Doubts

I don't know what it is, but since I found those questions and posted them with the intention of answering them, I can't do it.

I have started a blog post for 7 of the questions that I thought would be the easiest ones to answer.

I've got nothing.  Every single time that I have sat down with the intention (and false sense of self-knowledge, apprently) I have sat at the keyboard and can't find any words.  I am never lost for words.  Why can't I find them?  It's driving me nuts.

This is bothering me.  Am I so riddled with so much self-doubt, so much self-loathing that I can't let people know who I am?  That's what this is feeling like.

I am not doing this blog for anyone but myself.  I don't understand why this is so difficult.  I guess it's more because I'm the kind of person who just does what I need to do to get through the day.  I don't dwell on bad things that happen because once that experience is gone, it's something that isn't going to happen again and it's a moment that you can't get back.  It's not because I believe that I'm unworthy of getting to know.

It's been brought to my attention that some think bad things of me.  All I have to say is:  You might tell the world that I'm talentless and have no personality (or maybe that's just what's happening inside of my head on your behalf);  but you're the one who keeps reading and coming back for more, don't you?

Personality Questions

Given that I have decided to try my hand at dating again, my inner nerd decided that if I was going to do it at all, I was going to do it right.  Input, Google.  I came across a list of personality questions that you should ask someone that you are trying to get to know

I don't know about you, but I love knowing a person in their entireity and questions like these are right up my alley.  I love knowing what drives a person.  Heck, I love knowing and discovering things that drive ME.

Over the next few days I plan to work on answering them, it is only fair after all.

1. List 20 random facts about yourself.
2. Describe 3 legitimate fears you have and explain how they became fears.
3. Describe your relationship with your parents.
4. List 10 things you would tell your 16 year-old self, if you could.
5. What are the 5 things that make you most happy right now.
6. What is the hardest thing you have ever experienced?
7. What is your dream job, and why?
8. What are 5 passions you have?
9. List 10 people who have influenced you and describe how.
10. Describe your most embarrassing moment.
11. Describe 10 pet peeves you have.
12. Describe a typical day in your current life.
13. Describe 5 weaknesses you have.
14. Describe 5 strengths you have.
15. If you were an animal, what would you be and why?
16. What are your 5 greatest accomplishments?
17. What is the thing you most wish you were great at?
18. What has been the most difficult thing you have had to forgive?
19. If you could live anywhere, where would it be and why?
20. Describe 3 significant memories from your childhood.
21. If you could have one superpower, what would it be and what would you do with it first?
22. Where do you see yourself in 5 years? 10 years? 15 years?
23. List your top 5 hobbies and why you love them.
24. Describe your family dynamic of your childhood vs. your family dynamic now.
25. If you could have dinner with anyone in history, who would it be and what would you eat?
26. What popular notion do you think the world has most wrong?
27. What is your favorite part of your body and why?
28. What is your love language?
29. What do you think people misunderstand most about you?
30. List 10 things you would hope to be remembered for.

Time Will Tell

Humans.  That is what we all are.

Religion, belief system, way of life, belongings, relationships we lead.  Those are all just things.

Yes.  I am human too.

I make mistakes that I don't always own up to or talk about.

I push my real feelings aside for the sake of being able to make it through the day.  Sometimes for entertainment value, even.

I met someone.  Things were felt by my entire being that I had never experienced before.

I fell.

Hard.

I said that I would never be that girl.

And now I'm healing the bruises and licking my wounds and learning from my mistakes.

For every one thing that I tell you, there are ten more that I'm not.

I have been sucked into an abyss that I don't know how to get out of.

Give me a minute.

Holidaze

Growing up, I was always forced into the holidays kicking and screaming.  I was and am, the kind of person to just go with it for the sake of everyone else's happiness.  It's not something that I enjoy.  I hate decorations.  They look nice, but I don't understand the concept of digging out all that crap to invade your home for less than a month just to have to clean the rest of your house around it and then find the motivation to put it away.  I was also made to believe that Santa was real until I was 12, and forced to keep up the rouse for my brothers who are 6 years younger than I am.  I am a realist.  I don't like change to my routine.  It's not seasonal depression if you hate everyone and have no desire to interact with any of them all year round, K?

I personally do a wreath of jingle bells at my door and those homemade paper snowflakes out of coffee filters because they're cute and make the kids be creative.  I have a tree, but I hate putting it up.  Last year I didn't, my son wasn't happy about it.  This year, I'm still very much on the sturdy fence about it.  My standpoint is that everything is in one place in the basement.  I work full time and run a household while the kids get home from school and after homework is done they do basically nothing else.  If they want to bring the stuff up from the basement and HELP put up the tree and other decorations, then we can do that and I will happily participate.  We don't do Little Red Hen situations in my house.  Needless to say, it's the weekend before Christmas, and everything is still in the basement.

Being a teenager with all those hormones is some hard work, ya know.  It's a miracle if they can get out of bed on time and somehow not destroy the house in it's entirety in the time it takes them to get up and on the bus to school in the morning.

Two years ago, my kids held an intervention, of sorts, about Christmas.  My son came to me as I was doing dishes.

*Hugs me*
"Mom, can we talk?"
*Me, a little concerned as his tone was that of someone about to tell you that they have some horrible thing wrong with them*
"Sure honey, what's up?"
*Boy takes my hand*
"I think we should go sit down on the couch."
*I can barely walk because now I'm convinced that they're going to have some kind of information about things I told them they're not allowed to do until they're 30.*
*Leads me to the living room where his sister is waiting in the chair.*
"I know."
"You know what?"
**I'm of course acting stupid because this could mean anything at this point and for all I know it could mean that he knew that I hid his candy bar in the back of the fridge.**
"*The girl child* told me that Santa isn't real.  I want you to tell me the truth."
*Sigh of relief.  Candy bar snatching secret is safe with me, no crime sprees were had, virginity is still intact and no one is dying.*
"Well, what do you believe?"
"Well I believe her."
*They both chime in together*
 And we want you to stop buying us useless crap that we get rid of by summer.  Just give us money so we can buy what we want."

And there you have it folks.  For the past two years my kids have gotten money, a stocking filled with random stuff, a family game, a family movie and a pair of pj's that they open up and wear on Christmas Eve.

When I was a kid, holidays were celebrated with vigor.  Not for lack of appreciation for the memories, but I don't understand why.  Things were not as commercialized as they are now.  Besides, who has time to pretend to enjoy the company of others who don't want anything to do with you for 85% of the year?  I don't.  I am almost stupid excited that my kids have inherited this one thing from me.

Give me a couch, ice cream, my dog, television and someone to snuggle up to any night of the week and I will be content for eternity.  I like low key and easy going when I'm stressed.  I've been stressed a lot lately. Who needs the worry of taking a second mortgage out just to buy presents for ungrateful assholes on top of regular life.

Adulting is hard.  There is no reason to make it harder.

Boy Brain

Hmmm.....

Where do I begin?

Still single/dating/unsure of what the Hell situation I'm in at the moment.  Getting ready to put my foot down, just not sure where yet.  I tried to today, but then I melted.  Memories suck. 

Made some new contacts in the past couple of months.  Some for fun, some for professional life, some for fet modeling and one that much to my chagrin, I have allowed into a part of my being held captive from the outside world in the "Man in the iron mask" sense.  Previously mentioned and referred to as "WhatTheFuck-Landia".  Yup.  He's still there.

What the frig...

This simply cannot be permitted.

I don't like it one bit.  OK....maybe just a little whole big lot (the size of Texas (and all of the other continents combined)).

Time.  "It's going to take patience and time."  As one of my favorite former Beatles said in one of my favorite songs.

I said something that I think (hope) got through to them today.  I don't know.  Their response seemed sort of excusey, rather than apologetic. 

I hate text messaging.  I spent 7 years in a relationship where it was the main means of communication because the area that he lived in had really really horrible cell phone reception.  I grew to hate it with vigor.  Try to argue over text.  When you want to scream.  Daily.  For seven years.  Seven.

If you want to know what or how I'm doing, pick up the phone and call me for two seconds to say hi.  It means a million times more to me than a text message.  Texting has it's time and place.  I get that. You are in a room full of other men and don't want to call up your girl just to say "I'm thinking about you" (which the idea of makes me swoon for some reason) just to get shit for it.  Good old fashioned conversation has gone right out the window in our society, but if you contact me at all I'm over the moon.  Hell I'm already over the moon just having gotten to meet you.  Just answer the damn phone once in awhile, I don't call for no reason.

I don't need to date anyone ever again because I got to feel this way just one time before I died, and that was all I have ever asked for.

I really just said that.

