The Art Of Self Loathing

Sometime of Past ‘circa 2017

Well, folks I’ve always been a jack of all trades, but it seems I’ve finally become a master of one. SELF FUCKING LOATHING! Ugh, so not ideal, in any way whatsoever and yada yada ya da.

You guys know, I got issues. Dr. Phil couldn’t even fix the shit I be shitting on. My main issue, I feel is I constantly self sabotage myself. I say something stupid, I do something reckless, I knock a bitch out (KIDDING! I’m a lover not a fighter). Anything good I have, or semi decent or positive or whateverthefuck, I always seem to mess up.

Then it starts, I hate myself. I self loath my days a way. It’s selfish I know, but I get into this funk and I can’t seem to get out.

Some kind of Present

Mjz8gmgPGe-10Wow was I ever fucking dramatic or what. I suppose in those of yesteryear my life was drama-filled, whether I wanted to or not those were the days of my life. Full of sex, drugs, Sunday Night Specials. The soap story of the century.

Now, I’m still the same person. Still a sad sap, but I spend less time in my bathroom taking depression baths, I spend more time in the sun, less self-anylsing and finally moving the fuck on!

A lot has happened, not only in the 30 years I have plagued this world, but even in the last couple years. (Also just a side note:Fuck you 2017, worst year of my life, eat a dick).

I spent a lot of the last couple years as a hollowed out individual, nothing but a shell of a woman running on empty. Tears, cocaine and two-finger dieting. Definitely traits I decided not to share on Tinder. Anyways, I wasn’t much of a person.

By the beginning of Summer of last year, I lost friends, motivation, a love, and any one thing that could keep a person going. Medication increased, self worth decreased, I was constantly fighting with everyone of my selves, until I give up, they won and kept fighting and I grew more tired.

But alas, that time has past. Here I am, a little more than a year later and this is probably the first time I am actually not crying while writing my blog. I’m not even sad, not even a little. Just wondering WHO WANTS TO BE A MASTER OF SELF-LOATHING! Not this not-so-spring chicken.

Anywho, what sparked this blog was me sorting through my drafts of blog not posted. This was one. For me it’s nice to see how things have developed.

Thoughts?

 

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He Was A Friend

You guys are well aware that Miss Cait has many an issue with many a thing. I am an addict on many levels; I do a lot of drugs, I drink a lot, I self harm, I self hate, I am bulimic, and I’ll fuck anyone that gives me any sort of attention. And like most men, AA couldn’t handle my ass. Off the bat, I am all sorts of fucked up. This all being said, in me writing this, all of these issues I have are by no means any excuse for what I am about to share with you. I am holding my own accountability.

***

I trusted you.

I remember the first time we started talking again. It was a couple months after the new girl started and your wife was being a mommy watching baby at home. I asked you for advice on my car. You were shocked. You and I hadn’t talked in almost a year, because your wife and I never got along. We avoided each other. At one point I hated you. But I was tired of it. Holding resentment and hate for someone is exhausting, and it’s not worth anyone’s time. So I asked you for advice.

From then on we started to build a better coworker relationship. Then it turned into a friendship. We would banter back and forth, we were both perverts, delighted in mundane things and well, things were coming around. That is until she came back.

I was anxious, I was nervous. I remember thinking, we won’t be able to be friends again. That she would come back and things would go back to the way it was before she left. In some sense, it did.  But you would talk to me still, only behind closed doors or when her back was turned. You were fearful she would ring you out if she saw us talking. I always thought it was strange. I always thought it was a little too paranoid for my taste. I always thought pure silliness.

This year has not been the kindest to me. I am battling everything it seems, and everyday I would wake up not knowing if I could work. I was always sad. I had gotten involved with someone else, and I fell in love with him. But as with most people, it seems I had pushed him away. He and I are still great friends, but I was always a little unstable coming to work. You however, you were a constant for me.

I came into work one day, a couple hours early. I was crying. I had reapplied my make up at least 5 times, and when I was in the process of doing so for the 5th time, you came in. You looked at me, I looked at you. You asked if I was okay, and you knew I wasn’t. You hugged me. It was nice. You told me it’s going to be okay, and that when I am ready I could tell you what happened. Eventually, I told you. You gave me advice, and this time it wasn’t advice on a car.

There were more days like this, I would come into work upset and you were always there. I spoke to you about the medications the doctors are making me take, I spoke to you about my family, my relationship problems, my depression, my eating disorder. Every time I came in you knew a little more about me, and you only did so because you didn’t ever judge me. Then you started to open up to me.

You spoke about financial issues, about your baby, about work, about your marital problems. You opened up bit, by bit. Perhaps it was because my life is so fucked up and you knew all the details that yours is nothing compared to mine, or perhaps it is because I didn’t judge you.

