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.