Category Archives: Steph’s junk

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What they don\’t tell you about loosing your best friend.

I read post on thought catalog called: What they don\’t tell you about grief. It hit home and it hit home huge.  Jason\’s death is no secret, nor is the fact that it changed me on a number of levels. I still never really talked about how it really made me feel.  I\’ve never been one to put myself out there from an emotional standpoint. I\’m not an easy person to read and the mere thought of being vulnerable makes me break out in a rash.  Except, it\’s coming up to the third year since I lost Jason and now I think that it\’s time. So thank you Katherine Milan for sharing your grief and for inspiring me to finally talk about my own.

The back story: Jason (in case you\’re new here or live under a rock) committed suicide on September 3rd 2009 somewhere between 12-1:30am at a school.  Because he shot himself at a school, and a group of teenagers found him; there was a media storm that followed.  Full of details that I didn\’t need to read.  I am however getting ahead of myself just a little bit. I had a bad feeling for months, I knew in my heart that he was going to commit suicide.  I just didn\’t know when.  Jason was diagnosed with bi-polar/anxiety disorder at a really young age and his mother was told that there was no hope for her child.  This wasn\’t his first attempt and while he gave me his word that he wouldn\’t do that to me/his family/other friends and I desperately wanted to believe him I knew that he was only saying that to pacify me.  Some things I have learned, you can not control.  It was a Thursday, I had a bad feeling all day and when I came home from work I found out via a friends blog that Jason had died.  Here\’s what they don\’t tell you:

How the media exploits what happened and so do members of the community at large.  How nothing can prepare you for having to read that your friend didn\’t have a face left.  How he\’s painted as a monster and yet you know different.  The shock, the pain, the seemingly never ending flow of tears.  How no matter how loud you scream, no one will hear you.  How you constantly kick yourself for not taking five minutes out of your day to send them an e-mail to let them know that your you\’re doing all right and you\’re going to be OK.  Knowing that the last e-mail you sent him was cryptic and you hesitated to tell him that you loved him and in the end never did.  You were planning on it, but you forgot and you foolishly thought that you had more time.

Except now you don\’t. Because they\’re dead now and nothing you say or do will bring them back.

No one tells you that in spite of how much death you\’ve experienced in your life that nothing knocks you on your ass quite like this does. No one prepares you for the numbing shock that your body, soul and spirit goes through. Rendering you almost dead inside. Where you know that you\’re alive, but you are no longer living.  You discover that the boyfriend you thought you knew, became a total insensitive, douche bag. Which leads you to breaking up with him at 2am via e-mail that you send to him at work. You find it hard to care about how callous a move that is because he never gave a shit about your feelings, so why should you care about his? How you got fired from your job, your boss claiming that you\’re being defiant.  Except you aren\’t being defiant, you\’re silently suffering from depression; you\’re not entirely aware of this. People like you don\’t suffer from depression, it\’s un-thinkable.

How hearing the sound of a car backfiring wakes you up in the middle of the night and makes you think of him and what he did. You find yourself crying all over again. How you finally make it home to see your family for the holidays and you\’re standing there talking to your mom & your gun toting father pulls out a 12 gauge shotgun to show someone else and you catch it out of the corner of your eye and you get your first taste of PTSD and it scares the daylights out of you.  How you learn to fear that your life might never be the same again, and is your life ever going to be \’normal\’ again? How you discover just how desperately you need help, yet you don\’t know the first place to look.  How much effort it takes just to get out of bed in the morning.  You learn that you either need to fix it, or end it. There really isn\’t that many options left on the table anymore.

How you discover how much strength you have, when being strong is the only choice that you have.  The metaphor of living in a perfectly sculpted snow globe. You & your friend have everything all planned out, you nailed it and now you just need to kill it.  Except when they commit suicide, it feels like a giant hand has come from the sky and taken your proverbial snow globe and smashed it into a billion pieces.  Leaving you on your knees, scrambling to find the pieces of your decimated life.  How you found someone that was better and more honest and you fell in love with them at the absolute wrong time. How that person managed to piss you off so much to the point that you loose it completely.

