If you’ve been with me for any length of time, you know about my full-fledged zombie apocalypse plan, and how it doubles as my equally quick to jump to nuclear fallout plan. I’m not trying to sit and fuck around, and too much time with my thumb in my ass makes me nervous.
Basically, if it appears for a millisecond that shit may get hairy, I’m grabbing my go bag and Puffins bitch ass and we’re heading into Montana before the 3rd business day is through.
I’m not waiting around to see how serious shit could get. If it’s serious enough that nuke play gets thrown into the conversation, that’s serious enough for me. This leads me to my topic today, why I love my 3 awesome exes.
I’ve mentioned my 3 awesome exes a few times, because they’re fucking awesome. Duh. Two are Marines, the other is Huggie Bear, and Huggie isn’t called Bear for nothing. Also, he played college football, as a PAC 10 champion. To say I trust him with my life is the understatement of the year.
These are the three people I turn to if shit has gotten real. Like, I need someone I can trust to tell me the truth, help me get my shit together, and get my back if I’m right or wrong. Every time.
I told each of them I was just freaking the fuck out, and they know of my nuke terror. It’s irrational, it’s super serious, and it was crippling for a period of time I don’t feel comfortable telling y’all because I think it will be deemed excessive. Probably because it was excessive, but I digress.
I made some excellent choices when I dated each of those three. They are fucking amazing human beings. I felt much better about myself as a human after speaking with them. And I know that my biggest fear isn’t going to happen.
I’m afraid that when it does come the time to deal with whatever life-altering emergency is at hand, I’ll be doing so alone. I’m afraid that if it’s that time, I’m going to die alone.
I don’t want that. I’m perfectly fine with living alone, and handling my problems alone, and even taking the fucking trash to the street alone, but I don’t want to die alone.
No matter how completely awesome alone is for everything else, it is not the fucking business when it comes to the apocalypse. Even with Puffins bitch ass in tow, I would rather have a very large, violent man with me. Hell, Abby is a powerlifter, and he can throw two of me across the room. That’s the type of skill I feel is going to be necessary. That’s the type of shit I need on my team.
I’m much less weepy and freaked out today, simply because I feel as though I have a plan. A plan that ensures I can be like a normal human, and that someone cares enough for me to share their Spam and ramen with me. That’s really all I want, someone to stand guard for me if we end up somewhere having to pee in the woods, and who will do the gross ass cleaning of anything we have to kill to eat. You know, the real survivalist shit.
So, I’m trying to limit my news intake, because it’s too much for me. My anxiety and irrational fears are really making me want a Xanax, and that isn’t an option unless there are literal zombies outside. I truly hope someone does something about Putin, but it also isn’t feasible for us to solve every problem in the world, and technically this isn’t our fight. But, the human in me is like “what the fuck must they think of us, nobody is coming to help them”. I can’t imagine the terror, knowing that, indeed, nobody is coming.
I can’t bring myself to discuss this at the moment, it’s too much, so if I see you around and don’t engage about it, know it’s me with my head in the sand. It’s the best I can do right now. I’m sorry.
Ok, I’m back in my headphones, and some Zack The Lad to help me get my shit together.
There's nothing wrong with turning off news you can do nohting about. Powerlessness is horrible.
I am always here if you need me