Bonnie’s Beach 🏖

My Life. My Experiences. My Love. My Words.

Nov 6

No Longer Stuck in Why…

by oceangrrrl

Dear reader, I want to share something a bit raw with you.

A year ago I was stuck mentally, physically, and emotionally. So much growth and healing has happened since then, that I hardly recognize the person who wrote such depressing words.

I will be 45 soon, and let me tell you, the 40s are a fucking whirlwind of stupid. I’m not even going to get into that, but the ladies in my life will understand, and I am positive that crazy train is partially responsible for the sad shell of a woman I was just 12 months ago. Don’t get me wrong, the ride is just beginning, but at least I am enjoying it with my increased cynicism and idgaf attitude. With that being said, know, my dear reader, that life will always be a bit insane, and sometimes you just have to put on the straight jacket and go have some fun. My journey is ever evolving, and I am no longer the sad, unsmiling, hermit of a woman I was last year, but I still have some work to do.

The draft below was written in November of ‘24, and it amazes me how much has changed since then:

Stuck In Why…

It’s been a long time since I last wrote anything of substance or depth. I’ve shared a lot through my blog: thoughts, feelings, experiences, morbid, limerick styled poetry (if you can call it that); each post a wave of highs or lows, of good or bad, and everything in between. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to write anything over the past year+, it’s been more of an internal struggle to force myself to take the time needed to sort through my thoughts and actually begin jotting things down. Forcing yourself to write is counterproductive for me. I’ll start. Then I’ll stop. Then start something new. Than stop. The number of unfinished drafts of thoughts are ridiculous at this point, and I need to just type and hit publish. It should be a simple task, but alas, I have my doubts even as I finish this last paragraph.

I can no longer seem to truly live anymore, and if I see it as a problem, I’m certain others can too. It’s one thing when life affects only you, but when it begins to affect others negatively, something must change, and soon. On top of my current mental instabilities there’s also my present state of physical health. At 43 (almost 44) I am in the worst physical shape of my life. For someone who has worked out and maintained some level of fitness most of her existence, I am the heaviest and weakest I have ever been. I am proud to say I have made some changes this past year that have helped tremendously, I am stuck with old knee and back injuries. The knee has improved, but the back. Man, the back is letting me know I am not in my thirties anymore. It’s stupid. But it is something I know I will improve as I continuously work on myself, physically and mentally.

With all that, let me venture back a bit to help me share how someone who once loved and lived life to the fullest has retreated into the reclusive cage she built for herself.

For those who have read my blog, you know the past few years have been quite a journey. A journey through love, abuse, sadness, and healing, which has culminated into my current set of life’s circumstances. With so many pathways to choose from, I feel like I am stuck in the middle of a desert, that no matter which direction I choose, the continuing journey will be more difficult than I can truly understand. Scorching sun in each direction, no promise of water, every creature and plant waiting to inflict pain, freezing cold nights, and no guarantee of reaching sanctuary. So which way do I go? I know that just taking one step in any direction is at least a start, and yet I stand in this one spot, stuck, as if I would rather sink slowly in the quicksand I created that seems to have cemented my feet and my mind.

I have been stuck here a while now. I can see the vast openness of life laid out before me, but I stay. I long to go outside, but I stay. I yearn for love, but I stay. I crave adventure, but I stay. I ache for laughter, but I stay. I thirst for life, yet I stay.

For those who have never experienced this, it’s easy to say, “Just take a step!” Yes. It’s easy to say to myself. I tell myself to just do something, anything, every single day. Yet I remain stuck. Stuck in my mind. Unable to focus. Incapable of motivating my body, let alone my betraying brain, to just do what I want it to do. I hope that getting some of this randomness written down and out of my head will help, because once it’s out of my head and shared, it’s real. It’s no longer a nightmare trapped inside myself. I’ve mentioned in the past that writing is a type of therapy for me. There’s a reason why those who seek counseling or any type of self help are told to keep a journal and write something everyday. Even just a blurb of randomness scratched into paper is beneficial.

So I will try scratching on this electronic piece of paper I call a blog. I will try. And I apologize for the drifts. Like riding the waves of my life, the troughs sometimes blind me from the point I am trying to reach, but the crests will bring it back around for clarity. Please bear with me. The hard part first, then I’ll get to the harder part.

