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What do you think of when you reminisce?
Are they happy memories? Sad? Indifferent/bittersweet?
For me, I think my memories are mainly melancholy with tinges of sweetness.
Remembering all the friends I had and then realizing that most of those friends are no longer around for you. The people you had so many plans with – tattoos, vacations, weddings, bachelorette parties, etc. – now are complete strangers. Remember that person you hung out with almost daily? You took the train or bus to see them to just watch television, play Rock Band, talk about anything and everything…then one day everything changed. You guys were no longer friends, barely even spoke, and then finally let each other know that you were no longer best friends, even though it killed you. This story is far too real and familiar to me. I’ve lost so many best friends that I no longer know who to trust. The worst part? I miss each and every one of them. I see their posts on Facebook and am happy for their lives and successes, but then feel as though I should have been there…I should still be in their lives…I should still be best friends with them. I know it’s silly, but it is so difficult to find friends like that once you are older. Cherish your friends, especially your best friends. Please do.



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I’ve decided that I need to change. The person I am now is not who I want to be. I am fat, lazy, unmotivated, depressed, anxious, and angry. I started my lifestyle changes almost two weeks ago – I joined Weight Watchers. I stepped on the scale one morning and my stomach dropped – 231 lbs. Terrible. I have never been this heavy in my life. So… I joined WW and my beginning weight was 228.4 lbs. A week into it, I am 225.8 lbs. So far, so good. I have cut down on my eating, I’m drinking a lot of water/seltzer, and I am staying within my point limits (37 daily). I am going to the gym and instead of half hour workouts, I am doing hourly elliptical trials on different settings. Burning 500-600 calories each time. Exercise makes you happier, and I feel like it’s helping me a bit already.

I had a long conversation with my husband a couple of days ago at 3:45 AM about changing ourselves as well. We always have some type of issue. Especially me. I am ALWAYS angry at him, and I do not hide it at all. We talked though, and it helped. However, the next day I got a message from some girl, an (EX-) friend of my sister-in-laws, with every single text message and picture that my husband sent her. I stepped back and thought about the way to react. I’ve blown up on him before, freaked out and just yelled like a mad-woman. It was never a good option. So, this time, I took a deep breath and called him, asked him VERY CALMLY who the girl is, and then let him know that she sent me all the screenshots of their conversations. He hung up and called his sister, as did I. My SIL didn’t pick up until he hung up with her and then I cried to her, telling her everything. She knew. Even my MIL knew…to some extent. She had spoken with my husband and told him, you either work it out with your wife or you choose to be alone. Either way, you have to choose. He chose me, and he spent a long time that night trying to make me feel better. Honestly, he’s done this to me so many times that I think I just expect it. I must be crazy for staying. I must be. Even my best friend told me, “you are a good woman.” I asked her why and she said, “because no matter what he does to you, you always stay with him.” I’m not sure whether that makes me a good woman or a stupid woman. After a while, it does take a toll. And that is why I am always angry at him…because, yes, the past is the past, but it doesn’t completely disappear. Especially from your memory.

You Can’t Always Get What You Want


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What’s wrong with me? I can’t keep my emotions right. I also can’t keep fighting anymore. I am fine throughout the day and as soon as I get a call or text from my husband, I get annoyed, angry, pissed. I don’t know why. I’ll snap at him, I’ll call him every name in the book. Why? WHY? I can’t even talk or think this through. Nothing makes sense to me. I want to blame it on the fact that he moved and left me here alone with all the responsibility, but then, I know it isn’t true. I was okay with it, I was happy that he was going to better himself. I’m so unhappy, no one can help me. I cry over everything, all the time. I’ve gone through this on my other posts…I won’t delve into it again. I don’t even know what to write right now. I just opened up my laptop because the same thing happens every time I speak to my husband. It will start off fine and then I’ll feel like he doesn’t care about what I’m saying or texting and I’ll get angry and shut him down completely. I thought that being apart would help…that we were together way too much when he lived here with me…but that’s not the case. I feel like he is wrapped up in everything else – games, work, his new friends – and I feel like I’m always the after-thought. I always think about my husband. Always. He doesn’t think I do, but in everything I do, I mention him or think about how fun it would be to do with him. Yesterday I went with some friends to do a Paint and Sip upstate. Yes, it was fun, but I kept mentioning to my friend that it would be great to go up to the same place again one spring or summer day and have my husband and hers with us – make a day out of it. Maybe we’ll do it – if I don’t ruin my relationship first. I think it’s still in my mind that I didn’t get anything I wanted – no engagement party, no bridal shower, no bachelorette party, no wedding. I know, it’s all stupid and pretentious and unnecessary. I KNOW. But every girl dreams of her wedding day. Every girl dreams of a surprise proposal. I got none of it. I really really regret it. And now, knowing that I’ll probably never have children (which is just one more thing in life that I’ll miss out on), at least I could have had a wedding/engagement party. I could have had a big, happy proposal that surprised me. I could have ended up with someone who didn’t break up with me a hundred times before AND after he proposed to me. Did I settle? It feels like it and now I cry all the time and am upset all the time. It’s stupid. It is. I acknowledge that it’s ridiculous, but it’s the way I feel and I can’t change it.


