I name you Pansy.

To be told several weeks ago that I have “PTSD medically proven to be comparable to soldiers coming home from Afghanistan” is just flipping ridiculous to hear. I KNOW that PTSD doesn’t just happen to Vets, but it is just disturbing to hear. I didn’t fight a war!  The Nine Month PTSD Treatment Plan has been thrown out the window. I will continue treatment until my brain gets back to it’s regularly scheduled program. Who the hell knows when that will be.

And because life is already colored so perfect, I have Bursitis in my left arm from incorrect injection location, from all the rounds of meds a few months. It could take a year to heal.

Medical diagnosis: FUCKED.
LMAO

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I’ve named My PTSD Pansy. Why? Why the Hell not?

And, because I feel like a pansy being shacked up with Pansy. Oh and, it’s the English word for a type of flower, ultimately deriving from Old French pensee “thought”.

I feel like I’m flippin’ nuts all the time. Me and Pansy, we go at it several times a day, and not in a good way. 

Anything and everything, and NOTHING sets her off. Then there are three glorious types of Pansy Episodes:

Pansy Episode A – I lose compete audio of what is going on around me but keep my vision. The volume gets turn up to an unbearable level and instead of hearing what’s around me – I hear nothing but the memory of finding my Ex dead. The alarm going off. My saying ‘No way’ at what I walked into. The 911 call, the thud of a body hitting the floor as I pull my ex off the bed. The dispatcher telling me what to do, the fire department, my son terrified in the livingroom. The EMTS, all the questions, the Ambulance. The noises as they worked on my ex. Hearing my Ex code out, and the EMT’s scrambling in the back of the Ambulance. The wheels of the stretcher coming off the ambulance, then on the concrete, and then the hospital floor as we follow behind my Ex and the truck load of people working to stabilize. The Doctors and Nurses kicking us out of the OR as they tried to save a life. My Voice as I try to explain to my Ex’s parents what had happened. The Nurse who brought us to the Serenity room, the cracking in her voice. The loud silence of the fucking Serenity room. My voice as I lose it after over an hour of waiting in that FUCKING ROOM, and storm the nurses station to DEMAND someone tell me what was going on. Hearing the words that described the possible death and brain damage, the lack of oxygen, coma. The thought ‘Oh my god I didn’t get there in time‘ screaming across my brain. The noises of seizures when they finally let us in the trauma room. The nurses shoes rushing across the floor. Their worried voices as they work to get and keep my ex stable. More questions. The days and nights that followed in the ICU. The noises of life support. More questions. The noise as they pulled the respirator from my Ex’s throat. Ex’s first words so broken up I wasn’t sure what was said. The days that followed. All playing in my head. Never stopping until it reaches the end.

Pansy Episode B - I keep audio. I can hear everything that is going on around me in real time, but the volume is cranked up so high it hurts my ears, and I lose visual. While I can hear what is going on around me I cannot see anything but the memory as described above. My bedroom. Pulling the blankets off my Ex. My son in the door way. My phone as I call 911. My hands and feet as I brace myself against the bed to pull Ex to the floor for resuscitation. The look on Ex’s face, I will never for get it. Clearing air way. Listening for breath. Following the dispatchers instructions. The EMT’s. The Fire department. The scene as they work from the floor. Me grabbing the nearest EMT to explain my son’s Autism. The EMT who  took him outside. The EMT that pulled me from the room to pummel me with questions. The three men that carried Ex in a white sheet, like a corpse,  from the bedroom to the front door because the stretcher wouldn’t fit. Grabbing my son’s hand and directing him to the Ambulance. The sight that could be seen as they worked on my Ex in the back of the Ambulance. The procession of EMT’s, Doctors and Nurses that met us at the hospital working as they wheeled the stretcher into the OR. The looks on the faces as I was told I would have to wait in the waiting room so they could work. Pushing open the door of the waiting room to find my Ex’s Parents. The look on their faces. The Nurses eyes as she had us follow her to a Tiny room filled with tissues and bibles. Me stumbling as I saw where we brought. The sign that said “Serenity Room.” Staring at my Mother and Father in Law as we waited. The hallways as I stormed down them to find the Trauma center and someone to tell us what the hell was happening. The look on the faces of all of them behind the counter before I even opened my mouth. The 30 seconds in which everyone looked to the person next to them not sure what to say to me. The Nurse who had locked eyes with me as I rounded the corner and never took them off me, even as she rounded the counter to whisper to the Doctor. The halls again as I following that same nurse back to THAT FUCKING ROOM. The look of horror on her face as she explained the situation. The Trauma room nurses rushing around the room. The days I stood in the ICU with my Ex hooked up to every machine known to man. The nights in the waiting room because they wouldn’t let me stay. The pure sadness on everyone’s face, including the nurses,  until the day Ex woke up almost a week later. The condition and lack of motor skills when Ex woke up. The days that followed.  All spinning around me as reality buzzes in my ears.

