Salty

I truly hate going to therapy…

Uh hmm! Let me introduce myself before I trauma dump on you for why therapy sucks but I clearly can't stop going.

Hi, my name is Genevieve Isla Harper. Yeah, that's how I feel about it, too. The abbreviation is just terrible. GIH. That's not even a word! And how many black Genevieves do you know?! I'll wait.

That's right! None!

Okay, I'm done tripping about my name because baby,-! I gots more to get off my chest!

So anyway, call me Gene. Not "Jean". "Jenny". I'll cut you. Where was I? My bad, it's the spicy mentality working against me.

My name is Gene and I'm a hermit. No, not a damn crab but the crusty, dusty old person who yells at kids to get off their lawn but never leaves the house.

Yeah. That one.

It's not my fault. Trauma runs deep in my veins and with a spicy brain, I got hit by a Mac truck in the terrible-hand-being-dealt way.

Ignoring ALL of my past, I have ways about me that keeps me from mingling in society. Besides, like Aliah Sheffield said, "Earth is ghetto".

I'm shy, I'm DEEPLY introverted and most people are terrible humans. I don't even watch the news (not watching television in ten years) but I know all the strife going on in the world. It's trifling.

But none of that is why I'm upset.

I drag myself out of my apartment once a week for therapy and it sucks. Not because I have to go outside (though that blows) nor because I have to interact with other humans (gross) but because I do not like going to the past to dig up all the crap that's left a dirty mark about my once golden but now tarnished soul.

I always say "You can't move on with the past in your back pocket" but I'm talking about other people! I do not like going through the shitshow that was my childhood and twenties. I don't. It's hard and painful and it just sucks.

And honestly I'm tired.

Knowing I went through so much bullshit daily for 29 straight years? It's mind boggling. And it's draining.

I have to pump myself up and go through a whole be-kind-to-yourself day the whole day before and a big self-care day the whole day after. The ONLY reason I am doing this is because I don't like any part of me but especially if I let them (my "village") win and break me irreversibly, I'd be no better than them.

So I'm taking a stand by taking my medication exactly as it's prescribed and every single dose without fail. I attend therapy and support groups. I take premeditated measures to offset symptoms.

But it's fucking hard…

Literally, I just stepped out of the building of the clinic and began walking down the street. I live in beautiful picturesque Vermont and it's September so the leaves are starting to turn a little bit but not too much because it's still hot as Satan's asscrack. It's way too hot for this shit.

Anyway, I put my green and black headphones on my ears and turn FeFe Dobson on at headache inducing levels. I remember her from my youth and remembered loving her so when I came across a song of hers recently, I added all her released work into my Apple Music library with a reminder to get her new work when it comes out soon.

I am actually excited about it. Which is weird because I haven't been as excited about music lately but I still got hyped about Big Time Rush getting back together last year. Don't get me wrong, I'm an audiophile.

But I haven't been able to get lost in the groove lately so I've been watching a lot comedies in preparation for Halloween. Yes, I'm a spooky bitch. So spooky that when I go dark, I get pitch black. All of that stains your soul if you let it so I offset it by watching comedies right before and right after spooky season.

Then I get on my Christmas grind after, which is laughably absurd because I actually loath Christmas.

Go figure the dark and doom spooky bitch loves Christmasy glitter shit, too. Maybe it's because winter is my favorite season though Autumn is a very close second. Spring is a solid third (which holds my birth month). Sometimes winter overstays its welcome so spring definitely is appreciated after a full four months of sludge and ice.

The season I hate more than the holiday of Christmas is summer. I see no redeeming qualities. I'm plus sized so I can't run around naked, though I have a skin condition that makes me allergic to the sun so that's backfire on me anyway, and the heat drives me batshit. Then there's the fucking animals!

I love MOST animals. But not insects, namely flies and mosquitoes. They can burn in the fieriest pits of hell with people who chew loudly and hurt innocent people.

There's a direct pipeline between the two.

But my whole point in this is that I want to rock out a bit to try to push down all the emotions that flared up in my one tiny one hour session. And bitch, it was a lot.

We went over some of my experiences going through life at my size. I've always been the chubby kid and I grew into the fat adult. Most days I don't care about my weight because I'm mostly kinda really fit. I can walk distances and climbs steps without getting winded. I can do exercises without needing a stretcher afterwards. I like fruits and a lot of different sometimes green vegetables. It helps that I'm a VERY picky eater and the meat I eat doesn't have much fat.

I don't pig out regularly unless I'm emoting (thank you strange eating disorder!). I'm incessantly clean. I like real ingredients in my food, though red dye number forty is bae. Portion size I really struggle with. Sometimes I can eat one snack cake and be full for the rest of the day but on the flip side is eating twelve apples with cookie butter four days in a row.

I haven't hit that balance yet.