For some reason lately, I am finding myself putting up with so many illogical things that NASA should be studying my life.  My swear jar is big enough to fund them for the next century, they might as well start putting the funding to good use!

Patience has never been my strong suit.  Especially when the squirrel brain that I routinely experience comes to a screeching halt because something has my full and undivided in a million ways attention and says "I want that." 

GUYS.....I want it.  ALLLL of it.

All of him.

I'm like that kid who has to be made to sit on their hands because they can't stop fidgeting.

I know how to behave myself.  I mean, I might rip a tendon and blow an artery, but I could do it if I was made to.

I simply don't wanna.

*Insert mental image of me running around flailing my arms around and screaming like a Muppet*

Unsure

"You have a multifaceted personality and I'm not quite sure how to approach you.  On one hand you're really amazing and I just want to give you endless snuggles and respect you.  On the other hand, you're really dirty minded. "

Of course I'm paraphrasing a recent conversation, but never in my life have I ever seen my personality described so eloquently. 

"You are truly an epic human being".   Another friend told me this last night, thankfully via text.   It was both the most settling and disturbing things a person has ever said to me. 

I don't think that I could handle another person saying something that awesome to me during conversation again.  I'm so not used to it.  I hate being in freak out mode because someone was nice to me.  I'm finding myself in that place a lot lately. 

I just need to know that I can be weird as Hell and that someone still wants to get naked with me at the end of the day.  Is that too much to ask? 

Apparently it isn't. 

Let's be real about this for a sec;  my life is a romantic comedy minus the romance and with a whole bunch of me just laughing at my own jokes.

Never have I ever thought I would see the day that actually speaking to someone on the phone and having a normal conversation in real time would constitute a major act of trust and a landmark moment in a relationship either.  But, yet that moment came a month ago after I avoided the inevitable for 3 years and someone truly amazing.  Still trying to work out this one.  There have been many a "what the actual fuck" moment.  If I go into it more in depth than that I'm going to need a keg of vodka to get me through it.  Wait....Do they make those?  Check on that for me!

I don't know what the deal is with one person that I would at this point consider to be a pretty good friend but I've come to the conclusion that they needed to make sure that I was both dateable and not crazy before they're willing to meet me.  It's OK.  I almost kind of like what we have going.  He's got a personality similar to mine and we make each other laugh and we tell each other things that we can't talk to other people about.  I just wish they would stop being such a pussy.

Constantly talking isn't necessarily communicating.  I personally prefer either a phone call or a note.  Texting is so impersonal and I spent much of the past 7 years doing more than I ever want to do again. 

"Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the better even of their blunders."

Sometimes I wish it was that easy.  I did something epically stupid last night.  I don't know what to do about it.   As another friend I told about it said, "Just go with it and see."  Fireball turns me into a frat boy.  I say all the fiery things.  I'm just going to leave it at that for now.

For as long as I can remember I've always had this undercurrent of sadness that, if I'm honest about it, I don't totally mind.  I can't blame people for leaving, communication isn't exactly my strong point when I've spent the past 20 years in self-preservation mode.

I think that over the past year, more than any other time in my life I've been more in touch with who I am and what I want from my life.  I would be lying if I said that it didn't worry me a little. 

Lessons learned this week:

I am fully aware of the fact that no person on this planet is too busy to go after what they really want.  That doesn't make the fact suck any less when you're the one who's waiting on the phone call.

Not under any circumstances, especially when sad, am I to get drunk with a friend and think it's a genius idea to allow them to "paint" highlights onto my head.  Even more so when the two of you can taste colors better than you can see them.  This will result in thinking that they are developed enough to wash out and result in looking like a bunch of peeps had a gang bang on top of your head in the form of yellow streaks.  My mom has fixed it as much as it can be.  It doesn't look bad.

"This is going to look awesome" while drinking is the female equivalent of "Hold my beer."

That no matter how badly I want to refrain from hurting someone, honesty really is the best policy.

That opening up to an old friend during what you thought was just casual catch up conversation about who you are seeing and they knew the old you who was deathly allergic to human relationships will result in them playing big brother and messaging this new person online.    What. The. Actual. Fuck.  Mortified.  Ended contact with them.  Grateful that new person is still talking to me.  Ending said relationship with old friend will help you feel better about cutting ties with who you were in the past, as he was there at the beginning of your adult life and helped mold some awesome parts of who you are today.  Appreciate them, thanked them, and moving on.

Once someone shows you that they are a manipulative crappy person, you should believe them.  I'm not kidding myself that this is something that I am insurmountably bad at.  I refuse to walk around instantly thinking the worst of everyone, but even when someone is horrible I have a really hard time giving up on them.  Mostly because I know what it feels like to be the one that was given up on.

That I should allow the first thing that pops into my head to fly out of my mouth in anger more often. 

I don't talk to dicks.  I fuck them.  I wish some men would take note of that.

I think I just discovered that my son is a creative genius disguised as a clueless dink.  The kid could go on forever about anything that interests him like a college professor and it's totally amazing to be a part of it.  Can he both shower and use soap? 

I just re-read this and it seems like a whole bunch of unconnected thoughts, because it is.  My mind is bouncing everywhere lately and I need to find a way to reign it back in.

Peaceful Chaos

I won't be that girl. 
The one who whines and begs you to pick me.
Don't stare at me like that.
You, with those eyes that stare into my soul like you're looking deep into yourself.
Don't make me crave your presence.
Don't weasel your way into my heart.
I have it locked away for a good reason. 
Don't ask me why,
because then you'll know all the ways that you can make me forget and I can't have that.
Don't tell me that I'm the only one.
I know there have been dozens that you've let into that black hole you call a heart.
Don't just do something, do that thing. 
The thing that will make me stay.
Don't make me trust you.
Need you.
Love you.
Your smile is a drug.
Your touch is a dagger.
More than to be honest.
Leaving me fulfilled and yet empty.
You treat me like you think I'm something you cherish one minute and something to throw away the next.
Don't make my body crave you and then withdraw like I'm poisonous.
I'm not some dime a dozen bimbo that you can forget about.
I know that it helps you to sleep at night if you treat me as such.
There are so many questions
Stresses
Lies
My mind gets to be quiet for awhile.
It takes a lot to make my brain go empty.
One fingertip and I'm gone.
Why is it that the one thing that makes my mind race also deadens it with one touch?
I feel like I'm constantly on a journey to find new things to fall in love with.
I can't find my will to wander now that you're in my Universe.
I think I'll keep you around a little while, if that's okay with you.
I promise to destroy you in the most beautiful way possible.
I will leave you understanding why storms are named after people.
Peaceful chaos.
This is how I feel when you cross my mind.
I feel that it's only fair to return the favor.
The heavens opened up and rained down a happy accident.
We're going to be the death of each other.
I'm going to disappoint you, I can feel it.
I wish that you weren't perfect for me.
It would make it so much easier to break you.

What The H.E. Double Hockey Sticks?

So, apprently I haven't learned my lesson on drinking and blogging....

Here's the thing about being the kind of person who keeps herself closed off:  once a tiny trickle of emotion starts flowing, you're going to need to hit up Noah.

My hair.  Oh dear Gods my hair.  Never get drunk and trust a drunk friend to "paint" highlights on your head.  Especially when you're not wearing your glasses and can taste colors better than you can see them. 

The phone is not your friend.  Cameras exist.  Keep the phone at home.  In fact, feel free to keep it in a locked safe and throw the combination away.

Go ahead.  Blog.  Write to your hearts content.  Let those fingers fly, sister!  But do not, I repeat DO NOT hit the publish button, no matter how brightly it is shining on that computer screen of yours.  Like the lovely orange beacon of freedom that it might be, just say no.  In fact, putting a sticky note on the part of your screen that it appears on is probably the best option.  Or in fact, not even going to your blogging page at all.  A nice Word document would probably suffice. 

Excuse me while I nurse my soul and more than slightly bruised pride and move on with my life.

Bloody Hell

Have you ever gotten to the point where you are about to just let your crazy hang out and don't give a shit who knows it?

Today is that kind of day.  And I have been drinking and I gave in and highlighted my hair and it came out badly.  I am in a bad place and I am going to vent for a second, K?  Here goes:

I have been asked recently by several people if I am seeing anyone seriously.  To answer, no I am not.  Not that I am aware of anyway.  My recent blog posts were nothing more than creativity spilling out.   

I have been dating someone that I have come to care deeply about.  And that is just the thing.  I have allowed myself to care.  And I knew that it would bite me right in the ass.

