Rod and I have kinda sorta moved…. electronically speaking. We’re beginning separate blogs, which is in no way a metaphor for our relationship (we’re still very much together), so you can find both of us there. Please go follow and comment and talk to us. We can’t promise we’ll give you cocaine if you do, but is appreciation and gratitude enough? 😕No? Damn, Rod, we’re screwed.
Trips, trapped and tipping….in a country that doesn’t tip.
Dear dear followers,
those of you that remain and find entertainment in our babble, I have quite an announcement. Rod and I, the two chic freaks who procured this half-ass, dusty blog, the same two that lived in different countries, WE HAVE OFFICIALLY BEEN IN THE SAME COUNTRY. Then the same airport, the same room (after I was quarantined by an Immigration officer with a big fucking chip on her shoulder and hirsute forearms), then the same car. A tiny, very nice Volkswagen car. I’ve learned Brits are avid believers in tea and Volkswagen. Without one or the other you question their true origin. I know what you’re thinking… “That must have been fucking awkwarddddd”, and you sort of sang the “awkwardddd” part to elongate it. But, I’m afraid that wasn’t even slightly the case. Humans just love any type of train wreck, like the demented, fucked up creatures we are. Unfortunately, you sadists, I was too pissed from explaining my entire life story, down to my birth and up in my mom’s vag for us to be anything besides us. He was perfect, though. It was perfect. It was as if I were in a grocery store and he was outside just awaiting my return and there we were in these tailored positions in the universe that I guess some man in the sky chiseled out for us. Not God — because I don’t believe in him — but literally just a random dude.
In fact, our week together went so exceptionally good that in a mere 5 months I’ve got plans to repay him a visit with hopes of figuring out what all I require to set up my life there. Over two years ago I met the most incredible being who happened to reside thousands of miles away. And despite all the obstacles that we had to overcome (in other words, “attempting to jump before face-planting on the other side”) I know for whatever reason that I was meant to cross paths with this man and have one integrated, weird life.
If someone makes you happier than you’ve ever been just by occupying the same area of space, lock that shit down.
I’m Gayer Than A 2 Dollar Bill
I’ve heard that phrase before, living in the discriminatory, close-minded south. Okay, I’m painting with a broad, rainbow-colored brush here — the entire south is not like that, but you will come across people, like most places, that have some sort of prejudice. Growing up I was two different people. I didn’t suffer from Bi-polar disorder. Instead, I was a young girl that had no clue who she was. If I let Nancy Drew on the case she would have retired all together. As I entered my preteens I discovered that I was attracted to girls. Seemed like I was only attracted to girls. Now let me just say, accepting who I was was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. I began to think and label myself as a lesbian. Actually, I’m going to scratch that. I began to think and label myself as a heterosexual girl that was going through something. A passing something. Or perhaps just a something I could disguise or a something i could force myself out of, as if it were possible. It wasn’t a something because it stuck. And I mean, it stuck. But it didn’t stick at all. It was a part of who I was. It was woven through DNA, floating along with blood cells, inhaling and exhaling with my lungs. It wasn’t something that stuck because it wasn’t something detached from me that happened to find me. It was me. Well, more like I was it. So I was a lesbian. I didn’t know for sure, though. It didn’t feel myself take that breath from a weight being lifted. Now, I used to tell others (after I had accepted my own sexuality, but withheld it from many) that labels are useless. Sexuality is fluid and not so black and white as we think it is. So putting ourselves in these boxes, these mental cages of what we are, or think we are, is detrimental to personal growth. However, there is a part of you, when going through confusion of your sexuality or acceptance of it, that wants that title merely as a self-discovery of sorts. I’ve learned sexual orientation is such a small part of who you are. It is that mole on your back that is seldom seen. It does not have to be broadcast-ed, but just the same you should never feel you have to quiet it or it is something to be ashamed of. It is a part of you, and that mole on your back is pretty darn cute. I sort of told my parents what I was. Actually, there was a monsoon of tears and sniffling to the point when I spoke it came out like a whale speaking. Yeah, it was a mess. But I didn’t so much tell them as I told them I was having anxiety over my sexuality. They both told me they would love my weird ass no matter what I was or what I loved (they may have thought I was like that one guy on My Strange Addiction that loved his car). Then I turned 19. I was a 19 year old lesbian, one foot in the closet while I looked for something cute to wear, the other out. I rarely told anyone. Still don’t think my family fully comprehended it, but I comprehended that I had their full support and unconditional love. I met Rod not long after turning 19. Oh, Rod. I spoke to him once and was like a heroine addict desperate for another high. Like the kind of addict that would sell their kids and pet chinchilla for another fix. If I recall correctly, I had constant heart palpitations. Probably just because I have acid re-flux, but possibly because I had this surreal connection with him. A him. A man. It was a mind-fuck. There I was, this utterly perplexed 19 year old that thought she had her shit together then met this man that threw all I knew out the window.  Okay, not all I knew. I even told Rod i was a lesbian but he was the exception. 😀 Think he quite liked that. But over time i realized I just had more self-discovery to do. I had put up an internal wall when it came to the male species and Rod took an ax and beat the shit out of it relentlessly until it fell. Not knowingly — through the love he made me feel and showed me. All sexuality is not like this. Of course all requires a bit of self-discovery, but you might be exactly who you were at 14 or you might find you are someone else at 80. Don’t close your mind to a connection with someone based on gender. Not merely because of the relationship you could experience with the person, but what it could reveal about yourself. 