But through it all, I'm 273lbs. Still.

No one can sweep me off my feet.

I'm depressing myself so I pull one of the MANY books I'm currently reading out of my big bag and open the my bookmark. Reading (my safety net) has started to wean in interest. But I can't let the agony win. Music, art and literature are literally the ONLY things I could ever depend on the in this world (and the only things I'm openminded about).

I make up my mind to go to the nearest grocers (on the opposite direction from my apartment) and browse a while and maybe pick up something. Luckily my apartment complex is down the street from my doctors and further down the street from the gourmet supermarket.

I change direction and go to the end of the block so I can cross the busy street.

I continue walking and reading, really getting into Woke Up Like This by Amy Lea. It reminds me of 13 Going On 30. Just not as cringey.

Once I make it inside the aesthetically pleasing store, I grab a trolley and lean on the bars to continue reading as I slowly push my cart in a Radom direction, soaking up the AC.

I pick up a few fancy cheeses because I was in the mood for a charcuterie board for dinner. I know they are a big thing on Tik Tok as "girl dinner" but I eat what I want to insure I eat. So cheddar, Gouda and Havarti and others go in the basket. I pick up some deli meat and tiny gerkin pickles (I hate pickles now but I can't seem to stop myself from eating the baby ones).

I go to the wine selection and choose two; a white and a red, not knowing brands or the correct terminology. Then I find three different crackers types and bypass the nasty ass olives. I pick up a couple cold dips and one meant to be warmed.

I know this store but I routinely get lost and just drift all over, looking for things. But also, I'm still trying to read.

I find soft Italian bread and even softer French rolls and put them in the cart before going to the produce section. I grab strawberries, grapes, apples, cucumbers, broccoli and radishes. I grab tea packets from Lipton (the best inauthentic tea makers around, I believe). I grab a six pack of Sprite. I pick up a large container of seedless watermelon chunks and one of pineapple chunks.

I go to grab sweets. I get Stacy's pita chips in the cinnamon sugar flavor and a few snack cakes and other things. This charcuterie board is going to be deluxe.

I check my basket to make sure I can carry all this junk home before going to the chip aisle for Smartfood's white cheddar popcorn and BBQ and Nacho Cheesier (they still call it that, right?) Doritos.

I grab all three bags then head to the frozen aisle once more to pick up ice cream. It's nothing fancy. Just Ben & Jerry's Cannoli flavor. It's my favorite of theirs. So many are ick.

Anyway, I set my cart aside to stay out of the flow of traffic and grab two containers then put them in the trolley before pushing it forward and getting back into my book as I head towards checkout.

I wasn't necessarily looking where I was going as I came to a steamy scene and sort of… ran into someone. Mowed him down could be the correct phrase.

Now I'm embarrassed, a state that is very much unusual for me but still as unwelcome, and apologizing as I set my book on my bags and take off my headphones. "I'm so sorry!"

The tall guy stops bending, rubbing his lower thigh. He looks up, making eye contact before his eyes grow. He fully straightens and turns to my basket to steady himself.

I flush lightly because hot damn! he's beautiful! He looks like a fucking idol bred with a lumberjack. He's very much taller than my 5'1 ass with wide shoulders filling out an open red checkered flannel shirt over a dark grey tee. I check him over and see he's wearing Levi's and brown scuffed boots. Did I scuff his boots? "I'm really sorry."

He stares at me silently.

I bite my lower lip out of (bad) habit. "I didn't mean to knock you over. I was reading."

His brows raise. "Reading?"

I admit I zone out for a second because his voice was like a fairy mated with a bear. I don't know how he achieved a high growl but he did. I make myself pay attention to anything other than his looks and voice. "Yes."

"Was it good?"

"I'm not done."

He smiles slowly. Oh man, he has great teeth and a dimple! "Are you liking it so far?"

"Yeah…?" Why is he asking me this? Does he want book recs? Which I can totally do as an avid reader.

He smiled softly. "I like how you have a physical book."

"It's hard to read a tablet with the sun outside."

He chuckles lowly, a rumbly sound that immediately makes me squeeze my already touching thighs tighter. "So you read digitally as well?"

"I do."

His pretty brown eyes darken as he stares again.

"Um… I have to go." I point around him.

"Oh." He jumps and moves out of the way.

"Thank you." I push my trolley passed him.

I can feel his eyes on my ass. "You are very welcome."

My flush comes back but I hold my head high as I try not to shake anything but that's impossible with a wagon like mine. I hurry away and rush through self-checkout. I pay and adjust everything so I can take the seven minute walk back to my apartment.

The entire time, I'm cursing myself for being so shy and not good at creating small talk. I could have chatted him up and seen where things went but no dice. It is just as well. It wouldn't have gone anywhere anyway.

C'est la vie.

My life…