My sister passed away a year ago October, and although it wasn’t a shock, it was still a shock. I have only lost one other person in my life with whom I was close to, and that was my grandmother in 2008. Her passing feels like a lifetime ago, and I still miss her. I wish I was able to spend more time with my grandmother, to ask her questions, to hear her stories. She was a woman who had lived life. Like really lived life. I wish I knew more about her experiences, her travels, everything, but now those stories are lost and out of reach in this life. When something is lost that means it can be found, and I believe once I have passed from this plain of existence, I will be able to ask her all the questions and hear all stories. But for now, I am here, and wishing for things from the past is pointless.

My sister and I were close years and years ago, and it wasn’t until five years ago or so that we became close again. Life has a way of happening and can temporarily sever connections, but only temporarily. I am blessed and truly grateful that she and I reconnected, only to become closer. We shared our sadness, our secrets, our struggles, but we also shared some amazing laughs and when occasionally blessed, all the joy and happiness. My sister, like my grandmother, lived life to the fullest. She was a fighter, and even when life over the past year gave her nothing but sorrow and struggle, she never let it stop her. She was out there. She was in it. She was determined to find happiness and joy and adventure whenever she could. I envied her commitment to life. Everyday, even when she would call me crying and needing to vent, she would still wake up the next day and live. I wish I had her strength. I wish I had that drive. I wish I could get my shit together and just do what needs to be done. No arguing with myself or making deals with myself. Just do the things and stop putting them off until tomorrow, because we don’t know if there will be a tomorrow. My sister just did all the things. Even when her heart and mind were broken, she continued on. She kept going, every single day, until the day she didn’t wake up. Even now it makes me smile thinking she is giving Heaven some sort of hell. She was a force to be reckoned with. She didn’t give a fuck what others thought. She spoke her mind, and she wasn’t afraid to do it. She had a way of drawing some pretty amazing people into her life. She had truly incredible friends in her life. All she ever wanted in life was to be a mom, and she was a mom to everyone’s children. She has two beautiful children who will never truly know how much she loved them. She loved them with all the fierceness that was her, but life kept her from them. Life can be cruel, and I can tell you that life crushed her heart. After the death of one of her closest and best of friends in an accident, life dealt another blow to her heart. Her last year on this earth tested her everyday. Everyday was a battle for her, but still, she continued living. Then recently she lost her job. A job she loved and enjoyed, and she couldn’t find another one. To settle for work as a waitress or something less would have been admitting defeat, and she wasn’t about to do that. Still, she continued living. Until she wasn’t. I miss her so much. I don’t have any regrets. I don’t have any what ifs, and I am content in our final conversations. Every phone call that started with crying, ended with gut wrenching laughter, and I am happy with that. But I’m also a little mad. I am angry that she left me here. Who am I supposed to vent to now? Who am I supposed to share our secrets with? I am now the keeper of those secrets, but who am I supposed to laugh with through all the shit that life throws at me? What the fuck? She was not supposed to leave. If anything, I should have been the one. She was the one who actually lived! So this brings me to the harder part of all this.

Why am I the one who is still here?! She lived! She actually lived!! And here I am, the daughter/sister who hermits herself away from life. The daughter who lives selfishly, who avoids activities, who avoids going anywhere unless she has to, who silently hides feelings deep down in order to present a mask of happiness around others, the daughter who forgot how to live. Don’t get me wrong, I help and do whatever I can for others. I argue with myself to leave the house, even for grocery shopping. Hell! I argue with myself just to go outside and water the plants. I have built my own cage under the false pretenses that it’s safe inside it. I know it isn’t. I know it’s unhealthy. I know that I need to spend time with family and friends. I want to do all the things. I want to go hiking. I want to adventure. I miss all that life has to offer. I miss the closeness and intimacy that comes with friendships and relationships, and yet here I am, inside my cage. Is it fear? I know I enjoy life. I am fully aware that I am not truly living. I am fully aware that keeping everything hidden internally will slowly eat away at my soul, because it has been, and it is more and more visible. I see how it affects me mentally and physically, to the point where I have become truly unhappy with myself. If my sister’s passing has shown me anything, it’s that I am a shell of who I was. I have become a hollow being who changes masks depending on the situation. I know she would scold me for this. If she was here, she would drag my ass out into the world and remind me that living in a cage isn’t truly living at all.