I really hate it when other adults need a lesson in integrity and adult conversation.  If you say you're going to call, do it.  If they call you, answer.  Don't look someone straight in the face and gain their trust, and lie to them.  If they've given you prime real estate in their time that they are seriously lacking in, grasp it with an iron fist and appreciate the fuck out of it.  If you say that you care about someone and say nice things to them, actions - where you disappear off the face of the planet any time they try to make plans with you - speak much louder than a kind text message and a pet name.  I understand that you're busy.  If you don't want to get together because you've got a million things going on, you're not the bad guy unless you say absolutely NOTHING after saying that you want to get together.  I am a human.  I won't even get started on the fact that I have feelings.  I am a mom.  I don't have a lot of spare time.  If it's not going to be appreciated and cherished like I deserve for it to be, then feel free to let the door smack you on your way out so hard you can't walk ten ways to Tuesday.  An old expression from my childhood I'm using, but I never really understood what my Nana meant when she said that, by the way. 

I am the first one to admit that when it comes to human relationships, I suck.  And not in any fun ways.  I have a tendency to be very stand-offish and cautious, because if I'm not then I get used to them.  My heart won't get broken if I don't acknowledge that I have one by letting someone into it.  And then I'll never have to be empty and sad.  Much like how I feel right now.  When you're the person who has to have it totally together, there is no room for this kind of crap.  By nature, I take care of the people that I care about.  I call to make sure that your day is going OK.  I bake you cookies.  I cook you dinner after you've had a hard day.  If I'm attracted to you, I let you in all my dirty fantasies and secrets.  I show you off to my friends.  In short, I show you that you actually mean something to me.  In no way does that mean that I'm under any delusions that involve us sliding down rainbows and saying the "L" word before I know what your earliest childhood memory was.

This guy resides inside my being and has found a home in the part I'd like to refer to as WhatTheFuck-Landia.  It's where all of my really screwed up, inappropriate thoughts and the piece of my heart that I don't ever let out of it's cage are hidden.  He didn't even need a map.  He just walked right in like he owned the place.  Frankly something in my soul needed it to happen.  It felt (still does, in all transparency) weird because it's almost as if he really did belong there.  And he honestly made me believe that he didn't want to be anywhere else.   He was nothing that I bargained for, and yet everything I had ever hoped for at the same time. 
 
I deleted my dating profile this morning, not because he was "it", but because I am just tired of all the attention that I don't want to get.  And I do owe it to both dating profile and a certain adult social media site for the Universe sending me this person.  It doesn't feel right to have one.  I don't know how to people.  I hate talking to people, I hate talking to someone who's hitting on me even more.

And I am hurt. And confused. And just tired of trying to piece my sanity back together.  And OK, OK.....

maybe, just maybe the post before last was a little bit about him.  And the one a little further down from that too.

Onwards and upwards.  Peace out.

Enough

The fire we need to feel is never ignited in the way we expect.

What do you do when you've damaged someone beyond repair but are not entirely sorry that you did it?  I knew that it would happen regardless of how it happened.  I couldn't find a way out of my dark Labyrinth.  I found my batteries recharged in the flashlight that I held all along in the hand that was too numb to feel. 

Of course things have been said and done that cannot be taken back.  I don't want them to be.  I have tasted the light side and my heavy load that I am constantly bearing is still the same but somehow different this time. 

I feel myself dancing inside of your stinging words like I enjoy them.  They fall sparking against my skin and instead of pain I'm mesmerized by the constellations they're leaving.

Dirty. I am smoldering indecently and it is delicious.

SLUT.  I sway my arms about with the S and find solace in the slope of the U. 

Free.  Rebellious.

Whore.  A word that would normally stab my inner child who is just a girl who dreamt of the fairy tales coming true in the heart is now making me skip carelessly down a glass covered sidewalk barefoot.  I bled glitter in my dreams last night. 

Liar.  Yes, by some standards I did.  I could bring up a laundry list of technicalities, but there really is no use.  Believe it or not, not everything revolves around or has anything to do with you.

Strong.  Strength.  I like that.  Something that I am finding much more than I was ever given credit for.

I'm no longer grasping for something to hold on to and coming up empty every time. 

I'm not a big fan of rewriting common sense, it's already so rare that it's a super power.  You on the other hand treat it as if it's a blue bouncing ball that you can bounce any which way but up. 

I am enough.  For me, anyway.  For now anyway.

Leaving On A Jet Plane...

Inside myself is a place where I live all alone and that is where I renew my springs that never dry up. 

-Pearl S. Buck

I will consider this to be nothing more than an open letter to every guy who has been a part of my life and ruined it - for the better.  A burning ceremony to cleanse my future, if you will.

All the things that I need that I've never gotten from you but could have if you would listen.  I couldn't have predicted you if I tried.  You were the one that I didn't see coming, and then before long you were the one that I couldn't imagine leaving.  And then you left.

I'm laughing louder now.  I'm smiling brighter and if it's the last thing I do, I swear I'll find something better than what we had.

That's not to say that your memory won't knock the breath out of me on a Thursday afternoon when our song comes through the car speakers.  I'll fight the urge to vomit when I hear someone say my name the same way you did.   That's not to say that I won't want to scream and break everything within reach at the memory of every lie I ever caught you in and how I want to invent a time machine for the sole purpose of going back and punching myself in the face for believing you anyway.  But the difference between then and now is that I recognize the pain in those memories.  I've packed them in a suitcase and put them down and walked away.  I'm done carrying them with me and I'm done giving you that power over me. 

I didn't do anything to deserve what happened, there are no amends to make on my part.  I am the one who always breaks and I am done bending over backwards to get love and approval.  Your love is staring at a big black hole and hoping you will love me is as endless as the magical vortex that the idealism of Santa and the Easter Bunny being real reside in. 

I wasn't what you wanted. I get it.  I kept hoping and staring and waiting because I didn't at the time.  Only to look back and realize that I'm in the same place I started in.  It makes me want to vomit all over your existence the same way that you've desecrated mine.

I don't know if you'll ever read this.  It's not for you anyway.  It's for me.  I'll read this on those nights when I'm alone and I feel like everything is falling apart.  I'll read this to remind myself of the promises that I'm making to myself at this very moment, to look forward and to stop letting the memory of how you mind fucked me into making me feel dictate my happiness.  This is me turning a page in the chapter of my story.  You don't win this round.

Bowl Of Lies

I just want to say before I start to rant yet again about something I saw on my feed in the Book of Face shared from the interweb that made me all "Spork someone in the undernads" happy, I really do love my friends.  They just disappoint me sometimes.

With that said, someone posted a recipe video for vegan macaroni and cheese.

What the fuck is that?

It's just a lie in a bowl.  That's what it is. 

Not even real.  The "cheese" was made from cashews and boiled up potato, carrot and onion.  I don't dispute that it's probably great, but don't call it something that it isn't.  I'm not a child whose stuff you can sneak veggies into and all that bullshit.  Cheese and I, we go way back.

Don't come to me with your web of lies. 

Cheese is wonderful and nothing to lie about.  If you have decided to become a vegan for any reason, ethical or otherwise, then I absolutely support your decision.  However, that decision was based off of your choice not to consume animal products.  Therefore I am confused as to why one would concoct something and then name it after an animal product. 

You, with your veggie cheese, veggie dogs and tofurkey.  Chemical shit storm, that's what that is.  Unless those chemicals you are consuming in the crap that you eat are somehow turning you into a member of the X-Men, don't come to me with that ethical high horse of yours. 

You don't see me walking around eating carrot sticks and calling them a hybrid steak, do you?

That's all I've got to say about that subject. 

Starbucks Cups

On my Book of Face feed, everyone is losing their minds over the new cups that popular Seattle based coffee house has put out, and being in the feisty mood I'm in at the moment, I can't help but put my 2 cents in on this.

For starters:  It.  Is.  A.  Cup.

In years past, I guess it used to be covered in snowflakes and all kinds of holiday cheery crap.  I wouldn't know because I am a penny pincher and make mine at home.  I am also a perfectionist who has to make my own to ensure my order is never screwed up.  This year they have opted for minimalism and went for just red. 

What on Earth does this have to do with not believing in God?

What on Earth does this have to do with anything at all?

What if they had opted to make them blue?  You would all be losing your minds over how they celebrate Hanukkah.  Or red and black?  You would be losing your minds over how they were celebrating Kwanzaa and how they are racists and support the #blacklivesmatter movement.  Why not bitch about how Santa is angry that it doesn't look like his workshop threw up all over it?  Frankly, I care about the opinion of a fictional character more than I care about yours.

Regardless of the color they chose, it's a cup.  It's a color.  All lives matter.  All religions matter.  EVERYONE matters. 

Are we so lost as a society that things mean more to us than people?  Are we all so unhappy and fear mongering with what's going on in our own lives that we have to dictate the actions of everyone else? 