You Are So Near And Dear. I Love You Like You Love Beer.
If you’ve never known an alcoholic, you might envision them as that one woman at a family gathering that drinks two or three wine coolers then pole dances on a tiki torch to Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire”. Well, you might be right — I don’t know tiki-torch-dancer’s history with alcohol — but typically two or three is a tiny, unsatisfying appetizer for an alcoholic. My dad knows this. And because he knows this, so do I. As with any illness, there are misconceptions and assumptions. I don’t know that anyone should feel guilty for assuming things if they have never been taught or shown the reality of it. My reality is, my father has always drank. Ever since I can remember him, I remember him drinking. When my sisters and I were younger, it was considered a healthy amount. One or so every other night to relax him and wind down from the stressors of work and, well, life. But it became getting drunk every possible second to avoid life all together. My dad is not a homeless man that carries around a bottle in a brown paper sack. He is a father, brother, son that goes to work to provide and comes home, all the time hiding this enormous secret. He occasionally pours this secret into a styrofoam cup so he can drink it in public. When I asked Rod his opinion on this post he was all for it and reminded me “Alcoholism is bad. Alcoholics are not.” We tend to hastily categorize and prematurely judge people then put them in these boxes based on one fact that they wear like an iron-on badge on their clothes. It was a pull from two parts of me on whether or not to write this. One side thought it could be beneficial in some shape or form to someone out there, however or whenever they stumble upon this. The other side of me feared complete strangers that do not know my dad would paint him in this bad light because of his addiction. I decided to tell others. And in the process perhaps obliterate some of the misconceptions that attach themselves to alcoholism and alcoholics . My dad is the type of person that would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. Many times when I’m visiting him, he’s taking kids in his neighborhood that are playing popsicles or water. Somehow he surfaced from a childhood of abuse and foster homes as a result from that abuse, this incredible man and human being that I feel lucky to be on the same planet with, let alone be his daughter. His drinking started in his late teens/early adulthood, though he jokes he was more interested in something that hung around him and his friends in a hazy cloud. His drinking gradually turned from nothing into something. As long as I can remember him, I remember him drinking. It didn’t turn into the poisonous, relentless leech it is now until I was well into that awkward preteen stage. It continued. And the monster on his back kept getting fed and in return got stronger. It was extremely damaging to my parents marriage. They always seemed to have it pretty together, or at least pretended. Any trouble my family found itself in, my parents always did whatever means necessary to resolve it. Somehow their impenetrable force was eroded by his alcohol and my mother left. The likes of which sent him into such a steep downward spiral that my sister and I were watching his every move and essentially became his caretakers because he was at a point where the hours of the day spent in a drunken stupor scarily dominated those he was sober. He became suicidal, and at one point I found him walking out into the street in the middle of the night. I’m not sure what got me out of bed to go check on him, but I’m thankful I did. He was drunk and crying and walking, more like stumbling, down the road in complete pitch black darkness. The next year or so he spent in that same darkness, only emotionally. I think some may portray alcoholism as something that can easily be stopped. In reality, from a loved one of an alcoholic, it is like an animal that has it’s claws in my father; altering his state of mind, damaging his body and causing him to say things to those he loves that he forgets the next day yet we carry with us. Another misconception is a visual thing — Alcoholics are ungroomed and easily spotted. Alcoholism affects a variety or people in a variety of lifestyles. Of course it is more prevalent in some, but it is not so black and white. There are lawyers, soccer moms, grandfathers, priests that can and have been consumed by this. One more misconception I’ve had to learn is alcoholics have to help themselves. This is true to a degree. HOWEVER, the vast majority of alcoholics that seek treatment do so because of outside forces, (I.e. Loved ones, friends, co-workers), not internal ones. Nobody truly enjoys change. And to have something taken from you that alters your state of mind and then have to land back in your own harsh reality is not something many would voluntarily agree to. I would say more about how to help an alcoholic recover, but I am at a loss as far as that goes. I am still navigating this myself. Still making promises with him to seek professional help, only to be let down every time. This is my dad’s and those around him’s reality. And not something that he’s recovered from, by any means. So while I would like to insert positives or life after alcoholism, I can’t. Not yet, anyways. Comment below, readers, or email us. Share your story or things you’ve learned.
