Thirsty Thursday: Whiskey Drinking Problems Blues

woman with the blues drinking whiskey

Sometimes a glass of bourbon is exactly what the doctor ordered

Or

Bulleit Bourbon Whiskey to the Rescue

Alright, world. Here’s the deal. I met someone. We hit it off. Then it got rather turbulent and we are currently on a break.

I haven’t been talking about it because I am not sure if I’m even seeing all of the events from the past couple of months that clearly.

I met this thoughtful and kind man at an after-hours party a few months ago. A big group of us left the after-hours party and continued to party well into the next afternoon. Queens and queers and freaks and weirdos were all gathered at my house. We drank every last drop of alcohol we had here and then we went and got more. We raged.

That kind of raging was fun.

The other kind of rage, not so much.

Turns out the guy that I really got into has an even bigger temper than me. This is saying a lot. If you’ve followed any of my past writing you might recall that I’ve done a lot of work trying to overcome my anger (you can even read all about it in the article I wrote titled, Republicans, Rapists, Real Women: How I’m Reprogramming Anger).

We’re both fire. Short-fused. Competitive.

Of course, we’re also both thoughtful, compassionate, kind (he maybe more so on the last trait).

A series of anger-induced incidents was the last straw for me.

I can’t handle feeling powerless. I can’t handle always being on the defensive. I can’t handle being one-up’ed every single time I ever tell a story. It becomes exhausting.

 

He’s told me that he loves me. He’s told me I’m his world. Yet, how can I let someone in that can turn on a dime and act out irrationally at random intervals?

Believe me, I know I am not perfect. I am cranky (particularly in the morning). I am stubborn. I suffer from resting bitch face.

I’m also weird. I read a lot, which doesn’t necessarily make me smart but it makes me smarter than I used to be. I have the sense of humor of a thirteen-year-old boy. I take pics with over-sized phallic-shaped foods on a regular basis. I don’t shower as much as I probably should. I can compartmentalize. I can be cold. I can be the life of the party or not want to be around anyone at all.

So yes, it takes a strong soul to handle me.

I also can only handle so much myself and what I cannot tolerate are unnecessary outbursts, temper tantrums, failing to communicate both the logistics of specific situations as well as feelings etc. connected to them.

No one should be in a relationship where they fear how the other person will respond or fear how they could snap at something small at any moment. If you can’t handle little issues then the big ones are going to be hella hard.

So this Thirsty Thursday, I drink a drink to honor all that we had and all that we could have. I’m not giving up completely, but I am distancing myself to better understand my own needs/wants/desires while he does the same. Anger is an energy and when put to proper use it can help change the world for the better, but if it’s anger that reveals itself as unnecessary rage, well that just hurts the entire world and all the people directly (and indirectly) who witness it.

May you quench your thirst on this Thursday and every other day. Thanks for reading my love life update, now go eat a carrot already!

Fifty Shades Freed Official Collection

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Wet & Wild Wednesday: This Boob’s For You

boobs instagram and body positivity

When You’re Angry and Depressed Just Get Naked

or

Your Body is Just a Body Moving Your Body Around

(Enjoy the video rant. An angry cry may occur in it)

I have, for many years, gone through phases where I fall into these dark holes. They’re dirtier and darker than anal holes let me tell you. Hippie-dippie people like to call it “the shadow self.” Whatever. It’s usually more menacing than a shadow, more like an empty cave that has a terrible heating and cooling system.

I care not about getting out of bed. I contemplate how I do not want to be here. And when I say here I mean Denver. I mean the United States. I mean Planet Earth. I mean here in this body.

I question my worth. I question every choice I’ve ever made. I question the people in my life and what might possibly be wrong with them to choose to spend time with me.

It starts as a simmer. Turns to a boil. Evaporates into nothingness.

The nothingness.

The care not.

The heavy gray blanket that suffocates and keeps me from moving forward.

I return to my body.

It’s funny because I imagine that many people think I’m putting up pics of my tits and ass on Instagram as some sort of desperate plea for attention. Of course, I enjoy attention but that’s not my motivation.

I do it because it’s what I have to give.

We’re all put into these vessels of flesh to learn and grow and connect. I happen to be blessed with a body that other people seem to enjoy looking at. What do I care if they look at it? Sure, I’m in charge with taking care of this thing and I could do a better job about that, but I believe we all should experience more pleasure. So here I am, mostly naked, giving strangers pleasure.

Perhaps deep down I’m just a giver with not much to give.

One day this body will be rotting in the ground and no one will want to look at it then so I might as well take some pics of it now so there’s digital proof of its existence.

I found a sentence in an old journal of mine that read,

“We’re all afraid of going after our dreams because if we fail, we will have nothing left.”

Well, I quit my job nearly a year ago to write a book. I wrote the first draft of that book.

And here I am left.
Nothing.

Yet, everything.

The opportunity to edit and write Draft 2.

The opportunity to keep showing off my boobs.

The opportunity to connect to you and you and you.

So sure, I like the attention, but it’s merely a side note to a much bigger picture. The concept that we get to move around in this package of bones and muscle and blood and skin and shit; that it’s all we really have right here where we are until we are not here anymore.

So fuck it. I embrace the dark. The light. The unknown. The complete and total hot mess that I am. And of course, I embrace the boobs.

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