My brothers girlfriend took her own life.

But everyone keeps on living.

She was never a person I would’ve assumed would take her own life. But how often do we see it coming? Someone is miserable but an expert at hiding it. Or we aren’t listening hard enough.

It made me think. How many happy women do I know? And I can’t name one.

I can’t.

I feel like Betty Draper in Mad Men. At least the first seasons. I have everything but still nothing. I should be happy but I’m not.

My sister is drowning in an angry relationship that is causing her to be extremely overweight and extremely snappy at people.

My mother is drinking too much to drown whatever daemons are plaguing her. She loves her husband but she’s torn between the different countries he lives in and never has time to just sit down and relax.

My friends are getting divorced, or becoming a family wife, resentfully taking care of everything, or unable to find their path. One is extremely unhappy with their work but unsatisfied with going back to school to finish her degree.

I don’t know happy women. But I though she was happy. Even if she wasn’t extremely happy, she was strong, beautiful and so smart. I never saw it coming. And I can read people. Obviously I saw she was sad but I underestimated how sad and now I feel so phony. I thought I was a good friend, and I just got it proven that I’m not. I can’t be there for those who I hold close. I can’t even be there for myself.

I got a job. A job that will look absolutely marvelous on my resume but doesn’t at the moment contain a lot of actual working.

I’m not done with school, no where near it seems, but I chose to work becuase my motivaiton for my education was running dry. Running dry. As if it was ever “wet”.

I just didn’t want to be stuck in a dead end job with a low salary, and miserable for my entire life. Instead I ended up feeling really old and absolutely no where in my life. As if we’re valued by our emplyee status, and lets not forget marital status.

So I’m no where. No mans land. I may have a job, but it’s temporary as the education has to be completed one wya or another. I’m not married, and if I’ve understood my boyfriend correctly, I wont be married for another 7 years. Or maybe it was five. I can’t really remember as all I could think was, wow I will be really old.

It’s not that I care about the marriage part. It’s rather, why doesn’t he want to marry me. Why can’t he commit to forever after in writing if he can when he talks to me? What is so wrong with wanting a ring, a ceremony, tax benefits and commitment?

He got me to quit drinking though. Not forever. With the exception of 2 glasses of wine last week (work dinner, and it was nice) I haven’t had any alcohol since the end of January. Go me. He was threatening to leave me, I had gotten violent. Problem is that my drinking is a reason for issues I surpress. Issues as aggrevatin over a messy home, being the bearer of all economic problems and then there’s my over-weight issue. Which of course was a major cause of the alcohol.

The weight has not improved really. I guess I just substituted wine with candy/sodas. And now I’m hyped up on sugar instead of alcohol. Will this circle never end?

Forgiveness. Life would be easier if we only forgave ourselves.

Until a few years ago, the hardest thing I had to forgive myself was making stupid decisions about men. That was it. Forgive me for not going after the ones I wanted and forgive me for letting those I could care less about take advantage over me.

Forgiveness was easy back then.

The year my dad got sick was a busy year in my life. I have to forgive myself for not spending more time with my father. For letting him go through so much alone when I always wanted to be there for him but just couldn’t bare to see him fade away. I have forgive myself for all the harsh thoughts I had. Believing that if only he wanted to live, he could fight the cancer. The cancer that only took 3 months to end his life.

I have to forgive myself for letting myself get completely drawn into the world of alcohol after he passed. Forgive myself for blurring out the remainder of that year, for gaining 80 pounds over a span of 6 months and for wallowing. I have to let myself understand that it was OK to get depressed.

It’s hard to forgive oneself. It’s even harder to think someone who has passed would forgive you.

In the long run, I have to forgive myself for never taking care of my body. For letting it balloon up. Sometimes I give myself such a hard time for it, but in the end I just have to forgive myself.

Read all I’ve got to write about here.

The very ultimately first love I can remember is of a boy at kindergarten. I used to chase him around the playground begging him to be mine and when we had naps, me and my friend would lie on either side of him holding his hands.

One day I asked him for a photograph and I think I held on to that picture for ten years. Not because I always loved him, but because it was the first love. The first boy I really loved.

There isn’t much to say about it because I don’t remember much about it except that I was jealous when he played with my friend and I wanted him to play with me instead. I suppose many people wont call that a love because you are too young to understand the concept, but I believe love exists without understanding and what I felt for him sure enough was love.

Why else would I still remember his name, now twenty years later?

Want to read the complete lists? Go here.

I fear that I’m pregnant and I’m ambivalent about how I feel.

I only have a few months left of school and I was looking forward to working, earning money. Having money. I miss that feeling. Being able to afford normal things and not turning every penny. If I’m pregnant I wont be able to work for another year.

I don’t want a kid. They are cute and cuddly and I bet I would love my child just as much as the next mother, but I don’t want a child. Not now and maybe never. I don’t want to be restrained and I was finally okay with feeling and thinking about being childless forever. We were going to be happy anyway.

