Choose Your Battles

As I mom, I am quite familiar with the phrase "choose your battles," and I try to remember that and to choose wisely with a fifteen-year-old daughter and a seven-year-old son.  However, when it comes to myself, I don't choose wisely.  I choose the option of least resistance because that is what I figure will afford me some peace in my world.  Basically, I choose to be the people pleaser.  I choose to please everyone else around me so that I will not make waves.  I always back down because I feel guilty.  I feel guilty for what; putting myself first, putting my mental health first and putting my well-being first.  

I am on year four of doing this, being the people pleaser, and it has gotten me nowhere positive.  It has gotten me to a spot of constant anxiety for months on end until I hold my breath and hope the holidays pass without too much bloodshed.  Yet, come January I always notice that there was, in fact, the bloodshed that I was trying so desperately to keep away, except I was the only one seeing it because it was only on me.  By not putting myself first out of fear of hurting others, I am damaging myself.  

I think that this is the year I put me first; the fourth year.  I still see guilt in my future, but taking care of myself and my well-being only helps myself and the people that live in my house.  I can stop beating myself up inside and stop taking my anxiety out on the ones that live with me daily.  It really is not fair to take my issues out on the people that love me and only want to help me be happy.

I listened to a song this morning on my way into work that I've listened to at least three dozen times over the past couple of months, and the kids can attest to it as we sing all the songs all the time when they come on, but this one stuck out this morning.  It made me sad because I realized that it is time for me to stand up for myself and my feelings because I cannot walk around with the constant anxiety and fear for another year.  

This is about half the song, the parts that mean the most to me, the words that resonated within my head bouncing between my ears over and over again until I came to my sad realization that I need to put my well-being first and it hurts to do so despite it being the very right thing to do:

If you decide to live by, what you think's wrong and what's right
Believe me you'll begin to wish you were sleeping
Your weeping will creep in your head and you'll cry
But if we wake up every morning and decide what we believe
We can take apart our very heart and the light will set us free

How frustrating and so degrading
His time, we're wasting
As time will fly by and the sky will cry as light is fading
And he is waiting, oh so patiently
While we repeat the same routine as we will please comfortability
Please don't think about why you can't sleep in the evening
And please don't be afraid of what your soul is really thinking
Your soul knows good and evil, your soul knows both sides
And it's time you pick your battle, and I promise you this is mine

- Isle of Flightless Birds; Twenty One Pilots

Since I cannot bring back the past of holiday fun and laughter and good cheer, I will conquer the demons within myself and hope that people can understand I am not out to hurt them but to heal myself from the hurt that is still sitting inside my mind and my chest.  I will do my very best to remember that I cannot control the way people react to the things I say and do, but that I am in complete control of how I react to the reactions of others.  I need to remember that no matter how difficult it can be at times because this is what my mind and soul need.  

It is time to face this anxiety as it is not going to get any better by ignoring it.  I wish "normal" was what I am, but it is not.  I have accepted that and must move forward with it.  Wish me luck.

*cheers*

Choose Your Battles

As I mom, I am quite familiar with the phrase "choose your battles," and I try to remember that and to choose wisely with a fifteen-year-old daughter and a seven-year-old son.  However, when it comes to myself, I don't choose wisely.  I choose the option of least resistance because that is what I figure will afford me some peace in my world.  Basically, I choose to be the people pleaser.  I choose to please everyone else around me so that I will not make waves.  I always back down because I feel guilty.  I feel guilty for what; putting myself first, putting my mental health first and putting my well-being first.  

I am on year four of doing this, being the people pleaser, and it has gotten me nowhere positive.  It has gotten me to a spot of constant anxiety for months on end until I hold my breath and hope the holidays pass without too much bloodshed.  Yet, come January I always notice that there was, in fact, the bloodshed that I was trying so desperately to keep away, except I was the only one seeing it because it was only on me.  By not putting myself first out of fear of hurting others, I am damaging myself.  

I think that this is the year I put me first; the fourth year.  I still see guilt in my future, but taking care of myself and my well-being only helps myself and the people that live in my house.  I can stop beating myself up inside and stop taking my anxiety out on the ones that live with me daily.  It really is not fair to take my issues out on the people that love me and only want to help me be happy.

I listened to a song this morning on my way into work that I've listened to at least three dozen times over the past couple of months, and the kids can attest to it as we sing all the songs all the time when they come on, but this one stuck out this morning.  It made me sad because I realized that it is time for me to stand up for myself and my feelings because I cannot walk around with the constant anxiety and fear for another year.  

This is about half the song, the parts that mean the most to me, the words that resonated within my head bouncing between my ears over and over again until I came to my sad realization that I need to put my well-being first and it hurts to do so despite it being the very right thing to do:

If you decide to live by, what you think's wrong and what's right
Believe me you'll begin to wish you were sleeping
Your weeping will creep in your head and you'll cry
But if we wake up every morning and decide what we believe
We can take apart our very heart and the light will set us free

How frustrating and so degrading
His time, we're wasting
As time will fly by and the sky will cry as light is fading
And he is waiting, oh so patiently
While we repeat the same routine as we will please comfortability
Please don't think about why you can't sleep in the evening
And please don't be afraid of what your soul is really thinking
Your soul knows good and evil, your soul knows both sides
And it's time you pick your battle, and I promise you this is mine

- Isle of Flightless Birds; Twenty One Pilots

Since I cannot bring back the past of holiday fun and laughter and good cheer, I will conquer the demons within myself and hope that people can understand I am not out to hurt them but to heal myself from the hurt that is still sitting inside my mind and my chest.  I will do my very best to remember that I cannot control the way people react to the things I say and do, but that I am in complete control of how I react to the reactions of others.  I need to remember that no matter how difficult it can be at times because this is what my mind and soul need.  