Pansy Episode C - A combo of both A & B. No joke. It’s like I’m swept away and slammed right into the memory as if it were real time. Only I’m aware that it’s not what is actually happening at the moment, but I am trapped until the memory plays itself out. I have to wait until Pansy releases me from this other dimension and then pretend like I am totally fucking normal, and carry on with whatever I was doing prior; Laundry, work, riding the bus with my son, ordering coffee at the bakery, the grocery store, the Mall, the fucking Pharmacy. You name it. Pansy doesn’t care that I might be walking my son to school, or crossing an intersection.

It’s like having an abusive Spouse that follows you everywhere.

 

 

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This is how I know Pansy is Female. LMAO

My doctor says that I will most likely be dealing with these issues, to some degree for the rest of my life. Oh. Fucking. Goody.

I say OFF WITH HER HEAD. Who wants to help me with a brain transplant? Anyone? LOL

 

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All in all, I say being in a relationship with Pansy is great. Everyone should try it (Help she beats me), and this:

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(Hey, why is the person in this photo wearing Rape gloves?)

Hope you are all well and didn’t actually read this. LMAO.

Pansy says hello (not really, what she actually said was obscene. She’s a Bitch.)

Love you guys,

Catriona

OXOXOX

 

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Stick a fork in the Bitch

She’s done.

Last week I went to my divorce hearing. What an eye opener that was.

I showed up in a dress suit, and, you know, I showered.

My Ex showed up in jean, and a sweater. My MIL – jeans, and a sweat shirt that said “It’s 5:00 somewhere.” annnd bedhead.  (which, I would like to point out is NOT at all like her. She’s ALWAYS neat and proper. Doing my job must be taking a toll on her.) I thought for sure my my ex was going to be held in contempt. However, our Judge was late so, I am thinking attire was not on his mind.

So, we waited. Ex tried to make small talk. I tried to oblige but, only to an extent. Would not answer questions about my child, with whom Ex has not tried to contact for MONTHS. Thought my “better half” was going to need to scrape that jaw off the floor when I stood up to revile my short, but professional, dress attire. Ha.

The whole thing was bizarre. I don’t know if it was because I was the only one that showed up court worthy or, the judge just fancies long hair but, he directed his attention to me the entire time. My other half was only asked one question.

Afterwards Ex and I got a chance to speak. I handed over the key to the house, several other things, and a letter. A letter that basically told what I said in person at that moment. That I had already advised that there was no coming and going from my son’s life. That we had a plan for my son, and Ex didn’t even try. That my son was not an object to pick up and put down whenever convenient. That I had given chances. That I have seen the public outings, the photos, and heard of the drunken charades. I have been made aware, and seen first hand that Ex has indeed been “busy”. All these things to have time for but, not a quick text to my son. Nothing. Ex was told “I release you from any responsibility. Going forward, as you have already set the pattern, you will not be hearing from us.” I said goodbye. I watched as the jaw hit the floor again, pale faced and all.

“This doesn’t have to be goodbye.” – Ex

“Oh, but it does.” – Me

I walked out of that court house and slammed that part of my heart shut. Dead. Done. Chains and a lock. I wont make that mistake again.I wont let my son be tormented any more.

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XOXOX

Catriona

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Today is the Day Of Monsters

Today marks the one year anniversary of me and PTSD. We have been together for a full year now. I’d love to break up but, it just doesn’t seem possible.

Today, a year ago I found myself clutching the phone with my head and shoulder while pulling the lifeless body of the person my son considers to be his other parent from the bed to the floor, for resuscitation.

Apparently, I am still screwed up in the head. I thought I was getting better. Nope. On Friday I went to the Hospital to pick up my medical records. I was fine. Walked thru the front door, navigated my way through the labyrinth they call the Hospital, found the Records department, spoke to the woman, laughed at her jokes, and was fine. I got my records, checked the time and realized I had 45 mins till the next lift. Being the caffeine addict that I am; I thought “Maybe I will go get some coffee.” I made my way back through all the damn halls, found the café, zeroed in on the coffee bar, and was fine. I made my coffee, laughed with the coffee attendant, and was fine.  But, when I turned around the find the register the food bar and I locked eyes. I remembered myself there the last time, and before I knew it everything went to hell.

