Never Standing Still

I've been seeing the same man for a month and a half.
For most people, that's nothing.
But men don't generally hit the month mark before I see them for who they are trying to pretend they aren't, or they run screaming because I am still a woman underneath my tough exterior.
This one encourages the woman aspect, which I really like, but I'm still trying to find the balance to everything I am.
I changed my mind about auto mechanics at the last moment- that felt like I would have been denying a large part of myself had I pursued it.
So I have applied to a university for a double major in anthropology and art. Don't ask me what I'll do with it, I don't know, but it sounds like enough fun that I'm quite sure I'll find some way to make it useful.
I bought myself four pairs of new shoes today, something I haven't done in ages. I want to buy two new blazers, one black and one red, and then I'll feel like I have expanded my wardrobe enough to get me through the fall and possibly winter.
That's not to say there isn't more that I want, but it's necessary to pace myself and not overspend on my tight budget.
The other half is about to start school to be a police officer. There's something I never thought I'd encourage. Me with a cop. Lord have mercy.
I'm attempting to get back into fashion, though it's more complicated than I thought being built like I am. I lost twenty pounds since February, and have gained a handful back the last few days. I'm not sure what that will amount to in the long run, but at 5'9", 170 pounds, nobody guesses over 120 and I think that's by virtue of it all being in my legs. Size 11 jeans for the first time in several years is a great feeling and I'd really like to keep that.
Enough rambling for tonight.
J

Changing Of The Seasons

I am finally, finally, FINALLY back to being a civilian.
I am running around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to get my life into order,  but I feel as though I am finally learning to enjoy it.
I continue to attend meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous, and they continue to help. Please excuse me if I don't dwell on this topic much, as I would hate for anyone to misconstrue my intentions as to why I post about my alcoholism- I want to share my experiences, and I want to help people who may be dealing with it, though I am not terribly sure how much help I might be to those struggling to achieve their own sobriety at this point in my life. So, I will keep my recovery ramblings to a minimum.
I am still very much searching for an outlet for my creative cravings, though I seem to be coming up a bit short on that on my own. I have recently begun to learn about metal art work and the process that goes into it from a wonderful friend over at US Of A Projects (new window). I am absolutely fascinated by his creative process and the practical application of it, and am DYING to be given free reign of the paint!!!
I have recently met a very nice gentleman, after a whole month of being single (don't judge me!) and am beginning to learn what a healthy relationship might be. It is early, yet, and my whole life is in an oddly consistent state of flux.
Mr. Wonderful Mexico has been relegated to the role of business associate. Our expectations of friendships are clearly quite different, and I am happy to send business his way if folks are in his market, but in a personal light, it's better to keep it simple, stupid.
Time to get back to the irons in the fire--- literally! Well, almost....

Hi, I'm Zia and I'm an alcoholic...