It is time to face this anxiety as it is not going to get any better by ignoring it.  I wish "normal" was what I am, but it is not.  I have accepted that and must move forward with it.  Wish me luck.

*cheers*

Winter Blues Already

I'm getting antsy at this point in time due to this dreaded time of the year that it is.  I used to adore Fall, and while I am still in love with it, the dread is just hovering underneath the surface ready to kick me square in the face, and my nose is too cute to get punched.  

I used to ride out the winter month to month, you know, once Halloween is over I would do it in terms of the following: 

Okay, April, here we go.  *smacks own ass*  Come on, girl, you got this.  You just need to get through Thanksgiving, and then there is the Christmas preparation  that will keep you busy and here comes the Day After Christmas Deflation, but wait, you won't have too much time to think about that depression shit because hold on, here we go with the random week, week and a half of binge eating and binge drinking and random days off of work because Christmas and New Years falls oddly on the calendar some years, but now it's time to get back into the flow of things with the "after-holiday-depression," but wait, there's more, what, with the stupid Hallmark holiday and then it's so close to St. Patrick's Day (which I don't celebrate as it just gets used as a season marker you see), and then holy shit, I made it into April and it's almost Spring again. I'll look back upon the girl who weathered the storm, so to speak, and see if my shorts will still fit after the Winter we just had.  

If you are the person who falls into the above run-on sentence scenario, I hope you feel better knowing you are not alone.  However, this year, I'm scared shitless.  There were more moments than I care to admit last winter that were completely touch and go.  I honestly didn't think I was going to make it through.  Come to think of it, based upon my actions, I don't believe I made it through "whole," and if we are being honest, there's not much left of me to spare as far as what I can afford to lose as a "whole."  I'm afraid that come next March/April, I'll be feeling somewhat like that "hat" part of the acorn that's left on the ground to dry up and get stepped on after the acorn has fallen out of it.  

At least this year I am equipped with the knowledge that if I'm lucky, I might make it out with my sanity only slightly shattered so I have decided that I will prepare now for what I can only assume will be yet another never-ending-please-let-me-make-it-out-alive winter.  Like today, for example, let's start there.  It is absolutely gorgeous out right now.  It's only 3:00 p.m., and I know by 7:00 p.m. I will be in a hoodie, but I'm so looking forward to taking the kids to the playground,  having a picnic, hitting up the library for new books (and pay that $8.50 fine I have from overdue books...I really have to get my shit together on that one) and go home just as the sun is just about set.  I'll feel really good about the couple of short hours I was able to grab with the weather and the kids.  

I'm also forward-thinking in terms of what kinds of indoor activities can I make a list of for when we are all going stir-crazy and I've had it up to my eyeballs in Lego sets.  I don't have too many just yet.  I've got the gym because, well, my ass needs it and they have daycare there.  There's also the indoor trampoline park that Andrew likes, but that makes me pee my pants when I jump so I'll just take voluminous pictures and videos of him jumping.  And that about sums that shit up, and therefore, this is where you come in with any and all ideas of wintertime fun for us.  My 14 year old daughter, I'm sure, won't give a rat's ass about what we do or don't do because, well, she's got her IPhone and YouTube.  However, I'll admit that while I want to keep this 6-year-old of mine busy, I really need these ideas to keep my sanity.

So please send along your ideas.  However, please be advised that while everything you offer me is a great idea, the following is a list of things I will not consider so please don't try to convert me:

1.    ANY AND ALL THINGS OUTSIDE IN THE COLD AND SNOW.

I'll throw the boy out in the snow but I'll stand at the door and hide behind a Bailey-laced coffee, wearing my footsie pajamas, shivering while watching his nose get red and run snots down the front of his jacket and silently beg him to come inside and snuggle with me and watch Netflix.  I just shuddered so please help a desperate mama out.

In the meantime, I'm going to go check out the menu online for the pizza joint next door to the playground because I declare this afternoon to be Pizza Playground Picnic Afternoon.   I'll be drinking wine this evening while looking over all the ideas I know you guys have for me.  I have faith in  ye readers.

*much love*

The Great Tumble of 2015

There's been quite a bit of stuff going on in our household, but for the moment, let's talk about the big upset of the summer shall we. 

There was that broken wrist of mine from a dumb ass fall that happened hiking and that required surgery resulting in two months out of work.  The most ridiculous thing people said to me had to be, "Well, you couldn't have picked a better time to break yourself."  That line is up there in the Top Ten Stupidest Things to Say to People list.  I think it rivals the thing people from the south say to people up north, "Oh, I just love snow."  No, no you don't love snow.  You have no idea what really living with snow looks like.  It's not snow forts and four wheeling.  Just like a broken wrist in a splint in June and July not working doesn't look like endless days of beaching it or swimming in the pool.  It's pretty much my arm sweating and itching and me being frustrated with not being able to do a damn thing except cry when I can't put my bra on or cry when I finally can put the bra on.  It's the little things, folks.