Funny, I don't see anything on it that would suggest anything suggestive of religion on the cup at all.  The color red is no way offensive in any way unless you adamantly don't like the color itself or are a bull.  And no, being a bully doesn't count.  Are you going to start storming the houses of people who have red couches and complain about how they're impeding on your life in their home?  Red cars?  Red anything?

My question is, whatever happened to "Reduce, Reuse, Recycle"?  How is it that we can be so caught up in religion that we forgot that we're killing our planet by using these cups and one time use products as a whole?  Use it once, and throw it in a landfill.  You might just think it's a cup, but billions are used every day and believe it or not, you are part of the problem. 

Don't like the color or believe that it is rubbing your religious freedoms the wrong way?  Don't buy from them.  Big fans who like a disappointed friend don't like their decision but love them anyway and still need your fix?  Bring your own cup and stop killing the environment.

If you are butt hurt over a cup, go die in a hole. Seriously, I have nothing else to say to you.

 

Busy Bee

Oye.

I haven't had the desire to write.  Not for lack of fodder.  Get comfortable, this might take awhile.

Last week was bad. My heart is broken for my family and for our recent loss. Their story is not mine to tell but I was there for them in the ways that I could be without throwing myself into my own downward spiral.  Long story short, I cried more than I smiled.  I got maybe the equivalent of 8 hours of sleep in 5 days.  I ended up sick with a sinus infection.  3 days off from work.  Instead of laying around feeling like a pile on the floor, I organized my office area and came to the conclusion that I have enough office supplies to see my kids through college.

You know when you're doing okay?  Not great by any means but okayish enough, upright and semi-functional.  Still able to force a smile.  Then you get hit with something that makes you want to vomit from some unseen passenger in your day that blows you over like a train wreck and you get all hot all over and you feel your heart leaping out of your throat and you congratulate yourself on not actually dying like you feel like you are. 

No?  Me either. 

As someone who has been a writer since the day I learned how to hold a pencil, I have received little feedback as up until now I haven't done this for anyone but myself.  Sure in school it was the best grade I got.  With that said, it wasn't until last week that I received the first compliment from my mother in regards to it in the history of ever.  And it was about the Go Fund Me page write up that I created to support my family members with what is going on right now.  It slightly infuriated me, I'm not going to lie. 

Halloween was different.  My kids decided they didn't want to trick or treat this year after our original plans didn't materialize for reasons out of our hands.  They spent the day at my Aunt's house making treats and watching Halloween movies.  After I got out of work we all carved pumpkins.  It was a gorgeous day outside but the temps dropped very quickly halfway through and by the time we were done we were all frozen to the bone.  I would have insisted on going inside but they were big pumpkins that you couldn't just pick up and move easily.  Then I took the kids out to dinner.  My daughter wasn't feeling very well suddenly wanted to go to bed.  I took her home and as planned my son and I went to see Hotel Transylvania 2 at the local theatre.  I haven't seen the first one but it was really funny. 

My aunt and kids love spending time with each other.  And who wouldn't?  My kids are awesome and she's like my best friend/sister.  On a serious note, when you die and plan a future for your children without you in it, you want your kids to remember who you were and not only is she like me, she gets me.  Probably more then I get myself.  When they went over for Halloween, my son was unusually moody all day and wouldn't say why.  He just couldn't get settled, couldn't make a single decision for himself and had a breakdown when they went pumpkin picking.  He seemed to calm down when I got there.  We managed to have a great rest of the night.  Then, the second we got in the car after the movie, he got quiet.  Then he said, "She is never going to experience her first Halloween."  We talked about our recent loss and cried together. 

The way my kids process grief differently both makes my heart swell and cry at the same time.  I have always explained to my kids that "More family means more love", coming from a huge family where both parents are remarried I know this.  My son takes loss to heart and is slow to let go, and my daughter just understands that it's a part of life and moves on with her day.  During this journey I've come to realize I might be doing an okay job after all and that they might not be as ruined as I once believed. 

It is now November. The time where everyone comes out of the woodwork to magically become grateful for this that and the other thing that they bitch about for the other 11 months of the year - blah, blah, freakin' blah.   I won't get started on the things that I don't understand about that one. I think that it has something with the impending doom you feel during the change of the seasons and the end of the year. Plus Christmas....being nice to people so they'll buy you stuff. I on the other hand plan to be just as much of an asshole as I am the rest of the year. 

 Promises that were made to me were broken.  In my frustrated, exhausted, grieving, lonely state things came out of my soul and through my mouth that I was holding back because I knew what it was being driven by but I just couldn't hold it in anymore.  Then to my surprise, behavior seemed to change.  However, it was lost on me because I was so busy being lost in what was happening in my head that I didn't see it.  You know, when someone apparently picks up what you're laying down and they go out of their way to do something nice for you, but you're still so stuck on how much they suck you can't think of anything else?

That's right.  I am Queen Turd of planet Buttholio.

I've said more than once that I have a penchant for random emotional outbursts and blurting out the first thing that pops into my head.  Sometimes it works in my favor.  Most of the time I just don't care who knows what I'm thinking.

I didn't realize this until yesterday while I was driving my car.  You know how after someone has sat in your driver's seat you're convinced that they changed all your settings?  Wednesday I got my brakes fixed and new tires put on so I no longer need to be scared by all the weird things my car was doing.   Well I was in a really bad mood from the fight that I had just gotten into and managed to think that the mechanic moved my seat all the way back and so I moved it forward.  Yesterday after driving for 10 minutes I came to realize that my elbows were touching the steering wheel.  I guess my rage turned me into some crotchety old hag and I shrunk 6 inches.  At least I got a laugh out of it, but I really did feel defeated after normal thoughts started flooding in.  I also realized the reason behind the rage filled incident Wednesday and I have some explaining to do.  It was just an exchange of bad feelings and nothing was really said.  It was gross.  It didn't feel good.

Yesterday I didn't stop moving until I went to bed out of sheer refusal to dwell.  I started off with the miraculous fact that both kids got on the bus and I didn't have to take them to school.  An elderly volunteer at work gave me some apples for my mom's animals so I brought those out to her.  My 2 year old niece told me how "I don't like Aladdin, it scares me.  Cause the tiger."  My mom told me that she thought she meant the tiger that lives with Princess Jasmine.  I remember as a kid being scared of the tiger cave that comes out of the sand and we bonded because that was the part that always scared me too.  My landlord called and said that they were going to replace the window at the end of the kid's room to bring the house up to fire code.  I ran home and cleaned the kids room in a hurry.  In case you already didn't know, teenagers are disgusting.  I took my daughter's broken box spring and bed frame out of her room and to the deck - I don't understand how a twig for a child can jump on a bed so hard she broke the leg off of her frame and the box spring into smithereens.  I cleaned out my car and brought said box spring and mattress to the car and then to the town dump.  That was what I can imagine wrestling a grizzly bear would be like, only less gory and it didn't end with my death.  Then I went to mom's to watch the kids for a little bit while she ran errands.  Then home to get my car loaded with the weekly garbage and recycling to take to the town dump, the returnables for the redemption center and 5 totes of stuff that I have weeded out for Goodwill.  That's right, in my last blog I wrote about how I got rid of a bunch of stuff and since that time I have found more crap.  If I didn't know any better I'd think that my house was holding a crux from Lord Voldemort.  For every one item I get rid of 2 more take it's place.  Stopped at my friend's house for a bit.  Then dinner for the kiddos.  My son and I have been bonding over some old school movies my mom sent over. 

Bless my son and his gentle heart.  He didn't want his pumpkin to be cold, so he brought it inside.  I was all "Okay whatever" folding laundry and didn't ask him where in the house he put it.  I came down for coffee and saw that it was on the kitchen floor looking a little droopy.  He put it on top of the heating vent of our forced air furnace and it cooked.  Children are for raising, not understanding.  That is all I have to say about that.

After this week that I managed to somehow make it through slightly unscathed, I can foresee this work week becoming a cluster of absolute absurdity.  Therefore, I will not do anything out of the ordinary for fear of angering everything that moves.  I can hear tomorrow morning telling me to fuck off already. 

Growing Pains

"Sometimes I just need my mom, OK?" - my son when he was sliding into my bed and woke me up around midnight.

Objection denied.  Snuggles it is. 

Which is just fine with me.  I love being that mom.  You know, the one that 30 years from now my kids still look forward to coming home to.  I took some benedryl and slept like a member of the Six Feet Under Club.  For systemic flair up purposes, not because I was drugging myself into a coma.  Friday night I got no sleep at all because the Universe thought I didn't need it.  After struggling to stay awake all day at work I napped for a bit and then took the boy to Pizza Hut for our monthly date.  Which during the entire dinner he complained about missing his sister.  "She just keeps our conversation flowing and she is funnier than I am.  Things just aren't the same without her here."  This time he actually wanted her to go and she just wanted to stay home.  They used to be inseperable and as much as they "complain" about each other they're still really close.