Last night, I finished my first three steps of my first round of the 12-step Alcoholics Anonymous process.
It's something you never actually stop doing, so this won't be the last time I see step three- and, really, steps one through three are things you must do more or less daily to maintain your sanity anyway. Maybe some people don't need these sorts of things to remind them how to live, but I sure do.
I'm a third generation alcoholic, and a survivor of Munchhausen Syndrome By Proxy. I have survived rape, molestation, physical, mental and emotional abuse, as well as five and a half years in the army. I have been in therapy off and on since I was two- I wish I was kidding about that- and been in-patient, out-patient and treated patients (I was a medic) and yet the AA program has done more to help my sanity (what little there is) than any other type of therapy I've undergone. Medications never made the bad stuff go away or showed me how to cope, they just numbed me enough that I no longer cared what was happening. For some people, medication is the answer, and for others, it is the only way.
This wasn't true for me.
I go to at least one meeting a day- and I don't expect that to change.
Ever.
No, seriously, I'm not being dramatic here. AA is the place I go to check in with people who get what I've been through, and get that it's time to live today, not yesterday, not tomorrow. I don't have to tell the whole room everything I've been through- the vast majority of us seem to have had some experience with some really, really dark places and experiences. My sponsors (a married couple who prefer to co-sponsor) and a few select friends are the only ones in those rooms that know what I've experienced. I haven't felt like telling the entire room of people I see every day- some whom are friends or at least friendly, some who come and go or simply aren't people I've spoken to- just what I've experienced. Having survived sexual assault, I already feel like this crap is tattooed on my forehead. I don't really want to advertise it anymore than I feel it must already be advertised.
Oh, and I was sober more than three years before I came to a meeting. I was CONVINCED I didn't have a problem because I had done this on my own- only the drinking was a symptom of my brokenness, not the problem in it's entirety. I heard one friend say "I drank because I had feelings. Then I stopped drinking and the feelings were still there." This is EXACTLY what I experienced. All those horrible things the alcohol (and, later, medication) numbed me to never went away. So here I was trying to avoid the horrible side effects of medication and the AWFUL outcome of my drunken escapades and STILL I was trying to deal with ALL THIS STUFF all by myself. Nobody understood what I was struggling with, nobody got why I couldn't just let it go or get over it. True, I have PTSD- there's no doubt in my mind about that. But the alcohol made those bad things not so bad- until I sobered up and realized what new problems I'd added to the lot.
AA didn't help me quit drinking- but it has helped many, many, MANY people do so. AA helped me live. I'm never going to be "cured", and I'm probably never going to stop feeling safe enough in those AA meetings to want to go every day- and I hope not. Because, even though the memories, the pain, the experiences are still there, even though I'm not cured and not ready to rejoin the life I want so badly to lead, I am living today, today.
What the hell else matters?

Accountable

I didn't grow up "normally". I had one of those "difficult childhoods" people say make the most interesting adults.
Well, we got the interesting part right, huh?
Anywho, I talked to one of my co-sponsors (a married couple) yesterday, and made plans to have dinner with her and her wife today. Shit must have just gotten real, because it's finally hitting me- I want to run. Even though AA has made me feel a million and ten times better, even though I have no intentions of relapsing, I am terrified of the thought of someone holding me accountable for my every action- because it's never been done. How the hell do I just get used to something like that? How do I adjust to being responsible for telling my sponsors who I'm dating, sleeping with, hanging out with, what step work I've done.... everything? They're only there because I asked them to be, and, still, I'm terrified. This is a total repeat of every relationship I've ever been in, and it never occurred to me that accountability was something I resisted like this- I was so good at it in the military (until recently)....
This is hard.
I'm also seeing a guy, really good looking, so much fun, and also sober, who still very much has his walls up from the damage his last relationship did to him... We've gone around about not taking it too fast, and it just is what it is, and not needing to label it. He's told me if there's someone I want to start dating I can let him know... But we enjoy each other's company, and we spend as much time together as we can get away with. I like him a lot. He hasn't opened up to me much, but I understand a lot of his reasoning for being cautious about that, too. There's something really, really special about him, and, even if it doesn't turn into a true relationship, I'm really grateful to have him in my life, and to get the time with him I do. Maybe sometimes that needs to be enough- even if it is hard to remember when you're lying in bed alone, wanting that intimacy that comes with shared emotion. Then again, maybe learning to slow the F down is exactly what I've needed all along- and, if it turns into something in the long run, all the better.
ONE
DAY
AT
A
TIME

Change Over!