Life Is One Big Fucking Lesson And We’re The Students.
Hello beautiful people out there.
Like the lovely Rod has previously said, our schedules are essentially the average American’s stomach: very full 99% of the time. Haha The down time we do have we spend being one of those annoyingly lovey couples that single people (and once upon a time, myself) sneer at and secretly wish for the relationship’s drama-filled demise. Maybe we’ve been selfish, but love can be a selfish thing.
While I could continue with us, I feel our reader’s are more interested in our advice through, and because of, personal experiences — like rod mentioning that having some bad days can camouflage itself as a relapse of sort. Going to chime in and say there is a line between life being a complete “wanker” (Rod taught me that word haha) and spilling your coffee on your pants before work and royally pissing you off in comparison to depression; having the “life” sucked out of you.
Lately I’ve been your typical tired, stressed college student minus Friday night parties and the Saturday morning haze that follows. In lieu are all night talks with my best friend (the one and only rod dangers) that give me an even better high. I have been distracted and busy, but we got an awesome email that made us both realize we need to make time for our blog. Even if it’s only useful to one person, our goal for this blog was to help anyone we could in any way possible. So to hear it was doing that and question why it ceased was amazing and a realization that we need to put time aside for it.
Coincidentally, rod is having issues with his dad and I am with my mom. Slowly mine are resolving themselves but still existent. My mother, to make a long story short, left my dad and a 22year marriage for a new life. I’m not bitter, despite all the debris from the aftermath of the horrific storm that my sister and I were left to repair. Our tight-knit relationship unraveled until she became a friendly stranger that I would occasionally see. The mom that I could and would spill every secret to was now someone that no longer knew who I was or why I was. It was as if she woke up trying to forget my entire existence. She was mind-fuckingly good at this. Mind-fuckingly is something I just invented. Going to purchase a copyright and everything. But she was to the extent that even now I question her motives for wanting lunch with me or talking to me. So I’m left with a guard up. Rod can probably can’t count the amount of times I went to him upset, needing comfort, because of my relationship with her. Because of that, this guard is up that keeps me at a distance for damage-control. What snapped her out of this oblivious state that she’s assumed for over two years was a painfully honest message I sent her. Like every experience I have, i learned something. Actually, two things from this heaping pile of well, you know. Firstly, you deserve to find and achieve absolute happiness. The part of me that wants to completely slander my mother’s very name is quieted by the part that reminds it she was searching for her happiness. As unfortunate as it is that feelings got drug through the mud for her to discover her happiness, she did it. Since life is so short, happiness should always be our number one goal. Because she taught me this, I am now planning my future with Rod. A future that achieving has required us to face many obstacles to do so. If you are with someone or in a situation in your life that makes you anything less than happy…. Do something completely batshit insane and get out of it. Take Rod (he’s such a prime example for so many things), he told me he couldn’t imagine himself moving much further in his career yet he’s now enrolled in school to do exactly that. I don’t know that he is unhappy in his career, but I know it makes him happy to challenge himself and push further. Secondly, people you love will enter and exit your life; whether you’re prepared for it or not, whether it’s intentional or not. Loss is a fact of life. I don’t think evolution quite prepared us modern day humans for this, eh? You still have tear ducts associated with emotional overload and your chest will feel like the entire cavity has been scraped clean with a spoon. So why ever get close to anyone if this is inevitable? When I was eight my mom planned a surprise party for me. It was just at my house and the guests were those four other people that I saw every day. Now, this wasn’t a birthday for the books by any means, but to me it was. There were lilac streamers all over the walls, balloons, a cake with my name in bright frosting, and a few presents. One being this Polly Pocket doll that came with a pool and a bathing suit that changed colors in the water. I played with that doll, dipping her in and out of the pool that was filled with cold tap water, until my eyelids were too heavy to keep open. I still remember my mom hugging me and giving me the wrapped box. Fast-forward to my twentieth that I had earlier this year. I didn’t celebrate it because I’m twenty and a birthday party felt juvenile and a nuisance to have to begin with. My mom who rarely spoke a word to me or saw me passed a card along to my sister to give to me. You can ask Rod (if he remembers) I told him what it said and it caused me to bawl like a newborn that had been successfully delivered and is wailing because they are now in this somewhat awful world. Hah. We get close to people because the good memories are payoff tenfold for the bad. I can’t say don’t carry a guard, but sometimes getting hurt in the end is worth the memories. My mom and I are still merely acquaintances that communicate on occasions, more so than usual as of late late. Now Rod is going through a scarily similar thing with his dad. We’re both having to learn this, and how to somewhat “get over” these people and cope with their disappearances in our lives — a big feat when they are inconsistently popping in and out and reopening wounds with each time.