It also doesn't look like my house is spotless because I have all the time in the world to clean it.  I couldn't even do laundry for weeks because my orthopedic doctor got mad at me when I told him I was excited I could lift the laundry basket.  He actually went slack jawed and asked why I would do such a thing, to which I replied with tears in my eyes, "Because I need to do SOMETHING," to which HE then replied, "Do your physical therapy."  Oh, the defeat because, damn it all, I WAS doing my physical therapy.  To this day, I can't hear the X-Files theme song play without thinking, "Oh, hey, it's my alarm going off yet again reminding me to do my therapy.  It sounds awesome to some being given the go-ahead to do jack shit for two months, but not for this girl who has almost no clue what it is like to sit still.  I sat still for so long that at one point I got hooked onto Teen Mom 2 (yes, yes, it did, in fact, come back) and Catfish.  That was in July, and it is now September and guess who is DVRing Catfish and Teen Mom 2 at this moment?!  FFS I make myself all rumbly tummy thinking about how ridiculous I am.  I blame the broken wrist, damn it all.

It also doesn't look like I got myself into any sort of shape because while it may seem like I could spend countless hours at the gym while the kids were at summer camp, it didn't really happen that way.  It kind of looked like what I would imagine the exact opposite of some celebrity reality show looks like; poor mom with no make up skills struggling to put on a sports bra while one-handedly pouring Fruit Loops into a bowl while some falls on the floor while trying to make a sandwich for camp lunch with one hand while my kid may or may not have brushed his teeth because who the hell has time to follow up on that shit while everything takes twice as long to do because, fuck it, I'll just wear a hat because I can't even put my hair up in a ponytail and then I thank heavens that my kid is somewhat independent and can put his own seatbelt on and sure let's drive that stick shift of a car with one hand because that's always safe, and then drag his ass into camp, sign him in, kiss him and hug him and get back in the car sweating.  Now this is the part where I laugh to myself and think, yeah, sure, I'll get to the gym and put in hours upon hours working out just to get there, find myself completely exhausted from the morning new routine, stay an hour, if that, and go home and fall asleep on the couch.  No one ever informed me that breaking a bone required so much internal energy that to even do normal, every day routine stuff would send one out over the edge of exhaustion.  Seriously, I had zero clue healing would require so much energy.  I consider myself strong, but damn, my poor boyfriend and all the tears he had to witness.  It makes me want to bake him a cake in appreciation, but I'll more than likely just buy it for him because I am still a lazy fucker more often than not.

So let's recap; basically, my summer was not filled with days of laying out tanning (I would just burn anyways, and I would have a horrible white patch where my splint was), a clean house and a loss of 20 pounds.  However, it was a teaching moment in my life.  It seemed that while I was going through the process it was never ending, and once it was time to go back to work, I felt like I didn't take enough advantage of the extra time with my kids.  I feel like there was so much more I could have done with my time off, but in reality, there wasn't.  I did the best I could with the limitations I was given.  I spent extra time with the kids that I normally wouldn't have been given.  I threw a kick ass birthday party for the boy.  I got to see Jillian transition from a camper to a counselor in training.  I eventually got to get caught up on laundry because, despite the scowl I got from my surgeon, I wasn't going to let no stinkin' laundry basket get the better of me.  I did end up painting some of my living room, which I will never do ever again, broken wrist or not.  Most of all, the most important thing I learned is that no matter what happens to me, I will continue to move forward to the positive and that when there never seems to be a light at the end of the tunnel, my house is filled with people that love me and have my back and will help hold me up through all of it.  Maybe I will make that damn cake after all. 

Bucket Lists and Anxiety

I should be fast asleep, but my arm won't let me.  Just when I think I have a hold of my anxiety, something takes a tighter hold and creates the wormhole I try to avoid...daily.

The older I get the more often I hear about bucket lists.  I think they're stupid.  I mean if you want to go somewhere, do something, make an impact in your world or someone else and their world, why in the hell do you need to put it on a piece of paper in list form and cross it off as you go?!  It strikes me odd that I think this way as I am a list maker, a line crosser-offer if you will.  I like to accomplish things, tasks big and small, things that matter to others, things that matter only to myself.  I wish not to travel to all these far away places to make me feel as if I have meaning in my life.  The things that matter most to me in this world are family and friends and the smiles I put on their faces or the hands that I hold during turmoil, the hugs that I give for no reason, the bridges I help cross or help me cross...these are the things that make my life feel fulfilled.

I think about the people in my "real world" and the people in my "online community," and I find that the only difference in "real" and "online" is defined by those who I have hugged and those who I have not.  My online friends are just as real as my daily friends; I want to hug each and every one of them equally and thank them for being a part of my world in whatever way it is they are here.  My group of real world friends is about as small as my group of online friends.  That is just how I work; I would rather have a small group of people to hold in my hand and give my heart to than to spread it all around to just anyone.

So in my state of anxiety and my inability to sleep I start thinking about my people, my small group of people who I love without question.  I am having a real hard time being out of work right now because I am part of a team at work.  I enjoy being part of that team, and all my work is falling upon one person at the moment.  She is my friend, and I can't even begin to thank her for not once thinking poorly of me (or at least letting me know she's thinking poorly of me) and not for one second dropping the ball.  She has picked up where I suddenly left off without warning.  I know she is thinking exactly like I do; you have to do what you have to do to keep the team going.  I love her for that and for so many more reasons than I have time for.  

I am so grateful for all the behind the scenes check-ins I've been receiving.  I'm so very loved, and I didn't really realize how very loved I am.  I mean I "know" I'm loved, but when someone checks in on you that you haven't talked to in months, you kind of give pause and an extra thank you for the person(s) reaching out to you.  I can't begin to name every person that has meaning to me because if I start a list that so many of you love to do, it becomes overwhelming and so long.  I also know I would surely leave someone out and then I would feel like an asshole, and I already feel like an asshole more often than not so I won't intentionally do it to myself.