So why me?? Why am I still here? Why did life take away the wrong daughter?? This is where I am stuck, sinking into the quicksand of why her and why me. What the fuck do I do now? Yes! I want to live. Yes! I want to make her proud and show her I can live again. Yes! I want to do all the things. And yet, here I am, in the same fucking spot. I can yell at myself, threaten myself, hear her yell at me, feel her shaking me to get out of this sinkhole of self despair. Because honestly, it’s all mentally self inflicted. I have created this for myself. I have built my own walls. I have built this cage. I can see life happening all around me, and yet, I stay stuck.

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Jan 15

Clouded Reflections

by oceangrrrl

I am determined to actually post something this time dammit! Multiple attempts at writing anything have left me with a good number of drafts. I always seem to want to write, but then I just sort of drift off and save it for later. And if you’re anything like me, saving something for later equates to most likely never getting it finished in the future.

This is just one of many brain quirks that has risen to the surface of my new life post mental abuse. My trauma response. This “new” me is a pain in my ass, leaving me frustrated, exhausted, overwhelmed, forgetful, distracted, and downright lazy. Not only am I continuing to heal from my past relationship, I am constantly fighting my own brain as it constantly attempts to keep me “safe” from myself.

I’ve done a good bit of self reflection over the last couple years, and I have revisited so much of the past six that I am officially worn out from all the reflecting and analyzing. Yes. I’ve learned a great deal about myself, and why my brain now feels like a traitor, but I’ve also learned quite a bit about why my ex was the way he was. But I’m not here to write about him. I’m writing about me. He can fuck off straight to Hell at this point, but knowing him, he will just recreate his own and remain there. Not my problem to worry about anymore. Instead, I need to focus on retraining my brain to stop “protecting” me by keeping me locked up in this mental prison of “safety”.

I’ve always had issues with sleep, but my insomnia has been jet propelled into space by a diagnosis of adult onset ADD (I wish I had the hyperactivity part but NOPE) fueled by a trauma response. Let me tell you something about my brain, it sees EVERYTHING. It thinks about EVERYTHING. It wants to learn and see and do fucking EVERYTHING. If I haven’t made it clear to you, my brain doesn’t shut the fuck off anymore. For example, it’s currently 2:40 am CST. Make that 2:41. And guess who is not sleeping. THIS GIRL! Ugh! So what am I to do? 2:42…

Anyway, here I am. Writing to clear my head. I’m pretty sure it’s not working, because now I am wrestling with my thoughts in an attempt to not venture off down some side quest trail as I try to remain on my original story plot path. Focus!

Trauma responses. Ok.

So along with my continued attempts of self realization and self healing and self yada yada yada, I have developed these response quirks that are aggravating as fuck! I used to be one of those people who would get shit done. Like I was on it! I would wake up early, get to work early, get work done, go to the gym, cook dinner, clean the house, etc. etc. etc. Shit was done! Now? I have to drag my ass out of bed, a battle I can barely seem to win anymore. Cook? Maybe a couple times a month anymore, because dishes, and besides, PB&Js are delicious. 🙄 Work out? Why work out when I can be fat and lazy at home eating PB&Js? 🙄 Running errands? Really? Only if I can squeeze them in to a single afternoon/evening, and if not? I can just do it later. Remember what I mentioned about later? Yeah… 🙄 How about work? Work? I do my best work under pressure. Something I have always done, but if I’m not under pressure my brain gets squirreled. Constantly! Constant squirrel attack. Even now I am under attack by squirrels. Things that I used to be able to knock out quickly and efficiently have become these long, drawn out tasks that get done. They just take longer. I no longer have the drive, the urgency, the pressure to get it done. Instead I have pressure just to focus on the task at hand without thinking of the other hundred tasks that are waiting for me after I get just one done. Like, what the fuck is wrong with me?!

This is new territory. This is a whole new level of squirrel battleground, and I feel like I am losing it. My love of being organized has become cluttered chaos. Tasks that are easy, tasks I KNOW are easy for me, have become arduous and overwhelming. This is not normal. This is not who I used to be. This is not easy. And God have I read so much about this and my brain and why it is doing what it is doing. Lord help me! It’s one thing to read and know and understand, it’s a whole other thing to apply and correct. NOT easy. 3:01.

