Month: May 2014

Best Friends means…

photo (7)

Someone once told me that in the course of your life you become friends with 4 people. Out of those 4 people, only 3 of them are your good friends. Out of those 3,  only 2 of them become your best friends. Out of those 2, only 1 of them you can honestly trust. That one person you can trust is yourself. Trust no one and no one will let you down. Of course the first time I heard that I thought it was complete horse shit. What does this person know about friendships? My friends are everything to me, what does this person know about friendship that I don’t already know.  When you’re young, you believe that everyone is your friend. Everyone is just like you, understands all your problems. They’re the family that you choose that you’re not born into. They’re the only people in the world that will have your back when the rest of the world shuns you out.

What a pipe dream.

You wind up becoming friends with a diverse rotating wheel of characters. Some do withstand the testament of time, while others don’t become so lucky. The point of growing up is finding yourself. Finding yourself, discovering who you are and what you’re about. When you’re young, you would do anything for your friends. You would even sacrifice you’re own happiness if that meant you could keep the party going. Keep the motion of staying young forever and live in a time snapshot of all your golden accomplishments with your friends. What you don’t realize when you’re younger is that you grow up eventually. Some of your friends grow up, wise up, and build foundations of their owns. While others dim silently in their plastic red solo cup struggling to adjust to life after the after party. Everyone is different. Every has different aspirations in life. We’re all just one huge hustle after the next. We grow up and hang on to whatever dream we thought we had throughout youth. Most of the time the dreams we hold so close to ourselves are the friendships we base solely on these notions. We’re young, we’re going to live forever, and holding on to those 2am nights were strangers become the only people that understand your deepest darkest secrets.

Of course. I was one of those people.

In the course of my life, I had the privilege of being friends with a wide diversity of people.  Obviously it’s no surprise that in my quest of reinvention that I had a tendency to befriend the wrong types of people. I understand that no one is perfect. Hell, I’ve written post after post of my imperfections. I just find a tendency to find the broken people. The people so done with life that they’d live in a constant state of euphoria and I find myself clinging to that notion. Maybe because I was broken, and finding comfort in the same people just gave me a sense of belonging. We were a set of misfit toys and nobody understood us. It’s funny to look back now because from the time I was 20 to the time I turned 28, it was the same type of people. The faces may have changed but they were all so similar. With their insecurities, their bad habits and all of their bad intentions. It’s funny how much I defended them. To the point that I honestly believed deep down somewhere we were all friends. The reality was I was just a broken chump and they saw that. They saw through my vulnerabilities and broken parts. Instead of being a group of a good friends, I became just another person they manipulated to get everything they wanted.

People have always asked me why I stay so guarded. Even opening up to my own “best” friends was hard. The moment I told my true vulnerabilities was the same moment that my “friends” used those things against me. They did. No matter how many times I heard “I would always have your back”, in every argument I was screamed at the very vulnerabilities I confided in them. It was the never ending cycle of taking their bullshit in because I was too tired to defend myself. Friendships were always one sided with one person always there for the taking, and the other always their metaphorical punching bag (and at times their own personal punching bag). I can be honest and say that at certain times I wasn’t the best person. I lied, cheated, schemed and even manipulated people to get my way. They say that karma happens when you least expect it. It always tends to come back to you with a familiar face of a friend. I couldn’t help myself. In the midst of my own social awkwardness and psychological bullshit, I was blinded to believe people were actually my friends. In 4 years I lost 15 of my allegedly close friends. 15 people that stated they would always be there for me. Always have my back. 10 of them were my good friends, 4 of them were my close friends, and 1 was my best friend. It’s amazing how things and people change in the course of a few years. I went from having countless people call me to complete silence on my phone. Somewhere inside I believed that those people were my friends. That those people that saw me for who I was actually gave a shit about me. Truth was I just their friend. I was there to pick up their broken pieces to lift them up out of a jam. I was the one with the wallet that would take care of everything. Once the party ended, and the money was gone, I was left with the sober reality of complete nothing. You learn a lot about yourself when you start drinking, but you learn more about people once you stop. Once I stopped wanting to make everything a party and living my life for people was the moment everyone became so vile and malicious. I started saying more “NO” than “Yes” and everyone made me out to be the bad guy. Because I stopped being a personal chauffer and stopped paying for things, I was the villain? Once I started asking for money back or wanting to do things by myself, I was the bad guy? Before I knew it the same people that “would take  bullet for me” were creating lies about me. I was difficult. I was a snob. I was the person who was better than everyone.