Back to the bucket list I started talking about, and not to sound melancholy and sorry for myself, but rather just trying to keep it real, my bucket list does not hold places I want to go to, but rather people I want to go to and hug, people that after I hug them I want to be shown what their town is like, what their world holds for them, the people that they call family and friends.  One of my biggest fears is loving these people from afar, having relationships with them and growing old never being able to hug them, knowing so much about them but never being able to see their smile in front of my face.  

I don't really have any desire to leave the States (except to head to Australia for that one special dollface).  My desire is to meet and stand for a moment in the world of the people I consider my friends.  My bucket list isn't very long for as I mentioned earlier I keep my group small.  However, I fear I won't be able to see those faces that mean so much to me.  I have no idea where to start or how to start to get to those faces which I suppose is what is keeping me up tonight, which I have to tell you is a bugger of a thing right now.  I have a full day ahead of me tomorrow, and all I can do is think about the people I care about.  

If I haven't thanked you lately for extending a hand or a kind word to me, please know it is not because I have forgotten about it but simply because there are not enough hours in the day to send everyone love all at once.  Thank you for being the laugh I need at the exact moment I need it, the swoon in my heart when I didn't realize I was looking for it.  You all should know by now the way I get through shit is by finding the humor in it, and I thank you for being the exact amount of humor and love at just the right moments.

Regrets

We all have them.  We all have tons that we openly admit to others.  We have some darker ones that we keep to ourselves.  We have maybe one or two that we share with a close someone.  Shit if I don't have a half a dozen to two dozen regrets.  I regret making out with my girlfriend because she ended up being a piece of shit.  I regret cheating on Chris Vincent because he really is a good, solid dude.  I regret flirting with that guy behind the bar that one time because I got too drunk and puked all over my shoes.  See, who doesn't have at least a few regrets hidden and tucked away for rehashing from time to time.

 

Some of us are lucky enough to have that one regret that plays over and over in our minds until it drives us stark raving mad or at least super extra uncomfortable that we tuck it away for another time to dust off and drive ourselves crazy with.  I have one of those, and it's kind of a doozy.  Although, to be fair, whenever one says that, it is, in fact, a doozy to them.  It's my doozy, not your doozy, but it doesn't make it any less shitty. 

 

 

I miss my dad.  I remember the defining moment like it was this morning.  He called my house, and I told my then-husband to tell him to fuck off.  I told him to fuck off because I thought I was doing the right thing; having another family member's back.  I mean, hell, he hurt that family member really bad so I was informed.  It was only my civic duty as a family member to stand by this person through thick and thin, no matter the consequences.  I guess I never really did give any thought to the fact that he might not be there the next day to accept my apology should I ever find it in me to offer him. 

 

 

I have never in my life felt such remorse for being such a piece of shit to my father as that moment.  I relive that moment just about once every other month.  It doesn't sound like a lot, but when it hurts so bad you cry in your car on the way home from work because you don't want anyone to know what a fucking asshole you feel like, then, yeah, it's often enough.  I wish to my very soul that I had taken that phone call.  I do not believe that he would still be alive this evening because of that.  I just believe that I would have been able to have a couple more months of added memories with my dad.  I am so much like him that sometimes I get angry, but then when I take a minute to think about why he acted the way he did sometimes growing up, and because I am a mom now, I almost fully understand why he reacted the way he did. 

 

 

I didn't have my dad's back at an incredibly crucial time.  In fact, I didn't even need to have anyone's back per se, but yet I took sides, I stood a ground that wasn't mine to stand on.  I regret it once every other month, in my car, on my way home from work.  I won't do it again.  You can't walk a fine line without consequences however, and that is why I won't walk that line.  I've chosen the path on which I walk; the path with not the greatest of outcomes, the path with some shitty consequences.  I will continue to choose sides because you walk this earth as a line walker or a back sider.  This time, I choose me. 

 

I miss my dad.  He deserved so much better than I gave him.  It's up to me to forgive myself for the way I treated him.  Maybe this is the beginning of that self-forgiveness.  I will do for me and mine what I need to do even if it hurts others' feelings in the process.  My only intention is to keep the happiness I have found and helped create close to my heart.  Not everyone is allowed in.  It's my turn to have my own back.  I apologize if some aren't allowed to follow.

The Best Year

I never know how to start these things.  I go for months without writing in text.  I write constantly in my mind, but something always gets in the way.  It's life because that's what always gets in the way.  The difference between when I used the word "life" a couple of years ago and when I use the word "life" now is something I'm not able to put into words that could describe the difference enough.  I don't even know that I could come close to touching the differences.

 

I'm sitting here in front of this screen a day and a half before Christmas with the gratitude that a mom of a newborn feels when grandma and grandpa suddenly announce they'll take the baby overnight.  I often feel like I'm going to blow this good shit I have going on by doing or saying something wrong.  I often get my breath taken away from me at times like this when I'm sitting with utter quiet reflecting upon the goodness that I've been allowed to have.

 

I've had some difficult times; some I've shared with people and some I have not.  I've had more than my fair share of self-doubt, and I know I've said some things I can't take back or thought some things that I hope to hell don't come true.  All those times I have joked about being the reason I have a kid in therapy has come true, and I can openly admit how very grateful I am to have some amazing people in my corner.  I have some serious thank you cards to write to some amazingly wonderful and attentive teachers and guidance counselors, for without them I do not believe my daughter would be as well off as she is.  I always thought I was on top of her and was one step ahead of her.  I have been schooled once again.  Although, I am reminded again and again what an amazing child I have and what a kind soul she has and what a loving creature she is.  I'll take the good with the bad if at the end of the day I can say, yes, that is my daughter and she has a beautiful soul.

