Halloween was a lot of fun. Didn't dress up but wore some bear ears and dressed fancyish with tits on display. Oh and I wore my Halloween shoes! We went to the usual Wednesday bar and watched the college kids walking up and down the street in their costumes. And I got an awesome makeout session before the evening was over. So I'd deem it a good evening!
ETA: Oh MY god. All those Halloween costumes have been blown out of the water by Cyn's. She went as Wonder Womanatee. It's...glorious. You should seriously look at the picture. Seriously.
The roommates' dog escaped while they were gone one day. I spent 45 minutes going up and down the trailer park trying to catch him. For awhile neighbors were helping me but they eventually gave up. I was walking back and forth, screaming for him and making kissing noises. My calls included: “Thooooor!” all cheerful and loving. “THOR!” trying to be stern and demanding. “Oh god, Thor, PLEASE,” “Please Thor, I'm not playing!” “Please Thor, I'll let you play with the cats!” near tears and desperate. And the ever popular, “THOR! YOU FURRY FUCK, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!!” as I panted and dripped sweat. Eventually I managed to get close enough to grab his scruff and pin him down. I tried to drag him but it wasn't working so I screamed for one of the people watching to help me. I got some rope around his neck and led him to the trailer. 45 goddamn minutes. My entire body was pure screaming pain. But I WON.
Let's see. Then we were waiting on a plumber on Thursday due to more fucked up plumbing problems. Yeahhhhh...hello Monday morning! The landlady finally listened and got someone else. Someone who didn't suck and tell me that a toilet not working for three days “just happens sometimes” instead of actually dealing with the pipes. This guy spent 2.5 hours working on our pipes (which were filled with tree roots) and still had to declare one toilet as unusable. This was all happening during a cold snap (“39F feels like 31F”) so we ended up in fur hats, drinking beer by 9:30am because it was all just so ridiculous and our home is crumbling down around us. The plumber said, "Man, may God be with you! You should really move!" You are telling us nothing new, hot plumber guy, nothing new at all. #45 - where cheap rent trumps the risk of death and grievous bodily injury and it's never too early to start drinking in order to deal with that fact.
And now there's more trouble to deal with. God.
While on the topic of my trailer park...
I have a suitor, as it were. He constantly tells me how beautiful I am and how amazing and all this other shit. And how he has a lady but just has to tell me how pretty I am. He asks my roommates about me a lot but the other night was just the pinnacle.
“I have a lady. But if I was going to fuck up? You'd be the FIRST to know.”
He freaked me out but has proven to be harmless. I had a revelation! The trailer he lives in? Is roughly 10 feet from my bedroom. Which means he probably hears me masturbating, having phone sex, being beaten... My immediate reaction? Well, shit, no wonder he's in love with me!
Soon after that realization, my female roommate revealed she'd accidentally overheard me masturbating. GAH! I knew it'd happen eventually but not this soon! I was mortified but she did say, “Well you sounded really good!” Ha! I mean, we're roommates, it was going to happen. I just didn't expect it to happen this soon!
I've been acting super antisocial lately but am trying to fix that. I have plans to see a friend tomorrow and then a few more on Sunday. I can be social, damn it!
I think group and individual therapy are helping me a lot. I've been saying “no” to guys I'm not interested in, instead of just saying “yes” because I need validation of my appearance or worth. But fuck that noise. I've gone and made plans with someone for casual sex and then realized I didn't want it to happen. And didn't even want it to happen when I'd said “yes” and I actually canceled! Which is huge for me.
I told my therapist I was ready to deal with my trauma and so we worked out this plan that I would a) pick a topic or instance of trauma, b) write about it – since that's how I get my catharsis – in extreme detail, including sights, smells, sounds, etc., c) read it out loud to myself, and d) bring it to read to her. This plan was made when I explained that writing about trauma makes it more real to me. Because I can't laugh or be sarcastic or minimize the hell out it...which are my biggest coping/defense mechanisms. When I write about it, it becomes serious to me. And fuck if I want that to happen! I didn't realize how hard it would be until I'd gotten home and decided to write only to freak out and close the document before I could even put a single letter down.
But I can do this. Because I'm ready to heal. No matter how many wounds I have to rip open in order to do so.