It’s laughable now. Now that I can see through the bullshit it’s funny. These same people that couldn’t cross the street without holding someone’s hand. Those same people that still cry and complain about their personal relationships to anyone who would listen. The broken people who always believe their problems are bigger than everyone else’s instead of showing an ounce of compassion for another person. They were so vile to point out my flaws but never once realized that the one finger they so violently pointed at me, they had 3 more pointing at themselves. I was done the moment the rumors started and people started turning away. I was done the moment my texts were ignored and they were too chicken shit to tell me the real demise of our friendship. I was through the moment a chunk of my hair was removed from my head and the photo of my hair was posted on social media sites. Here I thought we were all united by our flaws but reality of it all was these friends were just bullies. We weren’t friends because that isn’t friendship. The same honesty they threw at me, they never liked to hear about themselves. I was constantly the villain and their were always the victims. Because I was so fucked up, I believed them. I was naïve to think the number of friends you have meant something. The number of friends I had were nothing more than another debt I had to pay off and pretend to smile through.

When you finally grow up and let go is when you realize the reality of it all. None of those people were my friends. Even the people I considered my best friends, our friendship was  held on by some false illusion of a past that was never great to begin with. Its so easy to say words and convince a person to believe them. That’s the thing with people. Anyone can say words to you, and everyone is a great master manipulator. I just grew tired of words and would rather see actions. You can scream to the rooftops how sorry you are but I won’t believe you. You can tell a person how you can change but people never do. The best thing you can do is give a person a shot at a second chance and if nothing changes just let go. If they’re out of second chances, let them go. If you’re holding on to friendships because of the years you have known each other, that’s not a friendship. If the number of times you have been there for a person out numbers the times they have been there for you, LET THEM GO. The people who are worth it will always show you, and the people who are not always disappear. It sucks and it’s heartbreaking, sometimes friendship breakups hurt more than actual breakups. We all go through them. It hurts to miss them, it hurts to remember, but you grow because of them. They make you realize and appreciate the friendship that you do keep. They teach you that while your trust has been broken eventually you find people that will never hurt you like those people did. While those people weren’t the greatest friend to you, hopefully they find someone that they can be friends with. Learn from their mistakes.

Everyone needs their chance to grow.  When you grow up, you truly realize who your friends are. They’re the people that stay behind you when the rest of the world shuts you out. That’s just another perk of growing up. You live, you learn and eventually you move on. Just have to always remember that the friendship you have within yourself is the only friendship you should always work on. Its through that friendship that you learn to trust others again.



I’ve got an itch, that I just can’t scratch.

Addiction: the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming,  to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma.


They say it takes 21 days to form a habit. 21 days to form a habit that will either change the course of your life or break you. Needless to say that if you’ve been reading my posts you know that a majority of my “habits” have indeed broke me. My problem wasn’t in forming the habit, the problem was in believing that I was in control of what I was doing. I truly did believe that. Once you start believing you’re in control of your addictions is when you realize the addiction has taken over your life. That was always my problem. I could lie to everyone about how I was feeling, what I was doing, but I couldn’t lie to myself. In the course of 20 years I’ve managed to form these addictions with out anyone knowing. When I mean anyone, I truly mean everyone. I’ve always been so self consumed in helping everyone else but I never took a focus to any of my own. Maybe that’s why all of this is hard to say. Hard to show people that this was who I was hiding from the world. My addictions did nothing but leave me heartbroken, alone, and completely miserable. One day you snap and just can’t hold it in anymore. The point of these posts isn’t to gain any sort of sympathy. This is just my way of truly being brutally honest with my feelings and showing people that no matter how many times I said I was “OK”, I wasn’t.

It’s weird to say that. I’m an addict. An addict. Addiction is a funny word and everyone is an expert. People expect you to wake up one day needing help. It’s not easy admitting you have a problem. Somewhere inside you believe you have everything under control.  This grand notion of getting help and once you finally admit you have a problem and everything will be okay. Everything you feel will automatically turn off and you’ll be everyone’s perception of “okay”. I wish it were that easy. Just some huge on/off switch that can turn off everything you’re feeling. It doesn’t work that way. Every day is another struggle and only people who have dealt with addiction can truly understand that. My flaw in my genetic makeup is being unable to tell people I am hurting. Somewhere in my mind believing if I told people what I was doing was showing a form of weakness. I knew everything I was doing was wrong for me. Everything was bad and hurting everything inside of me, I just couldn’t stop. I had everything under control, I knew the consequences for my actions but I just couldn’t stop myself. These addictions I had were the only things in my life I had control over.

