Night Shifts Are Fun

So I’m working night shifts. I’m pretty sure that I told you that. It’s a bit creepy, especially with an over active imagination and anxiety. I think I gave myself a few panic attacks already. Mild, but when you are on the third floor, with no trees near the windows and things start banging on them in the middle of the night, I think the worst. I know there is someone trying to get through that window! I swear there is.

huh

Don’t look at me like that!

The floors above me have a college’s biological genetics lab. You know what that means don’t you? I’m at ground zero when the zombie outbreak starts. That’s right. There could be zombies trying to get in here too. Each night I start my shift, I walk around to see what would make a good weapon. You know, what would stab them in the head good, or at least enough to slow them down so I can jump out that third story window. I figure, my car is parked right outside on the street, I can pull myself to the car and climb in.

walkingDead

What? You know you would do it too.

Did I mention that a few weeks ago, there was this creepy dirty old looking doll that was sitting on a step across the street from the office? Yes, there was. And it kept moving. Each time I looked out the window, it was somewhere else. I’m sorry, but that’s just not right. And no, there are no children across the street. I mean it, there isn’t. That thing is going to end up doing something.

creeper

There is this polar vortex in here too. You will hear the doors pull themselves shut a bit like someone is pulling on the handles, then the next thing you know, all you hear is this suctioning going on. If you try to open a door, you know, to attend to nature’s calls, you have to take a running start and slam into the door, and to come in? You are putting your full weight behind your pull to open it.

Did I mention our office takes up two floors? It does, and the first floor of our offices is locked up at night. I get the fun job of hearing that alarm going off multiple times a night. People randomly coming in at night to do who knows what. I’ll go to check it out, and find no one.

This is such a fun and entertaining job at night. I enjoy it so much.

crap

20-Dog-Selfies-010

Ramblings

I’m on a new shift at work, working 7pm to 7am. Makes great for not seeing people, or just a rare few. I see people that I’m replacing from the day shift, and I see the people replacing me. I see my boyfriend for a short period of time when I start work. It’s not much time, but hey, it’s time. I also see the people that come in to work at random times of the night. Interesting conversations pursue as I’m all sorts of silly at night.

That being said, I think I received a compliment tonight.

I’ve been changing the hair up lately. It was Pink, then Purple, then it went black, and as close to my normal color, browish red. I then became bored again and thought, hey! Let’s change it again and went blonde and red.
image

image
See, something a little different.

Anyways, back to the story. One of the developers at work who I play D&D with said my hair reminds him of someone. That was a couple of months ago. Tonight, he finally remembered who it was. Apparently my hair reminds me of Haley Williams from Paramore.
image

What do you think? Do we look alike? And is this a compliment?

Random Things you come Across

I was trying to read an article at work on how to do something, and the explanation was all Latin to me, but the translation is my new matra!

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet , please contact us . HTML is the programming . I figured . Beating, inhabit the sad old age and disease , spanned, and the advising hunger and the ugly need . The environmental assessment. Do not miss it . The world’s largest spice hatred of , nor the gate of the tank , before the nor -scale mass, but the earth is willing to investment in the United States . Unfortunately, a lot of laughter in Korean and Japan . Until next time Japan Tour. Members can help designers lion . And was now in vehicles . Airplane airport . Clinical and large . Stress -free loans for the development of drugs.

 

Ch ch ch changes

Changes are coming. Now that I am currently working night shifts, I will have a bit more time to write. Whilst my mind has been a bit blank, ideas are starting to pour out. I’m going to push it to more of an art and silly story blog. But have no fear, the stories are just every day encounters I will have. Not as funny as some, but they’ll be there. I do come across randomness.

Also, I want to work on short stories with people. If you want to participate, please let me know. I love doing collaborations.

Rebirth

Something has been on my mind a lot lately. It’s a topic I have visited before. Victim vs Survivor. I am not sure why it’s started to revisit my mind, but it is there.

Let’s go over the facts. I have been raped and abused. I became pregnant with my rapists baby, and then miscarried.  I cannot sugar coat it. I have reached the point since therapy of being able to say it aloud. I was raped. Does this make me a survivor though, or a victim?

According to Dictionary.com a survivor is one who continues to function despite hardships or setbacks whereas a victim is person or who suffers harm or death from another or from some adverse act. So where do I fit in for this?

I’ve gone through years of depression. At my lowest, suicide seemed to be the best and only answer. My only way to feel better.  I no longer felt anything. As my ability to feel became a thing of the past, self-mutilation became a new hobby; an addiction which was the only way I would allow myself to feel anything. I was the one in control of how much and what I was feeling, along with when I was able to feel.  Feeling anything was too painful, making it harder and harder to get through the days without people seeing something was wrong. So I decided to not feel. I pushed all emotions to a place and locked them up tight. I stopped feeling.

With stopping the emotions, I could make it through the day. Then the next day. And the next. Pretty soon I was making it through one week. Then two weeks. Then three. Before I knew it I was making it through one month. Then two months. Then three. Eventually I just didn’t feel and managed to think this was a normal state to be in. I was able to function day to day and no one was the wiser.  If I wanted to feel anything I would, by controlling it myself. I chose when to feel and how. I would self-mutilate. I cut myself. The need to release some emotion decided how deeply or how many. Some left scars. Some did not. It left me in charge of how and when I felt and how deeply I felt.

I eventually went to individual and group therapy. I saw a plethora of psychiatrists. This would help, and I reached a small break through. I was able to stop harming myself (a tiny miracle in my world). I was still unable to feel, but I was no longer hurting myself.