 

I have a kindergartener, and he is a boy.  I have a five-year-old boy.  Yes, yes, I do, and yes, that boy does growl at me more often than not lately, and yes, that boy does Hulk-it-up more than I would like, but that boy also looked at me tonight and Eskimo kissed me with that little freckled nose of his and kissed me for no reason at all.  That's a lie; we went out for pizza, but screw you if you think I won't take that as a win.  I also have a boy who has dealt with more than his fair share of bullshit than he should have to deal with.  He is, after all, a big bother.  I never expected, nor wanted, him to be a big brother.  I loved knowing he was a great little brother who had an amazing big sister.  I've had to come to terms with this in my own way, and while I may be struggling some days, this boy is doing much better than his 40-year-old mom.  I'll take the good with the bad if at the end of the day I can say, yes, that is my son and he has a beautiful soul.

 

I have this friend who recently said something to me along the lines of my year has had a storybook ending.  That line has had me smiling since I read it because, while I know it hasn't been without its struggles, I do, in fact, have as close to a storybook story as I can have.  There is no storybook ending because, as cheesy as it sounds, it's still going.  I'm still writing that story, and I have plenty of empty pages to keep filling.  The man in question is currently laid up in bed while I write this, and he has had a very long hospital day, but just like my mom instincts kick in with my kids, it kicked in immediately with him.  I always knew I would take good care of him, but the mom inside me is an amazing being.  She took over without giving me a chance to say a word.  She is a pretty amazing chick.  I'm grateful for the hurting human being in our bed.  It gives me another chance to take care of him and to thank him for willingly walking into our lives and making it so that I know what happy really means.

 

I can say that I am really and truly looking forward to this upcoming year.  I'm realistic and know that there will be downs to go with the ups, but I am ready for them.  I've made it through some shitty moments.  This year hands down has shown me that all the dark hallways have the capability of leading to amazing roads that cross paths with some pretty amazing people.  I do hope I am not jinxing myself by saying any of this out loud.

 

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Much Love, Much Happiness, Much Strength from me to you,

April...

I Banish You Frustration Tears

The frustration inside builds until I either want to cry or I end up lashing out at someone, anyone, and it's never the person(s) that is/are the root of that frustration.  I'm trying to believe that not everyone is an asshole, and so when I let that teetering wall I own budge a little and let someone in, I let them in full force.  I mean, shit, why bother letting anyone in if you're not going to be 100%; all or nothing in my book.  There surely is no point in being half a friend or half a lover or half a shoulder to cry on.

I will never understand the way some human beings exist on this earth and continue to treat people the way they do.  I am not of the understanding of befriending someone to get something from them.  That idea is foreign to me.  I also don't understand at this time in my life how I am so naive in the workings of the human population and how I can get it so fucking wrong so many fucking times.

This is the definition of a friend:

1.  a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard;

2.  a person who gives assistance; a patron; supporter;

3.  a person who is on good terms with another; a person who is not hostile.

This really isn't all that hard of a feat to accomplish with people.  Why can't we all be so black and white insisting that you're either friend or foe.  In simplistic terms, grow up.  If you find yourself not falling into the above three with an individual, stop faking it.  Trust me, they won't mind if you go away because when you go away you take with you all the fake and fake is not anything I need in my days.

I don't wish for anything but contentment in my life.  It's already complicated enough with divorces and family bullshit and children's needs and work that I wish not to add the fake into the mix.  However, I'm a sucker and will give my heart to anyone who might need it.  I mean, it's big enough to offer up to those in need.  However, shame on you for taking advantage of the kindness I offer and that of many others that you treat in such a manner.

I'm going to try my fucking hardest to reclaim my wall that has been played with.  I wish I could say thank you to the handful of assholes that are roaming in and out of my days right now, but the harm you cause trickles down to the ones I love, and for that you disgust me.   When I look past you, please know that it's because I have written you out as you do not deserve the love and the trust you were one given so freely.  I'll be busy looking at those that hold my heart close to them looking to me for nothing but compassion and friendship.  I'll wipe my frustration tears away, but you can't wipe away the black ash that sits upon you weighing you down that only those you've betrayed can see.

Surrounded by Bad Asses

There are two things in my world that are very diverse; my music and my friends.  I don't really see how this is a bad thing.  I have well over 400 songs on my phone (which I need more of damnit) and I have quite a smaller number of friends (which I am very happy about damnit).  

I got to thinking about these two things this morning as the first text conversation I had today was rife with poop discussion.  That was one of the first smiles I had this morning.  How can one not smile and feel grateful when they wake up next to their best friend and have a bodily function kind of conversation with another all within a ten-minute time span.  

My music crosses all sorts of genres just as my friends do, and I'm positive that the one thing each and every friend of mine has in common is their sense of humor.  They all have a different level of humor, but it all comes down to one point:  they all "get" me and they all have a knack for making me laugh whether it's through tears I'm producing over some shit that happened or just a paragraph of profanities I just let slip out of my mouth because my mind was overwhelmed with too many sentence enhancers to hold in.  

I've got friends near and far.  I've got a best friend who, without a second thought, wields a knife through my house looking for an intruder simply because of a meowing cat at the window.  (That's a good story to share some day over drinks.)  I've got friends that I haven't met in person yet feel like they are my brothers and sisters.  I've got friends that I have finally met in person that felt like we just hung out the day prior.  I've got friends near that I don't see nearly enough, but when we get together it's as if days never stood between us.  I've got friends I see almost daily that always seem like a new story is made from our hangouts.  I've got friends that are stuck with me at work yet I'm not sick of them (and let's only hope they aren't sick of me in return).  I've got new friends that I've made recently, and while we aren't thisclose yet, it's evident they've got my back.  