For most of my life I’ve had a problem with food. It sounds silly to even say that. Of course any one can have problems with food, I just knew my problems were different from most. My weight has always been a problem in my life. As much as I want to say I have never obsessed over my weight, I have. I’m human. I’m female, I’ve always obsessed over my weight. It wasn’t until I started truly obsessing over food was when I realized I had a problem. Food was my escape. Eating was my only way of truly expressing how I felt. The more food I ate, the less I dealt with my emotions. If I wanted to scream out my frustrations, I ate. If I wanted to suppress my sadness, I ate. I was eating my way through every single human emotions because it was better than saying how I truly felt. I was unhappy with my surroundings, my social circle of friends were rotten and instead of changing it, I ate. When my weight ballooned drastically, I became more unhappy with myself. Instead of anyone asking what was wrong; I was mocked, ridiculed and continuously bullied about my weight. When you’re hurting you tend to build a shell around yourself and expect everything to go away. I made up this strong façade and continuously showed people that I didn’t care. It was all just one big huge joke and I again allowed myself to be the punching bag for stupid jokes. I didn’t know any better. I was young, I was stupid, and because  of it I just grew more upset. Everything I was doing was wrong and I was absolutely more miserable than before. When you feel rotten you will do just about anything to make yourself feel anything. I was miserable. Absolutely miserable. All I could do was become more self destructive. When I started cutting, I told myself it was a one time thing. Just to take the pressure off of how I felt. I was dealing with so much bullshit because of work, school, friends and my only escape was to cut. It started just a few small slices on my wrist and progressed to running up and down my forearms. I didn’t hide them. I knew people could see them and no one said anything. People assume because you cut, you want to die. I didn’t want to die, cutting was just the only thing in my life I could control. I didn’t cut every day  just every time I felt pressure or suffocated, I’d cut myself.  So much went on in that time period of my life that I truly believed I wasn’t doing anything wrong. It was my only escape from the harsh realities of my life. Once again I truly believed I was fine.

Around the time that I moved back from my countless attempts of being away from home I started being proactive about my “wellbeing”. I had heard about these miracle diet pills and decided I was going to start being proactive about my weight. You always hear about these success stories of over weight people taking a pill a day and magically all their weight disappears in the manner of weeks. Of course desperate to lose this massive weight gain, I bought every pill you can think of. Hydroxycut? Tried it. Xenical? Done it. Alli? Done it. Green tea extract, Raspberry Ketones, trust me I’ve done it. It wasn’t until I started taking a metabolism booster pill that I started to really notice I was losing weight. Within a few weeks I dropped 10 pounds. I was being active, eating better and before I knew it I lost another 15 pounds. Its amazing how much attention you get once you start losing weight. People were so focused on my weight loss that they didn’t bother asking me how I was feeling. It became just another thing to talk about. This grand weight loss was showing people that I was okay. Once I started getting attention for my weight loss I became obsessed with it. I started counting calories, eating less and if I over ate, I skipped a meal. The pills helped curb the appetite so it was easy to skip meals when I needed to. When I lost my job the second time, it was hard to afford the pills that were helping me lose the weight. Like all great things these miracle pills were anything but a miracle. I was grouchy, light headed, and once I stopped taking the miracle pills I started gaining the weight. Everyone that applauded me for the weight loss were the same people to point out my weight gain. I grew paranoid and started another series of self destruction. Because I couldn’t afford my miracle pills I started taking laxatives to take off the bloat. On top of everything I started all over again with the self mutilation. I was so upset about gaining the weight that I punished myself for letting myself go.  It’s amazing what your mind does when it wants something bad enough. Before I knew it, it was one big obsession.  When I started vomiting my food it was my secret. It was just something I did when I felt I was overeating too much. Before I knew it I stopped needing the miracle pills. Vomiting helped elevate my weight. It didn’t help me lose any weight it just control my body to the weight I had at the moment. When I say it was an obsession, it truly was an obsession. Before I knew it I was leaving places earlier to go home to vomit. Leaving parties early not because I was tired but because I didn’t want anyone to knew I was throwing up my food. I became obsessed with people noticing my weightless that I didn’t care about how I went about it. I stopped cutting because it became too much to handle and it was no longer something that I found comfort in. The days I would eat I would throw up everything. It was this never ending cycle that just continued to get worse.