The whole thing played again in my head. Saying “No way” out loud. 911. Resuscitation. Fire Department. EMTs. Watching 3 men carry my Ex out of  the bedroom in a white sheet because the stretcher wouldn’t fit. Sitting in the ambulance. Hearing the code in the back as EMTs worked. More Resuscitation. Following the entourage of professionals into the hospital to be told I couldn’t stay as they worked to save a life. The waiting room. The nurse who said we needed to come with her so the Doctor could talk to us as she led us to a small room filled with Bibles, pamphlets, and tissues. The shock of where she had led us. Waiting in the “Serenity Room” for over an hour before I lost it and DEMANDED someone tell us what was going on. Being told about the coma. The lack of oxygen to the brain. The uncertainty of survival. The good possibility of brain damage. Being in the ICU for days; the noises of life support filling my ears. Sleeping in the waiting room every night. Starring at the body in the bed covered in tubes and machines every day as I answered background questions. The day the coma left us. The person that survived. The realization that I brought someone else back, not my Ex. The days and weeks after. The Torment. The realization that this was a self inflicted situation created by my Ex, to cripple me.

It all hit me while I was standing in line to pay for my coffee.

Later while walking it off I realized the date. I also realized that although this happens to me on the daily basis, THIS was by far the worst episode I have ever had. WTF. It’s been a Friggen YEAR.

 

Sigh.

(Interesting Side Note: that day ended with me bumping into my Ex at a restaurant. Thank you, Universe.)

 

So today, is just like every other day.

Except, I know a year ago I resuscitated one person but got another.

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I think a Tranquilizer is in order

(“I think a Tranquilizer is in order.” – Grams, about an hour ago.)

Helllllloooooo People!

I am not dead! Here I am! ( I think?)

Thank you to those who have checked up on me! I am alright. There’s been a whole  hell of a lot going on….

Hindenburg

Quick recap, shall we?

  • I’ve moved out, and am all moved into the town house.
  • Ex was partying, frequenting online dating sites, and ignoring my son..but trying to “Date me”.

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  • I squashed that, and put my foot down about my son. Ex was told there would be no coming and going. My son is not something that can be picked up, and put down whenever convenient. Ex then declared more effort would be made (that was in November). Ex and I made a plan on visitation and how to best support my son through all of this.
  • Ex has disregarded the plan and has ACTUALLY said the words “I am choosing me, I am choosing to be selfish.”
  • On more than one occasion the Ex has chosen to drink over spending PLANNED time with my son.

OFF

  • I Officially filed for Divorce, I will be done with that in a few months.
  • Ex is still partying, and has time for friends but not my son, and has not initiated contact in over a month, and prior to that it was only made if I initiated it.
  • My son has been good in school EVERY DAY for 3 weeks IN A ROW. IN.A.ROW. That is unheard of. So proud of that kid. He’s come so far, and is trying so hard <3

Ballons

  • My beloved laptop died. I just got him back. Yes, HIM. STFU, don’t judge.
  • I got the MOST FANTASTIC E-CARD from one of my followers, Like WHOA. BAHAHAHA
  • Some days, I just feel like this:

round guy

  • But, otherwise I’m doing WAYYYYYYY better than I was. :)
  • there are no more of THESE days:

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  • I may actually be a rabid cup cake.
  • I have had to use the sentences “Contrary to what it looks like, those marks are not from suction, but from friction. Sorta like an Indian burn. I very sexy Indian burn.” at least once in the last month.
  • I’ve named my Job “Chad”.
  • I’ve seen wayyyyyyy too many “Ankle Pant” action.
  • I have learned that flannel thongs paired with shear pantyhose is a suitable pant substitute. (Have you seen my twitter, you would know this.)

iron

Have I already used this photo? Yeah, I’ve already used it. But, I feel like it’s relevant.

  • My son IS Batman.
  • My best friend has moved in with me to save me from myself, and eat all of my ice cream. (He’s actually ranting about chocolate at the moment. Hysterical.)
  • My Gram has actually been heard saying “No, you have to compare the crotches.” and “We are headed for your pants!” I now have proof she is to blame for my behavior, and sentence choices.
  • I have 2 STD’s and a Bookworm in my house at the moment . MUAHAHAHAHHA
  • Also, while going through my Gram’s computer, I found this:

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  • I have not joined any cults.

I think that’s about it. I’m sure I have missed something. Lol. But, now that we all up to speed, HOW ARE ALL OF YOU!!???

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Accidental Art installation By Gram

Today Sucked.

However when I came home from picking up my child I opened the door to the smell of burning plastic.

Which, really, can only mean two things: 1. Grams gotten into the Crack again, or 2. Gram forgot about the bread in the oven and turned it on, again.