Last night, I realized that, as much experience as I have with folks with disabilities- not to mention my own- I don't want the limits of working at a school. I had considered two different career paths for quite some time now- special education and cosmetology. How the two of these interests can co-exist so strongly within one person, I'll never know.
However, I want flexibility, and I want to have fun. I have no doubt that I would very much enjoy working with children with disabilities, but, really, the restrictions and limitations on how I'm able to do that- when and where, particularly- are not something I'm interested in figuring out how to manage.
I want to go to school for cosmetology. While I don't doubt that it's a fairly well-saturated industry at this point, it's something that I've already had a decent amount of experience with, and something I do truly enjoy- and the possibilities provide enough flexibility and variation that I don't think I will manage to get bored. It helps that the school is rather short, and will not be quite as stressful as attempting to get a four-year degree, when I'm not even sure how I'll hold up to an eight hour day.
I still intend to learn to sign fluently, as I can't imagine that wouldn't come in handy every now and again, and the fact that, really, I just want to learn that. But I can take that course at a local college, I'm sure, aside from actually taking on a four year challenge. Cosmetology classes are also more readily accessible in terms of start dates than traditional colleges are.
So, as I learn how important fun can be in my life and to my happiness, I change direction once again and move towards what I believe will make me truly happy in the long run.
I missed going to an AA meeting yesterday, among drama with my service dog, and will be picking it up again today, and attending a meeting at noon. I'm also debating over getting my roots touched up professionally or doing it myself as I have been- doing it myself is certainly cheaper- though I may spring for a professional manicure-pedicure, since I haven't gotten one in months now, except for what I've done at home.  

Today's Leap

Today's video about living with and (hopefully) surviving CPTSD.... and the med board process. 

Love, Family, Relationships..... And Me.

In case you missed that, I didn't grow up in anything resembling a healthy nuclear family.
Abuse, manipulation and lies were pretty much the standard set, although, somehow, neither my sister nor I seemed to pick up the "family values" set down for us by our mother.
So, at nearly twenty-seven years old, I'm learning how to be part of a long-term relationship, part of a family, and to actually really, truly love people, flaws and all, for the very first time.
Nobody ever could have put into words how hard this would be.
Television makes it look so EASY to fall in love- sure there's always the stupid outsider who tries to break them up, but other than that, they KNOW they're meant for each other, and don't ever get truly tempted to just give up because they're TIRED of trying. That's all that seems to happen in real life. Once, I believed that any relationship could work if both people wanted it enough. Now, well, I have a much, much harder time ever wanting it enough to go through half of what I've been put through... not to mention the hurdles I've actually had some part in.
And now, there's C. One of my oldest friends, someone I've been madly in love with for years, who hasn't shown me anything that made me think I stood a snowball's chance in hell, and now we're together-ish, I guess??? Oh yeah, and I'm moving eight hours away from the life I've been building to be with him- granted, a lot of what I've been working on is transferable, but, seriously, that's a LOT of risk on my part. Which, at the moment, I would say he doesn't understand in the slightest.
NOT IN THE SLIGHTEST!
I know I'll feel differently later, once I calm down and he pulls his juevos out of his throat to explain whatever it is going on in that twisted little brain of his, but right now, I'm MAD. PISSED!! I didn't get a response from him most of the day (which I did a damn good job of sucking up and dealing with, considering all those insecure little bitches playing ring-around-the-sanity so consistently) and then he's out at the bar with friends, which doesn't really bother me, but he has little to no interest in actually talking to me, but says I have his full attention, then tries to talk me down off of any topic of real importance.
WTF, DUDE?!
I open myself up, after five years of being convinced YOU didn't think I was good enough (okay, so that's basic Freudian projection, what the F ever, I didn't know that THEN, JERK!) and laid it all out on the table and- voila!- you suddenly- FINALLY!- said you felt the same- and, no less, HAD ALL ALONG?! WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!
Now, though, I'm just supposed to suck it up and accept all of this as natural and normal and not-questionable-or-scary-at-all and completely ignore the LAST FIVE AND A HALF YEARS OF SHIT?! WHAT PLANET ARE YOU LIVING ON?!
So, here's Miss Zia learning to actually believe people aren't ALL waiting to walk away and/or use her, and she's just supposed to have an easy time with all of this? Leave. The Crack Pipe. ALONE!
C is coming to visit this weekend. At one point, I was mad enough- albeit not entirely logically mad- that I considered telling him not to bother. And part of me wants to, just so MAYBE this boy will get a CLUE about what the hell he is asking me to DO here!!!!!!!!!! But I'll regret it if he doesn't fight me on it. And I hate the fact that I get why he can ignore my emotional moments- sometimes, that's just part of dealing with my crazy messy emotions. Ignore them. BUT NOT ALLLLLLLL OF THEM, JERKWAD.
Seriously? Some might be based on nothing but hormones and bad f'ing juju, but SOME OF THEM ARE STILL VALID AND NEED TO BE ADDRESSED.
OF COURSE I want/need to talk about this crap with the man I'm planning- not just considering, PLANNING- to move across f'ing Texas to be with, but Noooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!! He's got to be too stubborn to want to talk about this crap with me.
Whatever.
Jerk.

