Does that make me crazy?

Ok y’all, it’s been a real shitty day; my boyfriend has to go out of town all next week, returning on Friday, which is the day I leave for Dodge City for my cousin’s wedding. I’m being a total baby about this because I’m always feeling second tier in comparison to his work. I cried this morning, my son hugged and kissed me and demanded that I play cars with him, and now I’m sitting here in my pajamas even though it’s almost three in the afternoon. Also, I’m watching an episode of Trading Spouses that I’ve already seen. WOW, you guys. So pathetic.

I’ve decided, just now, that I need to get the fuck over myself. It’s not the end of the world but it does suck, and with Borderline Personality Disorder comes the impossibility for me to feel any other way than one way to the extreme; I might as well be Tinkerbell, seeing as to how I have room for only one emotion at a time. That being said, I gotta get out of this funk right now. So I’m going to turn of the Trading Spouses, turn up the Steve Aoki, and put my game face on. 

I’M ON THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS AND I KNOW EVERYTHING THAT SHINES AIN’T ALWAYS GONNA BE GOLD.

2 months ago  /  1 note

Off With His Head!

Today, I saw an exboyfriend. Or, let me put it this way so that you can grasp the severity of this situation; today, I saw THE exboyfriend. My stomach churned, my eyes widened to the size of coffee mugs, my palms got sweaty, the hair on the back of my neck stood up, and the cars behind me started honking because I’d been sitting at the green light for like…eternity. Yeah, I saw The Guy driving and this is the physical reaction that occurred. That must be what it feels like for people who are terrified of ghosts to actually see a ghost. Because he’s been totally dead to me…or so I tell myself.

The details of our short lived time together aren’t important and if you really want to know, then go find me on Myspace and read about it there because quite frankly, I’m tired of talking about that part of it. What I do want to talk about is why someone so unworthy makes me feel so goddamn crazy. Y’all, I love to talk about the why and the how behind my craziness. Get over it!

What gets me is that the reason we broke up is because I wasn’t good enough for him. It’s been two and a half years and I’m still stuck on this one thing, which is really what I think bothers me so much, mostly because I know better. I know good and well that I am fucking awesome, despite all of my flaws, and if anyone deserves to be loved-it’s me, dammit! I watch hours of kitten footage on the internet/Animal Planet. I like to wear white socks with my black socks and pretend like I am Michael Jackson, and it makes me laugh every time. My taste in music is impeccable. Joe Dirt is in my Top Ten Favorite Funny/Horrible Movies of All Time. I make ridiculously named lists, as mentioned just now. I don’t watch Glee. I’ve grown enough as a person to know that Twitter is way better than Facebook. The fact that, as an adult I sort of have to like U2 (it happened overnight, really) is okay with me, it is something I have accepted. I’m independent enough to enjoy my solitude when Drew goes out of town, leaving me alone in a house that may or may not have an Amish ghost who likes to fuck with our electronics. And for god’s sake, I’m twenty-four and have WRITTEN A FUCKING BOOK. Because yes, my life has been that interesting.

And thismotherfucker has the nerve to tell me that I’m not good enough. What a joke, bro. It angers me, you guys! It’s been so long and it still gets under my skin. It’s still a step up from when I believed that maybe I really wasn’t good enough, which was the chain of thought that led me to almost drink myself to death. Like, I put that much stock in what he thought of me. That’s so sad, really.

Two years ago, had you asked me what I would do if he came back and apologized for everything, I would have told you with all certainty that I would take him back in a heartbeat. Why? Because two years ago I had no self-worth whatsoever, had no idea that what he said was so far removed from the truth. Two years ago, I hated myself so deeply that I probably would have let him give me a black eye if it meant that he’d stay this time. BUT NOW….oh boy, but now…I get sick when I see him. I’ll say here, and this is something I’ve stuck with this whole time, he is not a bad guy. He’s just used to ‘normal’ girls, plain janes, and those girls need love too, so whatever. He just didn’t have the balls to love someone like me, and you know what? I kind of feel sorry for him. He’s missing out. I really believe that.

I hope that if anyone else out there has been burned like this, that you realize that  until you see the value in yourself, no one else is going to. And it’s such a fucking beautiful feeling to start falling in love with yourself. He may never regret his decision to reject me so heartily, and he may never understand if I thank him for putting me through such hell, but really…I am rather grateful because I’ve convinced myself, for the most part, that I am a total boss bitch who deserves only the best. Which is, of course, why I have the best love possible now.

2 months ago  /  2 notes

But California? Not California…how could you?