So back onto my original story path, life is better. I am better. To a point. I don’t cry everyday like I had for so long. I don’t dwell and mourn over what I had and the future that I wanted to have. Yes. There are times I miss my ex. There are times I miss what could have been. But then I snap back to reality and remember he was a narcissistic asshole with extreme mental health issues who can only live his life as a victim in order to use and gaslight people until he sucks them dry of any use and then discards them as if they were rotting garbage. I know this from experience, because I was his garbage, so, uh, there’s that.

Anyway, I will continue to do my best trying to apply my newly gained wisdom, and I will continue to learn and grow. All I can say for certain is that I am not the coward I wrote about a couple years ago. Am I the girl I wrote about who was alive and full of hope and dreams and happiness? No. Not exactly, but at least I smile everyday. I may be fatter and more out of shape than I have ever been in my life, but that sure as shit isn’t going to keep me from finding joy in life. Maybe I’ll get my fat self slimmer, stronger, happier, or maybe I will stay like this a little longer as I wrestle my own brain for control. Who knows! Maybe I should try getting some sleep first. Haha! I don’t see it happening at the moment. But hey! I finally got something written and posted! I win! This round anyway. Thank you for spending a few minutes with me and my randomness. I hope you have a wonderfully beautiful day!

-Bonnie

(3:15)

Self-Healing

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Sep 6

The Choices We Choose…

by oceangrrrl

…all come with a price. The cost of doing business so to speak. The consequences of our inactions are just as consequential as the action itself. Everything comes in threes, right? You’ve heard it before. Celebrity deaths seem to happen in threes even if it’s more like five. Good things come in threes. Bad things come in threes. The Holy Trinity. Three strikes you’re out. Third time’s the charm. So why three? Fuck if I know, but I have a theory.

We may think the smallest number of things we could possibly choose from is two, right? Yes or no. Stay or go. Good or bad. Point A to point B. Left or right. Night or day. The list goes on.

If you are a lover of psychology you know it is all logical. A lover of philosophy understands that not everything can be solved by logic. Assume logically you have to choose A or B. You have to make a choice. You can only choose one or the other. This has always bothered me, and in turn I didn’t do very well in my college psychology class. Philosophy I aced. Go figure. I had been told do just that a good many years ago, and because I chose neither, or refused to choose one of the given options, I was removed from the question group and put to the side. I refused to believe that I had to pick one of two options I didn’t want anything to do with, nor did I think either one was correct. But in doing so and choosing not to choose, I created option C. Option C was not even an option, but I stood my ground. Once I chose not to choose, I opened up a door that in turn created additional “non-choosers.” So at least I had some friends in my refusal group. Woohoo!! We didn’t get to participate with the two groups, but we got to enjoy hanging out and discussing why we ended up in our own little club of outcasts.

And so it seems to go in life with other things. Life is not black and white. Those who truly see that life is full of inexplicable wonders, understand this third option. The trifecta. Life or death. Choose to live, or choose to die. We all know we will never make it out of this life that we know alive, and we also know that just because someone is alive doesn’t mean they are truly living. Even with the dead, do they not still go on living in our hearts, minds, and the energies around us? I’m not just talking about ghosts or things that catch your eye in the mirror as you walk past. If you have ever been still in a place of death, you can sense it. The air is heavy, the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention, overwhelming sadness seeps into your skin. It’s the same with places of happiness and joy, where the living come together in order to feel good or smile or laugh. I don’t know many people who would choose to go to a comedy show to cry. Just like people who visit cemeteries don’t typically go there to laugh. Even day and night has an option three: an eclipse.

In all honesty I have no idea why this popped into my head to write about. I am obviously procrastinating from doing something else that needs to be done, but I guess it’s better than doing absolutely nothing. Maybe? There are times when I want to write but can’t. There are times I don’t want to write but have to. And there are times when I don’t plan to write but need to and do it while I’m able.

I guess to tie this in with my current life situation, I can choose to move on and live my life to the fullest, or I can choose to live in the past while not being fully present. But neither of those choices sound fulfilling to me in either way. Are we not told to learn from the past? Reflect on the past? Remember the good times? Are we not told to plan for the future? Set life goals? Look ahead? And while doing both of those things we are reminded to be in the now, be present, enjoy today as if there won’t be a tomorrow, because we truly do not know when our time has come to an end. When life makes the decision for us. Even when we are given choices, there’s that third option that comes into play. Sometimes the third option isn’t even ours to choose.

