On his birthday…


What can I possibly say to describe how I feel about this guy?  This photo was snapped almost 9 years ago.  We weren’t even dating yet.  I was enamored with him, infatuated.  I thought he was the sexiest guy in the world.  He was edgy, he was a rebel, I wanted to skip all of my classes to hang out with him (which I did).  He was kind.  He never made me feel uncomfortable or like he expected anything from me.  He let me be 100% me and I liked that.

These years have been the best years of my life.  I don’t need both hands to count how many people truly understand me and he is number one.  He loves me – all of me.  That kind of love is rare.  He appreciate my weirdness, my nerdiness… I appreciate his old spirit, his bleeding heart.  I love his patience, his capacity to love.

I never believed there is ONE person for each of us on this world and I don’t know if I necessarily believe it now, but I know there is no one else on the world I would want to share my life with.  There is no one else I want to have children with.  There is no one I want to face all of life’s trails and tribulations with.  My mom always told me to find a man like my father to fall in love with.  Growing up my dad could do no wrong in my eyes, he was perfect.

I found that guy and I am damn lucky.  We don’t push each other to be “better”, we push each other to be our truest self.

Even though he will never read this (he says he doesn’t need to read my blog because he lives with the off-screen version), he is my rock and I would be lost without him.  And he is still that sexy hunk of meat I met almost nine years ago!!


My Secret

My family recently experienced an unimaginable loss and it has made me start to think.  A lot.  Which is generally dangerous.

It’s amazing what I am willing to share with all of you… I am willing to strip myself bare for all of you, when to be honest, I don’t think I could verbally articulate the words I share here.  Hell, these posts end up on my Twitter and Facebook pages – some of you may be reading this from my high school, haven’t talked to you in years and yet, here I am.  Sharing my vulnerable moments.

My secret is I am the most insecure person you will ever meet.  Literally.  Maybe this disease has made me vulnerable to insecurities… but I think back and I have always been insecure.  I have always wanted to be the “cool girl” but could never quite make it.  I have always been self-deprecating (minus the excessive modesty part).

I guess my point is I feel as if I have always been the person to be willing to take on everyone’s emotional baggage.  Maybe so I never really had to deal with my own.  Maybe I am just selfish enough to think I can cure the world of it’s suffering and madness.

I am exceptional at alienating people and then blaming them for abandoning me.  Maybe “I” isn’t the right term… my monster?  Who knows anymore.  As I begin to “accept” this disease into my life I am beginning to lose a grip on who I am.  It gets more and more difficult to discern Amanda vs. the MD… I feel like either I am becoming Amanda again, or becoming the monster.  Somebody has to win…

As I begin the last legs of tapering off my benzo I feel more and more dissociated from myself.  I feel less needed by people.  I feel like I need people more.  I don’t reach out and ask for help because… well… what’s the point?  I feel pissy and short-tempered.  I am always jealous.  Jealous of what I don’t have, jealous of what I will never have, jealous of what I see my friends doing for their other friends.

I have said before I know how high maintenance I am to have as a friend.  I wouldn’t want to be my friend.

When I have the balls to share these feelings with Matt he asks me what I want and I just say I don’t know – because I don’t.  I feel like a hormonal, pissy 15 year old.  I don’t know what I want.  A connection?  To feel needed?  To understand myself so others have a chance to?