Say whaaaaaaa..........

I think William Shakespeare may have said it best, "listen to many, speak to few."

Most days I try to embody this, and just keep my mouth shut.  Yeah, I know what you're thinking, so shut it.  I can, actually, keep my thoughts to myself.  I do it all the time.  I do it a lot.  I do it frequently.  I do it occasionally.  I do actually try to do it.

I'm not perfect, as I'm sure we're all already aware.  But, I do try.

Have you ever wished you could have just one solid day where you could say all the things you really wanted to say, without consequence???  I do, and I've given it a little thought.  I've mulled things over and the following is a compellation of some of the things I'd say if a genie were to grant me the aforementioned wish.

*please don't judge me...*

*also, please be warned, there is a fair amount of swearing*

*please don't judge me for being a potty mouth*

1. What I actually said: "No, that doesn't look bad!"
   
   What I should have said: "If you are going to wear that when we go out, I'm going to need to drink vast amounts of alcohol because that thing is making my soul burn.  So, I either need to be drunk to dull the pain, or we need to kill that thing with fire."
2. What I actually said:  "No, take your time and pay me back whenever you can!"
   
   What I should have said:  "No, it's really not ok that you haven't paid me back after ALL this time.  But, you clearly need that money way worse than I do.  Heck, I think there's still a video game you don't already own.  Please, see to buying that game before you get around to making me whole.  No rush, I obviously don't need it.  Neither does my landlord..."
3. What I actually said: "I'm only 39."
   
   What I should have said:  "Fuck you, I AM only 39.  This is what 39 looks like after four kids and two bad marriages.  I'm rocking it!"
4. What I actually said:  "Sorry, I have a few coupons..."
   
   What I should have said:  "Yes, I have coupons.  Oh, you don't like that?  Guess what, it doesn't matter if you like it.  You get paid the same amount whether you're scanning groceries or coupons.  Yes, I've worked retail, I totally understand that they're sometimes a pain.  But here's the thing, I am doing my best to be fiscally responsible with our food stamps and make them last longer.  Would you rather I was flippant with them, and just ran around spending them all at the corner store on Slim Jims and Cheetos Puffs???" 
5. What I actually said:  "You can have the last cookie."
   
   What I should have said:  "If you even attempt to touch that last cookie, I will rip your arm off and beat you about the head with your own arm.  Feeling lucky???  Then go for it."
6. What I actually said:  "No, what you said didn't hurt my feelings."
   
   What I should have said:  "Yes that hurt my fucking feelings you fucking asshole!  What the fuck did you fucking think was going to happen when fucking said that???  Geez, get a fucking clue!"
7. What I actually said:  "No, I'm not on my period!"
   
   What I should have said:  "Do you really think it's wise to poke the bear like that?  IF I'm on my period, would you really want to risk pissing me off by asking me that???  Seriously?"
8. What I actually said:  "Would you please just do what I asked???"
   
   What I should have said:  "Oh my ever loving God.  If you don't shut the eff up and do what I asked, I am going to completely lose my shit.  PLEASE just do it!!!"
9. What I actually said:  "I hate all skinny bitches."
   
   What I should have said:  "I hate being so damn fat."
10. What I actually said:  "No, I'm too sick to come into work. *cough cough*"
    
    What I should have said:  "Sorry boss, but today there is a bomb ass Twilight Zone marathon on t.v. and it only happens like 9 times a year.  So, I'm sure you can understand my not wanting to miss it!  Right?!"
11. What I actually said:  "Sure, I'd love to be your partner for this project!"
    
    What I should have said:  "Hell nah I don't want to be your partner for this project!  Dude!  You've missed 60% of the classes, you're always late, and I've never once seen you turn in a single assignment.  Why in the fuck would I want to be your partner???  But, since I was late for class today and all the other 'desirable' partners are already taken, I guess I'm stuck with you.  Huzzah."
12. What I actually said:  "Could  you please try and aim better???"
    
    What I should have said:  "Dude.  Do you have any idea how tired I am of wiping pee up off the floor after every time you use the bathroom?  Dude.  C'mon.  You can actually aim that thing and it's not like the toilet bowl is a small target.  STOP PEEING ON MY FLOOR!!!!"
13. What I actually said:  "I wish nothing but the best for you!"
    
    What I should have said:  "You're a horrible person.  I hope you catch the clap."
14. What I actually said:  "No offense taken."
    
    What I should have said:  "You're a dick.  Just because you said 'no offense' right before you say something offensive, doesn't make it any less offensive.  Still highly offensive.  Dick."
15. What I actually said:  "I don't care, you pick."
    