Home?!

So, the struggles of PTSD and attempting to get out of the army alive have been put on the back burner for the weekend.
Yesterday, my whole life was turned on it's head after a conversation with a very old, dear friend revealed that I'm not the only one who has had romantic feelings and hopes in that particular friendship. Suddenly, life seems a lot clearer, if not especially easier. I discussed this situation and my newly rediscovered intent to move back to the place I was living before I joined the army with my closer friends and, of course, the man I was dating. Yes, was.
Never in my life, until this moment, have I been among the category of people who have "dumped" one person for another- but I assure you the word dump is an accurate description, because, no matter how nicely or gently you do it, and no matter how pure your intentions and reasons- that's exactly what it feels like. It's a crappy feeling.
So, today, I struggle between being very happy that I finally have the man that I have adored for over five years now as a long-term part of my romantic life, and feeling guilty that attaining that happiness required me to hurt someone else's feelings.
The strangest part of it is that I'm enjoying struggling with a conflict that doesn't make me question my own sanity and ability to function. This isn't a PTSD thing, for a change, and this situation doesn't reflect any of my past struggles in any way- it's just a situation humans find themselves in once in a while.
Ultimately, though, the struggle is handled- there's little to nothing left I can do to soften the blow on anyone hurt by all of this. I did the best I could, and still am. I am very happy that I have this chance with someone I know so well and care so much for, in a town where I have several other friends, and where I'll be able to go to school to teach special education. Also, a friend of mine has contacts in the modeling world up that way, so, even though this will require a move on my part, it has some serious benefits that I cannot deny, even if it weren't for the amazing romantic situation.
I spoke to my wonderful friend for about three hours on the phone earlier, and I despise the telephone, but it was so good just to hear his voice, to be able to talk to him about life and our plans and what we've been dealing with. He's wonderful, and he's always been one of the best friends I've had, even when our friendship became strained at some points. I'm really, really looking forward to finally looking at those gorgeous brown eyes and knowing that I'm not imagining what I see looking back at me.
Feels like a love story, and I am so grateful.

The Scoop

It's so strange to me that every time I see the word 'bohemian' on this world wide web lately, it's some sort of reference to a particular style or design... The definition I'm most familiar with has little to do with fashion and more with an all-around lifestyle:  a person, as an artist or writer, who lives and acts free of regard for conventional rules and practices. (New window.) 