Then I dragged him to Goodwill to see about getting some more pants.  Seriously, he needs to stop growing.  He wears a men's small/medium athletic pant but they have to be hemmed.  Around Easter he woke up and fit into literally nothing in his closet overnight.  My mom did a 26 inch inseam and much to my chagrin trimmed the extra off so that they can't be let out.  Now he's a 30 inseam just over the summer from Easter to now and I have to buy more pants.  I'm not paying full price for pants that will be too short by Christmas.    And then his head grew, so he needed an adult size bike helmet and we had to go to Walmart to get one for his Scouting trip today. 

The kid is 12.

I'm amazed that I was practically unphased when his sister started taking my sneakers 3 years ago.  Something about the second (and last) child that kills you with every milestone.  And then there's the milestones they get individually because I have one of each.  I remember the time I bought my daughter her first deoderant.  I bawled like a baby in the middle of the store isle.  People looked at me weird until I explained what I was there for.  An elderly woman who understood hugged me.  My mom took her to get her first bra because I was a mess just knowing that she was at the point that she needed one. 

Physical therapy has been doing wonders for my knee.  I am going to start doing yoga in a couple of weeks after it strengthens back up.  Fibromyalgia sucks.  Knowing that this is something that I can consume myself with and give in to the near constant crappy feeling or keep busy and feel better is driving me to do better with my health.  I've had fewer crappy days in the past month than I did this summer which is nice.  The stress level being cut down at the knees would be nice.  Hear that Universe?  Any time now would be good.

Speaking of, previously mentioned near fatal health condition listed on my chart was put there by someone registering me for my procedure and was a fluke.  Even though the symptoms of said condition are actually my symptoms.  I'm beginning to hate the medical field in general. 

I am **finally** being referred to a surgeon for my Hiatal hernia, after of course fighting for years to get them to understand what is happening to me physically every time I eat anything.  It was found to have doubled in size and is the cause of 90% of  digestive issues and my doctor is certain that it's the cause of my near constant chest pain.  I understand EoE is something I'll have forever and it's not going to go away, but most of my troubles are from that stupid hernia. 

I'd like to feel at least almost human for a day.  I know that feeling totally human is way too much to ask for. 

I know that this flair was because I've been pushing myself too hard.  I should have called out of work yesterday instead of staying up.  I shouldn't have gone shopping last night and walked around for 3 hours like I did.  I could feel it coming before it even took over my body about halfway through Walmart.  But pushed I did.  I think I feel better than I would have if I hadn't taken anything and fought sleep for a second night, but my eyes were almost swollen shut when I woke up.  I feel like I'm walking through a sand pit with boulders in my pockets.  I have 3 alarms set for mornings that I have to work.  One for the time I get up if I want to look good, the one I have to get up for real and the time that I have to leave the house.  I woke up on the last alarm.  Thank Gods I cleaned my room so I can find things easily. 

I really dislike people sometimes.  Namely ones who meddle and watch.  Then they say things to "help" you when they might as well be saying "I want to high five you, but all I have is this bus".

And then there's still needing to put that stuff for Goodwill into my car and actually take it.  There's always that last 10% of projects that I struggle so much with to finish.  I'm always so worried that someone else that I immediately know could use it and I want to give it to them.  Oh well.

Exploding Closets & Heavy Loads To Bear

Mine aren't exactly exploding, but every time I turn around there is a bunch of crap that either doesn't belong where it is or has no home in my house. 

My love of buying stuff to organize my house and projects and yard sales and Goodwill may be getting a little out of hand.  Like level "Call In The Intervention Squad".  Seriously, I have a tote of boxes and organizing "tools" that I have accumulated because "it would work perfectly to hold all of my xyz's".

The kicker is that I have already gotten rid of a crap ton of stuff.  I just had a yard sale a month ago and (much to my relief) sold almost everything that I had in it.  Last year I had two when I was downsizing in preparation for a huge relocation this year that didn't happen.  I'm still peeved about the decision to get rid of my camping equipment and some pictures that he didn't like for the sake of merging households.

I just cleaned again and found another two tote boxes of stuff in my living room and my bedroom.  I haven't gone through the kids closets yet and I know that they've got a ton of books that they've outgrown.  And then there's the clothes...  why can't they stop growing?

I am one of those moms that if my kids could be four years old forever I would sign up immediately.....

Picture it:  The willingness to do things without a fight.  The not staying in bed all freaking day long.  Not eating everything in the house in one day.  I'm trying to find the beauty in having two teens in the house.  I'm not finding it.  They're gross.  They shower only to walk across the room and smell like a gym when they get to the other side.  They are also funny.  Then there's their uncanny ability to help me pick out my clothes and make sure that I don't leave the house with 2 left flip flops on.  **That might have happened once** However getting them to do ANYTHING or getting anything done in the house....well let's just say it would be easier to come out of the shower clean after using chocolate cake as body wash.

And then there's the uncertainty of the future.  Having faith that I am doing everything that I can to raise good human beings.  Hoping that one day they will be out in the world by themselves and doing ok because right now it could go either way. 

My daughter has an autism spectrum disorder called Pervasive Developmental Disorder.  I am very worried about her ability to live independently and she has never really expressed interest in getting married or relationships.  Yesterday we were all watching one of the Twilight movies and during the wedding scene, she goes "Ugh.  When I get married it's going to be very short, like 2 minutes long.  Enough for us to just get it over with and very small." 

I'm ruined, in a good way for once.  When did I turn into this feel all the feelings that doesn't want to be a strong independent woman but needs a man by my side as a decision making partner thing happen? 

Room.  Spinning.  Throat.  Closing.

I have spent most of my life feeling like I'm someone that's easy to walk away from.  It haunts me on a daily basis.  I have always operated under the assumption that I care about everyone else more than they care about me.  I feel like a terrible mother most of the time.  I wake up terrified every day that my partner will wake up and realize just how much crazy he's gotten himself into, and I'm grateful for every day that he doesn't.  I love Thunder storms, it's lightning that I'm terrified of.  I was bullied a lot as a kid and I secretly love that all their asses are now fat and their husbands are cheating bastards.  I have always loved the smell of a freshly opened tube of paint and blank canvas, of freshly sharpened pencils and the feel of crisp paper.  It has always meant that creativity was to be had and that I got to forget for awhile.  Right now I'm at a point in my life where I don't want to check out or forget anything. 

Right. In. The. Feels. All of them.

And that was pretty much the sentiment for most of Thursday.

Wednesday I got my teeth fixed.  One on the bottom needed to be shaved down because it was sticking up higher than the rest of them and pressing on the back of my front tooth. It is going to take some getting used to in terms of how it feels but it looks amazing.  No more yellow glue!  And I don't have to have my wisdom teeth pulled like I previously thought.  I don't have any cavities and they're not impacted so there's no point.  Works for me!

My son has started Robotics at school.  He is stupid excited about it.  He makes my brain hurt with his intelligence sometimes.  He also has his first Scout pack outing Sunday.  I am trying my best to think positively about it, but it's an almost 20 mile bike trip.  I'm lucky if I can get him outside long enough to let the dogs out.  Maybe being surrounded by other boys his own age encouraging him on will be what he needs.  Still doing therapy, 8 hours has reduced to 6 3x per week. 

I also want to make it known that I have changed my settings.  No more "friendly Anonymous tips" about what you think is happening.  I graduated in 1999.  I left High School behind.  My blog, feelings and brain are not a playground.  Even though I am 90% positive I know who this "friendly" person is, I won't go there.  I'm done.  I won't respond to any more crap.  The crap is crap that I'm trying to get away from.  You are not my friend hiding behind secrecy.  I don't like you and it doesn't matter that I don't know who you are.   I don't like liars, and I hate gossipers and mean girls who attempt to create chaos in another person's life to hurt them on purpose even more.   Thank you for telling me that you think that I'm funny and real and that I deserve good things like I wasn't already totally aware, but I didn't accept the compliment as if you were someone who actually gave a shit.  You only said it because I refuse to go into details of my relationship and you wanted to meddle.  I guess you aren't the kind of person that cares about other people's wishes if they mean something to you.  And that's who you are.  Not who I am.  If you are logged into your Google account and have the cajones to comment, then and only then will we have something to say to each other.  And if your comment has something to do with anything pertaining to more gossipy bullshit, then I will not respond. 

Good Day.

Drunken Lists

So one of my readers told me, "Jessie, I wish you'd stick to one subject."