    What I should have said:  "Holy Christ.  When I say 'I don't care, you pick', what I really mean is, 'you should know me well enough by now to know exactly what I really want.  I don't really care what you want, I want you to pick what I want.'  I'm really testing you, and you just failed.  I can't know you anymore."
16. What I actually said:  "Yes, I've been married before."
    
    What I should have said:  "Ok, here's the thing...I got married for the first time when I was really young.  We were both really young.  And stupid.  Let's not forget stupid.  It didn't take us very long to figure out we did something stupid, and we rectified the situation.  Then, before the ink was completely dry on my first divorce, I was remarried.  It took my second husband and I a little bit longer to realize how stupid we were.  But, rest assured we figured it out and rectified the situation.  So, yes, I've been married, and divorced, twice."
17. What I actually said:  "No, it doesn't bother me that you're still technically married."
    
    What I should have said:  "Goodbye."
18. What I actually said:  "Yep, I have four kids."
    
    What I should have said:  "Yes, I am fully well aware of how that happens.  We did it *gasp* on purpose.  None of my kids were 'mistakes', they are my blessings.  And no, not that it's ANY of your business, but we're not having any more kids."
19. What I actually said:  "I do."
    
    What I should have said:  "Probably not."
20. What I actually said:  "It'll all be ok."
    
    What I should have said:  "Good Lord, I really hope it'll all be ok.  I mean, I don't fucking know how the future is going to turn out.  I mean, maybe you'll be ok, and maybe you won't.  How am I supposed to predict the level of okness???  What if it all falls apart and everything goes to shit, what then???  Am I then responsible for all the bad that's going to happen because I don't want to be responsible for all that!  Fuck that noise!  Look, I'm fairly certain everything will all be ok.  I mean, it should be.  I'll be here for you no matter what, if that's any kind of consolation to you.  You do have a back up plan, right???"

The flu is the mother of all eff you's

I hate being sick.  No, I REALLY hate being sick.  More than the average person.  Trust me.  I get all kinds of whiney and bitchy and I really like to spread that shit around.  The part that really stinks about me getting sick, is that I still have to pull mom duty.  Three out of four of my kidlets are also sick.  It started with my baby girl.  About two weeks ago we were told she had bronchitis, complicated by her asthma (asthma that hasn't been an issue in almost a decade!).  Fast forward a week and she's somehow managed to catch the flu, on top of the bronchitis complicated by her asthma.  The next one to get lucky was my other asthmatic, Stevie.  He is the only one to have received the flu shot this year, and it seems it just didn't work in stopping him from getting the flu.  Sad panda.  The next one to catch it was my Hopie.  My teenager who is missing finals week.  She's terribly torn up about it couldn't care less right now because she's all kinds of feverish and drippy.  The last in line to catch this crud is yours truly.  I have to care for three sickos when my head feels like someone has given a good twang to a tuning fork and then held it to my head. 

 

We are all kind of hating life right now. 

 

Some of us *cough the baby cough* got some really good drugs.  The rest of us got screwed.  We're all kind of eyeing the child's Tamiflu and vicoden cough syrup.  Stevie has even asked if I've learned how to calculate the efficacy of splitting one person's script for Tamiflu amongst two people.  I'm going to assume that my darling sweet child was wanting me to be the one to share the medication....Please rest assured that we are not sharing medications.  I would never, ever do that.  Especially since I haven't started nursing school yet, and my math for clinicals isn't until next semester.  :o)

We have our own personal pharmacy.

I never knew that a person could be soooo tired from doing so much nothing.  Seriously.  I woke up, moved camp to the sofa, checked on my kidlets, did the dishes, and was so spent that it was a good two hours before I could muster the strength to open my eyes again.  What the hell????  How does that even work???

 

I'm exhausted.  I don't think I've ever faced an in home pandemic like this before.  I've had several sickos at once before, but I can't think of a time when there's been this many, along with myself!  It's a bit overwhelming!!!  I've had to deal with quite a bit.  

 

In the last few days I've heard the following complaints/concerns/questions:

 

• My eyes hurt when they're open.
• My eyes hurt when they're closed.
• My pee smells weird.
• If I lick someone, will they get the Ebola?
• Do they make nose plugs?  I need a nose plug to keep my snot from dripping out.
• Why do I have to take that medicine?  It tastes like the inside of a toilet.
• Will I die if I spit the medicine out?
• Why did Rosie have to get us all sick?
• Do I really have to wear a mask? 
• Why can't everyone else wear a mask?
• My mask smells weird.
• Maybe if you brushed your teeth, the inside of your mask wouldn't smell.
• Mom, can you please tell him/her to shut up.
• Can you please tell *insert the name of offending child* to stop coughing?  My head hurts.
• Can you please tell *insert the name of offending child* that I can't help that I'm coughing so much.  It's not like I'm enjoying this.
• Mom, you snore so loud I can hear you in the living room.
• Mom, you snore louder than dad.
• Mom, can you please stop snoring so much?