I am always angry. No, I’m not the Hulk or She-Hulk, but the statement rings true. I am always angry. Most of the time, I don’t even know why. It’s like something is triggered in my brain and BOOM, off I go. I try so hard to control myself, but sometimes, it’s not possible. I’ve been like this most, if not all, of my life. I remember freaking out on one of my parents’ friends daughter because she was playing with one of the toys I wanted to play with. I don’t remember what happened exactly, but I do remember toys ending up on the floor…and needless to say, I never played with her again. What’s amazing is that the smallest things will set me off. Something as small as a question being repeated or a baby being too loud or my dogs pacing too much will make me undeniably angry. Now, that being said, and as I write this, I realize that I might not be angry… could it be anxiety? I know it comes in many forms, many different manifestations…maybe it is anxiety. I’ve taken Buspar to deal with my obvious anxiousness, however, I stopped it because it didn’t seem like it was helping. The dosage seemed to be too low. I really should go back to see my physician, I just don’t want to be medicated. Speaking about being medicated – I am also depressed. Not diagnosed, but I’m almost positive that I have depression. I never seem to be happy for long. When I am happy, something changes halfway into my happiness and twists into something dark and upsetting. Even while hanging out with friends I feel like I am the outsider, like no one actually wants me around and then I have a very strong urge to leave, to go home. I am constantly in fear of people judging me. Walking down the street I feel like all eyes are on me. Going into a store, it feels like everyone is judging me for being there. For example, if I walk into a Charlotte Russe shop, my first thought is, they all think I am too fat to be in here…maybe I should leave. I act like I am confident…don’t get me wrong, sometimes I am…but most of the time I feel like I want to hide. Now that I’ve gained so much weight, it’s even harder. I feel like a hippo. My back hurts extremely bad sometimes because of my job, but I know my weight doesn’t help either. I have tons of clothes in my closet, but I can’t fit into more than half of my jeans and some shirts make me look like I am six months pregnant. Which, there’s another issue. I can’t get pregnant. I just can’t. I don’t know if this is God’s plan, that I am not supposed to have children, but we’ve been trying and Lord knows, nothing has happened. Not even a scare. We don’t use any contraceptives, and yet, NOTHING. Sometimes it’s heartbreaking, sometimes it’s a relief. But to be quite honest, I feel like less of a woman. Pregnancy is something a woman should be able to do without trouble. The average woman is fertile. Of course, I know, there are outliers. But haven’t I gotten enough of the abnormalities? Don’t get me wrong, I am blessed and I know it. I could’ve gotten things much much worse. But for this issue especially, I wish I could just be normal. I wish I could not at all worry that I’ll grow old without children. I wish I could be certain that I’ll be able to give my husband children like he always wanted. I wish I could just be NORMAL.