And my immediate response, and the one that I will always give, is "Why?  There are so many amazing subjects on the planet to chose from!"

Yes, for the most part I talk about myself....

Hence, blogging.

Online journaling for the whole world to see.  If you don't like something what I say, you're the one who came here voluntarily.

Say it with me now:  Vol-un-tary.

In other words, and a much less tactful way to put it:  Don't like it, FUCK OFF!

So, on to the show.

When your computer charger and the cord to your vibrator are entwined together next to your bed to the point of practically being conjoined twins, do you possibly have a bigger problem than just untangling cords?  Asking for a friend.

Wow, 325 page views in the 48 hours since I looked at this account last.  Am I creating repeat followers?  I don't know, y'all don't say much to me so I don't have much of a clue who reads.  Feel free to, by the way.  I'm open to answering questions.

Saturday I was not in a happy place.  More frustrated than unhappy.  One of those times where you can't place your finger on what's driving you nuts, but there it is nonetheless.  A dark passenger following you around and saying all the things you don't want to hear. 

Or did I?

Anyway, it got me what I needed;  laughter, good conversation, and apparently as I'm looking through my phone this afternoon, a list on all the things NOT to do while messaging someone in an online dating site that I drunkenly produced on my sticky note app.

1.  Accept the fact that people lie online about most things.  Listing off how tired you are of being lied to is not going to stop this.  You also will not get what you want out of a relationship when you instantly accuse someone as being "just like everyone else".  With most things, if you want honesty, you're going to have to give it.  And even then, you're pretty much just hoping for the best.

2.  Do not tell someone that you have never met before in your life that you love them.  Like, in the first sentence of your very first message to them.  Things might get weird after that.

3.  Do not post pictures with anyone BUT yourself in them.  This goes for obscure group shots where nobody can pinpoint just which beefy stud muffin you are, pictures of your children and especially not with other women.  I might give a pass to those next to those at something like Comic-Con or with a porn star.  Well, because everyone should have a healthy appreciation for porn.

4.  OK, we get it.  EVERYONE is looking for a new adventure.  Something new and fun.  I find just going into my closet to be an adventure to see if I'm going to wear pants today.  Eating anything smothered in cheese is fun too.  Not just climbing mountains.  I prefer fun of the "no possibility of breaking every bone in my body" persuasion, K.  The fact that I'm taking a chance and meeting a complete stranger who could be an admirer of Ted Bundy for all I know, cut me some slack.

5.  Accept the fact that after a week of chatting online, if you have not scored a number or at the least plans to meet, it isn't going to happen.  Personally, I'm busy and really don't have time to waste on a computer.  I've got shit to do. 

6.  I'm booting your ass to the curb at the first mention of sex before I've even met you.  I didn't always have this standard, but if you want something you've never had before, you've got to do something you've never done before. I am most likely the least PG rated person you've ever met in your life, but it is never going to get past that point if you don't pump the brakes a little. 

7.  Don't be a douchebag.  Just because I'm not interested and honest about it doesn't make it OK for you to call me every name in the book.  Kiss your mother with that mouth?  Jaded prick.  It's not my fault that you have such little respect for yourself and clearly other human beings that you feel the need to type your douchebaggery right out there in the open.

8.  And speaking of, I said pump the brakes, not slam on them.  Just because I don't have any desire to be a hook up or someone you can lie to doesn't mean that I'm not a human being.  Friends?  Let's be.

With that said, these are all lessons that I picked up in my online dating saga.  Which is now gladly over.  I am in a relationship currently.  No, I'm not going to talk about it here.  Time and place y'all.

Lessons learned this week, for myself and everyone else:

My alcohol tolerance is just like riding a bicycle, according to Saturday.

12 year old boys are disgusting.

Once I start cleaning, I can't stop and Goodwill is going to be very happy with my donation very soon.  As will the local transfer station, aka Town Dump.

Today, when I said "Lite cream cheese" on my bagel at D&D, I didn't mean nearly non-existent.  If you have questions about that or are unclear on the products that your company offers you should clarify.  This girl likes her some cream cheese on her bagel, just the one that isn't going make her ass giggle for a week after one bite.

When you attempt to get on a regular schedule and coordinate not only yourself but 2 therapists and everyone else, shit is going to hit the fan at the beginning of the week just because you got comfortable and forgot to write one stupid appointment down because, of course you'll remember it.  Write.  It.  Down.  Even if you completely forget where you wrote it and find it a week later.  It's a month sooner than you would have remembered it otherwise!

Technology and I are not friends.  This is not new.  Stop trying.

Standing up for what you want out of life is never a bad thing.  Even more so when it comes to relationships.  Things are going very well in that department, by the way :)

Time management is always easier on paper.  Traffic is a bitch.  And then there's always that long lost coworker who wants to chat life when you've run to the grocery store for the third time because you forgot brown sugar for the roasted squash and that is the only possible way on the planet to eat it.

I love me some fall season.  In the sense that I much prefer it to any other and would love to live in a place that it's this way for most of the year.  With that said, Pumpkin Spice anything is an abomination in anything other than something containing actual pumpkin.  Pumpkin spice coffee at D&D tastes like baked goods that were liquefied for the toothless elderly and then vomited up by a cat.  Nope.  Just say no was invented for a reason, and I'm sure it was by someone like Marty McFly going back to the future and tried one of these damn things.

I have the next two days off and plan to have lots of shenanigans that I can tell you about later and probably some that I can't because you would need a mental cheese grater.  For real, I should get paid for every thing I don't tell you.  For now I'm going to finish my clearance sale Razzarita and take an 8 hour nap. 

"You're Not....."

"....a pain in my ass."

7 words.

Words that you don't know how badly you needed to hear them until they hit your ears like a symphony.

That, and "I'm coming over."

Friday I was a wreck.  Like a hot mess that blew up and then glued itself back together only to end up looking like a Picasso.  

In my previous post, I said that I said something out loud that I hadn't talked about before.  I had talked about it, with the one person that I needed to talk to on Friday. 

February 2014.  My hair was not cooperating and keeping the color that I kept dying it.  A few months before I decided to go a deep red and nothing I would do would get rid of it, and on top of that I'm a natural blonde.  It wasn't pretty.  I realized that I hadn't seen my natural hair color since I was 14 years old.  I also accepted the reason why.

I hated myself.  Every time I felt inadequate, unloved, judged,  I would change.  Because something deep down inside said that if I did, then I might finally be enough.  I was an addict.  I couldn't stop.  My philospohy (with everything but myself, of course) is that if there is a problem, that you get right down to the root of the problem, stop the bleeding and then fix it. 

I cut my chest length hair off into a pixie cut and decided that I was going to keep cutting it until all the dyed hair was gone and it was back down to my shoulders again. 

It was not easy.  Especially when for about 6 months you have red tips, blonde roots, and something you can't describe going on in between.  Add to that medical mystery fun and a roller coaster of a relationship, saute that until I'm losing my mind.  Add people who don't understand why you're doing it, and then add one spiteful person who with every haircut that showed just how blonde you really are who keeps accusing you of dying your hair.  Throw a million coupons and fantastic deals for dye into that mix.  Sprinkle it all with self-loathing just for good measure.

And then there was getting to the root of the problem.  Growing up, my hair was gorgeous. But teenage girls are bitches, and when the boys that they want like you because you "look like Barbie" you are instantly ridiculed.  And then from ages 9-12 I had braces.  I was tormented all through my childhood.  I love making people happy and at every turn, I was always coming up short.  In my early 20's it was multiple things that led me to use alcohol and sleeping around as a coping mechanism.  Today, as a single parent with a stress level through the roof at most times and a million plates spinning at the same time and one wrong move is going to make them all fall, it was really hard to go through the process alone.  I did what I needed to do to get through it.  I lived.  I learned a lot about myself.  I still have days where I want to do something drastic again.  I can't go into the dye isle of any store yet.

And I understand that most people don't get it.  For most of society, changing your hair is a healthy process full of self love and fun - as it should be.  Using it as a coping mechanism to hide from what is really bothering you isn't.  Yes, I appreciate the fact that you don't understand that this is something that is possible as an addiction.  However, this isn't your story.  It's mine. 

 

Me, age 4 

 

February 2014, the first pixie cut and last time I dyed my hair.

 

 

 

1.5 months later, driving me crazy because the blonde is starting to show in random places.

 





 

 

Completely dye free, October 2014

 

   

 

Darkened up through the winter, but still dye free.

 

Me, this past Tuesday after work.

 

"I said it.  I said it to someone other than just between you and I.  Every time I felt inadequate, unloved, judged, stressed to the max, I would change. Because something deep down inside said that if I did, then I might finally be enough.  And now I'm in the same boat again and I have no outlet for it and I don't know what to do.  I'm sorry I'm being such a pain in your ass."