I was always addressing the effects of the rape, though not the rape itself.  I addressed depression; the inability to feel or desire not to.  I was unable to sleep. When I could I had nightmares. I was scared of any real or imagined noises. My own shadow scared me. I remember one time I was vacuuming, and my shadow was cast on the wall behind me. Enough to see it out of the corner of my eye. I had a panic attack. It came to the point that I was unable to work. I was having panic attacks at work, going to work, and after work. I was unable to function. I quit my job. I knew I had to. I needed help.

Up to this point, I was a victim. I allowed what happened to me to dictate how I was. It became who I was. It ruled me. I was a victim and took that title to heart. I was a shadow of myself. I did not even know who I was anymore.

I did seek help. The right kind of help this time. I admitted to myself what had happened. I admitted to a few that were close to me, including my parents, what had happened to me. I made it clear that I didn’t want to be treated differently, but that it’s beyond the point of being able to deal with it alone. I needed help, and not just for depression. I needed help dealing with the trauma and aftereffects of being raped. It was no longer something that I could ignore. It had taken my life over. It had been dictating what I do, how I act, where I go, and I needed it to stop. I needed to be in charge again. I needed to be human.

I went to counseling at the local Rape center.

This was the miracle I was looking for. I slowly started to live again. With each session, I was able to stand up a little straighter. I was not hiding in the corner. I was able to refer to it as “the incident,” then as “the attack,” and finally as “the rape.” I was able to say “rape” without a panic attack. I could reference it without getting sick each time. Eventually, I could talk about it, stating it happened in the past. And a while in the past, not the night before. Slowly my nightmares have subsided. I have had only a few in the past year. I have only had one panic attack recently, but it was in regard to my fear of bridges, not of being attacked. I haven’t had a relapse of cutting in over a year. I’ve replaced the cutting with tattoos instead. I have art to remind me of hope.

Ralph Waldo Emerson Quote

Ralph Waldo Emerson Quote

Sparrows

Sparrows

I have had a smile on my face and a cheerful demeanor lately. I have a functioning and loving relationship with someone who means the world to me. I have a job where I am not having panic attacks every few days. I’m no longer an emotionless zombie. I have feelings and emotions which pour out of me. Sometimes it’s more than it should be, but I’ll take it. I feel as if I’ve become a beautiful person full of love and joy with a little wear and tear, but stronger for it.

Does that make me a victim or a survivor?

I was raped, and I survived. It took me a bit to find my courage and strength, but I found it and fought back for my life. Now I am living.

I’m not a victim, nor am I a survivor. I’m a fighter. I fought for my life, and I have won.

1965013_1486697374886240_1515356272_n

 

 

25 Will Never Get Old

Day 25. Wow, we made it to day 25. Today I’m to tell you about a song that I could listen to all day and not get sick of.

This one can be any number of songs. I can listen to a lot of songs and never be tired of them, but today, one particular one comes to mind. I love drum and bass. I can listen to it non stop and not get sick of it. Why? It keeps you moving non stop and makes everything go faster. I’ve listened to it cleaning, painting, sketching, playing video games, and just about anything else. I want to share one of my favorite ones with you to send you off with a bang here.

We Can Dance if 24 Wants To

Day 24 brings us A song that I have dance to with my best friend.

I’ve never had someone I consider a best friend, just good friends, and it is with this people that you can just be yourself, especially if that is silly and goofy. And to this, it means I can be myself, and just dance, in the goofiest ways of course. One of the times I’ve been dancing around, being silly, having a good time, was with Boyfriend. We enjoy doing things like that. And it doesn’t matter where we are either. The one that I’m recalling right now was very random. I was in a terribly silly mood, and as we walked over to the grocery store, proceeded to dance to music in my head the whole way there. Once we reached it, I still continued to dance to the beat of the songs playing, just very silly. Boyfriend would smile and keep shopping. Then one particular song came on, and he joined me dancing. Right in the middle of the aisle, we were dancing like no one else was around. We had a lot of fun. He lets me be me, and then joins me as well.

Not many would see this one coming:

Also, we were dancing to this one randomly whilst working on other things too.

You are Henced Banished 23!

Day 23, a song I cannot stand to listen to.

Well alright then, let’s just get right down to it. This position is actually tied. Same artist, but 2 songs, and so closely named. Are you ready? Can you handle this? I hope so, because here it is…

 

Funny, It’s Friday as this is being published. I feel like I just trolled people and wished them happy Friday at the same time.

Sing to Me 22

Song of day demand for today is to tell you about a song that was sung to me.

I don’t have people typically sing songs to me. Maybe it’s because of the look I give them when they do. It typically looks like:
jackie-chan-wtf-face-i16I just don’t see a reason to. Though boyfriend will sing as off key as possible sometimes to me, just because he can. I honestly think he just likes the faces I make. One of the songs he sings is by Kaskade. He loves them. This song came on in the car when just started going out, and he started to sing it to me.

My favorite 21

21 is your favorite song. Really? Didn’t we go through this issue before with favorite band? Ugh.

 

I have too many favorites to say just one is my favorite. Honestly, I love music and songs work with different moods. I”ll share a few that when I think of the word favorite, pop into my head.

Beautiful Scar – Trapt
This song just brings up good thoughts and emotions of me trying to look over my past and move on. Something that is much needed for me.

This comes from one of my favorite bands, Dropkick Murphys. I cannot decide between a few, so I’ll give them both to you. After all, who doesn’t like a song about rats getting drunk on Guinness and well, yeah.

And a love song about dealing with the faults and troubles, with a Celtic twist.

And because I want to keep you on your toes….