Ireland and Why You Should Travel

So, previously I mentioned Debi. She taught me on of the most important lessons of my life thus far. She was in a wheelchair most of her life because of an accident that paralyzed her from the waist down. Debi never let that stop her from living her life to its absolute fullest though. She went on 11 (I think) cruises and would randomly travel to different states. She taught me that traveling isn't nearly as expensive as it's made out to be. Through her and watching everything that was thrown at her, I learned that it is actually our duty to live our lives as full as we possibly can.

So get out there and travel. Don't let money be too big of a stopper for you. You can make the money back but you can't get time back. Along with that, don't let waiting for someone else to be able to go stop you either, because you may end up waiting forever. 

When Matt and I broke up, I remember one night I was laying in bed, tossing and turning like normal. I thought 'I can't stay here, I have to get out of here even if it's only for a little bit.' So, that started the wheels turning. I decided that I had always wanted to go to Ireland and I was going to make it happen. I worked 10 hrs of overtime a week and I paid off my credit cards as much as I could. And 6 months later, I boarded an American Airlines plane destined for Shannon, Ireland. No one went with me. It was the first time traveling to a different country alone. 

Before I went, I had fully planned on finding some random Irish dude and hooking up with him/hanging out with him the whole week. I think it was mostly because I was scared to actually be by myself for a whole week. Once I got there and started "adventuring" on my own though, I completely changed my tune. I had run into a guy on the second night there that wouldn't take no as an answer and got a little hand-sy (guys usually back tf off though when you have to pull out the inner-bitch). That in itself was enough to deter me from trying to sleep with anyone. And you know what? I had so much fun with myself that week.

I hiked the Cliffs of Moher, from sea-level to 750 ft above. This was a five-mile trek. I got to explore a cave and I saw the third largest stalactite in the entire world! I got in an accident while I was there because I was too distracted by how pretty it was (I wish I was joking). I went on a three hour horseback ride through the Burren. It was so incredibly beautiful. All of that, and I was completely alone. I know that sounds like it was depressing but it was completely the opposite. I got to wake up and leave for the days' adventure whenever I wanted. The day after the horseback ride, I was suuuuper sore (my poor lady-bits are suffering from PTSD still). I just laid in bed all day and enjoyed the Ireland air and I had no one to worry about.
So, never let anyone or any situation keep you from going after what you want. You are your own limitation.

Intro

So, I think this thing will mostly be for me but, meh, if someone else stumbles upon it I guess welcome!
I've been through quite a bit the last year and I have found that writing helps me organize all this jumbled up CRAP inside my brain (gotta love anxiety). Feel free to comment (but seriously, keep your petty ass negative comments out of here please).
So let's see. A little bit about me. I'm a 26 year old woman living in DSM with my dog and my cat. I try to be as original as possible but like most basic bitches, my dog is my life. I obsess over him like he is my actual child. My cat is another story lol we fight because he doesn't like to listen to the rules and sasses back at me like a teenager. I'm probably the biggest empath you will ever meet. I feel things way too fucking deep and I'm way too sensitive. I've tried fixing it myself buuuuut I guess that's just the way things have to be. Look it up actually, it's a real condition lol. It's called Emotional Intensity. I might have to do like a whole post about it some time. It's fucking great lol. This one I'll just tell my backstory shit...
I dated a guy for 4 years and was engaged to be married to him. About a month before the wedding, I found out he was cheating on me with a woman that had tried to be friends with me. At this point most normal people would have split and never looked back. My dumbass thought that "I couldn't live without him" and that he was "the best thing to ever happen to me." We ended up moving in together because my parents no longer supported our relationship. A couple months later, I think my heart and brain finally fell out of love with him and I ended up breaking up with him. Fast forward a couple more months and I moved to DSM. I decided I wanted to go back to college but, to be honest, the biggest reason I moved was to escape all the memories and small town people that knew what I had been through. I was single for a little over a year when I moved here. Being single and from a small town is dangerous. You get to DSM and it's suddenly a man-buffet all around. Enter my slut faze (yay?). I went through a couple "hopefuls" before learning the lesson that men will say literally anything to get in your pants (I say learning but honestly I still fall for it). 
I met Matt in 2015 and I fell for him pretty hard. He was super romantic and adored the shit out of me at first and, like always, I happily ignored every red flag. He couldn't keep a job. When we met he was living in his parents basement and probably had 6 or 7 jobs in the first year we were together. I kept paying for everything and telling him that we would make it through it. He was such an angry, negative person. I am quite the opposite. I'm always bubbly and always in a positive mood. He brought me way, way down, further down than I have ever been. I got him a job where I work and he worked there for a couple months before deciding that he absolutely hated it. I think that was when I stopped being happy with him. That was when I started debating on breaking up with him every day. But I loved him so much and I absolutely adored his mother, Debi and sister, Niki. On my birthday last year, Matt asked me if he could fuck his gay best friend. He told me that was one thing he always wanted to do but never got to do. Obviously I told him no but I didn't break up with him on the spot (like I fucking should have). The next month, he briefly broke up with me because he thought he loved previously mentioned gay best friend. It didn't even last 12 hours and he wanted to be back together. Being the naive idiot that I was, I took him back and thought we were happy. He went to FL with said gay best friend and a couple other friends and broke up with me when he got back. He "claims" he never cheated on me in FL but I still have my suspicions. Anywho, April 9, 2018 I shed about 275 lbs and we broke up. 
On top of the break-up last year, I lost my cousin in February and Debi died in May. It was enough to make a person suicidal, and boy was I. I saw a therapist and I dropped about 100 pounds working out and walking with my dog. I went on my first (hopefully of many) solo trip to Ireland in September!
I've been reminded, yet again, that I am an incredibly strong person. Every time my heart has been shattered by some fucking asshole, I've picked myself up off the dirt and kept going. I'm kind of a badass, but like a pussy badass because feels and shit. So, ya, that's what I've been dealing with.
Today, I've probably gained a couple pounds from the holidays. I am having a hard time getting back into the workout routine. I'm "involved" with a guy that may or may not fuuuuuck my shit up. I'm mostly okay, just taking each day one step at a time. I'm gonna try to submit a blog at least once a week, who knows what about lol I'll make it up as I go. How do bloggers do this thing?