 

I am blown away.  I don't know what to say about Friday other than I'm glad I finally wasn't alone.  This person knows who they are, and I cannot thank them enough.

 

"And she looked in the mirror and told herself in no uncertain terms, that she was okay with who she was then and who she is now."  Myself



Rain Rain Go Away

Strangers in the night exchanging glances
Wond'ring in the night what were the chances
We'd be sharing love before the night was through

Something in your eyes was so inviting
Something in you smile was so exciting
Something in my heart told me I must have you.....

This afternoon brought to you by instrumental jazz standards being piped into the lobby at work.  Which I must admit that I love much better than Disney music. 

I'm trying my best to be pleasant.  Both of my kids are sick and didn't want me to go to work.  I need brakes on the car.  Or rather I need them changed, I have the parts.  I want to cry.  I want to be home.  Everything is coming to a head and I just need a friggin' hug.  Or sex.  Or alcohol.  Or one of those drunken hugs that turns into sex. 

Wednesday it rained cats and dogs in my neck of the woods.  I was looking forward to a day off but I got called into work on 3 hours of sleep.  I narrowly missed the bridge on my commute home being flooded by 20 minutes and made it home just in time for the beginning of my basement flooding.  It was coming in faster than the sump pump could get it out.  I got the "brilliant" idea to dump the water into the washing machine and put it on spin so it would suck it out through the septic.  It worked like a charm.  I was pretty impressed with myself.  My back is not very happy about it but nothing exploded so it'll just have to deal.  The roads are collapsed in several places.  I've seen the area flood before, nothing like this. 

Had the worst experience of my life yesterday at the doctor's.  No new information, not a single one of my doctors can come to the same conclusion as to what is wrong with me, so my doctor had no idea why the Surgeon's paperwork they gave me after my procedure last week said the really awful things that I'm worried about.  So another call to the specialists and waiting game.  Yesterday afternoon was a complete waste of time.  The only thing that I do feel better about is that the biopsy results came back negative for cancer. 

Even more of a waste of my time is wishing things were different.  For someone who has always loved solitude, it is the one thing that I would stab repeatedly if it could take living form.  Feeling like you are completely alone in the world is not an enjoyable feeling.  I ended up so wound up from stress that I was up until midnight cleaning and drinking.  Bright side, my house looks good and the basement is almost dried up. 

It's almost frustrating and relaxing at the same time when you just went completely through the house 2 weeks ago and had a huge yard sale, only to stress clean later and fill 2 more totes full of stuff.

Note to self:  buy more blueberry vodka. 

I have wallowed so much lately and I am done doing it.  I was going to accomplish many things.  I still plan to.  Had to cancel dinner plans with a friend, but it worked to my advantage.  It's my turn to cook and now I'll have time to start apple butter tomorrow.  I also want to go apple picking again Monday while the kids are in school.  I've been feeling like I need to do some things alone just to prove I'm still capable of doing so.  Hence the wallowing...feeling very unlike my usual can do anything self, things out of my control and all that jazz.  I digress.

I said something out loud for the first time when I took my son out to breakfast this morning.  It was in regards to why I decided to stop dying my hair.  I was in a semi-pleasant mood this morning but this brought out feelings I wasn't ready for and with no other way to put it, I managed to fail at holding it together.  I think that has a lot to do with what's wrong with me today.  It's a whole other post. 

Fight For Your Right To Party...Responsibly

Yesterday I posted a funny comment that my son said about my IV site.  I got some shit for it. 

Let me start off by saying, that I agree that children knowing anything about drug abuse is horrifying.  However, the world that we live in today, makes it absolutely necessary.  Especially when, statistically speaking, at least 1/3 of drug and alcohol experimentation starts before high school. 

One third.

And that is just drugs.  I won't get started on sex and alcohol.  Those were my choices.

Wake up.  Do you want your child to be fully educated, or do you want your head to be in the sand while your kid ends up being one of those "If I had only known" scenarios?  As a kid who myself teetered between the two, I'm pushing for education.  I'll be clear, I've never done drugs, but I've been around enough drug abuse to never want to.  I was extremely naive.  Frankly, today as a 34 year old adult, there are many scenarios that I don't know how I made it out alive.  If I was one of those that gave into peer pressure, I would be just another statistic as well, and I know exactly what path I would have taken and where I would be right now. 

It is detrimental to the outcome of your kid's childhood that you make them fully aware of the consequences. 

Adults who provide kids with alcohol are not cool.  Adults who help throw parties and hang out with teenagers are even uncooler.  They failed at their own childhoods and never grew up.  Some do it because they are predators.  I know this first hand.  My mind is destroyed by some of the things that have happened to me.  You're damn right that I am going to do everything I can to prevent that from happening to my children. 

It is up to you to make it clear to them that they should fight for their childhood, and that if they won't then you will.  Education goes a long way in assisting with that.  Also being the kind of parent who is a parent that your kid can talk to rather than just being sent off to play while you do the adult things.  Something I like to refer to as "over parenting".  Acting like the bad things don't exist and sheltering your child from everything so that when the bad things come around they have no idea how to contain themselves around all the new exciting things that "everyone else" is doing.  I was that kid.  Don't be that parent.  You cannot get away with sitting back and hoping.  Education through school and parenting is a hell of a lot safer than experimenting and learning the hard way. 

My only goal as a mother is to raise a child that doesn't have to recover from their childhood. 

Anesthesia Brain

A lot has been going on.  Most of it mundane, every day normal single mom life stuff.  The girl child has had 4 games so far this season for soccer.  The other day I had a procedure that prevented me from being able to make it.  She was fine with it, of course.  She came home very excited because they won 5-4.  Monday they have a home game against the same team. 

By procedure, I mean that I had my 3rd endoscopy and 1st colonoscopy.  My, my.  What a process that prep is.  It made me think of people who regularly do "fasts" and "cleanses" to lose weight.  How the Hell....I didn't lose anything but my dignity.

Forcing myself to drink fluids on an empty stomach was an interesting experience in itself.  Near the end the only think I could think of that resembled the process was this scene from Harry Potter: 

36 hours with no food, and 12 hours pre-procedure with nothing at all.  My body was not a fan.  It is still protesting 2 days later.  I'll spare the Universe the details.  There is so much air in my system that it's excruciating.  My body sounds like a coffee maker.  I'm trying to find some humor in this so that I don't lose my mind over it. 

My friend that did end up bringing me home found it hilarious that I suggested that we go to the Humane Society because I don't have nearly enough dogs. My post anesthesia brain thought I needed to go rescue all of them. Also last night my son looks at my huge bruised IV site and goes "Ewe that looks like one of those heroine things!" Explaining after I was done almost peeing myself from laughing that he remembers seeing track marks on someone in an episode of CSI. That, and he learned the signs of drug use in 5th grade. 

I don't know what I can say about the situation behind who brought me and who took me home.  I'm glad I have people in my life who care about me enough to do things like this for me, but I'm also devastated beyond anything I can describe that the one person that I needed the most to be there just flat out refused because they had "better things to do" - when I've had this appointment for a month.  I thought that we were past the repeatedly going out of our way to hurt each other and treating each other like an afterthought stage.  I guess I can only speak for myself when I say that times have changed. 

And of course, I'm doing my hardest not to lose my shit and as I'm typing this out at work the instrumental version of this song starts playing overhead and I fail and proceed to sob:

Not because the song lyrics resemble anything that I have going on at the moment.  It's just a really sad song.  That and I'm frustrated.  Things are different with this person, not the way that I want them to be and I don't like it.  I realize the mistake that I made.  I want things to be different and I feel like I'm the only one fighting for them to be.  When the before mentioned person talked to me the evening after I got home, they repeatedly said "I'm glad it went well."  No, it didn't go well.  I was sick, I had a really hard time, it was misery, I needed you and you weren't there.  If I can't rely on you when I need it the most and have been able to and have looked forward to having you there when I needed you and then you're not....how am I supposed to feel.  Of course I'm dying.  I also asked myself, would I feel this way if things had gone well.  The answer, I would probably feel less strongly about it than I do, but yes, I would feel the same way.

I'm also freaking out because on the paperwork it lists your medical diagnoses and there are 2 that are terrifying, that someone put there and said nothing to me about.  I am not going to go into details but one of them is life threatening.  I'm hoping that it's just a fluke.  I find it hard to believe that a doctor can just put a diagnosis onto a patients chart and say nothing to them about it.  Of course it's a weekend and there is nobody around who can explain what is going on.

