It’s been almost 5 years since I wrote in this blog. In that time may things have happened. At the time I had nowhere to live, no job, a dying car and was living on food stamps. But, I also had a boyfriend and some close loyal friends.

I’ve come a long way since then. I got a job, a new car, I moved in with my sister and her boyfriend and most importantly, I started enjoying life. I am polyamorous and so was my boyfriend so as the years went on he and I started spending more and more time together and we became primary partners. I am not a sexy person and have never been someone who men chase after. So to have someone desiring me and using me the way he did was heady and thrilling. (I say “using me” in a very good way. We were both kinky and engaged in a consensual power exchange with me at the bottom and him at th top.)

So things definitely improved for me. I was happy as I’d ever been and I absolutely loved and adored this man. He was my world. Unfortunately the things I’ve written before now about my debilitating personality traits as well as my physical health have not seen much improvement. But my depression I, thankfully, have been able to pull myself out of. Don’t ask my why because i still don’t know.

So that’s the good news. The bad news is that my boyfriend recently dumped me. After 7 years I was brutally cast aside in favor of someone younger, healthier, more successful, cuter, petite, demure, thinner and sexier than me. I was told that my services were no longer needed and I was cast aside. This breakup so devastating that it has left me barely able to get through the day.

The despair and worthlessness that overcame me as I struggled in the weeks and months that followed this event were beyond anything I could have ever imagined possible. Words cannot fully express how crippling this event was to me. Made worse by the fact that because I thought I was a strong woman, the possibility of such debilitation had never even occurred to me. I was not prepared. And as a result had little defences under my belt to counteract what happened.

There are many people out there who have suffered this type of emotional upheaval. We are the walking wounded, the ones people make jokes about. But isn’t this the case with anyone who has not walked in your shoes? If you’ve never known the abyss of addiction, you find yourself impatient with friends whose lives continually falter because of their own doing. They’re just weak aren’t they? After all, if we can do it then why shouldn’t everyone be able to do it? This is an ignorance I cannot abide. There is no one more impatient, self congratulatory and smug than than the person who has succeeded in life.

As I’ve made my way out of this miasma of despair I have learned some very eye-opening and also very sad things about my nature, who I am, why I do the things I do, and how my mind works. These discoveries have given me hope but also have filled me with desperation at how I’ve allowed my life to deteriorate and, more importantly, how much work I have ahead of me.

I’ve tried so hard throughout my life to improve, to be a better person, to create a happier life for myself and those around me. I’m here to tell you that I have failed miserably. At 55 I have very little money in the bank, no real career, no house of my own, no retirement fund and very little marketable talent. I am fat, wrinkled, have varicose veins, cellulite, small sagging breasts that point to the floor, blotchy and blemished skin, brittle nails, body and facial hair that needs near daily elimination, skin tags, ugly feet, a double chin and on and on and on.

I say all this because I am done. I am fed up with not being able to speak my mind and having to curtail what I say because it might offend someone, because it’s not proper or it’s not positive thinking, or it’s depressing or “you’re in your head too much, Kathy” or “why do you have to show every emotion you’re feeling” or ‘what’s wrong with you will you just stop talking already”.

If you’re reading this be warned, I give zero fucks anymore. You don’t like my writing, you think it’s not productive, you think there’s too much talk of sex, nudity, orgasms, the ugliness that is me? Well there’s the door my friend. I am done. This, is Verbatim Anarchy, and here is were I speak my mind.