Update, or It’s Time to Don the Oven Mitts

Heya, my innernets friends!  *wave*

I’ve been MIA for a bit, mostly due to 70-hour work weeks and a need for solitude.  But know that all is well, and I’ve come to terms with the shit I was going through a while back.  To sum it up, my ex and a friend of mine fell in love, and she moved to my former hometown to live with him and start a new life.  This news, coinciding with a MAJOR, MAJOR life change for me, basically ripped me apart.  Being thousands of miles from my support system and everything I’ve ever known and being sworn to silence about the whole thing coupled to turn my head into a nasty, self-destructive place.

Many have asked why I let this scenario bother me, given that I now live with the love of my life in what could be called paradise.  That’s a perfectly good question, one I asked myself many, many times in the midst of my emotional collapse.  The answer is not simple.  Many of you don’t know that I have a history of major depression with suicidal ideation and attempt.  After many years of hospitalization, therapy, and continuous self-examination, the trigger for my self-destruction was determined to be emotional rejection, primarily from a male.  The reasons behind this are countless and VERY deeply-rooted, and I’ve done my best over the past 32 years to come out victorious in my many battles with this issue.  Unfortunately, discovering that the circumstances behind my breakup last year were not at all what I thought they were sent me off the ledge once more.  Couple the demons with the facts that my rejector was now fully in love with a friend of mine, and that I was all the way across the country from everything I’d ever known, and that pretty much brings you up to date.

I have since dealt with this issue, and the other issues at the root of the problem.  I can’t say that I’ve beaten my demons for good, because it’s not a simple case of “the sads” with me.  But I have embraced my new life, and am working on bettering my situation on many levels.  I have accepted the unceasing love of my Mocha Man; I am amazed by his every facet on a daily basis.  I may never fully see myself as completely worthy of a man’s love, but I’m doing my best.

So, there ya go.  I won’t delete the previous posts, because they are a reminder to me of how easy it is for me to lose touch with reality in times of distress.  I need to remember, every day.  I need to see reality in its true light, and I need to be able to discern the veil of self-destruction when it comes to cover my eyes.

Thank you to those of you who helped me through this, my apologies to those of you who had to sit in the dark.  That matter wasn’t my choice, and I wish I could’ve let you in earlier.

Much love, and a blackberry pie in the works!

The Wreckers

There’s a CD I turn to when I need my home, and my family, and the people I love.  There’s one CD that truly plows into my heart and reminds me where I come from.  It’s on now, as it has been for the better part of two weeks.  A few years ago, Michelle Branch formed a country duo with her backup singer, Jessica Harp: The Wreckers took over the country music scene as one of the most promising acts in years.  They released one album, Stand Still, Look Pretty, before they disbanded some 18 months ago. Some of you may scoff at this seemingly odd choice, especially those of you who know my musical background, and I dare say that you’d be right to assume I’d gone absolutely batty.  But seriously, this disc is excellent.  These two women have nearly identical voices, which make for some spine-chilling harmonies.  Paired with damn good, tell-it-like-it-is songwriting and a phenomenal band, it’s simply infectious.

I fall back to this disc when I can’t say what I want to say, which has been precisely my position for the past few weeks.  I know what’s getting to me, I know exactly what brought it on, but due to a completely undeserved promise of loyalty, I can’t discuss it.  So I put this disc on, I sing at the absolute top of my lungs (which is somewhere near Mount Fuji, I’m guessing) and I shell pistachios for the biscotti I’m making for my Mocha Man.  I remember the long, windy drives through the mountains of Eastern Kentucky with my best friend when we played this disc on repeat and gave The Wreckers a run for their vocal money.  I remember sitting in my sister’s bathroom when I lived with her for a few months, watching her put on her makeup and singing along to this disc with her.  I remember driving back and forth to Louisville, nursing a broken heart and letting my rage seep out with the song “Cigarettes” on repeat.

So here I am again, with The Wreckers on repeat, wondering when I’ll quit being pissed about all this.

Not anytime soon, I’m guessing, since I’ve almost drained the juice in my ipod.

I’m ba-aaaack!

Yeah, that’s right. I’m done crying in my beer and am back at the goodie-baking. This happy little monkey to the left is apple cinnamon oatmeal bread, and I dare say that it’s not a sin to eat it for breakfast! There’s only 1/2 cup of brown sugar in the whole 9-inch loaf; everything else is GOOD for you! I’m a genius, I know.

So, in all seriousness, thank you, each and every one of you who listened to my emotional barfing over the past week. Thank you for the kind words, thank you for the encouragement, and thank you for just being there. This couldn’t have really happened at a worse time, but, to quote a friend of mine, one does one’s best. For those of you who know J, please keep him in your thoughts. He’s a wonderful guy, and I’d love to see him ’round these parts (and ’round RP as well), but something tells me that won’t happen. You guys are the best. I’m so glad to know that I have the love and support of so many fantastic people, whether I’ve met them or not!