But one of my biggest reasons for not wanting a child was that he didn’t want a child and now he’s acting all cool and happy and saying we will find out soon enough if I’m pregnant or not. And I just want to understand, is this a true reaction, was all that other stuff only lies? Or is he hiding his true intentions? Is he walking out my door cursing on the inside?

Quitting drugs, and in my part, alcohol, is not as easy as people want you to believe it is.

Did I not have spell checker, you’d be exposed to some awful typing.

I sometimes think of all of those blogging mommies who claim to have been an addict one time or another, but I cannot recall them ever typing while they were deep into it. And I’m deep into it.

Sometimes I think, oh sweet darling don’t get home for another hour or two, that way you can only guess how much I actually drank, instead knowing for sure.

I know, I’m deep in. I know it so badly that I do my best to hide it from my partner. I think he knows of this site so I guess I’m doing poorly job of it. However, my last boyfriend was an enabler. He would eat and drink and smoke pot way worse than I would. He would encourage my addictions and draw me deeper within them. I would try to break free.

Now I try to fight for my right to drink. I know it sounds crazy but it’s my last refuge, it’s my last… addiction. I gave up all of the others, way down to sugar. And it’s driving me insane what else can I look forward to?

When you give up to everything, the one time you let yourself free, you will take the step one close further to addiction, to deprivation, to the bottomless pit that is darkness. Because you finally let yourself have something.

That is why I get drunk more often now, than I did before. Because I refuse myself, and I refuse myself everything. All the time.

Someday this will be the death of me, but right now I cling to hold on and how do I do this? By getting drunk….

* I don’t want to tell you how many type-o’s I had with this post, because that’s just sad, I’m that deep into this shit.

The worst thing about you being right and me wrong is that you are in fact right. I drink too much. You are however wrong when you state that I will become and alcoholic by forty, because I’m an alcoholic now.

I lie to you… there’s only one glass left in that Bag in Box (when I know I switched it out for a completely new one just the other day). I hide from you, I fill up my wine glass when you’re doing laundry. I pretend you don’t see, sometimes you pretend too.

I know I should quit,and I know a lot of my “wants” will be fulfilled if I do. Weight loss to name one. But I did, and then I yelled at you when I wanted a glass of wine.

I’m afraid of pushing you away, and I think I’m a nicer person when I get my wine. I just don’t think that adds up tot he days I hide the amount I drink from you.

Remember the other day when you went to watch some football. Then when you came back I wanted a glass of wine. That wasn’t my first, rather my forth and I think you knew.

You’ve tried talking to me but I can tell you’re afraid of loosing me too and I don’t know the answer any more. I don’t know the right approach, because when I get like this, and you comment on the drinking, I get mad. I get oh-so-mad. And it would tear us apart. I’m sorry I tear us apart. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I just wish you’d happened before I grew accustomed to a drink here and there and everywhere.

I love you so much but I don’t know how to kick this, and I can’t let you be the focus of all my anger if you’re on the right side. I need you to stay in fake oblivion until I’ve figured this out. I can figure this out.

There he was, smiling again at the screen.

Laughing out loud but wont share the fun. He will tell me titbits, he will explain some parts.

So I joined. I sat in the same room. I ended up taking over. A room full of men tend to give the girl attention.

All of a sudden the shoe is on the other foot. If there are two females and a hundred men. Females will get the attention. He didn’t like it, he didn’t want me to get it. All of a sudden his friends were my friends and I had taken over.

I would be mad too, and I’d cared if I wasn’t so frustrated by it. By him smiling at the screen, at watching young women showing more than they should.

Now he sulks and now he complains.

I guess he didn’t like to wear my shoes.

This entry was originally posted at Mushroom Print.

I feel mislead.

In every sitcom I watch, every dirty novel I read and every Playboy/Penthouse magazine I scour the Q&A for – I’m lead to believe, men are more sexual than women.

Men want it more.

There’s always some sort of power struggle where the woman holds out on the sexual or the man gets rewarded with a sexual favour when being such a good little boy. I know of course these are not the ideal situations to build a long lasting relationship, but my point is, the man is always wanting and willing.

This has never ever been the case in the relationships I’ve been in and I feel so… betrayed. Betrayed by TV and reliable magazines who have mislead me into thinking that the sex power dynamic in a relationship will be mine.

My reality have rather been that men are hot and eager for the first couple of weeks followed by being fulfilled and satisfied which only leads to me being “the beggar” later on in the relationship.  Some have lasted every day, others are satisfied with a couple of times a week. Me on the other hand, I’ve been yearning for round two.

I have nothing to fear when it comes to my own abilities, and I know I have nothing to fear over their fidelity. I. Just. Want. MORE.

So this fist goes out to all those misleading shows and magazines out there, who disregard the fact that men are human and not lead by their weiners. They are tired and sometimes choose a video game over sex. You lied to me Penthouse, you deceived me Playboy and I never again want to hear a TV husband beg for sex!