night, him and his roommate (maybe it was that night), he came to see me at work. I'm a server. Perfect opportunity. He wasn't sat in my section, thank god. But the two of them sat at Booth #2. He ordered the Mac n Cheese. Excellent choice. Our whole menu has amazing food, so he couldn't really make a bad decision. But I'm not judging. Pasta is my thing. Okay maybe I'm judging. Or maybe it's weird that I remembered what he ordered to eat. I'll just blame the OCD. But now that I'm writing all this, I kinda want to fast forward. No disrespect, I love the man.. but I could write about him all day. Probably not stop. Let's skip to what I don't want to write about. Maybe it will make me feel better... getting it off my chest. I'm really thankful that there's someone sitting in the radio room (what we call the room with the two computers) at the station. I live here, don't know if I really mentioned that in the start. The reason why I mention why I'm thankful someone is in here, is because I'm more put together. Not crying... hysterically. I do that. A lot. When I'm alone mostly. So let's get on with it.

Now. March. Almost time for April to hit. It's pretty funny how life works. Well, for me, I fuck up a lot. I mean, probably a lot more than most. I mean, I dislocated my fucking shoulder today just stretching after my run. Who does that shit? Me apparently. FYI typing this shit hurts. But I enjoy it. So you see, I try my best to separate my logical and emotional mind. Sometimes one takes over and confuses the other. My therapist taught me this. The really cool one. Well, not so cool when she made me go through my past. That's another conversation. What I'm trying to get at is, well, my emotional mind is really taking over at this point. Maybe I spoke too soon when I said that my depression was gone. Maybe I didn't say that in 'the start'. But sometimes, certain things just kinda trigger it. So, me and the Tinder guy (sorry, bf, ily, but that's what I'm referring to you as, just out of respect) have been dating for almost 6 months now. Well, he isn't in MD right now, he's out doing his lil career thing. So I made a really, really, really, really, really, really x1000000 stupid mistake. You can probably guess. I got stupid drunk at a formal event and.. *see paragraph 1, line 9, only word italicized. Find it. You get it. Before that night, my biggest regret was stealing from a mentally challenged girl in middle school. Swiped that 20-dollar bill from her small backpack zipper like it was a golden Wonka wrapper. In my middle school brain, I justified it by blaming her- she should've zipped her shit up, right? But what the fuck was I thinking? I knew that night, when I handed the older skater boy I liked a pack of Cowboy Killer's with that 20 that what I had done was wrong. And guess what? I still think about that. I still haven't forgiven myself. She missed her bus because of me. The girl I fucking stole from was stranded because of me. She had no money. God knows how that girl got home. AND she's mentally challenged. I can picture her now, with her big frown that matched her uneven glasses. And my happy ass just walked 0.6 miles to my house. A street over from my middle school. It makes me fucking sick to my core to think I could ever do something like that to someone so innocent. That night, everything changed. That night is, you fucking bet... my biggest regret. And the worst thing is, I can't run from it. Every single day I want to break the mirror I look into, or hope that the mirror would just miraculously shatter because it doesn't like what it sees. You don't want to know what I feel. The man that I love is suffering because of what I did. Even though I'm an atheist, I will admit, within this month I have broken down so many times on my hands and knees, praying that the pain I've caused won't cause us to separate. I have wandered aimlessly in the night so the thoughts won't develop into something darker. Because I'm not afraid to admit that I struggle from time to time wondering what the fuck I'm doing with myself. I have never wanted someone to forgive me so bad. So next time you have the opportunity to count your blessings, fucking do it. Do it every fucking minute you can. Because the choices you make can really hurt others. And you can risk losing the ones you never thought you could if you're not lucky. I may put on this badass face, like I am so strong I could take on anything, but truth is, I still am hoping one day that I can go to bed without having a night terror, sleep without my fucking IKEA teddy bear named Evgeni, or to just close my eyes and try to wipe away the lies I've piled on like a large campfire to hide the ashes- the trauma I've gone through. I'm dying to live that normal life. Deep down underneath me is like a glass bottle, but it's broken. And you know who helped me heal? That Tinder guy. That man would do anything for me. That man treats me with respect. With every I love you he says to me, my heart forgives me. My head feels right at home with him, erases those horrible things my father told me, grabs the loaded shotgun my father forced to the back of my head when I was 11, breaks the hands of those that vandalized me when I was 17, 18, 19, and 22 years old, unplugs the 400 degree flat iron I used to burn my face all those years from the constant sexual torment. I don't know whether the correct term is that I was a damaged child or if I maybe just had the worst luck, but there are things people in general should not have to endure. I was innocent at one point, but that dissipated at such a young age. I only had me. And honestly, I was never able to tell the truth about those things because I was always silenced. But this man, listens to me with open ears. And for the first time in my life, I heard something I've never heard someone say. And he was exactly right. SO fucking right. It sounded something along the lines of, "You can't run from your problems. You can't just keep moving states every time there's a problem thinking it will solve them because it will just catch up to you".

