
blue


Is ignorance bliss? Is self-awareness is a blessing or a curse? I don’t have answers to these questions. All I know is me.
If you know me or read me, you know I’m perpetually on a quest to know thyself and that I’m always aiming to improve myself. Reading any of my personal essays will clue you in to the fact that I am often a mess because healing isn’t linear but I never let my messiness stop me. You’ll also figure out that since my divorce, I think and write about romantic relationships, love, sex, marriage, and all that jizz jazz often. Why? Cuz I got dumped, dummy. LOL. Ok, but for real, it’s because like everyone on the planet I want to be loved and wanted and I don’t want to be alone. My fear that I’m inherently unlovable, undesirable, and will always be alone has driven me and not in healthy ways.
So it’ll come as no surprise at all that this personal essay is about that shit. Again. You’re bored already and I get it. I’m bored too. LOL. So for both of our sakes’ I will try to keep this brief.
Here is my latest theory and the reasons behind it, as quickly and as succinctly as my loquacious little fingers can write it:
Theory: I don’t think I will ever be in another serious relationship.
Reasons:
One: I rely too heavily on vibes.
I don’t really give people much of a chance on dating apps. If I don’t feel it pretty quickly, I move on. Truthfully, I find most of the “talking stage” to be so egregiously tedious that I would rather lose the ability to speak (something that might kill me) than to have to suffer through innumerable iterations of the mother fucking talking stage. KMN.
One A: If I don’t find you mentally stimulating, game over.
If I hate the talking stage so much, how will I ever find out if I find someone mentally stimulating? I don’t know, bitch. I don’t make the rules. Again, it’s about vibes. If the vibes are vibing then I’ll stick around long enough to find out if you’re a dumb dumb or not. If I find myself dissociating while you’re telling me a story, we probably aren’t gonna go on very many dates.
Two: I have a type and my type’s type is not me.
It’s cliche but I like me a bad boy with a heart of gold. Or to put it another way, there is a certain type of masculine energy that is absolute catnip for me. However, the type of masculinity that I’m attracted to is not attracted to soft, autistic, nerdy girls. They want the hot, baddie. The girl all the bad guys want is not me. LOL. And let’s be real just cuz Sandra Dee dressed up like a dominatrix at the end of Grease didn’t mean she was really a “bad girl”. I could try to play the part of a baddie, but the reality is I’m not. I’m an emotional, socially awkward, fat girl. (With a wicked sense of humor and entertaining writing style, but that’s neither here nor there.)
Two A: I know that to someone out there, I am absolute catnip. The problem is they are not catnip to me.
I’m talking about catnip a lot. The point is somewhere out in this wide world there are people who like my personality, think my face is pretty, and don’t mind my soft bod. But the people who like me I don’t typically vibe with. It’s extremely problematic. LOL.
I see one likely outcome, one “eh, idk, maybe” outcome, and one “would take an act of a deity to happen” outcome as a result of all this.
Likely: I continue to go on casual dates and make friends and have fun but never settle into another serious relationship. It’s a bummer but I’m starting to accept this as my fate for being such a picky ass.
Eh, Idk, Maybe: I settle for someone who is not my type but that likes me and I get along with. I mean, this could happen. I’ve settled before. I wouldn’t be alone. But I’d probably be bored.
Would Take An Act Of A Deity To Happen: I meet someone I fall head over heels for. We vibe. They stimulate me mentally. They’re a baddie with a heart of gold. And somehow, impossibly, I’m exactly what they want too. I know, sounds unlikely. One in a million.
That’s it guys. That’s my theory and the reasons behind it. I’ll be honest, today I am ok with the likely outcome of being alone forever. Today, I can handle it. Another day, who knows? But for now, I accept it. I accept myself as I am. And for today, I love myself.
I started this post asking if ignorance is bliss. Would I be happier if I weren’t so self-aware? If I wasn’t always reexamining myself in order to improve as a human being, would I just be a happy, ignorant, slut? IDFK. But at the moment, instead of making myself miserable because I’m not loved/wanted/with someone, I am accepting myself and my singleness and knowing that somehow it will all be ok.

Ok, friends. I finally finished the random word short story I promised you. I was given five random words that had to be included in the story and y’all gave me some difficult words. But I got them all in and wrote a very silly little story. I hope you enjoy it.
As a reminder the five words were: cantankerous, emetophobia, kerfuffle, somnambulism, and bumfuzzle.
Now, without further ado: Dr. Palmer’s Life Affirming Hypnotherapy Clinic and Alterations
P.S. I have not proofread this yet.
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“‘Maybe you should see a doctor.’
“This was Eric, my best friend.
“‘I just need a few good night’s sleep. I’m fine.’