If you are struggling with something similar or coping with a loss (in any shape or form), feel free to email Rod and me. Comment below if you have anything to say. You know you like talking and we know we love reading. 😉
–Ivey
Rod’s Update
Well, been a busy few months. Selling my house early this year, moving back with mum, new role at work, looking for a new place to live, falling out with my dad, up and downs with my weight, starting some new studies for qualifications, planning for the future and all the while trying not to let the bad times overtake the good.
But things are moving in the right direction now, and thanks to the most awesome Ivey, she has kept me sane and clean from many of the issues I was suffering from before.
I have been off my meds for a good while now, since about March. I did have a relapse with self harm not long after I stopped the meds, but I have been steady since. I obviously still get down and have bad moments of insecurity, poor self image and worries and stresses that come with normal everyday life. But I think the thing to remember is that it is normal to have those moments, it doesnt mean we are falling back into old moods and habits. Life isn’t always kind and good to us, but having been predisposed to the bad times and the methods used to deal with them, we can sometimes feel it is more of the same. But it is ok to get stressed, feel down, cry and not want to do anything today or tomorrow. Its about staying strong and understanding that just because yesterday was shitty and today doesnt seem much better, doesnt mean that it is the way it will always be. It took me a while to realise this, with help from Ivey, but it really does make the difference if you can look forward towards a better time and try not to dwell in the past and think that its happening again.
So mentally, I think I am in a good place and doing well. I hope that anyone reading this can say the same and I welcome you to send us your experiences and how you have been doing and we can share them with others.
Or you could even join the work in progress Dangerous Winters Forum!! http://dangerouswinters.forumotion.co.uk/
Personal life, well, house sold finally which was cool. Moved back in with my mum, which wasnt lol But I am lucky enough to have a mum who is supportive and quite laid back and doesnt put pressure on me or anything to find a place tomorrow. Which helped calm me down when I just wanted to go to the first place I could find. I have since found a place and hoping to move in there next month! So woo.
Issues with my dad, well that may be best for a post on its own. But I think its safe to say, that we arent talking and he has opted to brush me aside to stick to his own life and family now. But meh, never mind. It does bother me and hurt, but I will cover that in the post to follow.
Ivey. Well, my amazing Ivey has been so strong and supportive of me during all this. From telling me it will be ok with my living arrangements to just making me smile on a daily basis. We are forever learning more about each other and I fall deeper in love with her every day.
We have made plans for the future and are both looking forward to them massively. Again, maybe this would be better as a stand alone post as an update about us. Distance relationships can be hard, especially with time differences, but we make it work.
Anyway, thats enough about me for now. Tell us about you! How are you all? We have missed posting things for you to read, missed hearing how you are doing. Please remember we have our email alerts sent to our phones so we can answer you anytime, even if we have been away for a while. We still reply and answer you. You can use the contact us form on here or email direct to dangerouswinters@gmail.com
Would love to hear from you all and maybe even see you on the forum
Cheers!!
-Rod
Hello!!!
HELLO!!!
Firstly, apologies for being away for sooooo long. We have both been busy with bits and pieces. Ivey is studying with college work, and I have been looking for a new place to live. We will probably put separate posts up about these things soon.
We hope anyone that has read or is reading our blog is doing well, not letting life grind you down and finding something to smile about each and every day, as one smile can be all you need to turn a bad day into a not so bad day. And if you can make someone else smile, then you are doing something amazing.