I'm a bit frazzled, to say the least. 

 

Can't tell you how happy I am that no one is puking!!!

 

 

In my febrile state I've decided to make a list of things you simply must do if you are unfortunate enough to get sick with the flu.

 

 

1) Find Jesus.

Seriously.  There have been a few moments where I felt fairly certain I was about to meet my maker.  There have been a few times where I felt certain that if my children didn't stop fighting amongst themselves, and threatening to lick each other's pillows, that they were going to meet their makers.

 

2) Invest in some really nice facial tissues.

This is not the area you want to skimp on.  The Puffs Plus with lotion is my personal fave.  You do NOT want to have to blow your nose when it's raw and chaffed from the rough as bark generic brand of tissues!

 

3) Get Soap and Lysol.

I would think the reason behind these would be obvious.  Kill all the germs.  Get the door knobs, phones, remotes, computer mouse, your children...

 

4) Buy a really great bottle of cough syrup.

Now, I know there is some controversy surrounding cough syrup.  My grandfather (he was a doctor and usually was always right) said they were generally a waste of money, except for the expectorants.  But really, who the fuck wants to make the coughing worse?!?!  Me, I like mine with a level of alcohol that is higher than my vodka.  The only thing it really cures is my consciousness, but I'm ok with that.  My kids seem to really appreciate that, too...

 

5) Grab a fabulously soft, warm, comfy blanket.

Something light enough that you can fling it off you when your body suddenly decides to go from shivering cold to oven hot in 2.6 seconds.

 

6) Get a paper and pen.

This is mostly beneficial for those who are on medications, or have kidlets on meds, and need to keep track of when and what they're taking.  Don't trust your kids to keep track.  Their concept of time is ridonculous. 

 

7) Keep your sense of humor.

You're going to feel like death, but laughing is good medicine.  Even if you're only laughing at yourself.  

 

We're a hot mess.

 

 

8) Find something good to watch.

Self explanatory.  If you don't plan ahead for this kind of emergency scenario, you're going to be stuck watching infomercials and Jerry Springer type talk shows and reality courtroom shows.  Unless those shows are your cup of tea, in which case, forgo this step.  I promise not to judge you, I love Jersey Shore.

 

9) Get a  sick buddy.

Who wants to be sick alone???  Find someone you can tolerate and wouldn't mind being quarantined with, and lick their toothbrush. 

 

10) Download Candy Crush or Flappy Bird or Hulu or something to your phone.

You're going to be spending lots of time in bed and it gets boring staring at your ceiling for hours on end.

 

11) Find someone who is willing to come over and help.

Seriously.  Because my children feel the need to use a new cup EVERY SINGLE TIME they get a drink.  And because my children have used ALL of my forks and spoons, for the last three days in a row.  I've done more dishes in the last three days than I have all year.  They're nucking futs with this shit!  I'm exhausted and just don't have the energy to do another dish.  Or clean the up all the used tissues off my floor.  I need some help!

12) Lastly, get some sleep.

Not like I've had much choice in the matter....

 

I hope none of you have to deal with the flu this season, this shit is horrible!!!!



My Letter to a Child Psychiatrist

So, I have a few kids.  Four to be exact.  In three short months I will be the mother of three teenagers.  Three.  Let me break this down for you...that's about a 30% increase in teenagers; three times more teenagers than mom; a greater amount of teenagers than I've ever had.


I may be freaking the fuck out.


I'm already feeling a bit overwhelmed with just two.  In fact, I've been so overwhelmed recently, I decided to write a letter to a child psychiatrist I found online:


Dear head doctor of psychiatry,  *I really was trying to be punny here got lucky with that one


I am searching for some help for my kiddos.  I have four, aged 11 to 19.  They are my pride and joy, the lights of my life, my motivation for getting up in the morning, my everything.  I love them with every fiber of my being.  They are truly amazing individuals.


And they are all attitudey, ornery, self involved little assholes. 


I have one child who wants to be a doctor.  Not just any doctor, but an orthopedic surgeon.  How effing awesome is that?!  She wants to go to med school.  She wants to spend about a billion years (and dollars) going to school. 


I'm impressed.  I thought I wanted to be a lawyer when I was growing up.  The fact that lawyers go to school almost as long as doctors kept me from actually doing it.  That and having actually tried to read a law book.  Granted I was like 11, but still.  Talk about wordy.