For example, why do we hear about the people who work hard their entire lives but always seam to be beaten down by life? The ones who give everything without question but never seem to get anything back? The strugglers? The givers? The weary? Aren’t we taught that if we work hard, are kind, good people, it will come back to us? Are we missing something? Look at people who seem to have it easy. It’s as if some can dance through life without a care, haven’t worked a hard day in their life, and things are given to them without being asked or even needed. What third option has come into play with these? Seriously though, if you know the secrets to this I’d really like to not have to work until I die. I sorta have a thought on this as well.

Growing up a good Christian girl, I went to private schools, read the Bible, accepted Jesus, went to church, and I asked for forgiveness of my sins. And though I don’t pray as often as others say I should, or go to church even for Easter or Christmas Eve. I swear more than the typical sailor, have a dirtier mind than most would care to admit, and seem to come off as someone who worships trees, and yet I can’t seem to forget all the things I had been brought up to believe. Yes. I believe in God (in a slightly different way). Do I believe the only way to connect with God is through church or being with others of the same belief? No. Does that mean I want to hang out with a bunch of assholes who murder kittens? Absolutely not! But that doesn’t mean I have denounced all the teachings and parables and songs and lessons. The wisdom passed from generation to generation is a guide, a gift, and a warning.

So why the hell am I talking about my spirituality? Because it is my influential third option. Because growing up I was taught that my entire life is already known. My plans have already been laid out. That somehow I still have a choice baffles the shit out of me. That even if I choose either A or B, it doesn’t fucking matter, because C was already chosen for me. I may want to spend the rest of my life with a partner rather than without, but obviously that doesn’t always work out. I don’t know, maybe my plan is to die surrounded by my cats who will eventually get hungry and realize that eyeballs are a delicacy? Maybe I will spend my life with someone only to have them die first? Maybe I will be involved in a head-on collision tomorrow, because someone wasn’t paying attention and had to answer a text and didn’t react in time when they drifted into my lane? I don’t know! The third option is a killer! Or it could be. Yikes!

Call it fate. Call it destiny. Perhaps it’s option C through option infinity? All I know for sure is that I won’t always be given a choice between one thing and another thing. Even the black and white becomes gray. The day can be dark. The night can be bright. I can choose to work until I die in order to continue living my life comfortably. I can choose to be happy or sad, but I gotta tell ya, it’s hard enough choosing to be ok. Being sad is exhausting. Being happy is exhausting. Being present can also be exhausting, but it’s a choice. Look, Yoda may have said do or do not, there is no try, but is that really all there is? I mean, if you don’t try something how do you know you’ll like it or even want to do it? What about practice makes perfect? Isn’t that just a better way of saying you’re trying to be better at what you are doing?

And again we see why I did not do well at all in psychology. I question everything. I learn something about everything I can. I start hundreds of projects and never seem to finish most if any of them. I am trying my best to live my life and pretend believing I am actually trying to live my life. I feel disillusioned. The more I learn, the more I see, the more I know I am not in control of anything. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it does make it more difficult to live life as though I haven’t peeked behind its curtain. There’s no wizard there. There’s no control center where I can push a button and continue dreaming. There’s nothing there but another curtain. And once you peaked through the next curtain, you find another curtain. So you stand there and try to look up and see if maybe there are some curtain rods to count how many more curtains you have to go through, but you can only see the one you’re facing. You look down, believing the light and shadow from beneath the curtain gives a brief hope that there is something behind this one, only to realize the curtains beyond are moving to an eternal breeze, shifting light and shadow, and reinforcing an illusion you so desperately want to believe.

Options A or B or C are all inherently illusions, and life is filled with choices, as we all know. Do you choose to see the magic trick never wanting to know how it’s accomplished, or do you want to know how the magic trick works? Or, for your third option, do you choose to learn how it works but continue living as if you never saw it? That you continue to believe in the wonder and excitement even knowing it isn’t what it seems? The disillusioned are seen as being negative. That knowing how something works or why it works takes the fun and joy out of seeing it work. And all I can think is why wouldn’t you want to learn more? I don’t want to spend my life only learning about one, single thing. How disappointing that would be when there’s nothing else to know. And even though the more I learn the more I see comes into play, it doesn’t make me want to stop learning. It doesn’t make me not want to start yet another project I will most likely never complete. It doesn’t prevent me from adding more and more to my bucket list even when I know I have less and less time to do any of those things.