Where three days later, that same person however stood there, held you while you cried all over them. Standing in your bare feet wearing a fuzzy black bathrobe in a puddle created at their feet and you discover the true meaning of hitting rock bottom.  You realize just how many people hurt, because you hurt.  How you crawl into bed and cry for hours on end and out of no where the universe decides that you\’ve had enough and you have an epiphany of sorts and you accept that you need help, because no one can help you if you\’re not willing to help yourself.  You get out of bed and spend hours searching for someone, or something that can help you because you just can\’t take it anymore.  Things need to change or you will destroy yourself and everyone around you.  You finally work up the nerve to make the call and impatiently wait for the person on the other end to return it.

I\’ll never forget the first time I walked into therapy. I stood at the door and I debated actually going in.  I worked up the nerve, walked in the door and when asked why I was there, I gave the most honest reply I think I have ever given in my entire life: \” I\’m broken and really messed up inside. Please help me.\” The elation I felt knowing that for once during this entire journey, I actually felt that I was going to be OK.

And I am. 

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Nagging bitches, my book & Karma.

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Yes some posts I can be bothered to separate, but not today. After all, it\’s Monday and I\’m tired.  For this, I blame Karma. I was teasing someone last night about how I don\’t have to get up stupid early in the morning to go to work like they do (still early none the less) and I was going to text them in the morning for the sheer purpose of rubbing it in that I A: just woke up (after him) B: was still in bed. Yeah well, that was a lovely thought.  I woke up around 4:45-ish and my first thought was sonofabitch! Of course I had to pee. Then, you\’d think I\’d be able to go back to sleep, but no not really.  It was one of those drifting in and out of sleep moments that aren\’t really satisfying. Although I still got to lounge around in bed, which is warm, cozy and uber comfy in my jammies. So damn right I sent that text, to which I was informed that I missed the sun rise that morning. I\’m sure it was beautiful and pondering that comment briefly after I woke up I thought to myself, yeah fuck that I catch enough sunrises in the dead of winter. You know when it\’s dark until 8am :p So that\’s that. He clearly won that round!  Needless to say, I won\’t be saying that again.

Nagging bitches: I don\’t get it! Why on earth do some people (usually woman, I hate to stereotype but they do exist for a reason) feel that nagging someone endlessly will garner results? It\’s really, really fucking irritating! STOP IT! I work with someone who thinks that by constantly harping on your ass, about things that are of NO concern to them none the less; will make a difference. Personal cheerleader my ass. Jesus Christ, leave me and the countless other people you annoy the shit out of alone!  There are some things that *I* feel should be of no involvement of others, especially at work and my boss agrees with me.  Granted there are some things that you need to get on my ass about until I give them to you.  IE: the menu, the milk order.  Because I occasionally forget those things and the reminder is helpful and usually welcome. However when you\’re getting on my case about how I choose to live my life, especially when we only have a working relationship? Drop dead.  I don\’t care how you justify it to yourself in your mind, you are not my mom, I am not burger king, therefore you can not have it your way!  Because of her (especially because of her) I can totally understand and relate to why men hate woman who nag incessantly.  It gives me a headache!

In other news, I\’m working on making food porn v 2.0 become a reality.  Going to purchase the ISBN and the whole nine yards for this one I think.  Essentially I plan to do an edit of the original one and make some more grown up modifications to the recipes themselves.  Stephanie\’s secret\’s, which became the working title (thanks to a clients suggestion) has officially sold out and while I could do a second printing, it\’s a costly investment and unless I have enough people willing to do pre-sale on it, I won\’t bother with it.  It\’s a little known fact that my self published book titled food porn really does exist.  There\’s only three copies of it period. It\’s what one might say a collectors item, if you\’re into that sort of thing.  Funny enough, I was paging through it earlier and clearly my proof reading skills need some work, as does my grammar >.< I was in a rush to get it printed because I wanted it ready as a gift for someone\’s birthday. Clearly that wasn\’t my best idea!  However, when Stephanie\’s secrets came to life in a gorgeous 8.5×11 format thanks to Maggie\’s dedication, formatting and editing skills and her printing team at Wynterblue publishing it looks amazing!  Except this time, I want it to be in a hardcover format. Sadly, they don\’t offer the type of cover & binding I need for this project but I might get them to once again rock out the printing of the book & have it sent to another company to be bound.