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been crying out for help in one way or another. My first suicide attempt came at the age of eleven, but at that point my parents were elbows deep in their addictions and personal hell, that they didn’t even blink a glazed over eye when I told them I’d tried to drown myself in Lake Tanglewood. It continued on like this for years; me going out of my way to show them that I didn’t want to live and them ignoring me because parenting is hard enough as it is without having to wonder if your daughter is bat shit crazy. Finally, when my mom cleaned up her act, I told her that all I ever wanted to do was die because surely it had to be better than living in this empty shell of my own skin. She got exasperated, confused, and hurt; she told me something about how every thirteen year old girl feels that way and that it was something I would grow out of with time. And I remember telling her, both of us in tears, but I don’t have much time left.

Eventually, after many years of asking the church pastor if this was indeed something I’d grow out of, she caved and allowed me to see a psychologist. At seventeen, I was given the diagnoses of Borderline Personality Disorder, something that cannot ever be cured but can be treated with constant medication and weekly therapy. For the past eight years, I’ve been on and off my medication, in and out of various psych offices, just enough to keep my head above water. It’s worked for the most part, have had only five nervous breakdowns, but as of November, I have been completely anti-psychotic medicine free.

It’s come to my attention that we are what we think about most. This would explain why, no matter how many hours I spent wondering why I couldn’t just get better, that I never got better. I was constantly thinking about how sad I was, how lonely despite all my friends, how troubled despite all my know-better. My mind was so intent on these things that my physical embodiment revealed the nature of my thoughts. So that would mean that….if I think that I am a whole person, if I think that I am totally happy and content, if I think that I don’t actually have to be depressed to write well, if I think that I really am okay at the end of the day, then maybe-just maybe-these things will come true.

I’m not suggesting to anyone who is currently on psych meds to just stop taking them. Doctors across the city would be picketing against me. I’m just telling you what has worked for me. I still have days where my heart feels rather heavy, where it seems impossible to get out of bed, but all I really have to do is take a few deep breaths, say my thanks to the Universe for all the wonderful things and people in my life, and start with just one foot in front of the other. I know, it’s hokey. But it’s a hell of a lot better than waking up and reaching for the orange bottle of Zoloft. Taking a few minutes to meditate is a lot better than stressing out while waiting in line to get my refill at Walgreen’s. I swear, sometimes I was afraid I was going to explode in those lines, and I’d think god, what an irony if I were to die right here waiting for the shit that is supposed to make me feel better.  

I’m getting quite used to this skin of mine and I really do like the way it feels. The few times I do have that heavy heart, I’m more than willing to take the time to lift it myself instead of relying on little pale pills. It works for now, for me, and I’m really grateful for that.

Now listening to: Pedro the Lion “Arizona”

2 months ago  /  4 notes

You say stop, I say go go go!

It’s been a beautiful day, my friends. Not for any obvious reason. All I did today was work on my second draft revisions for the memoir, some light spring cleaning, listened to Felix Cartal’s new song “Black to White”, watched copious amounts of Will & Grace, and now I’m here pretending like everyone is just really curious about what the hell I did today.

Oh, and I applied to be an intern for Felix Cartal. This means I may get to work for an incredible artist from the label that directs the beats of my heart, Dim Mak Records. This means that I will get the honor of helping him market his new album, Different Faces, which I believe in completely. This means I’d get to fucking work for Felix Cartal! No big deal, right? WRONG. Big huge deal, actually.

This all goes back to me not having the ability to dream small dreams, of believing that I am capable of doing great things with great people simply because I deserve it, because I am totally worthy of having a fantastic life. I am entitled to the right of living my dreams, all of them, no matter how absurd they may seem to my more normal/logical friends.

Everyone knows how much I love Dim Mak. I mean, I have their label tattooed on my arm for Christ’s sake. So the very idea of getting to work for Felix and help him get the word out about this new album is just…god, it’s so very very exciting. I know I can do it. I just hope he’ll have me.

In other news, second draft revisions are still coming along swimmingly. I sent the first chapter revisions to my exboyfriend, Anthony, who was the main player at the beginning of my whole mess of a life back then; he’s been shockingly supportive even though I treated him like dog poo on the bottom of my sock. It goes to show that, upon apologizing to someone for acting in an unsavory manner, if you are sincere they might forgive you. The only request Anthony made was that I try not to make him look too much like a doormat when writing about our relationship, which is silly. There is a line between being a doormat and being a good fucking dude, and he was simply just a good fucking dude. He’ll be getting married soon to a girl who I’ve spent years loving/hating for various reasons, and I’m genuinely happy for him. But if she hurts him, I’ll chop her goddamn head off. Just saying.