So I’ll continue living my life neither the good way nor the easy way, but more like whatever option three decides to throw at me. In reality, it isn’t even my choice to begin with, but I can still choose to see what it has in store. Bring it, option three! Let’s see what you got!

-Bonnie

No matter what my option three may end up being, I still stop to smell flowers and to watch butterflies flutter by. I smile at others and open and hold doors. I make my PB&J in two folded-over halves. I pause for those fleeting moments when a deep breath of the air around me and the view before me yearn for me to take them in and enjoy the present, and I am reminded that my choices are all part of how I ended up in that place, regardless that I did not opt for a flat tire to stop me in the middle of nowhere forcing me to stop for a damn second and let go of what I can’t control. Thank you Option C. I am forever grateful for your interference. Good or bad. And whatever is in the middle.

Self-Healing

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Feb 15

Catcher of Rainbows…

by oceangrrrl

I am not a writer.

I am not a painter.

I am not a poet.

I am not an electrician.

I am not a homemaker.

I am not religious.

So what the fuck am I? Besides annoying and sarcastic and hilarious? Probably the only thing I excel at being: a Jack of all trades. I would say Jill, but then people look at me all cockeyed, so it’s just easier being a Jack. Master? Nope! Expert? Absolutely not! Genius? Hahaha! No! Scholar?Most definitely nope! So what am I besides being subpar or good enough to do as many things as I possibly can?

Scatterbrained. Absolutely all over the place. You thought I’d use a better term, right? Believe me, I thought maybe philomath would be a good one to use as an all encompassing umbrella term, but when it is synonymous with scholar and genius, I have to say it’s a hard nope. If you’ve never heard of a philomath before, it’s worth the lookup. In a way it does describe me. You just have to knock its seriousness down about ten rungs to that whole Jack/Jill level. Nothings against the Jacks and Jills of the world, because we keep this world moving.

Wanting to learn everything I possibly can comes with a price. I have learned (yeah, ba da dum, tsss) as I’ve gotten older that my brain does not like to shut off. It has its moments of pure, determined focus, but more often than not, it is attempting to catch rainbows. My thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I have so many ideas that I can’t seem to recall 90% of them. If I don’t associate your name with something immediately, I will forget it within two minutes of hearing it. If I sit down at a restaurant, and there’s no conversation, I will read everything in range, at least five times, and I will still have to reread the menu to figure out what I want to eat. It is a blessing and a curse. Mostly a curse, but it has given me a divine sense of humor that can come out as mean if I don’t watch myself. Which is also odd, because I am actually a nice person. Annoying, yes! Mean, no! But I can be, so don’t be a dick!

I have learned to write everything down so I don’t forget. I also have to remind myself to remember to write it down, because I will forget to do that too. There are so many things I still want to do, see, and experience in my life, that I no longer have a bucket list. I have a CVS receipt over a mile long. In fact, it’s probably hit the two mile mark at this point, but honestly, I don’t remember where it left off. Obviously the list gets longer each year, because I find myself doing things that aren’t even on my list to begin with. Then I add more to that list that I may or may not get to this year. Or next year. Or ever. Eek!

The desire to learn is strong. I do consider myself pretty damn good at figuring things out. I can Google like a champ, and if I can’t find it on the internet, it most likely doesn’t exist. So there’s that. I love puzzles, cryptograms, word searches, and other random, mind-engaging activities. No. I do not like crosswords, chess, or algebraic equations that use Greek alphanumeric characters that have an assigned, mathematical value. Hell nope! When puzzles are associated with math, like the Rubik’s Cube, I’m out. I can add, multiply, figure out angles, and solve for x. Calculators are my friends. Again. Google is my friend. I can get a max of two sides of that damn cube. So I gotta admit that performing at 33.3…% efficiency is sad. Like, really sad.

And yet I must learn more!

