Hysterically Heddy

When I turned three decades old, I started going through a metric dick-ton of personal issues in regards to my age versus relative level of success I felt I achieved in my life. It became necessary for me to build a "Bucket List" of sorts, or as I choose to believe, a year of goals ... Also known as a year of failing myself and remaining an old lady who did nothing with her life. I'm several years into my thirties now, and I'm still unmarried without a children, and without a definitive career. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up, and I do not feel like I am a decent adult. So my BRILLIANT idea was to set some goals, and I thought to myself, "Hey self, you lackluster beast you, how about you set goals to the number of years you have spent on this earth?!" and Self thought, "Oh my gawd I don't hate myself enough, this is a FANTASTIC idea!!! This year I set the goal to go to Oklahoma ... which I'm learning is pretty much cons...

When I used to go to therapy, my therapist refused to give me any kind of diagnosis other than the ones I already got from WebMD. I wonder now if maybe she didn't have any idea what is wrong with me, because lawd knows I don't. I can be out with friends, living my life to the best I know how, and drive home wishing a semi could take me out and then no one would have to hate me for not being around anymore. Now, those thoughts are less now that I'm hopped up on a million milligrams of Effexor. But I am indeed a "why" person. Like, why am I never grateful I woke up? Why don't I look at the sun and feel blessed to see such light? Why doesn't rain make me feel clean? Why do I hate every part of my flesh that has a spot on it ... a stretch mark ... a clump of cottage-cheese-makin-jelly cellulite? Why do I hate my natural hair? My wonky eyebrow? My crooked nose? Why do I only like to look at my eyes in the mirror? I can't be a disembodied eye ball in space...

As established, I have my fair share of anxiety issues. I cannot express what the promise of a Legendary Pokémon does to a woman to make standing with 9 other people she's never met before and thinks, "this is fine," while the whole group yells, "FUCK ... SHIT ... OH FUCKSHITSTICKBASTARDTWATTERFACEDCUMDUMPSTERFIRE!!!" Now, I'll quantify that by stating that I only go to these kinds of things with my girlfriend, so I'm not completely alone, and I wouldn't likely go on my own. But we stand in a circle and for a moment forget that we don't know each other and that maybe we wouldn't like each other if we did. We were standing there during part of the outing, kind of silent, and I took stock of our crew. There was a white male who was prematurely balding, feeling super into his exclusive stash of ultra rare Pokémon that no one cared about, an Asian husband and wife with their child [the wife was absolutely delightful, I wish her and I were real ...

While titling this, I dated it not once, not twice, but three times as being August. I'm old enough already, what the fuck do I hope to accomplish? A swifter demise? Ridiculous. So, introductions are in order for anyone who might stumble upon my ramblings. Hello. Welcome. There is no punch and pie, that was a clever ruse to get you here, and now that you're here, you'll never leave again ... because my words henceforth will always find you. That being said, my name is Heather, but for purposes unbeknownst to me, I will be referring to myself as Heddy, as it is the best nickname anyone has ever given me and I'm obsessed with it. I have been diagnosed with general anxiety disorder and major depressive disorder. So even in the land of mental illnesses, I'm basic as fuck. Give me Ugg boots and some Pumpkin Spice Latte and we're all set. Everyone boasts of having anxiety disorders these days, it's like the concept of being a bit nervous in a group of stran...