 

To my surprise is wasn’t Crack (OK, kidding. My Gram wouldn’t even know what that was).

Fresh Baked Bread, anyone?

LMAO

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Goodnight friends

OXOXO

Catriona

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Ripples.

Took my son to the Zoo for Trick or Treating yesterday. He loved it.

He went as Captain America.

I went as the Wicked Bitch that I am. Ha.

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Today we went to one of the Bays. We brought lunch and played by the water.

 

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Tomorrow I hope to get to go to some thrift stores. I need everything you can imagine for my new house, and I’m sorry but Walmart doesn’t carry my vintage cookware and Tupperware.

My gram keeps insisting I make a public wishlist for Walmart. I think everyone should just send me their old outdated housewares, instead. But, then again what do I know? LMAO.

XOXOXO

Catriona

 

 

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Hey Asshole, its called a divorce for a reason.

Im never getting legally married again.
Ever.

Jackhole announced removal of responsibility from our joint bank account, and cell phone.

Gets new cell phone, but doesnt remove name from the bank account, I had no idea for a few days. Now, lets keep in mind asshat doesnt have a job.

So, when the service  fee hit the bank account there was a big ToDo about it.

I’m the green color. Keep in mind i was half asleep ugh.

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Now lets keep in mind here that the reason there is no money in the account is because I was thrown out of my home, therefore unable to work…….and asshat has the balls to make sure IIIIIIIIII was going to fix it, hahahah.  Wow.

Today asshat decided to lay claim to equipment vital to my office, knowing I have no money to replace it.

I’m framing those divorce papers.

I’m also bring coffee and doughnuts to the bank for the teller who will remove my name from that account.

Fuckin’ Wanker.

Catriona

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Riding out the storm on Grandma’s couch.

Well, I’m still here. Lol.

I’m not working b/c my Ex took that away from me, and I am just counting down the days till November 11th.

However now that I am not working – I am finding all this great second hand/ vintage furniture that I would just loovvvveeeee to own annnnnnnd I’m broke. When I had money, where was all this stuff – what the hell?

Who wants to buy Catriona a vintage couch set and/or bed frame? LMAO.

Gosh I’ve never been THIS broke before. I should start selling my underroos online, or something. LMAO

OH and then there was this:

Dude randomly followed me on twitter then sent me a private message:
I have an std

Funny, he didn’t reply. BAHAHHAHAH. I have no idea why.

Gosh life better liven up soon, or I am going to start allll sorts of ruckuses.

Oh and also, my grams just said to me: “Of course Jesus can see you pee.”  In case you guys didn’t know, there you go.

XOXOXO

Catriona

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Homeless

So, my ex came back from vacation yesterday.

This morning, demanded that I leave the house by tonight. TONIGHT.

That was not the plan, and since I work from my home office. I am out of work until I move into the Townhouse I had applied for. Which until about 5pm today was something I wasn’t even sure was going to happen.

Ex did this on purpose to make it harder on me.

What a Jackhole.

They finally got back to me about the Townhouse, they accepted my application. I get the keys in the middle of November. WONDERFUL news, however paying the first month’s rent is going to be a nightmare due to my Ex’s latest antics. I am SURE that was in the calculations. 

Until then, I am technically homeless. I’m sleeping on my grandparents couch (my son has his own room here), I would rather be sleeping on a bus station bench however. But, it will only be until November. My Step-grandfather is a real tool, most of the time.  But, my son is safe, and there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

And despite the impending doom that I feel about the loss of wages, HOLY HELL BATMAN DOES IT FEEL GREAT TO BE FREE.

I can have FRIENDS now! lmao I only have ONE CHILD NOW.  WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH MYSELF?!

So, now, I am sitting here making a list of all the things I need for my new home in order of urgency as all I have is a kitchen table, and I’m smiling like an idiot despite the disaster I am in because for the  first time in years, I’m not wearing any shackles.

XOXOXOX

Catriona

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So screwed without me

The washer (that is not coming with me when I move), decided to protest by doing this:

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Yeah, that would be nasty water that wouldn’t drain. Sigh.

Annnnnnd even though technically it’s now my Ex’s issue, I still have laundry to do before im done packing. Sigh. So while the Ex was getting hammered on vacation, I took apart the washer. Fixed it, all is well, but man. Just keep adding to the list universe. Thanks.

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Yeah. I popped the pump out and found the issue. Yum.

Ex will be paying a nice service fee next time something goes wrong. HAHA.

So, that’s what I’ve been doing, taking shit appart and playing with gunk.

What are you guys up to?

Catriona

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