Drip

When it rains, some people just grab an umbrella and keep going on the direction they were already headed in. Other people, thrilled it’s finally raining, run straight out into the downpour without care. And still others, like me, know it’s much more than rain. We felt it coming days, weeks ago, and have dreaded its appearance since the first. Now here it is, and all we can do is stand there and allow it to soak us – ruin more than our outward appearance. This rain soaks us to the bone, and we aren’t going to recover from it easily. Me? This Bitch is in a puddle that became a swimming pool. Fighting to keep from drowning as the water just keeps coming, wondering if I want to keep swimming or not. No serious plan here, folks. This Bitch is just ready for the dry desert. This damn water is too much.

Resurrection

So guess who just skidded back through the gates of hell and into the fire? THAT’S RIGHT! The BITCH is BACK! I’m kind of glad, too. Even though, I must admit, I had hoped I’d never be back. This Bitch has big fucking issues, and I don’t think anything will ever be permanent in Bitch Land. FUCK.

‘Tis the season for yuletide, merriment, gift giving, stress, depression, and a steaming hot pile of shit from the past. Open up, honey – and try to hold your breath because this stinks. It’s Christmas Eve in my little corner of Hell. I’d rather be hanging a noose for myself instead of hanging stockings. Now chill you jumpy readers. This Bitch isn’t flinging herself into the void just yet. I said “rather” not “am.” Truthfully, a way out feeeels goooood to my soul. Damn those pesky attachments of life. Holding this Bitch back from the great inevitable and all isn’t much of a gift to ME. Honestly, though, it’s too easy. I DESERVE to suffer. I deserve the pain and misery. The G.D. MOTHER FUCKING tears. I own them. I earned them.

So, you might be sitting there thinking to yourself, “Self, what is wrong with the Anxiety Bitch now?” Shiiit. Thanks for asking. One Word: REGRET. You know it. You hate it. I hate it. Ain’t it a bitch? Add in some holiday blues, MDD, and a visit from the Mother Fucker (yeah…the borderline personality vag that pushed out this Bitch will soon be parked on my favorite chair, drinking my therapy…RumChata White Russian anyone?) and you get one upset BITCH.

The sob story is that many years ago, I had to re-home my 2 cats. I was in a VERY BAD situation, like…dangerous…and they couldn’t fairly live like that. It was BAD. It wasn’t RIGHT. It wasn’t FAIR to THEM. And, as hard as I tried and tried and tried, I couldn’t find anyone to take them. Family, friends, rescues…NO FUCKING ONE WOULD HELP ME OR THEM. I gave them to an old friend {who I lost touch with} that had a farm. I handed them to her, and walked away to deal with my shit. I have missed them every single day since that night. Every. Single. Day. Like a parent mourning children I have mourned them. And 4 days ago…you get that…?…4…days…ago…it dawned on me that they spent winters in the barn. They may have been cold. What if they wondered where I was? Why they were now outdoor cats? Why did we leave them? And this Bitch has sobbed almost constantly every since the light bulb went off. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

I feel…distraught. I feel unfit. I think I found my former friend on social media, and I have reached out to her asking about the cats. So far, I haven’t heard back. But the guilt I feel is all-consuming. I’m broken. Horrible. Cruel. And now…it’s public. This Bitch is a serious PIECE OF SHIT. I can’t sleep. I can’t shop. I can’t shower. I’m hating myself so much. And…now you know. So – Merry Christmas Eve. May you have a picture post card perfect holiday. I’m going to spend mine in bed, bawling.

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Forsaken

That moment when everything you knew about yourself, your life, your self-worth, and your future is suddenly and obviously gone. You know you aren’t being dramatic – it really is different, and all you feel is hurt with some apathy mixed in. There is an untraveled path before you, and you see nothing but darkness ahead as it passes further and further into the distance. You want to turn and run back to the love and familiarity you reveled in. The security you counted on. But it’s not there, Bitch. And no one cares. God help you then – if He’s even there at all.

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MEOW

Nothing feels good right now. I don’t feel safe. Food tastes like crap. My sleep is light and fitful. The keyboard on my phone is an asshole. I have a fever. I’m still in a “show hole” Amazon.  And my cat is comfortable under my knees but my back is a fucker. This Bitch is miserable.  So what the shit else is new, right? Right. And then there’s that. My brain is still broken. Great. Fuck.

So,what should we talk about? The weather? Politics? Mass shootings? Guns? Murder? I tried to post something lovely…pictures of the beach. Don’t think this Bitch didn’t notice the chilly reception they received, either. It’s whatever. It stung a little bit,  but it’s fine. No, really, it is. I liked them and that’s really all that mattered anyway. I just couldn’t make up my mind about whether to jump headfirst into something gritty and topical, or not. I chose the latter. Not sorry. NOT. SORRY. If I don’t focus on something other than rapid fire reload death and/or bloody murder, I’m gonna throw myself into the void. And the world would probably be better for it, except my cats would starve and I can’t have that now.

Let’s talk about something interesting. Let’s talk about vaginas. Oooooh. Yes. Let’s. Not mine in particular because, you see, she IS a high society, dressed in leather and pearls BITCH who knows how to keep a mother fuckin’ secret. But others are fair game. I read on Twitter where a woman said she votes with her vagina. NICE! Politico pussy. I also read on Facebook another woman pleasured hers too much and now she’s in therapy. THERAPY! Ha!  Oh, to be burdened with that greener grass. Or should I say, that pinker pussy. The Secret Life of Vaginas. Now there’s a movie! Hey, name a movie title and replace one word of the title with  “Vagina”

Ready…set…go!

Oooh, ooh! I’ll go first! And my prior contribution doesn’t count.

“The American Vagina” was “The American President”

Don’t leave me hanging. Help a Bitch out.

Monday Mantra — Mental Break – In Progress

Hey guys! I hope you all had a great week We’re back to Monday so the least I can do after not writing anything for 5 days, is post…Monday Mantra😉 Today’s mantra: So….true. I picked this quote today because I have a post I have been working on since last night that I will […]

via Monday Mantra — Mental Break – In Progress