Basically, what this girl has got is a pretty bad ass team of fucked up funny people around me, and you should definitely take that as a compliment.  You all hold a different past experience for being in my life, but the one constant is that you all are amazing souls who have my back in a heartbeat.  No fear, I won't have you battle to the death for me or any shit like that, but I do expect you to keep up with the funnies and the love and the kindness because even on my worst bitchiest and crankiest day, I promise to not forget what you have done for me simply because you cared enough to try to put a smile on my face.

My Maturity Level and Me ...

So Andrew and I were at his school's carnival yesterday, and I had the not-so-much-pleasure of seeing my ex-husband there.  I would like to believe that it's a step in the right direction that I didn't feel as though I wanted to murder him on the spot; I only wanted to puke all over his ugly ass sneakers.  Yeah, that's right, I said ugly ass sneakers.  I'm not above being a petty little bitch.  I couldn't stand his laugh or his smile or his stupid voice, and I really couldn't have been more overjoyed at his announcement of leaving the carnival.  However, this wasn't about me and my disgust and dislike of the man.  This was about Andrew and him being super excited to see his dad and play carnival games with his dad and go on rides and show off for his dad.

As much as I dislike the man I once called my husband, I do feel much happiness when Andrew's face lights up when he sees his dad.  There are plenty of kids that I know who don't have their dad around or who have a dad that only shows up when he feels like it or who only pays child support from time to time and has no desire to see his kid(s).  No matter the circumstances surrounding our divorce (it's mostly his fault though for sure) he is a good dad and for that I am grateful.  I love my boy more than I could ever put into words, those of you with boys can understand, and his happiness comes before mine.  

That's not to say, however, that I never have an overwhelming urge to stomp my feet and pout and cry whenever Andrew shows excitement from seeing his dad.  I'm only human, and I most definitely am a mom, and so help me God, if that man ever hurts him in any way, he will very much be afraid of me.  I still am saddened for the day when Andrew is older and can put two and two together, but I'm optimistic that when that day eventually comes I will have done a better job at raising him than I think I have been doing.  

In the meantime, I will continue to put my boy's well-being ahead of my own childish desires because he is worth so much more to me, and I am very grateful that he has a dad that is involved in his life.  That doesn't stop me and my immaturity from thinking he's a big jerk-face asshole with ugly sneakers and a smile I want to punch right off his stupid jerk head; the big dummy-face.  I would still love to take the ball I'm stomping home with and shove it up his ass, but I'll just smile and wave goodbye and take Andrew's hand in mine, give it a little squeeze and smile when he squeezes mine back.

More Blah Blah Blah...

There is that tell-tale sign of me doing some thinking again; my wrist hurts from twirling my hair into knots.  I sit in my car detangling the tiny knots I've twisted my hair into thinking about what it was that I was thinking about.  Oh yeah, now I've got it; the usual, my body image issues or what I'll just state plain and simple, my fat ass.

I mean I'm not looking to be this svelte hottie who can prance around in a bikini without a care in the world other than making sure my hair is in just the right place and that I smell just like the bottle of suntan oil I most recently used.  Let's face it, folks, my realty is that I'm trying to hide my hips from the beach peoples while trying to make sure my tits don't fall out of my bathing suit hoping to hell no one can smell my pits as I bake in the sun.  Fuck it, I've just convinced myself to stay the fuck home and not hit the beach until at least 5:00 p.m. this summer, when the sun is going down and the hotties with their perfectly manicured nails leave for the day.

All I want is for my inner goddess to be happy with her outer shell.  There is somewhere the happy place where I accept that I am not going to be the "Perfect 10" (whatever the hell that shit is) and just love myself for being real.  Hell, at this point I would be happy to just like myself a tiny bit and to stop berating myself inside my head.  

I recently (re)joined a fitness site thinking I sure as hell could use the motivation.  That backfired on me as quickly as trusting a fart during a recent bought of sickness.  I mean it's not that I'm not happy for those assholes losing weight seemingly so easily.  It's just fuck you, I don't need anyone else reminding me of my failures.  It's like all those goddamn Facebook posts showing off your Tough Mudder accomplishments; I'm proud of you for said accomplishments because I'm seriously not that shitty of a person, but I hate you for reminding me that I am fully capable of doing something so awesome yet my motivation suffers from the ever so popular incredible and crippling not-giving-a-shit.

So here it comes full circle with my hair twisted into knots that I'm reminding myself yet again that it is up to me and me only to do something for myself, to better myself, to make me like me more.  I have amazing qualities that I won't list for you, and I need to take some of those qualities off the shelf, dust them off and use them to remind myself that I am more than the negatives I repeatedly use against me.  

I have come quite a long way in the past two years.  It's now time to be kind and give my inner goddess a break.  She deserves to be treated nicely for she has most certainly kicked some ass as of late.  I deserve it as well.  

One Year Equals Twelve Months

So I had all this shit planned out to say but I lost it all when I COULDN'T REMEMBER MY PASSWORD.  APPARENTLY, I havent been here in quite some time.  I put my password in my "notes" section of my phone -- so basically anyone can have access to my words in typed form should I ever lose my phone.  I know how much people just want to take this shit over.

Anyways, hi there, how have you been, whatcha been up to, how many adventures have you been on and shit like that...

