What's New, Pussycat?

Random insomniac musings

-I celebrate my birthday hard because I spent my 21st birthday alone. All my friends were either at war or on spring break. It was a lonely, sad day for me and now try to spend every birthday surrounded by friends because they are a gift.

-the sentiment at the beginning of A League of Their Own is similar to many women veterans. We did a thing, now it’s over. Must show it for a group.

-I made some bomb ass beef stroganoff today. I need more sour cream, though.

-I’ve spent a lot of this year reflecting on why I do what I do. I’ve learned and grown.

-I’m so behind on paperwork.

-32 is the year I get even more shit together. My Year of Penny*.

-*still super bummed Happy Endings was canceled and it’s not on Netflix.

-I have meetings tomorrow and I’m not sleepy. That’s a problem.

-nap time will be a thing tomorrow.


Some days, my life is like the shittiest “Choose Your Own Adventure” story ever. I think about the day I had a man’s life in my hands.

"Shoot him if he makes one wrong move", I was told. I said okay, but my mind was racing. I have no idea what I was thinking, but I assume I had nothing but fear in my eyes because the detainee started talking to me. He’d heard I was from Virginia and we started talking about places that we missed about it.

Now, I know what I was thinking. My mind was trying to process “what’s a wrong move?”. Reaching in his pocket? Lunging towards me? Shifting his weight? At what point was it okay to draw my weapon? What would happen if I did? Was I ready to take a life? What if he was just reaching for his prayer beads? What if he had a makeshift weapon? Was I prepared be either a hero or a felon?

I still find myself waking up from nightmares about that day. It always starts the same, but the ending is always different. I try to wake myself up before I have to make the choice, but often times I see myself taking the shot. On those nights, it never ends well. In the nightmare, I end up hating myself. On days that I wake up before I take the shot, I worry about the unknown.


Give All the Awards to Lupita Nyong’o for Her Inspirational Speech About Beauty | TIME.com →

I have a lot of issues with how I look. Every since I was a kid…

When I was young, I hated my lips and would always hid them. I would walk with my head down so no one could look at me. 

Even now, I have had to severely limit my walking to save myself from immense pain and it has become an issue. I gained weight. A lot of weight. My friends tell me I look fine, but I don’t feel like it. Once I decreased my level of activity to help ease my pain, it made me really depressed. And I’m a stress eater. I’m not the Stay Puft Marshmallow Gal, but I don’t have the confidence I used to have. I feel like Blanche DuBois. It makes me incredibly sad to look in the mirror. I don’t even allow photos of me on my wall on Facebook because I am so unhappy with where I am.

I am surprisingly sober for this little heart spillage, but this has been on my mind for a while. It’s not so simple for me to join a gym. Last time I did that, I had a panic attack and had to leave before I even broke a sweat. 

I’m learning to cope with not being able to walk the way I used to. I am happy to have fewer days where I am 7-8 level pain, but holy hell did my body (and my eating habits) not like that.

I’m taking it one step at a time. I need to. And I realize that I have gone on a ridiculous tangent, but it is also 1am and I’m tired and I’m just dumping out feels.

Carry on.