Just a Bunch of Jabronies

 *Preface: reading this back makes me sound a bit unhinged. That’s sort of how I feel when my head gets like this. Blame it on the alcohol PTSD?

Have you ever just cried for no reason and known it wasn’t caused by PMS and were just like “ugh fuck”.

I want to be funny and uplifting but recent events have me questioning what I know about myself.

In true Elizabeth fashion, already met someone else. It’s still new. I like him. He makes me nervous. I’ve word vomited on him several times already.

When is a good time to bring up my personal trauma? I’ve waited days, weeks, even about a month in the past. I don’t want to talk about it at all but it still consumes so much of who I am. And I say things like “sorry I can’t shut up, I wasn’t like this before” or “I have a hard time focusing on anything. I wasn’t always like this”. I haven’t always been this way. And I miss old me. I hate this manic brain of mine. I have moved on but this is what I have become and it’s directly related to “severe personal trauma”. I accidentally talk about Sandy because we are talking about our dogs. And I know she really isn’t mine anymore but she is always relevant in my mind because I will never ever have another animal I am so closely bonded with. The little stain on my tree skirt is still there from where she’d lay under the tree with her filthy little piglet paws. Yes I can relate to you and owning a dog in the city. No, I try not to date people with animals I can now get attached to. Yes, my dog used to do that too. Well, I don’t see her anymore. Maybe she isn’t even my dog. I hate him.

The only only only time I ever think about Christopher is when my brain is going nuts and I’m struggling to focus and I don’t know how to banish this awful human from my head. I hate him. I fucking hate him. He ruined me. And I’m okay now. But...am I?

Will I ever be okay again? Or is my whole life going to be meeting people, having to tell them about my broken home (which is always a great story, especially to those whose parents are still married and didn’t do drugs instead of going to college), and then having to explain why I can’t fucking shut up or why I cry around dogs or why I’m so attached to my things or why I used to be so well-traveled. Why I am the way I am. How I wish I wasn’t like this. How I wish that never happened. How I’m over it, I really am. Or am I?

I feel so much comfort around the people who I don’t have to explain these things to. Oh, you know me, you know all of the things already. Fireworks? No thanks. Red meat? Pass. Being cuddled? Literally, never ever stop. How do I feel about the month of May, my birthday, or Wednesdays in general? No longer my favorite.

Here’s the newest one:

Hi, my name is Elizabeth and why is there no alcohol in this drink?

We’ve talked about this before. No drinking problems here. Too aware of the disease I carry a gene for. I’m disgusted by what it does to good people. But this manic thing my brain does really loves it when an alcohol (just one) takes the edge off. It calms me. And a wonderful excuse for Eggnog.

If I met someone who was this complicated I’d be running (or walking briskly, because we outta shape over here) for the hills. She’s overly emotional from hormone imbalances, has manic energy, and daddy issues? Winner. Oh, you still don’t have a college degree at 26? Where do I sign up!?

I sound like I’m hating on myself but the thing is I still really like myself. I just don’t know if I’d date me anymore. If you haven’t noticed, I’m literally bros with every guy I’ve dated since last May. I’m a good person and I really do know how to make a healthy relationship work, despite the manner in which the last one removed himself from the situation. I just need so much attention and affection. And to not be harshly judged for the Baileys in my coffee, being broke, constantly losing the will to live over simple homework assignments or the fact that I’m usually asleep.

Chicks are crazy.

I’m still hilarious. Hey, anyone want a dumpster kitty with solid jokes and no shortage of sarcasm or brutal (sometimes cruel) honesty?

I know this wasn’t a particularly funny post but 2020 got me like... And also, I was sorta like this before this dumb year came around and sucked, trying to outdo 2019 in a weird way.

To wrap up this sadness, I just watched an SNL episode I missed about a month ago. Pre-election and the love of my life, John Mulaney, was the host. I have been officially inspired to use the word “jabroni” more often.

Life update: I’ve already decorated my own and two other apartments for Christmas. Please let me know if you’d like me to spend your money and turn your home into the north fucking pole. Gifts are bought (and wrapped suckers) for all of my children. Frozen, Marvel and Paw Patrol know what they’re doing and they certainly know their audience so they’ve got shit available for purchase and it makes my life rather easy. What will I do when my kids are no longer obsessed with those things? Let me know when your kid gets over the whole Frozen ordeal and we’ll chat. 

That is all. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk inspired by overwhelming emotion that was likely triggered by the Finale of The Undoing.