City Life

For a long time I was set on moving to the city (Manhattan) and living there for the rest of my life. It was always a perfect fit. My mother worked in the city, so I got to experience it for myself all the time. I loved the rush, the sounds, the constant hustle and bustle. My mother would take me in, we would always take the bus and subway, and I would stay with her at her job; waiting and watching all the glamorous people walking by in the streets and thought, that’s going to be me someday. I dreamed of getting a high-profile, luxurious job. I dreamed of living in a brownstone with my family. I dreamed of having a little girl and getting dressed to the nines with her and going out to live our fabulous Big City lives. My mother would always say, “you don’t want to live in the city, it’s expensive, it’s crowded, it’s dirty.” Of course, me being young, ignored her and kept on dreaming. I attempted to go to LaGuardia High School of Music & Art and Performing Arts, but before I could even audition, my parents talked me out of it. Instead, I went to a high school in Queens-and to be quite honest, I don’t regret it. Instead of high school, I finally got my dream to attend school in the city for college. I attended two different colleges during the five years I completed, and that is when my love of the city diminished. It was a major hassle getting around the city-with a car, with buses, with the subway system. Either there was a traffic jam, or the bus didn’t arrive on time, or the subway service was suspended, rerouted, or delayed. I’d have to leave an hour and a half early from my house to get to my classes by 8AM. That meant leaving my house at 6:30AM. When I finally finished my classes, I had to get on the train during rush-hour and deal with rude people, crowding, and no seats. I was not impressed. I would go into the city with my boyfriend (now husband) during the summer to go to the zoo or Central Park, or during Christmas-time, when the streets and windows are lit up with holiday cheer. We would walk down Fifth Avenue and ooh and ahh at the twinkling lights on the Rockefeller Christmas Tree, go into St. Patrick’s Cathedral, watch the Saks Fifth Avenue mini-show on the side of the building, and stare into the stores that we could never afford anything in. Yet, even that stopped. First we stopped going into the city during the summertime and then, about four years ago, we stopped doing Christmastime in the city. I really don’t know what happened…maybe it was me. Actually, it definitely was me. The train ride itself now gives me serious anxiety and I always have to take the car in. And a car in the city isn’t always a good idea. I am currently in a position at my job which makes me go into the city at least once a month – I always drive. It’s true that at times I have a yearning to enjoy myself like I once did in Manhattan, but that’s all it is-a yearning. Not an actuality anymore. I still love to spend Christmastime in Manhattan, but that’s about it. I no longer envision myself living in the Big City. That dream is dead and gone. I guess maybe I have grown and my dreams have matured. At least I hope that’s the reason.

To Begin…

I sometimes get into my own head. When I say sometimes, I mean all the time – often – perpetually. When things are going right, I know something will happen to change it. When things are going badly, it will always stay that way. I’m not sure whether I am a pessimist at heart, but at times it sure feels that way. Even with all the people in my life supporting me, I see “friends” and become envious and hurt when they hang out without me. It’s dumb and childish. I know that these “friends” aren’t friends at all and that I have MUCH better ones. So what makes me the way I am? It’s probably because of the way I was treated when I was much younger. Yes, another sad sob story about a girl who was bullied. True. From the moment I moved to my house with my parents in 1995/1996, I was always the outcast, the outsider. All the kids in elementary school treated me like the freak. Why? Because of my asymmetrical eyes. A minor detail at most now, but in elementary school apparently it was a humongous issue. The blindness and smallness of my right eye was always the topic of discussion in school. I’d be called “cyclops”, “freak”, “one-eyed monster”, etc. Daily. No one helped me, no one backed me up. I had no friends. I remember walking down the block of my school, walking home, when two of the “popular girls” grabbed my back-pack, pulled me toward them, and repeated to me over and over that I was nothing, that I was a freak and no one cared about me. I remember having a birthday party at home and having one of those “popular” girls come to my home with her mother, and her MOTHER telling my mom that they came “because we knew no one else would show up.” I remember having a bunch of boys in school relentlessly tormenting me daily, including throwing ice balls at me during the winter. I remember hanging out at the bus stop on the first day of school with a girl I’d hung out with all summer, only to have her completely ignore me and then taunt me when other kids started showing up. There are a bunch more, but why bother to bring those other moments up? All I know that from grade 1 to grade 7, I had no one to count on but my family. I learned quickly that the ONLY people you could count on was your family. My parents were always a foundation of strength for me, as well as my grandmother. She was the greatest source of love I’ve ever encountered. I am truly grateful for them. I learned that everyone is an acquaintance until they prove their worthiness to you. Family will always be by your side, through good and bad.