Anyway, she has plans.  However, I can't seem to get this asshole to go to class.  Lately she'd prefer to be eating pizza or wandering aimlessly.  Then, she has the nerve to act confused as to why I'm furious with her when she gets caught.  Do you have any idea how inadequate a parent feels when their kid is such an obvious asshole?  I HATE being called into the school.  Why does it always have to be my kid that gets in trouble?  There are something like a thousand kids at this school, so why is it always my kid?


How am I supposed to get her to med school when I can't even get her through high school???


Now, I wasn't an angel as a kid.  My parents had to pick me up from the police station a time or two.  We don't really need to talk about the various holding cells I've been found in.  I was a problem child, for sure.  But, one time getting busted for something generally cured me of doing it again.  What's wrong with my child that she just keeps doing things she shouldn't?!?!


Then there's my child who is far too like Reese Witherspoon's character, Tracy Flick, from the movie Election.  She is so involved.  In everything.  Every.  Thing.  Honestly, I don't know how she can keep up with herself.  I certainly can't.  It's like some sort of weird OCD thing where she has to be in all the clubs, organizations, groups, activities, plays, musicals, battle of the books, off track betting, student council, and societies she can find.  It's exhausting.


Ok, so when I was younger, I too did musicals and plays and clubs and church trips and random extracurricular unsupervised field trips.  But, I'm an only child.  My parents could handle it all.  They lived for going to hear me sing jingle bells for the 974th time.


But there are four of them and one of me.  Why can't she understand that all her activities are wearing me out???  She's already got quite the resume for her college applications, and she's not even in middle school yet!  How do I get her to slow down some???


Oh, and then there's my oldest.  *sigh*  He's killing me.  He's so intelligent.  He finished high school with honors (after having a "problem child" episode or two...) and was taking classes that are harder than most of my college level classes.  That I struggle in.  He has talent.  So.  Much.  Talent.  He drums.  He's been doing it for close to 8 years now.  He's gifted, even if he doesn't think so.  He's also very impressionable.  He let someone close to him talk him out of going to school for a teaching degree in music.  It's what he wants to do.  It's his passion.  It's not a phase he's going through, it's not a passing fancy.  He's incredible and wants to share this passion with others.  I think it's wonderful.

So, how do I get him to see that he should follow his heart and do what he wants to do with his life???  Instead of going to school and learning how to teach, he's given up and dropped out of college.  It's like he's lost his will to play sometimes.  It makes my heart sad.  How do I get him to shut everyone else out and listen to what he wants???

Alright, I let someone convince me that being an English major wouldn't amount to much in the "real world".  I gave up on my passion.  I'm not saying I'm not happy with my choices, but it wasn't where I pictured myself ending up.  I wanted to do wordy things.  I guess I'm not too far off the mark with a major in ASL and a minor in communication...

Then there's my little man.  He's my rock star.  He's bipolar, just like his mom.  He's also an Aspie.  But, I know he's got big things in store for him.  He can soar to the moon and back, if he wants.  He's about the smartest kid I've ever met.  And he has personality for days.  He has a stunning smile and a kind heart and he's quite the catch.  The problem lies in that he doesn't see it.  He doesn't have much confidence.  It breaks my heart.

I grew up feeling very much the ugly duckling.  I was teased for my full lips and my full hips.  I wasn't fat, I was curvy.  Only curvy wasn't what all the other girls in my grade where.  They were all bean poles.  I wanted to be a bean pole.  I was a size 9 and thought I was fat.  No telling me to the contrary would abate my way of thinking.  And my "super model lips that every grown woman was envious of?"  Yeah, well those women didn't have to ride the bus with me and listen to a rendition of "Do your lips hang low?"  Confident was about the last thing I ever was.

So, how do I get him to see how stunning he is???  How do I get him to see past his hang ups and see what I see???

How do I get my kids to see the light???  My parents were so lucky, I never gave them any problems or reason for concern.

Please help.


This was his reply:

Good afternoon,

I am completely bewildered as to where your children might have picked these things up from.  Have you ever thought about seeking regular therapy?  I'm setting aside some time Mon, Wed, and Fridays, just for you.  I hope we can get to the bottom of all your children's problems. 

Sincerely,

Head Doctor of Psychiatry (by the way, that pun was so original...)

Are You There, God??? It's me, Kristin.

I occasionally constantly talk to myself.  Like, a lot.  I always joke that I only talk to myself when I need an expert's opinion.  But, there's truth in humor.  :o)  I guess maybe that sounds a bit narcissistic.  It is.  But, I'm not the only expert I'm speaking to...

For a good portion of the first half of my 39 years I was spoon fed the beliefs of others, and accepted it blindly.  I've banked on the existence of a higher power.  When I stop and think about it, really and truly give it thought, I have to admit that there are things that have happened that I can't explain away except by admitting the existence of a higher power.  Now whether that is the Christian God, fate, Allah, yin and yang, Ch'i,  Karma, or some other divine deity I can't say.