“I was not fine. I was waking up every morning more tired than when I’d gone to bed. It had started about a month prior. At first, I just chalked it up to the long hours I’d been keeping at work. I had been working nearly sixteen-hour days and it seemed to me that it was just catching up to me. Then management brought in a new hire, and I was able to cut my hours back. I was finally getting some sleep again. Except the exhaustion didn’t abate. I continued to wake up with heavy bags under my eyes. And, more concerning, was that I often woke up wearing something different than when I’d gone to sleep, or nothing at all.
“‘Do you notice anything else when you wake up?’
“‘Like what?’
“‘I don’t know. Like dishes in the sink that weren’t there before. Or the front door open.’
“‘Maybe.’ I didn’t want to admit it, but there were sometimes strange things in my house when I woke up. And, if I’m being honest, I already knew what Eric was going to say or what a doctor would say. I just didn’t want to hear it.
“‘Dude, I think you’re suffering from somnambulism. I watched a whole video on it the other day.’
“‘Som what?’
“‘Somnambulism. It means sleepwalking. Everything you’ve described to me just sounds like you’ve started sleepwalking. It’s probably from stress.’
“I knew he was right. It was the only thing that could really explain everything. But if I was sleepwalking, I was most likely leaving the house at night. I knew this because one morning I found my neighbor’s lawn gnome in the fridge. I live alone and I didn’t know how to stop myself from going on these little field trips. I just kept telling myself that if I got a few good night’s sleep everything would work itself out.
“‘Eric, I really don’t want to see a doctor. And I can’t afford it anyway.’
“‘No worries. I got you.’
“He pulled out his phone and search through his contacts. A moment later my phone buzzed with the notification that Eric wanted to share a contact with me, would I accept?
“‘This is the number to my hypnotist,’ he said. ‘I know what you’re thinking but this guy is legit. He cured me of my emetophobia.’
“‘Your what?’
“‘My fear of vomit. You remember when we went to Six Flags that time?’
“‘Oh yeah. That was a rough day.’
“‘Yeah, well, after seeing Dr. Palmer a few times I’ve actually gone back by myself. I even rode a roller coaster. I’m telling you hypnotism works.’
“I was haunted by that day at Six Flags. Eric had it really bad for this girl, and she had season passes. Despite having a huge fear of vomit, he decided to go and since they had a free ticket, I went too. Everything was fine for a while until Batman: The Ride.
“Eric had been steering us away from coasters most of the day, pointing out the long lines or finding some interesting thing we could do instead. I knew he had some kind of thing about vomit, but I hadn’t really put two and two together. Finally, this girl started practically begging to ride Batman. It was her favorite ride, and she rode it every time she came. Eric agreed. But once the ride started and a kid in front of him shouted, ‘I don’t feel good, Daddy,’ it was all over.
“Eric started to scream. And not the fun ‘yay I’m on a roller coaster’ kind of screaming. No, this was fully terrified, panic. And to make things worse he was screaming, ‘Get me off! Get me off! Get me off!’ At some point he decided the only logical thing to do was to try to climb out of the ride while it was moving. They had to stop the ride. Firefighters and paramedics were called. They had to carry him down. Needless to say, he never saw that girl again.
“If Eric was able to go back to Six Flags on his own and ride a roller coaster, maybe there was something to this hypnotism thing. I accepted the shared contact from him thinking, ‘what can it hurt?’
“A week after that conversation I found myself in Dr. Palmer’s waiting room reading a Highlights magazine. Dr. Palmer’s Life Affirming Hypnotherapy Clinic and Alterations turned out to be in a mostly boarded up strip mall near the train yard. There was a reception desk, of sorts. It was a folding table where an elderly woman sat hunched over a sewing machine. I rightly guessed that she was the part of the operation that handled alterations. Since there was no one else there I checked in with her.
“‘What?’ she shouted over the sewing machine.
“‘I said my name is Brian Williams. I have an appointment with Dr. Palmer.’ I tried politely shouting over the machine but halfway through my sentence she cut the thing off and then I was just yelling at an old woman.
“‘No need to shout, young man.’
“She reached for something under the table, and I discovered their brilliant and totally HIPAA compliant filing system, a bunch of papers shoved into a box.
“‘Becky Johnson, you said?’
“I guess I looked like a Becky.
“‘No, Brian Williams. I have three p.m. appointment.’
“She narrowed her ancient eyes at me, as if I were there to simply ruin her day, then went back to shuffling papers.
“‘Here we are,’ she said, after pulling something out of the box. ‘Palmy’s filing system leaves me all bumfuzzled. But I found you.’
“She looked over the sheet of paper for a few minutes before loudly proclaiming, ‘Sleepwalker, huh?’
“I can’t imagine this woman was capable of reading facial expressions but that didn’t stop my face from emoting.
“‘Yeah,’ I said.
“She picked up a phone that was sitting on the corner of the table and pushed a few buttons.
“‘Palmy, you got one,’ she said then hung up the phone. ‘He’ll be right out.’ Then it was back to sewing.
