My Open Diary

My therapist told me to stop looking for all the answers today. She said it doesn’t work like that. Life is messy.

It’s unkind, unfair, and complicated.

Just let it be and keep trying.

Keep grinding. Keep working. Keep achieving.

But mostly, keep forgiving, starting with yourself.

I don’t have to understand how it will all work out. But I am sure that the best is yet to come.

And it’s already been a pretty thrilling ride. 😎

I have been so overwhelmed for the past couple of weeks? months? years? eh, lost count.

So I am doing something utterly selfish this weekend. And I refuse to feel guilty about it. (I am lying; I totally feel guilty)

I am going to New York for the weekend.

Don’t @ me.

You don’t have to, I promise.

My first trip to the Big Apple will be tainted with a global pandemic.

But sometimes mental health must be prioritized; I need a refresh. I need adventure. I need inspiration. I need to feel the fear of new places, people, smells and surroundings.

I am dying without it.

And so I go.

How does one master timing??

in life?

in jokes & storytelling?

…in love?

I wake up one minute before my alarm clock almost every single day. My internal clock is spot on.

So why do I have such an issue mastering time!? Ugh!

I can’t decide why I write this blog: to get weight off of my mind and heart? for attention? to say exactly how I feel with no regard for your opinion or feelings?

I honestly don’t know why, but I like it. I enjoy having somewhere to perform an emotional purge. I put my joy, sadness, confusion, and wonder into the abyss of the internet; peek into my mind, or don’t… it’s totally up to you.

Every single day, at least seven different viewers check in to see what’s happening in my world. Some days have four times that many, but that’s not usual. Seven is not a large number, but it sure is a lucky number & I am kinda psyched for the consistency.

Lovers or haters, matters not to me. I am exposing a piece of my soul and something inside of me burns for your eyes.

So keep watching, friend. I do want to share so much more with you, but the internet is forever. Still, I love myself more fully than I ever have before and accept that I am a better and new person every single day. It makes it easier to tell you all the things that I want you to know. 💋

is the rarest quality.

It’s really up to you.

A promise can be empty words in a moment to soothe a desire. Or it can be your bond.

I speak openly and truthfully. I expect at least the latter to be reciprocated. When I make a promise— sober, because drunk Amber doesn’t count— then you can bet on it.

You don’t have to play me.

I’ll play myself by pretending that you are authentic, honest & true like me.

If I feel that my energy is not being matched, then I will block you out of my life; friends with benefits, lovers, fuck buddies, boyfriends, girlfriends, whomever…

I am too old, too open, and too real for bullshit.

Regardless of my feelings, I will no longer hope that the incoming message on my phone is from you.

No ill will wished. Live well. Be happy. But don’t impede on my peace with causeless tomfoolery. Come correct or don’t. I’m seeking harmony these days. ☮️

If you haven’t taken the time to enjoy the sensational comedy Bonding on Netflix, then I highly recommend. It’s based on a cute grad student, Tiff, who works evenings as a dominatrix with her goofy, but lovable best friend/side kick, Pete.

The newest & second season dropped this week. It’s funny and heartfelt and well worth the binge— episodes are only 18 or 19 minutes long so it’s easy to do…

Anyways, there was a monologue given by one of the sillier supporting characters, Frank, and it immediately shook me to tears which was totally unexpected. I couldn’t find it anywhere online so I typed it up here to read it over again,

“Anything seems exciting when you think it will change who you are. Like maybe I won’t be a total waste of space if I can find something to fill that space with.

But, instead, you end up being more sad ‘cause that emptiness can never be filled with someone else, ‘cause the problem is always you.

And how do you fill…how do you fill a space in you that’s empty because of you?” 

-“Frank”, Season 2 Episode 3, Bonding by Netflix

Standing with one foot on each ledge makes it hard to balance.

We buried my mother’s brother, my Uncle Mike yesterday. He passed from Covid-19 and pneumonia. He was an old fashioned cowboy and preacher, but also funny, kind, strong. His absence was unexpected and will be felt by hundreds.

My mother wasn’t able to attend the memorial due to being diagnosed with the Vid herself on Wednesday along with my little sister and little brother. They are all faring well so far, thank goodness.

The eulogy at the funeral was given by short pink faced man with a white rim and wiry mustache who claimed to be filled with the spirit. He shouted about the last supper and seeing my uncle again in heaven. “This bread is my body and this wine is my blood” he spoke on ritual cannibalism.

My giggles were literally masked, thank goodness. I checked my text messages on my phone to avoid laughing out of discomfort. Within those sixteen missed text messages, a friendship burned and my bookclub died.

I lost an uncle, a friendship and my gang at the start of the day.

that’s it.

this feels like a better decision.

They say when one door closes a window opens, or something like that…

But I’m not looking for an escape.

I think it would be good for me to allow the doors & windows to remain shut for the time being.

I shall sit in the still air upon my rudimentary wooden chair, staring at the white walls, learning to revel in the silence & solidarity of it all.

I don’t feel sad anymore. I understand.

I have a verrrrry particular brand of bitchy. This is not everyone’s niche of nuts, a quite specific style of psycho, if you will.

Ladies and Gentlemen of the Courtroom:

Please, for the love of goddess, stop insisting that you are into “crazy” unless you are prepared for the repercussions. You asked for it?!

Furthermore, don’t claim to be kinky unless you are prepared to prove it.

When I mouth off and act like a sassy little cunt, it’s usually for one of three reasons: I am PMSing, ovulating OR in need of attention. I will say some motherfucking outlandish shit when my hormones are off or if I feel neglected.

Cheat Code: A real good fuck, cuddle, and then snack usually resolves all of my attitude problems.

Adjourned!

I’m trying very hard to be gentle with myself. I am struggling because I feel so foolish. I was so exposed and vulnerable. I have never bared my raw soul so soon.

I made a mistake; I wholly gave my trust to a stranger and he wasn’t worthy.

It never happens like this; I am usually so much more vigilant. I don’t give away little pieces of my heart so carelessly.

He felt different; I felt different.

But I was wrong.