I believed in God, and I believed whole heartedly.  I was even *gasp* religious.  I know, hard to believe.  But, I was young and rebellious.  We'll call it "peer pressure."   

I can almost without a shred of doubt pinpoint the exact moment when I started to question the existence of God.  I was in a dark, dark place.  My entire life had come unhinged and changed forever.  Irrevocably.  At the time it felt like the entire world was conspiring against me.  Like some sort of synchronized choreographed dance of evil conspiracy.  And it was quite clear that Karma was a dumb bitch who obviously needed GPS (except when it comes to me...home girl seems to always know where I am).  I just couldn't believe that any God would so completely abandon me.

This train of thought was further fueled by a couple mythology classes that left me seriously wondering if God was nothing more than a myth. 

By the way, I'm recently of the opinion that I should, at all costs, avoid any and all philosophy classes.  I'm almost certain that I would never again be able to sleep.  Fuck, I can't shut down at night as it is!  Same goes for any class that involves human nutrition, but that's for another reason altogether.  Seriously, I won't even eat Cheetos Puffs anymore.  Or Fig Newtons.  Makes me rather sad.

I digress.

Now I'm stuck somewhere between believing in God, wanting to believe in God, believing in reincarnation (please reserve judgment, but I often wonder if Albert Brooks had it right in Defending Your Life.  Seriously, please reserve judgment.), and believing we're all a bunch of random bits and nothing means anything and God is indeed a myth.  A myth made up by humans in order to extend life beyond the end of our earthly existence, a way to immortalize ourselves. 

I'm trying to find my believe again.  It's there, I know it is. 

I keep talking to Him, hoping for some sort of "proof of life".  I keep searching for some sort of answer for this existence.  Something that makes it all make sense.  I wonder if my words are falling on deaf ears.  I wonder if it's a waste of time.  I wonder if I should be talking to Methuselah or Loki, instead. 

Mostly I just wonder.

Man, I truly and seriously hope this isn't one of those "you just can't know until you're dead" kind of deals.  That would seriously depress the shit out of me.  And really, if there's nothing beyond this, then there won't be any kind of epiphanous moment following my departure...

Jesus wept, someone please tell me this shit is "normal", and not some sort of existential "I'm about to turn 40" midlife crisis!  Please tell me I am not  the only one who has soooo many (likely irrelevant) thoughts!!!

A Different Kind of Hope

I'm not a big one for playing the "what if" game.  I generally try to avoid it at all costs, simply because there's no point to it.  It's like trying to dress a rose bush...you can do it, but it's difficult and often times painful and there's really zero point in trying.  However, there is one time that I'm guaranteed to play the "what ifs".  It's every year, the Friday following Thanksgiving.
 
The Friday following Thanksgiving has, for the last fifteen years, been an incredibly painful reminder of just how fragile life is.  It's a reminder that life can, and does, change in the blink of an eye.  It's a reminder to not take things, especially each other, for granted.  It's a reminder that our time here is not guaranteed.  It's a reminder of the day that my oldest daughter, Hope, became deathly ill and literally had one foot out the door.
 

When Hope was six months old she contracted bacterial meningitis that entered her body through an ear infection.  She spent ten days in the hospital, four of those in the picu in a medically induced coma.  A coma we weren't sure would be reversible.  We ended each day not knowing if we'd get another with her.  We weren't sure what damage had been done when she stopped breathing and had to be resuscitated.  We weren't sure if she would ever be the same again.  I did know that I was never going to be the same again.  Watching your child dying in front of you leaves you forever changed.
 
You entertain the worst of the worst thoughts known in existence.  Like, what will I bury my child in?  Do they make coffins that small??  How will I ever be able to get over the death of my child???

That remains the single darkest moment in my life.

It's so hard to not acknowledge the what ifs in this sort of scenario.  I constantly ask myself what would have happened if we hadn't gotten to the hospital when we did.  What if the doctor didn't recognize the serious nature of my daughter's illness as quickly as he had.  She'd had one seizure at home, and we rushed to the hospital, but it was a 25 minute drive.  By the time we got there and got triaged and into a room, almost an hour had passed since the seizure.  She was almost behaving normally by then.  What if the doctor had been distracted and missed some of the signs.  What if we had gotten a different pediatrician at the hospital we were transferred to.  What if he hadn't been a fucking rock star who knew his shit.  What if she had suffered some serious brain damage from being oxygen deprived.  Oh my God, the list of what ifs could go on for days.