Anyway, I’m really excited about the doors that the universe is opening for me and I can’t wait to extend my potential to new heights in all of my endeavors. I hope everyone has a beautiful evening. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to watch my email/twitter for confirmation of becoming Felix Cartal’s newest intern.

2 months ago  /  0 notes

Orly?

I just wanted to check in with all nine or ten of y’all to say that the second draft revisions are coming along beautifully.

I’m finding it incredibly hard to focus today, every day actually, and I wanted to write a NOT TITE this afternoon…but it probably isn’t going to happen. Like you’re just dying to read another one of my rants, I know.

Allow me to share one of my concerns while I’ve got you here: my tarantula, Sylvia, hasn’t eaten in approximately two and a half months. This worries me greatly. I’m about to get her out and let her roam about for a while, maybe she’ll work up an appetite. I wish she’d just eat ravioli like Dresden.

Also, I find myself constantly amazed at how hot my boyfriend is. Yeah, I know, you don’t give a fuck but it really just stops me in my tracks sometimes because it’s like he’s so hot AND he loves me AND he takes care of me AND he’s an amazing father. If that shit doesn’t blow your mind, then you are a brain dead hater.

One more thing: don’t eat nothing but hot dogs for lunch/dinner three days in a row. It will stop your shit up (literally) like nobody’s business. Fucking gross.

That’s all folks! It took me thirty minutes to write this! NO ATTENTION SPAN HERE.

3 months ago  /  0 notes

Manifesto? Perhaps.

There is something I desperately need to get off of my chest. Not shocking, I know.  Seems like Tumblr has become my soapbox, eh? This is really important though, y’all! Just stick with me through all of my ranting and raving and my inconsistencies and one day, somehow, it will pay off. 

One more thing before I get started.  I think I’ve touched on this slightly, but I can’t remember if it was on here or on Facebook or Myspace or god knows where else…so if this is your second time reading about this, I apologize.  Also, GET OVER IT. I feel electric, like there is literally magnetic energy coming from my fingers, and I just want to share it with everyone. So here we go!

I really and truly believe that anything I dream and anything I want, no matter how HUGE it may be, will be mine. Bold statement, I know. See what I did there? Haha, anyway…I’m totally serious. Call me naive, call me ridiculous, some have thrown the word ‘delusional’ in my direction, say what you will. In my mind, delusional as it may seem, there is nothing I cannot achieve. There is nothing my heart desires that I cannot have. I believe that my life will be as great as I think it will be, as I feel it already is, because I refuse to put boundaries on myself. There’s nothing to me that seems impossible or unlikely. There is no room for ‘if’ in my life anymore, I refuse to acknowledge it as a possibility. 

Everything about me is how it is because of how I think. Ya dig? I stopped taking my antidepressants months ago because I stopped thinking about how depressed I had been and started focusing on how happy I am totally capable of becoming, and now-have become. If I want something, I close my eyes and visualize having it, feel the feelings of having it, and badabing badaboom…it materializes. Not kidding. Message me for examples because I’d be glad to give ‘em to you, if you’re willing to trust what I’m saying is truth. My mind, and this goes for you and everyone we know, is SO much more powerful than we can even comprehend. I’ve chosen to keep my thoughts on a positive wavelength and as a result, I haven’t got one legitimate complaint.

Anyone who doubts me, all the naysayers, are being removed from my life because I can’t afford to let hateful, jealous doubt creep into my psyche. Take your unbelieving ass somewhere else because I don’t have time for it.  If you read this post and think “holy shit, Nikki has gone around the bend, this is ridiculous” then I ask you to please please for the love of god, unsubscribe from my posts.  I’m surrounding myself, even virtually, only with people who are on my level. 

I feel a little better.  I could go on and on and on about this, but I’ll spare you for now. In the meantime, gotta get those second draft revisions done.  Time is ticking!

I love all of your beautiful faces, hater though you may be.

THIS IS A FRIENDLY UNIVERSE.

3 months ago  /  0 notes

On finishing my memoir…

The first short story I ever composed was in the second grade at Alice Landergin Elementary school; it was illustrated, scribbled on wide ruled notebook paper, complete with a construction paper front and back.  The story was about a school vacation to Disney World, a place I’d never been but could imagine everything about it, right down to the smells of cotton candy and popcorn and Americana, the sounds of laughter and how it would feel to hug Snow White.  I presented the story to my teacher, Ms. Carter, who called my parents to tell them they had a writer on their hands.  Of course, she was probably just being nice, wanting me to feel like I’d written a New York Times best seller, but when my mom told me what Ms. Carter had said…it dawned on me that this was something I could do when that dreadful adulthood came along.  But why wait?  There is a box in our storage shed full of all the stories I wrote through elementary and middle school; my mom kept every single one of them either because that’s what a mom is supposed to do, or because she knew that I’d discovered my calling very early on, or both.