The saddest part about all of this was I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. Honestly I didn’t want to. I was fine. I was in complete control of everything. No matter what I was doing, I knew every single detail of what I was doing to myself. I did everything in my power to hide what was going on. Nobody knew, honestly to this day up until this moment I never told anyone.  Sure I made a few jokes at the expense of my emotions but nobody knew anything about what was going on. I kept this cycle of self destruction for years until my insides bled and my arms grew sore. It wasn’t anyone’s business but my own. As I was once told “one day people aren’t going to be there for you”, so I kept everything to myself.  When you feel alone, you act alone. So I kept quiet dealing with everything that went on because it was no one’s business but my own. It stayed that way until I knew I needed help. It wasn’t until I found myself in the parking garage of my apartment complex completely broken down that I knew I needed help. I was ruining my relationships with everyone all for the sake of being someone else’s perception of perfection. I was hungry, miserable, and worst of all I felt alone. For years I was in constant fear of food. The food that I once considered comfort from every emotion soon became my enemy. I didn’t know any better than what I was doing, I just knew that the longer I hid my problems the worse it would get. I refused to see the light on so many occasions. I refused to believe that I had a problems, that things I was doing was obsessive and that I was truly hurting myself. Worst of all my relationships with people suffered. It wasn’t until I was alone crying in a parking lot that I knew something had to change. It was then I finally realized that I wasn’t okay. I was lying to everyone and I couldn’t do that anymore.

Recovery is a tricky thing. What they don’t show you is how many times you fall until you can truly heal. For years I struggled with my addictions because they were just that MY addictions. It wasn’t anyone’s business but my own. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but my own. The reality of it all was this cycle continued because no matter how many times people tell you they will be there for you, they will constantly let you down. For years I kept my struggles silent because time again the wrong people allowed me to believe that everything in my life was wrong. So I stayed stuck in this cycle of self destruction because that was my cards that were dealt for me. That was my karma returning for the countless years I was a bad person.

I was wrong.

You know they say that when you finally grow up, you’re able to heal from your old ways. That’s just what I did. I wish I could say that I woke up and everything disappeared. That I could hold meals down and I wasn’t obsessed with this notion of being perfect. Its not easy. It’s hard and some days are harder than most. That’s just the thing, I get up, face the world and know that I am better than all this bullshit. Better than my past, better than my failures and maybe one day I’ll be better than my addictions. Just right now I have to be honest. Honest with people, honest with my peers and honest with myself. It’s only when I’m truly brutally honest that I can finally be ok. It’s been a hard couple of years but I know like all great comeback stories, I have the ability to bounce back from this. I will eventually rise from the ashes and feel okay again. I may not know when but I knew eventually I will feel better, I will feel whole. Every day is just another day to turn my life around. Good or bad, I have to accept that I will never be everyone’s perception of perfection. I just have to be able to be proud of the person I am and who I will become. Only then will I ever truly be happy.

In a way this is me saying, I’m going to be OK.


The struggle is real.

Let me be honest.

Okay, seriously. All I am doing is being honest.

Saving money, paying off debts, you know BEING RESPONSIBLE is not the business. Sure being responsible is all about your ability to function as an adult. Sometimes being a responsible adult is not all it’s cracked up to be. All you want to really do is be reckless and spend money. Those new kicks, you want them. Rolex watch, you want one. Alexander McQueen scarf, you want 2 of them. Trip to the south of France, you want to go to there. The truth is everything that requires having fun costs money. As much as every single media outlet can say you don’t need money to have a good time, most of the time they are lying. Who wants to go outside and chill at the park? Be outside, be one with nature? Please…. I have allergies and find great joy in the confides of my indoor spaces.

Why is it whenever there’s things that I enjoy or want to do, everything costs money? Baseball games, movies, shopping, food… everything costs money! Everything is taunting me and everything is asking for me to have a good time. For every dollar I save, there’s a sale at my favorite store. For every day that I don’t get coffee, I am 1 star away from a free drink. How is any of this fair? It’s not fair! It’s fair to the people who have the money saved and can afford to splurge. However to the millions of us in debt, it’s nothing more than a huge temptation that we can’t help but dive into. For the past couple of months I have cut my spending in half. I stopped buying clothes, accessories, and focused on everything I really needed. I literally went through my closet and pulled out everything with price tags and anything I haven’t worn in over a year. Just my way of truly cleansing my life. HOWEVER just because I cut expenses doesn’t mean I stop spending. The misconception of  budgeting is sometimes you spend money before you can truly save money. While I have cut a majority of my spending, I still find myself reliving my old vices which causes me to spend money.

