A Hot Fucking Mess!

Great Scott my life has been a fucking mess. Not even a cute, hot mess—just a fucking mess!

All my own fault of course… I do not even wish to mention any of which crazy shit I have gotten into the past few weeks. There is no point. All I will say is I have battled the neon beast and emerge through the tortuous fires of the mouth of hell a changed, more damaged, insanely batshit crazier person than ever before. This, however, I suppose is the best part of this fucked up story of Jayde’s twisted life– the damage I have alone and behold sustained, well this is rather good for me.

As one whose been there and back a plenty would know, when you’ve hit rock bottom you can only go up from there. I am rock fucking bottom with sprinkles of feces and salt rubbed in my infested wounds.

I woke up alone and disheveled. I had only my car, a few of my personal belongings packed in a few luggages, what little cash I had left and the rest of what I pathetically claimed ownership upon sprawled across random friends, foes and strange folks homes all over Vegas.

I woke up and woke the fuck up. The aftermath of weeks and weeks of rapid downward spiraling into excessive partying, boozing, drama and drugs started to finally wear off and I realize I was broke, homeless, bruised, beaten and did not know where the hell I was or how I even gotten there. Oh wait… Yeah I woke the fuck up in my car!

I sobbed at the realization of where I had placed myself. What troubles I continue to put myself into. How the years of continuous trauma, trials and tribulations I have ignored, brushed aside, and marched on without properly grieving or even bothering working through has dug my grave deeper and deeper with each passing year. I sobbed at my stupidity. I sobbed for my insanity. I sobbed for myself and for those I have intentionally brought down with me. I sobbed until my eyes puffed blind and I picked up my phone then I reluctantly dialed for my Mother.

I always save her as a last resort to whichever shit I got myself into and couldn’t find any other means to save my own ass. And as always she rescued me with open arms. Disappointed nevertheless, however always open arms. Of every save the next pushed her further from disappointment and more deeply into concern. She always started with praises and warm rushes of comfort and words of affirmation. Always her love and her prays to her God. Then always a plane ticket booked if not within hours, within days home. And as always my favorite Vietnamese homestyle dish is made hot and ready to eat as soon as they once again drag what belongings I possess left through the garage and I walk into the threshold. But of course my favorite dessert Tiramisu is soon after greeted as my mother is well aware it has been days if not weeks since my last wholesome meal and so the replenishing of my body begins. After I have filled up on love, fantastical food and dynamite dessert, I make my way upstairs to my modest antique dollhouse furnished room where nothing has been moved, changed or even lived in since I ran away last. The only difference each and every time I am recycled back into this never ending pathetic homecoming is the shoebox filled with new pair of fabulously fashioned heels tucked slightly under my canopy bed. Not to forget the incredibly expensive, yet to die for dress that also awaited my arrival.

“Nuance fashion meets elegant, beautiful new you!”

And so it, the new wardrobe, symbolizes a better, stronger, well composed and poised Jayde is to begotten from the mess. It is a lovely gesture and thoughtfully planned homecoming each and every rescue. She tries, by God that poor woman tries. Yet each time I come home it is for a few days if not weeks before I am running far, far away without a word, hint or respectful farewell. Just poof! I vanish. Sending greeting cards and random methods of correspondence each passing holiday until the next operation “Nurse Jayde Home”  is in play.

 

Rescue. Replenish. Run away.

 

I am a pretty fucked up daughter. When the saying goes, “Come home so Momma can fatten you up and you can run away again.” How hasnit taken so long for me to understand I am the problem?!

Granted, my intentions are never to use or abuse my mother’s kind gestures. She has remained the last resort for many reasons and one of the more important reasons is because of our relationship dynamic. She tends to dictate what she wants of my life and expects from me. She doesn’t respect my wants or desires but then again why should she? I’ve done nothing to earn her trust as I have done nothing but destroy my life time after time. Worsened with each passing year. So again, why wouldn’t she dictate my life?

I finally understand her chokehold. I actually rather appreciate her now. She means well and she wants well. I am just too entitled, emotional and bratty to have sooner realized her intentions. To appreciate her as I have learned to appreciate Bryan. Instead I did what I wanted and fuck who I hurt. I am intelligent, beautiful, charismatic and I will get, do and be who I want. Fuck the bullshit.

Fuck I am stupid! For years I pranced around on my high horse and holier than thou attitude allowing my illness to overrule my emotions and take control of my life. I listened to no one and dance to the beat of my own drum. Now at 27 I am defeated. I am beaten. I am washed. I am worn. I am weak.

It took me years of traumatic life changing events, losing great friends and hurting loved ones, it took losing the love of my life and living in my car to finally realize how fucked up I am. I lost the fucking love I always dreamt of and destroyed my fucking life. I did this. I sabotaged myself and tore open my heart. I made this bloody fucking mess and only I should have to suffer the aftermath.

Only I…. Then again, it isn’t I alone. Still behind me there is my Sister, there is my Mother, there is my darling baby brother, there are my beloved friends and surprisingly…. Yes shockingly….. YES There is still fucking Bryan! My handsome, poorly appreciated, oftenly bashed, not at all deserved but still loved by Bryan.

I have never felt so shitty and so very fortunate all at once as I do today. I am one very lucky Bratty BPD Bitch and this bitch is going home Thursday. After I fatten back up from 90lbs to my healthy 120lbs, this crazy bitch is going to treatment at Menninger Clinic. This gratefully batshit, very much loved and adored bitch is going to fight this borderline side of her and this bitch will proven victorious.

I know I have a long, tough battle ahead of me and I know this may as well be the furthest thought needeth cross my mind however I cannot help but to wonder if fairytales are sometimes real and this story ends with love never lost…. Then again, loving myself is love never lost or love never losing….right?

 

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