Through the years, other professions have caught my attention; modeling, music, psychology, photography (basically the career choices of every young twenty-something female at one point or another).  For whatever reason, and I do believe it to be fear, there were many years spent running from what I knew I should have been doing all along.  I guess I’ve always had trouble accepting life on life’s terms, you know?  Even when the universe tries to make things astoundingly easy on me, some little nugget in my brain tells me it’d be best to make it as hard on myself as possible.  Luckily enough, I wised up.  I’ve been talking for the last ten years about writing a book, and for the last two years about writing a memoir.  Old friends and new friends alike have probably grown weary of hearing about it, had stopped asking “when is that book going to be finished?”  I’m pretty sure a few eyes rolled back in July when I announced that I was finally starting the first draft of the memoir.  That’s okay, though!  Really, I understand because even I grew tired of hearing myself talk about it.  My favorite excuse was to say as soon as I have the time, when I don’t have to work, that’s when I’ll be able to finish.  Well, my friends, fate decided to make me have time.  I walked away from my desk job on November 31 and now…

As you all know, on February 20th, the first draft came to a close.  There is still a lot of work to be done; we’re talking about second, third, possibly fourth draft revisions still loom ahead of me.  However, the hard part is done!  All the remembering of what happened in what order and with whom, that’s all done!  I have every bit of it on paper (MS Word, same thing).  Now, I must go through and cut out the fluff, and knowing me-there’s probably a great deal of fluff.  I’m not afraid.  It’s so close, the actual finale, that I can actually see the finished-bound-complete with Author’s Bio-on bookshelves product.  And it’s beautiful!  Just like my story about Disneyworld (still have yet to go), I can imagine with great technicolor daydreams what it will be like to walk through Barnes and Noble (pray they don’t pull a Borders move before this happens) and see my book right there next to…probably a Kardashian book or something.

I know it’s a bit early, but I have to say thanks to a few people who have supported and encouraged and believed in all of this and all of me, especially when I was starting to doubt myself.  So here we go:

Obviously, it wouldn’t have happened so quickly had Drew not been behind me 100%; he allowed me to quit my job after I pointed out the monetary benefits as well as the fact that I’d be able to finish a lot sooner if I could stay up all night and spend all day working on it.  He never made me feel bad on the nights I didn’t come to bed until long after he fell asleep, he never pressured me or made me feel like a burden since I no longer contribute to our household income.  He’s been so very very patient and supportive and loving, letting me be crazy when there were certain things that broke my heart to write about.  He let me cry on his shoulder for thirty minutes while I was trying to write about the day my mom left the physical world.  He’s been my pillar, no doubt.  Also, Dresden’s little face and little voice and little hands and everything about him inspires me to no end; I see him and I want to make him proud when he grows up, I want to give him a life that is void of struggle. 

Kris Fredrick has served as my makeshift manager, giving me deadlines and goals to reach every day, as well as talking to me on Facebook messenger during my breaks late late at night when all I wanted to do was sleep.  He’d remind me of how far I’d come and how big the payoff would be in the end.  He also brought me Redbull, cigarettes, and Taco Bell throughout the process, AND he took me to Albuquerque to see Steve Aoki-which is, you know, a big fucking deal to me.

Bailey Schniederjan has been a picture of support and positivity.  I told her back in early December that I’d be done by the end of that month, and she was genuinely excited for me.  Then, last month I sent her a sad little text saying that I’d not reached my goal, had not finished.  She wrote back with words of absolute encouragement, reminding me that I already had done much more in a small amount of time than anyone else would have, and she told me she was proud of me.  Though maybe she didn’t realize it, what she said made a huge impact.  We don’t know each other all that well, don’t see or even talk on a daily basis, but damn…her encouragment and belief in me despite those things means the freaking world to me.  She reminds me of the feeling of getting inside a car that has been warmed by the afternoon sun, you know?  Just…lovely.

Of course, there are countless other people who have encouraged and believed and supported me endlessly through all of this, and you’ll all get your thanks in the actual acknowledgment section so don’t feel left out yet.

Today, I start the second draft revisions.  I’m so lucky to have this story inside of me, to have people who want to read about it, to have friends as I do, and the gift of writing that I’ve decided to stop running from; it’s been great, now let’s make it grand.

3 months ago  /  1 note