“I was deep into the Highlights word search when a middle-aged man wearing a bright green sweater vest appeared in the waiting room. He walked quickly and confidently to where I was sitting and stuck a hand in my face.
“‘Dr. Palmer,’ he said. ‘You must be Mr. Williams.’
“I shook his hand.
“‘Come, let me show you around.’
“I stood awkwardly, folding Highlights in half and sliding it into my back pocket. At this point, I wasn’t sure what I was really going to get out of this visit so I thought I might as well walk away with a magazine to read later.
“First stop of the tour was the folding table.
“‘You’ve already met my lovely wife, Laverne.’ Alterations waved a little hand without looking up or stopping sewing. ‘Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to the place where your life will change forever.’
“As it turns out, the place where my life would change forever was the second door on the right after the restroom. It was a cozy space with a couch and large armchair. The lights were dim and there was some kind of Zen music coming from somewhere in the room. I started to sit on the couch, but Dr. Palmer redirected me to the chair.
“‘Bad back,’ he said after lying down. ‘Old war injury, if you know what I mean.’
“I did not.
“The chair wasn’t so bad. It kind of swallowed me up but it wasn’t terribly uncomfortable. In fact, part of me felt that in the right circumstances I could just fall asleep right there.
“‘Now,’ he said, ‘you’re having a hard time sleeping, it seems.’
“‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I wake up more tired than when I went to sleep. And I’m pretty sure I’ve been sleepwalking.’
“‘Hmm.’ He tented his fingers over his face. ‘Tell me more about this. When did this start?’
“I gave him the whole story about working too much and finding the gnome. I even confessed to the time I woke up naked in the shower, something I hadn’t told Eric. He listened attentively, adding a lot of hmms and keeping the finger tent up the entire time. When I was finished he hmmed again then bolted upright, slapping his knees as he did so.
“‘Sounds like you’ve got a cantankerous little storm cloud brewing in the old noodle. But don’t you worry, Brian, I think I can help.’
“Something about this man’s confidence was terrifying and oddly comforting at the same time.
“‘Now, Brian, I want you to close your eyes and listen to nothing but the sound of my voice.’
“But just then a train went by, horn blaring, and rattling the building. Palmy seemed completely unfazed by it. He sat there looking into my eyes, hands on knees, presumably trying to see into my soul. As soon as the train was gone he said, ‘Let’s begin.’
“The first session with Dr. Palmer lasted almost an hour. When it was over and I opened my eyes, I felt more relaxed than I’d felt in a very long time. I was a little unnerved to see that he’d removed his shoes at some point during the session. But I put it out of mind. I was starting to think maybe this would work.
“That night I slept better than I had in a long time. I felt almost refreshed when I woke up the next morning. But within a few days, I was back to feeling tired and finding more of my neighbor’s belongings in my house. I made another appointment with Dr. Palmer.
“Everything went basically the same the second time around. Laverne sat at her little table sewing. Palmy greeted me with the force of a smiling hurricane. I took the chair, and he took the couch. And, again, inexplicably, when I opened my eyes at the end of the session, he had removed his shoes. I tried not to think about it. I continued making appointments. I needed this to work.”
The lawyer listening to Brian’s story stopped scribbling for a moment and held up a hand.
“Let’s move forward now,” he said. “Tell me about the fifth session.”
Brian continued.
“Well, as you know, the fifth session is when I discovered what had been going on.”
“You mean with the shoes?”
“Yes.”
“Continue.”
“I was there for my now regular three p.m. appointment when a train passed by, shaking the building. Normally, this wouldn’t have bothered Dr. Palmer but this time we heard something crash, and Laverne give a little shriek from the waiting room.
“‘Verny?’ Dr. Palmer yelled, ‘Are you ok? What’s all the kerfuffle?’
“When she didn’t answer he got up from the couch and ran out of the room. In doing so, he caused one of the cushions to shift a little and I noticed something stuck down in the couch. Curiosity got the better of me. I reached down between the cushions and pulled out a polaroid photo. I was shocked to find someone I didn’t recognize sitting in the armchair, eyes closed, with Laverne waving her feet in their face.”
“Go on,” the lawyer urged.
“I lifted the cushion and found hundreds of polaroids featuring patient after patient seated in the chair with feet in their faces. I found photos of Eric with Dr. Palmer’s feet in his face. And I found several of myself. I didn’t know what to do. I pocketed a few of them for evidence and ran out of the building. Then I contacted you.”
“The polaroids you showed me won’t be admissible as evidence because of the way they were obtained but they will most likely be enough to secure a warrant. I just need to know how you want to proceed.”
“Honestly, I’m really conflicted. On the one hand, I should probably sue the man, right? But on the other, I have been sleeping so much better since I started seeing him. If I pursue this, there’s a chance my sleepwalking will return. What then?”
The lawyer put down his pen and furrowed his brow.
“Are you saying you don’t want to sue Dr. Palmer?”
“I really don’t know,” Brian said. “What would you do?”