So we are coming up on the year anniversary of when the-now-ex-husband wanted me to getthefuckoutofdodge.  For those that have missed it, here's the recap:

I found sext messages.
I confronted him.
He neither confirmed nor denied.
I said what do you want.
He said take the kids and get out.
I took the kids and got out.
Christmas came.
Christmas went.
New Years came.
New Years went.
I got a new job.
I love the new job.
Divorce court came.
Divorce court went.
The news came.
The news stayed.
My job is no longer new.
I still love no longer new job.
The twins were born.
The twins are almost three months old.
You do the fucking math.

So that's that in a nutshell.  What have I gotten out of that fucking madness?  You like the above list?  I can start the list again.

The list isn't even needing to be a list per se because all the goodness I have doesn't deserve to be in some sort of an order.  I have happiness and clarity.  Are you asking is that it; that's all I need because in those two items holds a lifetime of meaning.  It, of course, is MY lifetime of meaning.  You can create your own, but don't sponge off mine because mine does no good for yours.

I did just move, for those of you that don't know, and I'm happy to say that this move was on MY own terms which basically means one more start over, but I am okay with that.  Start overs are what make amazing stories in our lives.

But for the list makers and lovers out there, I will leave you with this:

My children are happy.
Therefore, I am happy.
I am happy, therefore, I have a guy that does more than hang around with me.
That guy, he adores my kids.
 My kids, they adore that guy.
The job I mentioned above?  I still very much love it.
I've lost some friends but gained more meaningful ones.

This year has been nothing short of a ridiculous mess, but out of the rubble comes some amazing moments.  I cherish those moments because they are what keep me going.

It's Been a Lifetime Since I Last Posted...

...silly me though, it's been approximately one a half months.  How can it seem like a half a lifetime has passed -- and could I be any more melodramatic?!

This blog is exhausting the fuck out of me.  The only fucking time I come here and write is when something detrimental (or fucked up in laymens' terms) happens.  I'm tired of it.  Where are the posts of silly stupid things because I have had PLENTY of those things happen.  Just at Home Depot on Friday in fact or, or even at Target the other day with the parting of the seas and Moses -- yeah, those of you who have heard the story know what I'm talking about. 

Anyways, I have funnies ALL THE FUCKING TIME.  I really do; whether it's seriously something silly or just something I choose to find humor in because, fuck it, isn't that what every day life is all about -- finding the silly fucked up shit to tell stories about to people.  I know, I really, really know that humor is what gets me through in life.  I love to make people smile.  I love to make people laugh.  I even love to make people roll their eyes at me because behind said eye-rolling is a smile.

I am going to admit right now -- I am fucking tired.  I'm not quitting or any stupid shit like that cause mommies and daddies aren't supposed to quit.  I'm just admitting defeat.  I've pulled up my big girl panties for quite some time now.  I'm not quitting.  I am, however, admitting I would like a nap now.  And by nap I don't mean any long ass session -- an hour, hour and a half would be nice.  In that hour and a half I would really appreciate if someone would come to my rescue and fix some of the shit I fucked up.  And by fix some of the shit I fucked up I really mean, just rub my head and give me goosebumps and let me fucking sleep for an hour and a half...and when I wake up kiss my nose and have a bowl of chili with extra cheese and sour cream ready for me to eat.

On a side note, I joke about my kids going to need to therapy.  I no longer joke about that.  I am straight up admitting that I will be sending them to therapy one day.  The only thing I hope for is that they see that I'm trying and have always tried and they see that I'm still trying to do right by them by sending them to some third party for guidance.  I admit my role in fucking them up. I have never denied it.  I'm so fucking sorry my actions have helped put them there (see, I'm not taking full responsibility, two to tango or some fuckery like that), but I really hope one day they forgive me for my role in their fucked-up-ness because I love them so much.  I want to, and have to hope that, the path I put them on leads them to some greater and better understanding of themselves and the world they live in.  I hope they find the compassion I dream of for them and that compassion lives on in their future - and that they forgive me and realize I didn't intentionally mean to fuck up their world but that because I love them so much I will take the blame and try to get them to a better place...the place I always wanted them to be -- better than "here"

Enjoy the Ride...I'm Trying To...

One would think that after a four-hour delay it would be easy to fall asleep on an airplane and especially after a four-day New Orleans extravaganza.  However, at this moment I had two choices of what to do; either twirl my hair mercilessly or watch my boyfriend's head two rows ahead of me bob and weave and eventually come to rest on his neighbor's shoulder while he slept (i.e., the poor bastard who was lucky enough to sit in the middle seat on said flight).  I first opted for the hair twirling, but my carpal tunnel was acting up so I stared so long at the bob and weave that I started seeing trails.  These two options lasted me an entire fifteen minutes of entertainment.  So this brings me to you because apparently typing on the "notes" section of ones iPhone passes the time rather quickly.  No lie, it really did make the hellish trip go by relatively fast.

I opened up the notes section of my phone to read what I had written.  It was straight up pitiful, but that's okay because it was 12:57 in the morning after four days of awesome goodness filled with plenty of laughter, drinks and best friend goodness a girl could ever ask for.  So I'm coming home from an amazingly fun vacation where new friends and new memories were made.  However, I'm begging these memories to flood my sleep-deprived brain but they don't take pity on me.  I'm coming up on the realization that I left town a mere 12 hours after I received the news of my exhusband telling me the "friend" he cheated on me with was pregnant.  I should re-word that because it doesn't read quite just right.  Ooh, ooh, I missed a couple of words -- six months pregnant.  Apparently, I missed the memo where it says being the last to know is the "in" thing nowadays.  Do not fret because this isn't anything to be jealous over.  Those of you who have been reading my super fun-filled-not-so-much drama may not be surprised at this new twist, and to be honest with you, neither am I because the "cheating" was the reason behind the divorce after all.  I'll have to admit here, however, that the time frame was a little bit much to take it, swallow and not vomit (which I did successfully mind you - the not vomiting part).