You began opening up about always wanting to see me or talk to me. You had a lot of venting to get out. As much as you were my confidant, I started becoming yours. We depended on each other. I remember one time, I was with my ‘not boyfriend’. I was at his house. I had just left the bar to see him. And you called. I looked at my phone to see an unknown number. I thought it was strange, and I never pick up unknown calls, but this time I felt compelled to. And when I did, it was you. You called me an ass and selfish. I asked you why and you said, you wanted to talk, you asked who the person was I was with (who truly was only a friend, but a past lover I won’t deny it). I didn’t know what to say. I apologized, and maybe you were upset because it’s the first time I didn’t come in to the pub to see you, I was with other company. I won’t say you were jealous, I don’t know that. But it seemed peculiar to me.

We only talked briefly, and you mentioned we need to always say bye to each other. You were hurt that night, because I didn’t say bye. I just left with my company. I didn’t realize something like that meant so much to you, but from then on I made sure to say bye and you always did too.

***

I don’t really know how this came about, but I remember I went downstairs and you were there. We smiled at each other. You made a sexual pass at me. I am usually fine with sexual passes, I am easy I don’t give a fuck, but this for me was not okay. You were supposed to be my friend. My friend, nothing more, nothing less. I was so hurt by this advance, I went back upstairs and tried to shrug it off. All day I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Why would my friend do that? He knows I am battling a ton of issues? You knew all my secrets, why would you become one of the many people that treat me like a piece of meat? I told you I am tired of people not knowing the real me. I am tired of people constantly objectifying me. I am a person too.

The more I thought about this the more I started to try to connect the dots. The more I was thinking maybe I was wrong. Maybe you made a pass at me because you did know the real me. Maybe you did it because you do genuinely care for me. And I know it’s crazy, because you are taken. You are married, you have a wife and a baby, but you made the first move. Why?

Later that week I came in for work. I followed you to the basement. I gave you a hug. You put your arms around me and told me it wasn’t fair. I pulled your head up and kissed you.

From then on, we knew we had something. We constantly flirted, I came in on my days off to see you. We updated each other on our progress in this so-called life, we were there for each other.

At some point, we made our way downstairs. I was off shift and had been drinking at the bar for a couple hours, you were working. We kissed, we touched each other. You always called me a tease. So I made sure you would never call me that again. I got on my knees, and well you know exactly what happened next.

Things were progressing further and further. And finally it happened. We did the deed. Again it was a day I was off, I had been drinking quite a bit. I was on my way to leave, and you grabbed my hand. You took me downstairs. I didn’t fight it.

We promised each other we wouldn’t tell anyone, that we would take it to the grave. Unfortunately, I am terrible at promises.

I started to drink a lot. Every time after shift, on days I wasn’t working I was drinking. I was with a close friend one night, and I couldn’t keep it in any more. I told her everything. At first you were just supposed to be a conquest, one and done, but it became more. My friend was shocked, but not surprised. I guess there was always speculation about us. From then, I told three more people, I told my ‘not boyfriend’ and two more coworkers. Unfortunately the friends I told, made a mistake and told others. I don’t hate them or blame them for it. It happens. Gossip you know.

Rumors came and went and we always shot them down. We tried to distance ourselves, but it seemed we couldn’t resist one another. You always asked if I told anyone. I always told you I didn’t. I didn’t want to lie, but I had to. I was drinking when I told someone, and I don’t think I would have told them if I wasn’t. I didn’t want to lose your trust, I didn’t want you to stop confiding in me. I didn’t want to lose whatever it was we had. I lied to you. I lied to myself. I lied to others who asked me about our relationship.

This rumor recently resurfaced. So much so, that a very dear friend of both of ours asked about our relationship. We both denied it. You approached me and told me I needed to the fix the situation. Not only did I not know how, but I am not the only person in this.You did this too. However, I did whatever damage control I could, I asked the people I told if they told anyone. I told them the severity of the situation. I told them that not only will I lose my job, but that you would lose your family. Even though I was so removed from your wife and baby, I didn’t want that. For your sake. I wanted you to be okay. I wanted you to be protected. I wanted to protect you.

My last shift at work, you pulled me aside, it looked as though you had been crying. I don’t know if you had, but I wanted to hug you and tell you it will be okay. But I couldn’t. Too many people were watching. You looked at me, and you grabbed my hand. You whispered to me no matter what happens you still love me and nothing will change that.

That was my last shift. The rumor exploded, and I was right. I lost my job and not because of this rumor, but because I couldn’t fix the situation. You thought you could fix it by getting rid of me. Throw me out like a piece of trash like all men do with me. (Apparently you are terrible at keeping promises too).

Now, I have nothing else to lose.

You broke my heart. You were my friend. I loved you.

I trusted you.

***

There you have it friends. The truth. I feel terrible, but I brought that on myself. I was selfish, I was heartless, I didn’t give a fuck about everyone involved. All I thought about was me and him. I didn’t think about her feelings, our coworkers feelings or anyone else. I always said married or taken men were there best, because I would never get hurt, it seems I am wrong again. Not only did I get hurt, but everyone else did as well. But I am hopeful I guess, he always said to me, in my moments of utter sadness, that it always has to get worse before it gets better. Maybe there is something to it. Maybe he can listen to his own advice from now on.