But I never seem to want to learn everything about one thing. I just want to learn something about everything. So that whole curse thing happens here: I learn enough to do whatever task is at hand, and then the desire to learn more vanishes once that particular task is complete. I have a minimum of twenty started projects going at the same time, but two new ones are added each time I complete one. I still owe (not really owe, I enjoy giving a lot) multiple Christmas gifts that I am still in the process of making. I put my heart into everything I do and make, and yet my brain likes to travel elsewhere. It is stressful, exhausting, and it takes its toll on my current, physical and mental state. I get tension headaches nearly every day now, and if I don’t get those under control, they evolve into migraines. Those bad boys like to linger a good three days. I want to get so many things done every day that I don’t seem to have time to finish them. That is, if I even find the time to begin.

Everything is fleeting. My writing comes in waves. My desire to paint is like a storm blowing through. I waste time doing absolutely, nothing worthy of said time. When my body wants nothing more than to sleep, because my eyeballs literally hurt, my brain has other plans. Yay! Puzzles!!! That inspiration to get things done, seems to sputter out midway through just writing out my to-do list. I am a mess.

So why am I writing now? Why am I sharing my nightmare of a mental state with you? Why am I sharing with you the things I enjoy starting and never finishing? Yeah. I don’t know either. Maybe it just helps me organize my thoughts a bit. Maybe I have some deep, philosophical urge to let others know they’re not the only crazy people out there. You are not alone. We are not alone. Know why? Because we are all fucking crazy. Seriously. The quicker you learn that the easier life becomes, because no one thinks the exact same way you or I do. At least we are unique in some way. Ok. Not really. We just like to believe that lie we tell ourselves. We are sooooooooo not unique, and the universe is completely indifferent to our measly, blip of an existence. Even knowing all of that, I still want to learn more. Yes. I’m crazy. But at least I admit it.

Keep doing your crazy. I’ll keep doing mine.

Just don’t be a dick about it.

-Bonnie

Yeah. I can write poetry to scare people, and paint one hell of a bear. I can make a grilled cheese that’ll give you a heart attack ten years down the road (I’m trying to shorten that to five by adding even more butter. I think it’s working), and I can organize like a motha fuckah! I can lay waste to a bag of Dove silky, milk chocolates, and I can get my cat Sausage to “do the thing” which involves getting her to rear up on her stocky little ham hock back legs to get more scratches. Yeah. She’s a special one with her own IG account @catsausage. I can also continue writing random shit about myself, because your level of crazy wants to keep reading it. Sucker! I kid! I appreciate you reading my randomness. I really do. I think it’s fun sharing my weirdness, because you can maybe relate to a fraction of it. If not, I at least hope it was entertaining. Go check out my cat’s page. You know you want to. Just do it. Yes. I am pushing my cat now. You’re welcome. 😉

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Mar 24

Sunshine and Selfishness

by oceangrrrl

Well, it’s finally Spring in Texas!!!!  Warmer weather has arrived!!!  It’s so nice being able to enjoy being outside and feeling the sun on my skin. I have missed it more than you could know, as I am a true sun worshipper and love soaking it up.  I’ll probably die from skin cancer or something, but you know what?  I couldn’t care less.  Oh I say that now!  I know you are all thinking, “Just wait until that actually happens and see if you retract that statement!”  And of course I wouldn’t!!!  If you know me at all, you know I am a sucker for some serious vitamin D production.  I will sweat profusely while reading a good book on a blanket at the park!  Yes!  I will!!!   Speaking of reading on blankets at the park in the sun, I really need to do that soon!!!  🙂

The warmer days are also a reminder that I will have to ditch my car living for a while until it cools back down in the Fall.  My plan was to rent a room during that time to keep expenses to a minimum, and I am not a fan of accepting assistance in the form of a free room offered by family.  The thought is very tempting due to my having my mini me over the Summer here and there, and I plan on accepting the offers given to me with humble and gracious thanks.  I will not take these offers lightly and plan on earning my keep during my free stays.  So with that being said, thank you mom and Mindy.  I will be bouncing between you both until cooler weather arrives.  Just let me know what you need done around the home fronts.  🙂  I love you both!