We\’ll see. In any case, let it be known that the hardcover edition will also be limited and we\’re working on the cover art right now, thanks to the help of a photographer friend.

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Reasons why I most likely won\’t date you.

Also? I hate my phone. A lot. Smart phone my ass. Sometimes it sends e-mails, usually it chooses not to. Although on the rare occasion that it does, it usually cuts it off at some point. Which is irritating as fuck because sending e-mail via this phone is already enough of a pain in the ass! -End phone rant.

Anyway, someone had commented that I hadn\’t posted any bad dates as of late. The reason behind that would be this: I haven\’t been on any dates of late. Good, bad or otherwise. Things are finally kinda quiet in my life and well needless to say, I\’m enjoying the \’me\’ time that comes along with it.  Aside from the fact that I\’ve been deathly ill and have decided to keep my germs to myself for the most part.  I\’m also really, really picky about who I choose to spend my time with.  With the sheer number of douchebags out there, who can blame me?  That being said, here\’s my (on going) list of things that will make me likely say no to you if you ask me out on a date:

  • You feel compelled to show me your 6-8 pack.  Unless it\’s beer or some other tasty beverage, I really don\’t give a shit about how ripped your core is. Really, I don\’t.
  • You send me pictures of your naughty bits.  *IF* I wanted to see that, I would make it happen. If for some reason you truly feel that this is necessary, even if I don\’t, make it a good one.  Likely won\’t change my mind in any way, shape or form; however make my free eye candy worth it and hope that I don\’t have some underground porn site.
  • You wear more make up than I do. I\’m all for being who you are and all that, I just fail to see the attraction to eye liner.
  • You\’re high maintenance. Guys complain that it takes woman eons to get ready. I dated a guy once who took twice as long to get ready. Yes really.
  • You feel compelled to wear your pants hanging halfway off your ass. IT\’S NOT ATTRACTIVE!   AS A MATTER OF FACT, YOU LOOK LIKE A FUCKING IDIOT! 
  • Pointy shoes. I just can\’t deal with this horrendous trend in shoes. As soon as I see them, I feel the need to put bells on them and throw you in a parade with the shriners.
  • You live at home. I\’m almost 34, if you\’re still living at home, you\’re too young for me. Or you\’re a mamma\’s boy and I can\’t handle that either.
  • You go out of your way to tell me how much money you make or the kind of car you drive. I. Don\’t. Care.
  • You play the oral sex card.  Just because guys claim that they\’re hurting for oral sex doesn\’t mean that we are. Talk is cheap and unless you\’re so damn good that it\’s mind blowing,  would make me hit the ceiling good and can prove it; shut it. Don\’t sing it, bring it.
  • You can\’t spell or type like a lazy ass fool. I\’m very well read, nothing irks me more than someone who can\’t spell or can\’t be bothered to spell out the entire word. It\’s lazy and too much like elementary school. Grow up.
  • You lack intellect. I shouldn\’t have to explain that.
  • You can\’t hold a conversation. Communication is important.
  • You\’re an idiot. I\’m smart. Book/life/street smart. You should be too on some level or another. Otherwise the likely hood of us having any type of connection is highly improbable. I don\’t care if I sound like a snob, intelligence is hot.
  • You\’re considerably shorter than I am.  I\’m almost 6 feet tall, I\’m also not a jungle gym.
  • You\’re in a relationship. I don\’t care if your wife/girlfriend/significant other isn\’t doing it for you.  Find a fuck friend or five to meet your needs. I don\’t share, nor do I tolerate cheating.
  • Don\’t have a sense of humor. I don\’t deal with people who are uptight.
  • Feel the need to text/email/phone me several times a day for no reason at all. It\’s irritating.
  • Have zero respect for my independence. I take care of me. Deal with it.
  • Have mommy issues. Freud just may have been onto something…
  • You tell me that you want to lick all of my tattoos. No. Just no.
  • You feel the need to pee on me. I have indoor plumbing. Please, feel free to use it.
  • You masturbate in my bathroom. Yes it\’s happened before. How did I find out? They missed. I have a black shower curtain. Do the math.
  • You want kids. I don\’t. That\’s an immediate deal breaker right there.
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Concussions, helmet\’s & porn…

Yeah I know, totally random. That\’s the story of my life and generally the theme of my blog. Unless you\’re new here, you know that already.  I have a habit of saying the wrong thing and it\’s usually not at a good time.  Or it just comes out wrong, it\’s a gift.