But yes, we are still together, still going strong and getting stronger every day. We do still read any messages or comments left, and it is thanks to “Paul” (who you may remember from the posts I posted about the group therapy sessions) that we are going to start putting more attention into this site. He was kind enough to send us a message asking if we were still updating and that he enjoyed our site. So, THANK YOU PAUL!! Made myself and Ivey smile reading your message.
Hopefully, next month I will be settled in my new home and together Ivey and I can start posting a few more posts.
Update posts to follow shortly.
Thanks for sticking with us.
-Rod
It’s Good To Talk
Well hello there!
I woke up this morning to some messages from the lovely Ivey, saying she wanted to create something that we could use to interact with you readers! A chat widget for the blog, but there wasn’t one, but my Ivey doesn’t give up easily so she found a site and has made one. The link will be added to the sidebar later, but for now if you would like to come and chat to us or each other, please do!
There is no real genre, you can just talk if you feel lonely, you can ask us questions about our experiences, about how we keep our long distance relationship going, poetry or anything at all.
The best thing is you don’t have to register to chat, you can if you wish to keep the same username, but you can be anonymous. Ivey and I are moderators on there and will be around when we can, but will reply to messages that are left. All we ask is to show respect to one and other.  I am also working on a forum that *may* be used in the future if people are interested.
So please come and say hi and let us get to know you all 😀
We hope to see you there and can get to know our readers better. We have been a little quiet with our posts of late, but there have been some big changes in our lives at the moment, including moving home, new job, looking for college courses etc. But we are getting more time now as our lives have settled a little. Come and say hi!
Illusions Of You
Just as I surrender myself over to the covetous night
and my concupiscence quiets it’s howling to a low drone,
a familiar, reposeful scent turns in it’s sleep from the wind’s disturbance.
I bask in it until there isn’t a sober vein in my being from your inebriant.
A calm sea need not be roused beneath those petal-like eyelids
and your form could deceive as a carved statue,
blanketed in ripples of cotton white.
But my panting thighs are polluted with the rush of your touch
and my heaving breasts with the dewdrops from your lips.
Nothing stares back nor replies to my fevered sighs
and I hear you heavily dreaming by my side
……or am I?
-Ivey
You Liquefied My Bone Marrow
Dear Abandoned Readers and Followers,
I apologize to the few of you who exist for my silent absence. Rod has been updating things so our blog doesn’t gather too much dust from inactivity. If there is still dust on the page, however, I want to apologize to those with asthma as well. :p
Rod and I are like Bonnie and Clyde minus the criminal activity and dying in a ring of fire. Though I must admit, would there be a more glorious, legendary way to die? I’m not too sure.
It is difficult to fathom, love. I believe there are so many variations of the word that it becomes untrustworthy, almost. Before Rod, I was an avid believer in NOT believing. The definitions I have seen of it were empty and somewhat disastrous, leaving debris and hurt in it’s wake. I called myself a realist. The world was real. The people were real. BUt love, it was abstract and I am an atheist already — I have issues believing in and putting faith in something that is no more visible than the wind. So when the lenses in my eyes began to turn pink and the marrow in my bones softened at his name, I was utterly perplexed. Even more perplexing is it has become so bad that my bone marrow has liquefied and I am (metaphorically) plagued with a chronic case of pink eye. Damn you, Rod. If i ended this message with that, it would be misleading. Also, I think if I ended this post with that, I wouldn’t have wrote it at all because that isn’t love. I would be another one of those that rearrange the puzzle pieces to the word love and it would have been taped together pitifully and some of the pieces would have been cut to fit. It is not all roses and daises. There have been moments where falling apart would have been the easy route. And times where we have hurt one another so bad that given the option to relive it or have brain surgery performed by a drunken doctor using an ice pick and lemon…. We’d probably both opt for the surgery. Even in those moments, however, we found ourselves tip-toeing back to the other with our bottom lips poke out in a pout. To base it off of merely the stomach butterflies and constant rumination about the other is…. incomplete and invalid. Sometimes I hate that I love him so much when we are going through a rough patch. But there are never times I hate him. There are never even times I just “like” him. It is out of my control to love this man. And I love not being in control of it.
Have no fear, I have gotten all of the love-bird gross stuff out and in the open. I should be blushing right now because I am not one of those people. You know the ones. You knowwwwwwwwww.
Dangerous Winters 