So, I end up spending about half the day playing the what if game.  I mourn the loss of daughter's hearing.  I mourn damage we do know about and the damage we're blissfully unaware of. 

But then I see her crooked smile and remember that I still have her.  She's not quite as whole as she was that Thanksgiving (none of us are), but she's still here.  I get to hug my daughter.  I get to watch her grow into the charming, witty, and intelligent young lady she's becoming.  I get to sneak up behind her (because I'm super sneaky she can't really hear me) and scare the shit out of her.  I get to go to the Gay pride parade and be a proud mom.  I get to sit on the couch and get lost in an episode of Grey's with her.  I get to see her growing up to be every bit as quirky as her mother.

I am so blessed to have been given this time with her.  I'm so thankful to have this beautiful person in my life!!!

Help

I'm not big on asking for help.  I'm generally much happier giving help than receiving it.  But, I need help so I'm asking for it.  If you're inclined to do so, please give.  Thank you.  If you can't, thank you anyway.  Hope you all have a blessed Thanksgiving and get to spend some quality time with family!

Stone Soup Living

I started my latest journey on February 14th of this year.  My girls and I moved out of my ex husband's house (he and our kids and I made the decision to cohabitate in an effort to keep a roof over everyone's heads) and into the apartment we're in now.  I was beyond excited to be moving, for a number of reasons, but the best part of our moving meant that I'd be moving next door to my person.  Her door is literally three feet from mine.  It's pretty awesome.

My handsome fella.

My person is...well, she's amazing.  As far as best friends go, I've hit the jack pot.  I have truly awesome friends.  Seriously.  You should all be fairly green with envy.  One of my dear friends recently took me shopping for my ex husband's girlfriend's tortoise that my kids and I somehow ended up with.  I whole heartedly have come to love my Mister Tuttle .  He's a handsome fella and he just makes my heart melty.  She knows that I'm struggling to care for my human kids right now, but that he has needs.  So, she took me to get him a heating lamp and some new bedding.  Seriously made me cry.  My Mister is all kinds of happy (and warm!) right now.  Yet another friend came over and kept me company (and got me a little bit completely snockered).  Then she had her husband bring us over a sofa.  Another friend is working to help me land a job, and helped me with my resume.  Then there's my person.  She is my resident therapist and that little voice that leads me to act appropriately.  She's like Jiminy Cricket.  She's my Jiminy Cricket who brings me food and watches tv with me. 

See, amazing friends.

When the girls and I moved in, we decided to throw a Christmas in February party.  It was a total blast!  I love spending time with my friends.  I love parties.  And I especially love food.  I think this party was truly the beginning of our stone soup way of life.  What transpired in the following months has been a truly wonderful blessing! 

It started with one meal, and then blossomed into  much more.

So good they should be illegal!

We now regularly swap meals (and ingredients).  She'll cook something yummy, and it'll end up on my plate.  I'll make chocolate chip banana nut bread, and they'll get a third of the loaf.  She makes yummy hamburger soup, and my family raids her fridge for as long as it's in there.  I make a batch of Hot Cocoa Rice Krispies treats and she gets....ok, that one wasn't a great example.  Those are reeeeaaally hard to share!  I shared the cinnamon rolls, though!

My point is this.  We've realized that we don't have a lot.  Seriously, nothin.  But, together we've got something.  I've got the pot, she's got the stone.

In the past I have firmly declared that I am not at all domesticated.  I hated to cook.  Hated.  Who wants to work all day, go to school all day, clean, do laundry, go to the store, etc. and then have to come home and spend a couple of hours in the kitchen?  Who has time for that shit???  Thank you, no.  However, in the last nine months I've really come to enjoy it.  I love having someone to cook and bake for!

I love that I have a ready made village to share the burden of life's hardships, as well as the joys, with!  And I really love the fucking food!!!!!

Hope

Well, after what's been a monumentally craptacular few months, I am finally starting to feel that things may be starting to finally turn around.  A bit.  Still no job, but I'm feeling hopeful again.  I've had an outpouring of love and help from some amazing friends this week.  I am truly grateful to have such wonderful people in my life.  It's far too easy to lose sight of all the good in your life when you're constantly bombarded with reminders that your life is kind of in the crapper at the moment.  It's easy to forget that you need to stop each day and remind yourself that you're actually doing ok and have more going for  you than you previously thought.  This week I was reminded that I have great friends, and it's time to let them back in and accept the help being offered.  Thank you to my awesome friends for being oh so awesome!

