Trust, Love, Friendship, Loss, Vulnerability

I don't trust easily. I don't trust completely, no matter how long I've known someone. Every slip of information, every shared detail is something I have analyzed and decided is acceptable to share. Unless I've been drinking; Drunk Kay has no qualms about sharing all of the things that sober me is much more guarded with. As a result there are a very tiny number of people I trust enough to drink around anymore.

There is specific information I am comfortable sharing on the interweb and more information that I am not. This blog exists in some weird sort of vacuum. I will share some of the most intimate thoughts that I won't even speak out loud, but I won't post a picture of myself. Pictures of me are not something I am comfortable sharing anywhere on the interweb. From time to time I will update my profile pictures, but I don't feel entirely secure having my picture anywhere online. Just because everyone else does it doesn't mean it's safe. Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you ;) My close friends get emails or texts to update them, to let them know what I look like when I make a change or when I'm bored and want to make faces at them. My immediate family doesn't even know what my current hair color or style are. I should probably email them...

Admission: I am absolutely the worst at personal relationships. Friends, family, associates. I adore people, I treasure personal connections. I have a habit of retreating into my head and forgetting to check in with others. And then I lose track of time. I don't realize I haven't seen or talked to someone in a month, I can recall our last meeting like it was only a day or two ago. If I don't have some reason to see people regularly, the relationship starts to fade because I simply don't realize that I'm not checking in. Super-douchey, yes?

This is the technology age, there are many ways to keep in touch and remedy this line-of-sight problem. So I suppose here we are. I email. I Skype. I blog. I hate Facebook and try to avoid it as much as possible. It sucks all of the happy out of my soul. The most reliable way of getting in contact with me is email, and sometimes I just don't know what to say, so I don't. A line I read in a book by the Dalai Lama a million years ago said something about never needing to unsay that which has not been said. That is probably the most true statement I have ever read and one that runs through my head a lot lately. My own father emailed me 2 weeks ago and I haven't replied yet. I just don't know what to say to him.

For someone who has taken so many English classes, who decided upon English as a major, you'd think I'd have all the words, all the time. But I can't lie. And sometimes I can't or don't want to share the truth right now. And then there's really nothing left to say.


As soon as things get awkward, as soon as someone else makes me feel uncomfortable because of words I shared or some vulnerability I let them see, I let go of them a little bit. If someone else lets the drifting start to happen, I don't stop them. I don't like awkward. I don't like goodbye.

I will miss the shit out of you and I will never stop caring about you, but I think it's better to keep the memories of good than let it turn into bad. Today I actually wrote out a list of all the friendships I've let slip away. It wasn't a short list. It didn't feel good, but I really don't know any other way of functioning.

There are too many people I love, spread too far apart, and I am running myself into the ground. If you make the first move I promise I'll try my best to make a counter-move, but I have no first moves left in me. I am drained. I don't need you any less, if anything I need you more than ever, I just can't let anymore pieces of me go right now. I am plagued by crippling self-doubt. I need to get my cocky back. I've lost so much Kaylena, I need to find her. I don't even know the first place to look.

I have none of the answers and far too many questions.

What's My Body Trying to Pull?

Song mood: Ellie Goulding-I'll Hold My Breath
(If you like it you should check out her whole Bright Lights CD):
I consider myself a pretty positive, happy, up-beat person. I can find the good in pretty much any situation. So when I find myself angry for no reason it tends to throw me. I usually retreat (or go into "Hermit Mode") until I can figure out what's going on and try to fix it.

I don't like angry or violent people. They scare me a bit and I choose not to be around them. I don't tolerate yelling well either. The couple-friends that I drink wine with around the bonfire from time to time? I choose to never drink enough that I cannot safely drive home because the male half tends to get a little angry when he's had too much. He starts yelling about frivolous things and wants to pick fights with the neighbors. That's when I go home.

I found myself inexplicably angry for the last two days, wanting to tear into everyone for any reason. That's not me. I don't know what triggered it, but it was followed by an inability to stop sleeping yesterday (I'm normally quite happily a 3-5 hour sleeper when not sick). Followed by an inability to sleep last night. I've been up for 22 hours and show no signs of tiring. I'm freezing and have been for the past couple of days, but I'm happy and awake. *shrug* I can deal with that.

I'm now exactly two weeks into my new med, but it's a med I've been on for extended periods before. It's basically a supplement and shouldn't have any side effects. But when I'm on pills of any kind, November 2010's little ER visit is never far from my mind and I am trying to keep a cautious eye on all my symptoms and moods. I'm pretty happy, optimistic even, and not as stressed as I was in the week leading up to the Shingles outbreak, yet here we are... I don't really know what's going on or what to expect, but I'm putting this out there so you're aware of what's going on in my world.

I start weekly acupuncture tomorrow, *fingers crossed* that it helps. We are in NorCal's rainy season, so my Fibro's trying to be a jerk, but the pills seem to help. I'm supposed to take 6 a day (2 at a time, three times a day unless I flare, at which time I'm to take 1 less pill. Confusing, right?) I'm also supposed to cut carbs, which frankly sucks. But I'm attempting to keep an open mind and am willing to try anything once or twice. Well, except Celexa (Citalopram). Fuck Celexa.

I love you dearly and wouldn't be where I am today without you. Yes, you. Thank you. I need you in my world, so no disappearing k? Bear with me.