He is someone I DO want for the rest of my life. The touch of his skin on mine hushes and tucks away all those memories to bed. That man has listened to me speak more than any man has. I smile until the small dimples on my left cheek poke out. Since that man has come into my life, I never realized what true love really felt like. I didn't realize how gentle it feels on the heart. It courses through me like the ocean waves fall through the sand trenches I used to build when I was an innocent little girl in her one-piece, kissed with a sunburn. It feels invigorating, even better than the feeling I get when I step on the ice rink with my freshly sharpened blades. It's the moment when he first let me rest my abnormally freezing feet softly against his, tucked in between his legs when we slept. Because even though it wasn't comfortable to him, he only cared about what I needed in that moment. I have only ever wanted acceptance, normalcy. I am okay on my own. But he makes life, life. When flowers are left out in the rain, they don't do well. They need three things: water, sun, oxygen. See, I have two. 1. The rain- the sadness. 2. The air that I breathe, the most key thing to being human, obviously. But in my life, the sun only shines when I'm out on the ice, playing hockey. It's like I was doing okay, but I had been waiting for that one thing I had been missing. 3. The sun. He is that. I feel like that flower that lives graciously, with fresh, new petals that grow each day. I feel important in the world. Even more than I ever have. That's what I feel. It's like all this love consumes me. I smile more. Laugh more. I feel beautiful. Alive. Alive. Alive. Isn't it funny how life works?

*refer to the last ¶, first line, the words that can create a reply - and stand out.

I love you,

All my heart,

L.

[whatsunderneathme-blog1]

Day 1

Here's the start. Probably about 15 minutes ago, while relaxing around 0100 in my lounge chair, I realized that I haven't been writing like I normally have. Whether it's because by the time I open up my notebook/journal/diary (or whatever the hell you want to call it), I want to shut my eyes, or I get too fed up in my phone, I'm not sure. Writing has always been a HUGE passion of mine and has been my escape from 'reality' for as long as I can remember. So here we go. Maybe I'll write everyday. Maybe I won't. Hell, I'm not even sure what I'm going to write about each time I do decide. But I'll figure that out. Maybe I'll just start off with how I sort of ended up in the position that I'm in now.

So last year, May 19th, 2018, my boyfriend at the time decided that he wanted to move on. I thought I had it all. But I was also drowning in what seemed like a never-ending, spiraling, terrible, awful, every-day-is-shitty type depression. I mean it was bad. I can recall hating waking up. It was like I wanted to fall asleep and never wake up every night. Just writing about it gives me chills. And it kinda makes me realize how far I've come because, well, I don't really feel that way anymore. And honestly, I truly hope I never feel like that again. I'd give up both arms to never feel that empty again. So yeah, anyway, speed it up to where I moved all my shit out of my nice apartment out of the city, quit my awesome paying salary job, and decided to start all over. Whether it was the schizophrenic chick that was in my 'I-need-help' group who sort of inspired me to do the big move or what, I'm not sure. I met with this group of college people that suffered with a mix of mental illnesses... figured it would help with the depression/OCD.

May. It was kinda sad. I threw away a lot of the stuff I owned, cherished, stuff that I told myself I'd never get rid of. Like pieces of me were just being tossed in the dumpster. Shoes, pictures, old hockey gear I was saving for my future kids.. But I needed everything to fit in my little Sonata and I didn't dare think to ever come back to that area again. To me, that place was toxic. Like, if I was to ever come back, you better hope it was for some life or death situation. It was a liberating and scary feeling when I stepped foot on my grandparents porch literally asking them if I could stay there for a bit until I figured out what I was going to do, where I was going to live, etc.. I mean, helloooo, flashback to when I was 18 and didn't know what the hell I was doing. But in all seriousness, when does that feeling completely go away? I felt stupid, like I just lost everything I'd been working for. I absolutely loved the city, the money, the hockey, college. I can sit here and type all I want.. it's just crazy to think about how depressed I was. That depression shit is a real thing. However, I was so focused on what my ex had done to me that I didn't even realize how fortunate I was. I didn't need him. I didn't need anyone by my side. I just needed to put a little bit of faith in myself.

July. I ended up in Maryland. LOL. Out of all places, I never thought I would be in this state. I moved in with my Aunt and Uncle who are originally from Michigan. I had no idea that I'd ever live with them. Flashback to 18. Honestly though, I was so thankful to be able to sleep in a comfy bed. To have heat, air conditioning, food, a toilet. I like the simple things. I don't need much. Just please don't make me take a shit in the woods. I don't really like that idea of it, HA. I'll write about why I split from that situation another time. Let's just say things were very difficult for me there. No one likes to be treated like they're a child. I respected them a fuck ton, believe it or not. Just wasn't ideal for a married couple who has never had children before. Take it how you want, but it's the brutal and honest truth in my eyes.

August. I joined a volunteer fire department. Down the street from my Aunt's house. Oh, also did get an amazing job at a Brewery & Grill. Down the street from my Aunt's house. Also across the street from the firehouse I joined. Within the first month of me joining the VFD, I dove head first into EMT class. I loved it. I was good at it. Well, spoiler alert * I passed my National/Maryland EMT and I think I am a pretty awesome EMT. I mean, I haven't seen everything yet, but I have seen some crazy shit. Never in a million years did I ever think I would be doing what I'm doing now.

PaUsE. I'm gonna fall asleep at the computer. I will continue ;) Kind of inspiring myself at this point. Looking forward to doing this writing thing again. Not sure who's listening to this. Maybe no one. But I'm doing this for myself. This is the start.