Between working full time, being a soccer mom for my daughter, 8 hours of therapy a week for my son and dealing with all the invariables that I have up in the air right now, I'm not finding much time to find my sanity.  I just keep telling myself that it will all work out in the end.  But will it?

Kiss My Messy House

Why yes, persons who shall be unnamed in this post, my house is a disaster.

It is that way because after working 40 hours a day 30 minutes away from home, spending 8 hours of therapy a week with my son, fighting against a body that feels like it's fighting through a sandpit just to move across a room, keeping my daughter on task with everything, countless hours on the computer back and forth emailing both of my kids teachers to set up meetings and making sure that we aren't having a repeat of last year lying about homework and struggling constantly and fighting with my kids to do, well... anything, I might be a little tired. 

And even then I have to find time to make meals and clean and shower and do laundry and walk and groom my dogs.  Maybe then I have mustered up enough energy to do my eyebrows and trim my nails so that I don't look like a cast member of The Walking Dead.  Manicure?  What's that?  That perfect makeup you see on my face, if I manage to do it at all, took me 3 minutes and I most likely did it in my car in the parking lot after I knew that by some miracle I made it to work on time.  I will cut you if you mention my hot mess other people call hair.

Yes, I routinely have movie time with my kids.  Yes, I could be cleaning or doing household chores while the movie is going, but that would kind of void the idea of the quality time that my kids need from me as their only parent, wouldn't it.  My kids are hilarious.  When they're not screwing around and refusing to pick up a cup and throwing things next to the trash instead of into it, they are pretty great.  Quite frankly, I'm just so elated that we haven't killed each other that by that time comes that we have an hour of quality time, you're damn right I'm going to revel in it. 

Yes, you.  Who has probably never turned on a vacuum in your life and have always had a wife do everything for you and before that it was your mother.  And you, the stay at home mom who has time to do whatever it takes to make your household perfect while you judge me.  Welcome to the world of a single mom who is so good at pretending that everything is fine on the outside that sometimes, just sometimes, everything on the inside turns to crap.  

Besides,

In Dreams

So someone can work a 10 hour shift, go out drinking with friends and then get up at the ass-crack of dawn to do a yard sale, right?

I'm about to find out.

I have weeded out so much stuff in my house.  I guess this stress that I've been under is actually good for something.  It's making me want to put a huge "For Sale" sign on my house and just let people buy whatever they need.  Merging two households together is going to be a bitch if I ever move in with "someone".  Planning for the future is kinda hard to do when you're the kind of person with the attention span that doesn't even remember what you ate for breakfast.

It's even harder to do when there are vixens in the back of your mind that are bitches. 

Mean, mean bitches.

I have had a reoccurring dream.  It keeps popping up every few months and has been going on for about 7 years now:

I come home from work, but my stuff is entirely gone.  I don't even panic;  I just calmly walk around my house looking around like it's all just moved to another room or something.  In front of the fireplace, there is this dog.  It took years for me to see what kind of dog it is, but it's a white french bulldog now, who's name is Greg.  He's wearing a little Argyle sweater and bow tie and little doggy spectacles.  Around its neck there's a note with an address.  I call my kids, who in my dream are little and they're all "It's fine, just come" like they're having the time of their lives, wherever they may be.  I'm not even worried at all.  I show up to the place.  Even though it feels like it took forever to get there, I know exactly where I'm going.  To somewhere I've never been before and I'm totally fine with it.  It's a house that I am in love with.  Like, the house of my dreams and I haven't even been inside yet.  There are no cars.  There's a path with candles leading to the door.  Kind of like that "creepy romantic" vibe that Lifetime movies are made of.  I go into the house, and all of my stuff is there.  Not even in boxes, which amazes me because it was all at my old place when I left that morning but it's all here just the way I would have set it up myself.  More candles everywhere through the house to a back patio.  All of my family is there and suddenly I look down and I'm wearing a white dress with a rainbow petticoat underneath and my hair and makeup are perfectly done in 40's pinup style.  I walk down and everyone is staring up at the sky because there's a meteor shower going on.  Then a man takes my hand, and without even looking at him I know exactly who he is and I am suddenly so happy to be there.  Then he puts a square, blue Lego on my finger and secures it with a rubber band.  I started showing everyone, so happy to have this ring because someone finally understood me enough to know how unconventional a person I am.  Nobody is saying a word, but just like in the silent movie days, you know exactly what everyone is saying and thinking. 

Then I wake up feeling sad.

Last night was the first time that I have ever seen that man's face. 

The mean bitches need to stop.  

Fat Shaming Is Not Cool, Kewl or Kool

As someone who has spent much of my life being overweight due to a magical combination of knee problems, depression, undiagnosed until recently medical problems and ice cream (I mean, have you tried it before?);  I suppose I should be angry about some scrawny "comedian" going off on a tangent about how obese people are all ruining her life.

I watched it.   I kind of giggle snorted.   If it was truly how she feels, and not some comedic rant, then I pray for her and I'm not religious in any way.

How uncomfortable do you have to be with yourself to worry about another person's appearance?  And then on top of it have the gall to outwardly judge them.  Does it make you feel better to be horrible?  I don't get it.

As a kid, I was skinny.  I dressed appropriately.  Sure, I liked boys, but I never did anything inappropriate with them until I was old enough to know what I was doing.  I rarely had a boyfriend and in high school I didn't have one at all.  What little time I had available not being grounded for the reason of the day was spent clinging to what few friendships that I had left.  In school at an alarmingly young age, I was labeled a slut because I took care of myself and had bigger boobs than all the other girls.  I stopped loving myself and got very good at hiding who I really was because it was made clear as often as possible that who I was didn't matter because I was never going to be what they wanted me to be.  At home, my siblings were allowed to call me fat and ugly.  It was OK because my mother did it too.  It wasn't all bad, but that isn't what this is about.  When I was a freshman in high school, I was a size 6.  By the time I was a senior, I was a size 12. 

12. 

That is a size that I would kill to be again. 

As a side note, my relationship with my family is worlds different today than it was when I was a kid, but their memory of my childhood and their current belief systems makes it look like we never grew up in the same house.  Every mention of it makes crossing the border of North Korea look like a breezy day trip.

Frankly, every thing in my life went wrong because I didn't know how to love myself enough to say no.  Single parenthood, duped into eloping, being left pregnant with a toddler, raising both entirely on my own.  I was still so busy raising them that focusing on myself wasn't an option.  I didn't know what else to do and I had no support to show me how to be otherwise.  Surrounded by everyone happy (more than, even) to tell me how I was doing everything wrong but not a single person around willing to show me how to be better.  The past 10 years have been one big roller coaster, but I'm better for it.

Here's the kicker:  Every health issue that I have now is the same trouble that I've spent dealing with since my teens when I was thin.  It is simply not the case that I have these issues because of my weight. 

Therapy is expensive shit, but I owe my life to it.

I have taken the long and curvaceous road down where I am now, but I can actually say that despite my demons I am pretty happy with me.  I like my naked body just as much as I appreciate it clothed and apparently so do the hundreds of people messaging me who have seen my modeling pictures, along with those that I have in my life now. 

HOLY SHIT!   Here's a thought or twelve for the record books: 

Did it ever occur to you that when someone doesn't take care of themselves, just for a second, did stop to think that it may be because they don't know how to? 

If someone is "fat"not just by your standards but medically also, maybe they have a lifestyle in which they were simply not taught how to be any different. 

Maybe they do have medical problems that prevent them from being your same svelte size 4 complete with bitchy attitude. 

Not everyone hates themselves or worries about other people's lives. 

Maybe you should help them.

Maybe you wouldn't be such a bitch if you learned to love yourself in a non-narcissistic, evil queen kind of way.

Body positivity has nothing to do with fat.  It has to do with "WHOLE" acceptance.  Loving who you are on the journey that you're on.

Not in any way does it make someone bad for loving themselves and being comfortable in the skin that they are in and wearing what they want to wear - no matter how inappropriate it is to you.

Every person has fat.  THEY as a person are not fat.  We have hair and fingernails and teeth and feelings, but do we start accusingly calling people those? 
 I can see it now:  "Jeez have some feelings all up in my business.  How freaking dare you be so emotional!?!"

Not everyone who is overweight is a diabetic, has high blood pressure or any other stereotypical "fat person" disease health care professionals are pandemically swearing that everyone that is overweight has like it's the worst thing on the planet that could happen to a person. 

I for one, think that they should be more worried about the bitches who are giving themselves heart attacks over something that has nothing at all to do with them.  Stress is a killer y'all.  Even more so when the stress is a stress that isn't yours.

Is your blood sugar low?  Maybe that's why you're such a bitch.  You know that fat people eat all the time and you're jealous.  Can I make you a sandwich?