Not entirely sure where I was going with that, but anyway.  It\’s dawned on me that I should wear a helmet, with a built in sneeze guard.  Two weeks ago, I got sneezed on. In. The. Face.  Some of it got in my mouth!  Yeah I know, gross. It\’s a job hazard.  I thought I had dodged the sickness bullet…

Hell no!

I took that \’bullet\’ to the face, which essentially destroyed my Easter weekend.  Not that I give a shit about the actual holiday, however long weekend, a paid day off? Yes please!  I was excited, until Wed rolled around and by Friday (good Friday my ass!) I was contemplating throwing myself off of an overpass in rush hour.  I could see it coming and I was hopeless to do anything about it.  I hate, truly hate being sick.  I dislike being vulnerable in any form. Even writing that word makes me break out in a rash (OK not really but still…) but I still held onto the faint hope that perhaps it wouldn\’t be as bad as I anticipated.

It was worse actually.

I haven\’t been that sick since my early twenties and had viral meningitis.  Although I have to say, the fever induced delirium was interesting.  In any case, I was holed up in bed for the better part of three days, totally and utterly disgusted by the things that were happening to my body & what was coming out of it. I\’ve never used so much Kleenex in one sitting ever I\’m sure.  So anyway, as a result of said illness I had to say no to an invitation from someone because I was still feeling like a train wreck and didn\’t want to pass it onto them.

Wed rolls around, i\’m at work. Still sick, still rocking a fever, still praying for death…  I\’m hauling ass to tidy up my kitchen because we had a final inspection the following day and everything needed to be perfect.  One upper cupboard was open and i\’m not short…  I closed a lower cupboard and flung my head back and smashed the back of my head. Hard. My head was lopsided and did some pretty interesting things to the appearance of my hair.

I gave myself a concussion.  Not a bad one, but one bad enough that my Dr. threatened to give me a helmet deeming it medically necessary in case I gave myself a skull fracture.  So anyway I sent said person that I had to blow off some random text and I won\’t divulge what went down but it was pretty damn funny.  I felt bad in a way, but in the same token when you\’ve been that ill for what felt like forever, you take laughter for granted.  So I didn\’t get their response to said text until first thing in the morning, which I made the \’mistake\’ of reading while on the bus.  I started laughing so hard that breathing was a challenge.  Also made everyone on the bus likely think that I lost my mind or I was \’special\’ 😉  It made my day though, really.  Even thinking about it now makes me smile.

So anyway, I got to thinking about some of the conversations I\’ve had with said person and we got to talking about how loud some people can be during sex. I\’m not a loud person generally speaking overall. My ex roommate however was. So much to the point that once I actually threw a pillow into her room, while her and her now husband were having sex and told him to put it over her face…  So I said to him people watch too much fake porn (what I meant to say was bad porn, for the record) and i\’ll admit it, I\’ve watched my share of porn and some of it\’s really bad.  Although I\’ve noticed that there\’s quite a few common denominators when it comes to porn:

  • Some dude always has a hideous tattoo. Usually of the tribal or barbed wire variety.
  • Everyone almost always leaves their shoes on. WTF?
  • The nails. Seriously? There\’s some bad nail jobs going on.
  • Socks. Some dude almost always has socks on and once I seen a dude wearing socks and sandals in porn. So. Very. Wrong.
  • The screaming IE: OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME HARDER while dudes just grunt and say something lame like \’yeah baby you like that?\’

So generally speaking, chicks feel the need to scream and guys don\’t say much, if anything at all. So I got to thinking, if you\’re lacking in experience or imagination chances are you\’re watching or have watched porn at some point or another (aside from the whole visual aspect) for \’research\’ purposes. I\’d recommend not doing that, otherwise I might have to offer up a pillow to put on your face.