This problem goes back to emotional spending. The spending of money because I’m having a moment. It doesn’t really matter the moment, good or bad the spending happens. Instead of going to the store and buying myself something nice, I’ll buy myself a nice lunch. Sometimes even splurge and get my nails done. Something. Anything that will curb that need to over spend. How ever what I am not thinking about is that everything adds up. The whole point of budgeting is to cut costs on unnecessary items. In the course of the past couple of months I have managed to save over $800 dollars by cutting costs on everything. However in those same past couple of months I have also managed to blow through the $800 dollars I have saved. Whether it be psychological or emotional or just someone voodooing me, I just cannot save money. For every $100 dollars I manage to save, I find 100 different ways to spend it. For every $250 dollars I put toward my debt, I find a way to spend the money. I am not sure whether its the notion that I think I am not spending any money but reality is I am still being careless with my spending.

My problem is I have a problem saying NO. Its easy to say No to things I don’t care for, things I don’t want to do. Yet how do I say No to the things I want to do. If a friend invites me out and it’s something I want to do, how do I say NO to that? How do I say No to Life? <-Okay that’s my problem. That right there. I don’t have the money to live the life. Which in turn makes the struggle real. Of course I want to do the things I love. However I don’t have the money to spend to live the life I am accustomed too. Honestly I never could afford to live the life I am accustomed to which is the reason I am in debt. NO BRAINER. I get it.

The Breakdown of my spending goes as follows:

I make roughly $16/hr. Which makes my paycheck around $530 (after taxes).

A breakdown of my current weekly expenses:

Gas: $50-$60
Mom (paying off debts guys!!): $100
WellsFargo: $150
Savings: $100
TOTAL:  $400 a week

A breakdown of unnecessary expenses:

Lunch: $10 a day (5 times a week)
Coffee: $5 a day (6 days a week)
Random Dinners: $25 (at least once a week)
TOTAL: $105 (a week)

Breakdown Totals:

$400 expenses
$104 unnecessary expenses
TOTAL:  $503 (a week)

Grand Totals:

$530 Check
-$503 Expenses
TOTAL Left over:  $27       <-This is why I can’t have nice things

Somewhere in my warped mind, I believe that food is not an expense. Food to me is a necessity, we need it to survive. Yes, I need that $5 dollar coffee to live my life. I also need the $2 dollar croissant, that’s made with real butter as well.   Seeing that my food is there a minute and gone the next (since I have no self control and tend to scarf my meals down), I don’t consider it an expense. While the only thing to even showcase the evidence of my food spending is the countless napkins lining the passenger side of my car (I should really work on that).  Not to mention my bank account drained because of my lack of self control. The main problem of my spending and not being able to save money is for every $100 I put toward a debt, I spend it. The $5 dollar coffee that I consider a necessity, adds up.  For every $100 dollars I save, I use my card for my expenses. Every time I use my card, I’m spending more than my fair share of money on that card. Since I spend the money on that card, I put what I have in savings toward that card. Which in turn drains my savings and therefore, I’m right back where I have started from.

No money, still problems.

Truth of the matter is all of that is an unnecessary expense. Do I really need to be eating out everyday? Do I really need a coffee every day and it’s delicious buttery croissant? Of course not. I don’t need it. I want it, but I don’t need it. If I could be really honest, I am just lazy. Lazy to make a lunch every day, lazy to make a coffee every day, lazy to function. My laziness is making me broke. My laziness is why I am in this mess in the first place. While I do applaud myself for finding alternative methods to deal with emotion, I’m still finding ways to spend money. The point of not spending money is to do just that. DON’T SPEND MONEY. I understand that’s the whole point of being an adult is being responsible for your well being. Seeing your mistakes and growing from them. Just on some occasions being an adult doesn’t really cut it, you grow restless and become reckless. I get it. I’ve done it. Now I’m just at the point where, “Man I’d just like to see my money”. Its like everyone says, we all gotta start somewhere. Shoot even Brian McKnight started “Back at one” right? So these are my pitfalls, reasons, and honest accounts of why I do not have money. This is also the reason why I can’t hang. Budgeting money is not easy. Being responsible is also not easy nor is it any fun. However to come up on top, you gotta struggle, you gotta fall, and then eventually everything will work out in the end. Everything in it’s right place.

But for real though this struggle is as real as you and me.