A strange thing happened last night.  I arrived at my “home spot” to find that my dad was at the office. I don’t think he left until 10 pm or so.  Texting with my dad is really not his forté. He is one who would rather talk on the phone.  Personally I hate talking on the phone.  Being the introvert that I am, I prefer writing.  It’s the easiest way for me to get my thoughts clearly out there in the world.  When I talk, I go full tard, and you’re never supposed to go full tard.  Ever!  Yes!  I am in the phone quite a bit at work.  It’s required to do what I do. Do I like it?  That’s a big nope!  But it has to be done, dammit!!!  Anyway, way off course there. So my dad drives by me.  At this point I had already closed up shop for the night.  There’s no way you would even know I was in my car.  You could walk up to my windows, shine a light wherever possible, and you still wouldn’t be able to see me.  So I texted him asking if he could see me.  No response.  Then I explained that I knew he didn’t like my staying in my car, but it was actually fun, and I enjoyed it. No response.  Hmmm.  No response later.  Nothing today either.  So of course this gets my wheels turning.  And when the wheels are turning there are a lot of negatives running through the gears.  So I came to the mental conclusion that I embarrass the shit out of my dad, and he probably feels I am being selfish by doing this to him and making him look bad by not just staying at his house this whole time.  It was offered when I started this whole thing, and it was declined multiple times.  Actually a strange thing for my dad to offer, since he normally makes you go to him if you need something.  His offering of help is so rare that I didn’t know it existed until recently!  Min gets it!  Min (me awesome stepmom for those not in the know) will talk to me about it.  She reads my blog.  We can sit around and talk about my new, comfy mattress topper.  We can joke about my currently horrible position for the dating world.  We can get a good laugh in about it!  She knows I will do my best to remain safe.  My mom worries about all the same things, but we can talk about car living seriously and jokingly, and it’s understood.  I don’t think my dad truly understands.  He doesn’t know me that well, so maybe it’s really understandable, but it’s not like we don’t get along or anything.  My dad has an image to maintain, and what does it say to others when they know his daughter lives in her car?  This is where the whole selfish thing comes into play. 

So upon giving it all even more thought, this is my conclusion: I am selfish.  It is what has kept me alive.  It is what has kept my spirit going, always trudging forward.  My selfishness has kept my soul from sliding into dark places.  It has allowed me to become me.  Discovering who you are as a person is hard to do when surrounded by people and things and illusions of happiness.  I had given so much of myself in the past to those I thought would always be there for me, that I lost myself and became someone no one would want to be around.   It’s pretty pathetic when you think about it.  It’s taken me this long to figure this all out?  Ugh!  

Being able to do this for myself, living in my car and giving up all the vanities that were at my disposal, has helped me realize just how much is out there in the world.  There’s just so much to see and do!  It has also helped me realize that it is ok to do these things alone.  Of course I hope to not do everything alone!  When I’m ready there will be someone to share these experiences with, but for now it’s just me.  Sometimes it’s hard making myself try new things, because my mind begins to think about others’ opinions and what they think of me.  Yeah.  Sadly it happens.  Then I realize I don’t care what other people think of me.  I am a nice person.  I will go out of my way to help you if you ask.  I will offer to help when I can.  I am funny.  I can be overly goofy at times.  I’m sure I can be annoying.  Ok.  I know I can be annoying.  Sometimes I say things without thinking and sound like an idiot.  It happens occasionally.  Shush peanut gallery!!!  I think I am pretty.  That’s a hard one!  I’m working on it!  So anyway, it’s possible to be selfish and selfless at the same time.  You have to find your balance!  Everyone has a different balance, but it’s possible to achieve.  Work/life balances.  Love/work balances.   Family/work balances.  Everyone has their desired level of each that they feel balances them out.  Looks like I think about work too much.  :-/

As I sit here in my car writing this, I believe I have found a good, temporary balance.  It won’t last forever.  A wrench will get tossed into the system at some point.  It’s life!  It’s fleeting and delicate, and it can be a sadistic teacher at times.  For now I will focus on the little things.  The small bits of joy that can be shared with others.  I will continue working on bettering me as a whole so that maybe I can better others.  If I can make you smile or laugh then I feel it has been a good day!  So now I will end this with some pics that make me feel good, and maybe I’ll throw in a couple good laughs as well.  I need to close up for the night and get some sleep.  I wish you pleasant dreams and beautiful thoughts.  🙂

-Bonnie





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