For a while now, I've been fighting a battle that cannot even be seen.  I've been waging a war on myself, fighting to be victorious over my own brain.  I've been so lost inside of myself that I now find my world has gotten rather small.  I've been nesting and making my home so warm and comfortable that I've had a hard time wanting to leave it!  Now comes the part where I need to just push through and finish this marathon session of self loathing and pity and get back to living.  Not an easy task.  Most days I long to crawl into bed and pull the blankets up over my head and ignore the rest of the world.  I am super happy to report that I have not yet done so.  I do cry, but I'm still of the opinion that crying isn't necessarily a bad thing.  You burn something like 10 calories an hour crying, so how can that possibly be a bad thing?!  Plus, it's cathartic.  Truly and seriously.  Every once in a while I find a good cry can be the best thing to fix my mood.  A good chest heaving, swollen eyes, nose dripping, ugly cry.  And thanks to some trying events of late, I've been able to have a few of those cathartic cries.



I've found myself trying to take things back to basics.  I've been reminding myself that I cannot run before I first learn to walk (ya just gotta love those tried and true clichés!).  I've spent a lot of time thinking about Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs and how I keep trying to accomplish top of the pyramid crap when what I need to be focusing on is the base needs.  Seems logical.  I think I may have finally gotten the basics down *takes a deep breath and a bite of cinnamon roll* and am ready to move onto the next row. I feel fairly certain that I'm ready to move past this shit and get on with life.

And really, I'm not all that bad off at the moment.  Yeah, shit sucks.  We're broke.  Like, seriously broke.  I look back at decisions I've made and wish that maybe I'd been just a little more careful with my funds.  Maybe done a few things differently.  But, there's not much I can do about that now.  Time to just suck it up and move forward. 

I like to find a reason for the shit.  A purpose for it.  A silver lining, if you will.  And the last year has served as a much needed learning experience.  I'm reminded that I'm still vulnerable and need to protect myself, because there are still lying assholes in the world who are out to only further themselves.  I'm reminded that trust and respect are things to be earned, not given freely.  I'm reminded that I am just as important as the next person.  I have definitely been reminded that actions are more convincing than words.  Truly, all valuable lessons. 

In the last six or seven months, I've come under a lot of scrutiny from certain individuals who feel they are entitled to have an opinion about my life and how I live it.  I've been told that I'm doing it all wrong, that I'm failing, and that I'm useless.  I choose to reply thusly:  fuck you.  Until a single step has been walked in my shoes (and I say step because I'm not sure most people could make it a mile in my shoes) you don't have a clue what I'm going through, what I've been through, or the amount of shit I have to deal with on a regular basis.  And here's the thing...I'm still here.  I'm still fighting and soldiering on.  I haven't given up.  I haven't quit.  I have a whole lotta fight still left in me.  Do not count me out just yet.  I have started over a number of times.  Started over from scratch.  I may not be "winning", but I'm still here.  I'm like the Energizer Bunny, I just keep going. 

I'm no where near ready to give up yet.  I have a lot more fight left in me.  And with each new day, I find myself daring to hope again.  And hope does indeed give me a sense of inner strength.  With a renewed sense of hope, I can conquer anything I set my mind to. 

Depression is the mother of all eff you's.

