You know that for all the bitching I do about having to do it all alone, I really don’t expect anybody else to do it for me. Not in an OYVE kind of way, so chill out already. It is just a way to blow off some steam when I get too fed up with the goings on. It is just a way to put certain people back in their place after having made oh so not appropriate comments about my life. But in all honesty, I am perfectly content doing it by myself.

In a strange kind of way, these last two years have been actually one of the happiest of my life. I mean they were stressful, intense, heart wrenching, over the top and more but you know what, I was also able to find out who I was and what is important to me. To do what I wanted to do. That is pretty awesome, if you think about it.

With that said, I still am of the stand point that there is only a certain amount of crap a person can take before reaching septic tank overload. And I am pretty much there in a way. I will explain more of that in a bit but first let’s talk about this thing I have been observing about people. It is a tat hypocritical, a little self-defeating and a little bit of a two sided mirror.

“Home is where the heart is”
“If there is a will, there is a way”
“You can do anything if you set your mind to it”
“His will to survive conquered the cancer”
“You have to put your heart into it”
“Mind over body”

What is the theme here? That’s right: mind and/or heart tend to be the driving force in our lives. Whether you call it passion, love, willpower or whatever, it is all pretty much the same thing. It is that thing that makes you grind your teeth as you try to open up that lid. It is that thing that makes you finish the marathon. It is that thing that says it is not time to die yet and sends cancers into remission. It is that thing inside that compels you to strive to new heights every day.

Call it the proverbial carrot in front of the donkey. It will pretend to be whatever it has to be to trick the body to do what it wants.

We all agree that it is pretty much the driving force behind us right? I know your heart beats all on its own, but it is your mind that tells you to get your ass out of bed.

For something that is so detrimental to us functioning as humans and to keep us going through life, it is the first thing to get dismissed. With all its power, it is an entity all by itself. You know what your brain looks like as an organ. You know that if you crack your head open, chances are your brain will be damaged right? It would be a physical reaction to a physical action. It then stands to reason the mind/heart/soul would suffer damage from a mental crack of the head. A metaphysical reaction to a metaphysical action.

And that is where we turn the mirror. We will acknowledge physical pain and damage, but not metaphysical. We agree that the body gets run down, but the mind doesn’t. The body gets rejuvenated; the mind apparently gets no refills. We credit it with the most important functions of our lives, yet we give it the least amount of attention or consideration.

Interesting.

Say you worked in retail; you come home after having to work the day after Christmas. (And we ALL know what retail hell that is) What do you do? You sit down, take your shoes off and probably grunt something in the way of “my poor feet, they hurt. I have been on them for 12 freaking hours! God that feels good.” Right? Or say you work in construction and you are one of those lucky SOB’s that has been laying brick all day in the blazing heat. You come home, and with some luck, your wife (or husband) says: “sit down, take a nice long hot bath, you must be exhausted.” Still with me?

Funny, because we seem to recognize and acknowledge that physical suffering requires attention and recovering time but we won’t acknowledge the same for mental exhaustion. Unless of course you are the wife of former Enron CEO Jeffrey Skilling who said to her husband: “my poor guy, they have been questioning you all day and you still haven’t come up with any of the missing millions. Your brain must hurt. Have a bath.” And I am sure Martha Stewart was as chipper as ever after being called in to explain her bouillabaisse of stock fraud. Right? She probably went home after meeting with the FTC and whipped up a chocolate soufflé.

Now, when I say I am tired, I am tired. When I say I have about 30 minutes left before I am turning into a raging bitch, I have 30 minutes left. Not 29 and not 31. I know myself very well. When I say I need to eat, I need to eat now. Not in 3 hours. If you think you know better, you will find out.
When I tell you that I am done, I am not talking about how I just need a break. It means I am done. I am rarely done, but occasionally I get there. It means that that part of my journey is completed and I am ready to move on to the next. I am done with that. Got the t-shirt and moved on.

My hearing with CORPORATE AMERICA is set for November 16. With God’s help, this could be done before Christmas. If so, I will be able to get the 1 thing I want for Christmas: a house, a yard, a German shepherd puppy and solitude. Because I am done. With luck, I should have enough money to not have to worry for a while, to not have to be beholden to anybody anymore and to not have to say no anymore. It means that I can finally just sit in my yard and play with my puppy and be left alone. Because I am done. It means I will finally get my so sought after 1-night and more.

Sincere or not, right or wrong, fate or faith, what happened in August has done me in. I am done. I am not killing myself, blablablabla, but I am done. Garry and I may never know the reason why we collided the way we did. I do know that my bucket is full, the camel doesn’t need any more straw and my belly button indicator just popped. I am done. I have yelled at him, he is angry at me, I am pissed at him. He has issues, I have issues, and you have issues. Those couple of months were great, thank god I had those. I know that he will be with me for a long, long time, even if none of you seem to understand that. But nonetheless, I am 32 years old as of last month and I got told this week by a 48 year old man that I was a meanie and he didn’t want to be my friend any more. So I figured since we are apparently STILL playing in the sandbox on some level, I might as well go play in mine.

I am not whining, bitching, and being dramatic. Although I must say that even if you thought I was all that, who cares. It’s my life and my story. I am telling you as the official ruler of my kingdom, the CEO and CFO of the conglomerate that is Sven Inc., the emperor of Sven land, the crazy mom behind this wheel, that I am done. I haven’t had sex in 14 months and quiet frankly don’t care if I ever get laid again. I haven’t had a date since John and you know what, its fine.

It’s not a bad thing, you know. Even Lucy was done after having played the same character for 20 years. Carol Burnett was done and even our holy saint Cher said recently: “FOLLOW THIS ACT BITCHES, CAUSE I AM DONE.” So I am in pretty good company.

I mean, lets face it: when you are done, you are done. And I hate being overdone because then you just get all mushy and fall apart at the edges. And that is just tacky.

But I am done with explaining myself, my behavior, my reasoning, my principles, my dreams and my vision of myself, you and the world in general. I am done with having people step on my sand castle because they didn’t like the one they build themselves. Thhpppttttttt.

I am done being dismissed and I am done being the only one that is willing to fight for a friendship. I am done writing the same sentence in my emails to friends who couldn’t take the heat; I am done hoping that we will work through things, because so far nobody has. The 7th cavalry is retreating back to Fort Kumbaya for some R&R with the talking stick.

You can like it, you can take it and you can leave it. Not my luggage to carry, that’s yours. All I am saying is that I am done. Sold out, Out of Stock, Empty, No More, Left the Building, Left the Station, Sailed.

Did I mention I was done?

My name is Sven