Having recently opened my mind up to polyamory, (new window) as well as coming to not only understand but truly appreciate the difference between bisexuality and pansexuality- that is to say accepting that my attractions and interests aren't limited to stereotypical gender identities of male and female, but expand to include all possible gender identities, and that my taste in people truly is based on the person, not the gender- my world has shifted it's shape in recent months, and appears to be continuing to do so.
A little back story for you; my earliest crush in memory was on a woman, a friend's mother, actually, though I can't remember ever considering telling anyone that. At twelve, I came to understand that I wasn't "normal" in the eyes of society, and at fourteen, a year after my first experience with another girl, and months before actually losing my virginity, I "came out" to my mother and several friends as being bisexual. Nearly thirteen years later, my mother would still swear to you that it's nothing more than a phase I'm going through.
Now, so many lessons later, I know I'm beginning what seems like a whole new life. I have my own place, am divorcing my second husband- and the remains of that are so Sonny-and-Cher it scares me-, I own two vehicles, have the coolest dog ever and a cat who's convinced he's a dog, and, well, I'm starting to feel less like a flawed burden in a contorted, scarred body than I am a real, live woman and all that entails.
In short, it's taken me nearly twenty-seven years of life to accept who I always have been.
Go f'ing figure, right?
I've started actively looking for women to date for the first time since... well, ever. In high school and for a few years after that, it wasn't even an effort to find women to see... But now?? Yeah... Not so much.
Anyway, sexuality is such a small part of it, really. Five years ago, I couldn't have braided anything- end of story. A ponytail was high-maintenance for me, no lie. Now? I own at least three flat irons, a blow dryer, a curling iron (possibly two), three different kinds of hair brushes, a couple dozen makeup brushes, more than twenty different shades of eyeshadow, concealer, blush, several shades of lipstick, at least three bottles of liquid foundation.... hell, I have satin sheets AND a number of items from Victoria's Secret!!!! Aren't you proud of me?!
I'm still the "tomboy" underneath it all, but just because I enjoy playing in the mountains barefoot doesn't mean I can't rock lace, leather and high heels- sometimes all at once. Being heavily tattooed, I've even managed to pull the modern-vintage pin-up look off. 
I'm currently talking, in some way, shape or form, to three different ladies. I'm not in a relationship, but I'm definitely exploring my options. The youngest of the three reminds me of the ex that scared me most, though was, publicly at least, the easiest to be with- very stereotypically masculine in nature (I don't care for the terms masculine and feminine to describe people, but I don't know of another term that would explain my perception of her at this point), laid back, cool, short hair, slender, and not terribly fragile or soft in appearance. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and... well, despite my initial nerves about talking to someone who bore a resemblance to a past mate, I really like her. We'll call this friend Baby Boy as, biologically, Baby Boy is female, though tends to identify more often with masculine pronouns.
Then there's Little Mama. She's pretty, soft, funny and sweet- but also unemployed, living with her parents, has a child and no car of her own. No matter how much I like her, my nerves are more than a little rattled at the thought of opening myself up to get used in a situation like this. I have found my feet, and gotten myself to a point where I'm happy and secure, and would be really, really pissed the hell off if I wound up with someone who drug me down as I attempted to help. Little Mama and I seem to be almost avoiding one another- we haven't spent time together, and it seems one of us always has something come up. I'm not sure whether to see this recurring theme as a "sign" that I just need to put myself first and not risk it here, or whether things will fall together and be fine eventually.
Then there's Tenure. She's in her early forties, with a ten year old daughter. She's beautiful, funny, and outspoken, and she terrifies me. She intimidates the ever loving hell out of me. I've only spoken to her a little bit, but it's just so overwhelming and I really, really don't want to hurt or piss off this particular woman.
Amidst all of this, I am learning to allow myself to be pretty and enjoy the things I always thought were reserved for the dainty, pretty, fragile flowers like Audrey Hepburn ("Sonny"'s favorite actress, no less) and, as such, were simply too upscale for more Bettie Page/Janis Joplin types like myself. I allow myself to decorate my home and cars in bright colors, to wear makeup and get my hair and nails done professionally, to enjoy candles, baths and soft, sexy music... And I'm learning to realize that, really, these are things people who don't know me too well always kind of assume I'll dig anyway. Not being a particularly quiet soul, I suppose the hips and long hair suggest more femininity than I'd allowed myself to acknowledge before this shift in my thinking. Now, I lay between satin sheets, with a vanity dresser holding my makeup and jewelry up for display, my closet full of bright colors and high heels, pin-up posters on my wall and hot pink curtains over my windows. 
I don't have this figured out just yet, but I suppose understanding that I'll NEVER really have this all figured out is a pretty big part of the big picture.... So, this blog is my story of becoming a woman, growing up (mostly against my will, mind you), tattoos, high heels, makeup and, well, me.