Well, today marks the three month "anniversary" of the last day I worked.  In those three months I've accomplished a whole lot of not much.  I've tried, I sincerely and truly have.  I get up everyday.  I go through all the motions of being a functioning, contributing member of society.  I brush my teeth, sometimes put on a bra, sit on the sofa, put something mindless on the television, go about searching down jobs that 427 other people are also applying for...and then I cry.  No, seriously, I cry.  A lot.  At some point I'd like to think I'll run out of tears.  I'd like to think that at some point I'll just snap out of it and remember how it feels to be happy.  At some point I'd absolutely love to find a fucking job. 
I miss money almost as much as I miss happiness.  My bills are piling up and our belts are all getting just a tiny bit tighter.  I'm not at all suggesting that we're starving, or even close to being close to starving.  I am waiting for my utilities to get shut off at any moment, but we're not starving.  I will fight to keep our lights on and a roof over our heads, but this fight is starting to wear me down.
I have approximately 3,968 moments of sheer anxiety, each and every day.  The vast majority of these happening at night, when I'm laying in bed, desperately searching for sleep.  Sleep alludes me on a regular basis, and yet somehow that's all I feel like I do.  I can assure you though, I don't.  I toss.  I turn.  I cry.  I sometimes vomit.  I worry.  I play the "what if" game.  I rehash every single decision I've made that's led me to this point.  I think about things that happened 14 years ago, in another lifetime.  I wonder if tomorrow will be the day I get a call about a job interview.  I wonder if tomorrow will be the day we lose our power.  Or the internet (truly my lifeline at this point!).  I wonder if my kids will be able to overcome their childhood and survive my raising them.  I wonder if I will.  And I panic.
I do this over and over and over.  It's become routine now.  I know I am in the depths of despair and I know how I got here.  I even know what I need to do to get past this.  However, I am stuck.  It feels like I'm stuck in quicksand.  It feels like the harder I struggle, the harder I try, the deeper and more desperate I get.  And time just doesn't seem to be my friend.  I know I've got lifelines, amazing friends who support me and what not. 
My friends are pretty awesome.  I know that some of them understand EXACTLY what I'm going through.  Some don't have a clue.  Some are probably really tired of having to help me out so damned much, or listen to me whine about all my first world problems.  Some of my friends do regular "well checks", message me, come by, do random nice things in hopes of cheering me up.
Yet, I feel horribly and utterly alone.  I know I've barricaded myself in my own little hidey hole and put up the "do not disturb" sign.  I know I'm not at all inviting at times.  I know people don't quite know how to deal with me right now.  I get it.  Hell, it wasn't all that long ago I was telling a friend that isolation is the WORST thing for you when you're depressed, and did my best to cheer them up.  But I somehow can't seem to cheer myself up and find it in me to interact with other humans.
Please believe I've tried.  I don't enjoy being the social equivalent of a groundhog.  I want to want to leave my hole, go outside and do things, get paid to leave my house for eight hours a day, have fun, and do more than just survive.
I want to live again.
I want it so fucking desperately. 
Great, I just realized how depressing that all sounds. 
I promise I'm not "hurt myself" depressed.  I get up every morning.  I face each day with hope that something, anything, will go my way.  I want that stupid scale to tip in my favor.  I don't need a lot.  Seriously.  A job and a few Xanax's (I'm fairly certain my script that expired in 2011 is more dangerous than helpful at this point...) and a few hundred dollars to get my bills paid.  I'm not greedy.  :-)
So if I seem not myself the next time we talk, please know that it's me, not you.  Please don't feel compelled to treat me like a ticking time bomb, I'm not going to explode.  Don't be afraid to ask me how I am doing.  I can certainly talk to you about my depression, I'm not shy.  Do feel free to give me a hug, cry with me, give me a job, pay a bill (dealer's choice as to which one!), and just be my friend.  I will get past this.  It's just going to take some time.  :-)
Well, that certainly was a whole lot of sad shit right there.  Sorry for being all Debbie Downer so early in the week.  But, it's kind of cathartic putting pen to paper (metaphorically) and writing down your thoughts/feelings.  So, I guess I'm really not all that sorry...

On the Road Again

Tuesday I was asked to join my bestie for an impromptu road trip to La Junta.  I had never been to La Junta before (and had absolutely nothing else going on) and my bestie asked me, so off we went.  After a rough and rocky (and incredibly slow) start, we were off! 

I'm what's known as a "city girl".  I don't do farm animals.  For a multitude of reasons, but mostly because they stink.  In order to get to La Junta, we had to travel through some serious cattle ranch country.  Now, I don't know the extent of all y'alls experience with cattle ranches, but they stink.  Not just a little stink, either.  It's a big stink!  It's an eye watering, wishing you were a mouth breather, peel the paint of the truck kind of stink.  It smells like an old and rotting dirty diaper.  Yeah.  And the crux of it is, the smell sticks with you.  Even hours after we got home, I could still smell it.  I was assured that you become acclimatized to the smell at some point.  I kind of doubt this theory and am not at all anxious to test it.  Every time we drove past a cattle truck....oh I wanted to hurl.  Badly.

Our view for most of the trip...

Then there's the fact that the hundred or so miles (if you go the out east route to get there) is nothing but plains, broken up by a few houses scattered all over the middle of East God's Nowhere.  No seriously, plain plains.  I'm fairly certain we passed Laura Ingalls at some point.  It was seriously monotonous!  I can count on my two hands the number of trees we saw.




Isn't that beautiful?!

I seriously took like 90 sunset pics...


All that being said, it was a simply fabulous road trip!  We had fun and made memories and got an awesome dad to see his amazing kids!  Plus, since there weren't any trees, we were able to see this bomb ass sunset unimpeded!  It was a great trip!!!  Yay for unexpected moments of fun with some of your favorite people!




This is beautiful too!





Like Riding a Bike

It occurred to me in the not too distant past that it's been many a year since I've done any blogging.  Hell, is blogging even something people still do???  Then there's the fact that I'm not all that interesting and do I really have anything important or note worthy, or even moderately entertaining, to say???  Who in their right minds would want to read ANYTHING that I have to say???  Well, looks like I'm going to give it a whirl, anyway.  So, bear with me and maybe we'll all get lucky, and I'll find my voice again and remember how to be amusing and intelligent and not at all off putting...  Ha!