Sick and Sexy

 *Ahem, ahem*

That probably looked like a super hooky trying-to-get-your-attention introduction line. But actually it was just me clearing out phlegm from my Swole AF bronchiole tubes. I’m sick; I constantly sound like I’m trying to get your attention.

Usually, I love attention. I’m the hammiest ham that ever hammed. But being sick doesn’t make you look so hot. Stop staring at me, grocery clerk, I’m well aware that my face is the color of dirty white converses and that my hair is plastered to my scalp! Just let me pay you for my damn mucinex and go home to watch yet another rerun of America’s Next Top Model. In bed. With a heating pad.

It was a special treat coming into work (when I could) last week without any make up on. I felt super confident sporting the odd ring of breakouts around my nose caused by tissue irritation. Who doesn’t want a pimple exactly in the middle of the fold between their nostril and their cheek? It’s everything I’ve been waiting for.

If you didn’t catch my super fun acne circle, you may have been assaulted by the “vague plague” smell. You know, the scent of infection with just a hint of chicken soup and the remnant of a saltwater gargle. Boy, if I could bottle it.

I’m not sure how you could miss the spiral of spots or the tubercular aroma, but if you did, the dead giveaway is the man-goose-whore voice – that voice that’s a little honky tonk, a little slutty, and a whole lotta burly man beard. For the past week it's been, "Hi Kelly!" "Hey guys!" "Oh, you sound awful." Ah. Yes. I had no idea. 

What you can't see (or hear) (or smell) is that every muscle from my neck to my hips is SCREAMING. I tell ya, if you're looking for an addition to your abs day or your back day or even your shoulder day, I would definitely recommend a coughing circuit. Shit, get crazy, make it a combo move! The lunge & cough, coming soon to a fitness class near you. The best HIIT you'll ever do. 

We’ve all been there, so, you know…just don’t judge me for my converse complexioned, oily haired, zit clustered, plague scented, Janis Joplin/Al Pacino/Clint Eastwood sounding self. It’s temporary. And hey, silver lining, I'm totally getting ripped in the mean time. I'ma be as swole as my bronchiole tubes. #lunge&cough  

Fucking Nice

Boy I miss this blog being funny.

We’ll get back there one of these days.

You are likely aware at this point that the band I was so excited to be a part of decided that they didn’t want me to be a part of it any longer. A brief summary of the events occurring from approximately 5 p.m. to 7p.m. last Monday:

·      Best friend (now former) (duh) texts the band group message stating that the other three people in the band are pursuing a different direction with a “more aggressive lineup”

·      Immediately my phone rings to alert me of an email that I have been removed as an admin from the Facebook band page

·      I log onto Facebook to confirm said removal and find that I have also been blocked by former best friend on my personal page

·      I receive a desktop notification on my laptop that I have been removed from the shared drop box folder with our photos and music

·      Passwords to email and Instagram accounts are changed

·      Instagram account and Facebook page are deleted within an hour

Boy, that escalated quickly. And so it is for the second time on this lovely blog of mine that I use that iconic phrase from one of my favorite movies, She’s the Man, “It was just, like, a big, huge, dumping.” No, I don’t know what the actual fuck happened or why, and I never will, because I decided that a clean, hard break would be better than “closure.”

This “break up” or “dumping” or whatever the fuck, comes on the tail end of a horrendously, truly, shockingly terrible few months of my life. I haven’t really talked to anyone about it, and I’m sure I’ve seemed completely normal, but surprise, I have not been not okay. This whole thing is a learning experience for me, so I’m going to share some wisdom and knowledge that I am learning about myself and life in general.  

vvv

Some facts about me:

1. I am a nice human being.

2. When you are a nice human being, sometimes people take advantage of you.

3. I can find the good in literally anyone. And sometimes (almost always) this leads me to give not-so-good people way more chances than they deserve.

4. I give beyond my means even when I don’t get anything back.

5. Side note: These qualities make me a really good social worker.

6. Side side note: The qualities also make me a really good friend.

So yes, I am a giver. Not in the Lois Lowry sense of transference of memories, but in the emotional sense. My entire life goal is to make people around me happy. I like to be liked. I am kind to everyone unless you really, seriously, majorly fuck me over. Even then, I am more likely to walk away and cry for a while by myself.

Some facts about life in general:

1. There is only so much you can give. There is a thing, a real thing, called “compassion fatigue.” It is when you give too many fucks and you run out of fucks and it starts to take a toll on you because you don’t even have enough fucks left to take care of yourself. I need to learn to stop giving fucks sooner. I give people way too many chances.

2. When someone shows you who they are, believe them. Believe them the first fucking time because it will save you a lot of pain. Whether you call this “trusting your gut” or a bad vibe or whatever, follow that instinct. I believe in the inherent goodness of people, and I believe that everyone has something good inside them, so when I see it, I latch onto that and ignore everything else.

I knew the band was taking a toll on me. I knew it. They mistreated me and made it clear that they didn’t care about me (Exhibit A: “Keep your songs to yourself for now. We’re not ready to learn new ones.” Exhibit B: A complete lack of response when I asked about sending my lyrics to everyone and then the guys subsequently singing the wrong thing for backing vocals because, you know, they didn’t actually know the lyrics…), and yet, I stayed. I stayed because I saw the potential of the band. I stayed because I loved the songs. I stayed because I was attached to my lyrics because they are about my life and my sadness and my experience. I stayed because my best friend (former) was in the band and because I really liked the other two guys despite that clear evidence that they didn’t give a shit about me. It wasn’t worth it, because they didn’t make me feel like I was worth it.

3. Know when to walk away. Never, ever, have I ever (#CollegeGames) been able to walk away from an uneven relationship (i.e., a relationship in which I was giving far more fucks than the other person, i.e., basically every relationship in my life). I have never been strong enough to walk away from a situation in which I was being taken advantage of or mistreated. I always give another chance. “This time will be the time, really it will.” I hate myself for that a little bit. It makes me feel weak.

People always leave me because I’m too scared to leave them, or I still believe in them, or I just don’t see it coming and am completely blindsided. I keep giving beyond exhaustion and yet am somehow still surprised when the other person doesn’t give back or finally does leave. Life is reciprocal. You cannot give more than you get.

vvv

I’m not a spiritual human being, but I somehow feel like this is the universe saying, “Okay, Kelly, if you’re not going to kick these fuckers out of your life, I’ll do it for you.” It’s like a cleansing. All of the toxic people are being removed from my life (or, more accurately, very rudely and/or suddenly abandoning me, but you know, same result I guess). Don’t get me wrong, it still fucking hurts. It hurts like hell. It literally, physically hurts in my stomach and my head. But I’m oddly…relieved. And grateful.

One of my favorite songs by the Used says, “I come alive when I’m falling down,” and I really do. I have had a lot of people take advantage of me, treat me like shit, and then leave. And I let them. Because I’m nice. The silver lining? I’m used to it. Does it suck any less? No. It really doesn’t. I’ve cried more in the last few months than I have in years because it’s just been one person after another. But like I said, I’m used to it. Unfortunately, I’ve come to expect it. And I have done what humans do – I’ve adapted. #Darwinism.

This is the survival of the fittest, bitches. And not only am I going to survive, but I’m going to make a bunch of friends along the way because I’m FUCKING NICE.