Do not get me wrong friends because I have much to be thankful for.  I am in a good place overall in this "My So-Called Life" series you have tuned into.  I have a job that I can say I truly enjoy after being in my field for about 16 years.  I have absolutely amazing and funny ass and supportive friends.  I have a kind and thoughtful and adorable guy who is still hanging around despite all the excess baggage I'm carrying.  The reason for my sadness -- this is not the life I envisioned for my children.

Jillian is old enough that she feels disappointment and sadness over this situation.  I'd love to tell you I'm above all this shit, but I have zero desire to continue to encourage a relationship between her and her (ex)stepfather at this point.  I'd never stop her, but I know she feels a sting inside.  However, the positive I am grabbing from this situation is that in the past six or seven months her father has been playing a more active role in her life.  For this reason, I am grateful that the heartache I dealt with brought her to a better place with her dad.  I guess I'll take that and run with it.

I feel sad for Andrew because I am scared his father will play a less active role in his life.  I understand that I cannot worry about something that isn't happening in the present, something that is not happening right before my eyes, but I cannot turn away from something that tugs at my heart.  In complete honesty, however, I am frightened for the heartbreak that will eventually come when the boy is old enough to put two and two together, do the math and come in contact with some sadness or anger or resentment towards his father.  I'm a realist and while I am aware this may not happen, I'm pretty positive that there will come that day that changes my son's heart in a way, and no matter how little it changes him, it will change him and this breaks my heart.

Again, I didn't envision this life for my children, and maybe it won't play out this way.  It's not something I will ever know until it happens.  Regardless, my thinking about it now, while it won't make it any easier to handle should it happen, makes me stand a little bit taller knowing that my kids are the last thing I think about before I go to bed.  Being that realist, I know it is not my duty to protect my children from the cruelty of the "real world" but rather to prepare them for it.  However, this does not comfort my heart when I think about the possibilities that lie ahead for them.

I guess in the end -- no, not guess, but know -- I know in the end that while this is not my doing, not my fuck up, not my fault, I am beyond pissed that I am forced to be involved in a situation that is out of my hands. I hold no responsibility in the fact that my exhusband was an absolute dumbass and let himself get into this situation.  However, I'm a bit salty that because of his fuck up I am going to be forced to pick up any pieces that may fall at the feet of my children.  I'm far from innocent in causing any therapy sessions I may have to pay for in the future, but this one tops them all.  I am pretty sure I could handle it better if it were my fuck up, but I can't help but be resentful that I have to deal with someone else's fuck up.

So in moving forward, I will continue to focus on all that I have gained in my divorce and not on what I lost.  If I sit and think about it, I have lost so much in my divorce, and all that I lost was negativity, sadness, heartache.  Instead, I will focus on all that I have gained, and all that I have surrounding me -- people that truly care for me, love me in some way, and only want the best for me and my children.  I cherish these people more than I could put into words because the words would never touch the depth of my gratitude. 

A Post Filled with Profanity is the Only Way I Roll...

I have two children who are such ungrateful little assbags.  You know I made you feel better by saying out loud exactly what you've thought on at least one occasion (although my money is on "more than one").  Besides getting the usual regular life shit like a roof over their heads or a bureau full of new spring and summer clothes or a fridge full of food so that they can bitch to everyone within earshot that they're soooo hungry, they get things like *gasp* birthday party fun with their friends even though it's completely out of my way to go and grab one kid at her dad's house and bring her back to her dad's house on a day that isn't even mine or let's not forget about carting asses around to playgrounds and school dances and playdates and sleepovers and insert here any other pain in the ass thing I do for them just so I can hopefully get a smile at the end of the day.

Therefore, I don't think it's too fucking hard to entertain your asses for an hour while I begrudgingly mow the goddamn lawn.  You would have thought I took a hatchet to my daughter's ankle and left her bleeding in the backyard while I sipped on wine and laughed and pointed at her when I asked her to play with her brother while I did my chores on a shit ass Monday nonetheless.  Instead of slapping the look right off her face, I asked her if she would like to mow the lawn.  You can guess what the answer to that question was.  So, in true pre-teen fucking fashion what does she do; if you said played lovingly with her brother and they both played ring around the fucking rosie and laughed when they all fucking fell down, you're wrong.  I suppose she thought by tormenting her brother and causing him to hit her and yell at her that would make me stop doing said mowing of the goddamn lawn and play fucking trucks.  She was wrong. 

Rather, let me share with you the truth of my reality on this wonderful sunny spring afternoon.  I ripped the earbuds from my ears, stopped the mower and proceeded to not-so-kindly yell across the lawn, "Is it really ALL THAT HARD to play, you know, like kids do, without punching each other or teasing each other or throwing trucks at each other?!  It would be REALLY FREAKIN' FANTASTIC if you would STOP. IT. NOW BEFORE I FREAK OUT!" 

Oh yeah, let me get to the very best part; the part where I slam the earbuds back in my ears, pull the cord to the mower while saying for fucks sakes already, start pushing the fucking lawnmower with a scowl on my face and stare horrifyingly at the two elderly ladies going for a nice stroll down my dead end street.  It was either turn my ass around and pretend I didn't see them or wave like a sweet bitch, but before I can decide what to do, I see before me two ladies who clearly felt my pain because they smiled and waved and gave each other that all knowing look of moms who have been there, done that. *sigh*

I am pleased to announce that the two bags of asses that are my children did stop the fighting shit for the rest of the time.  I have no goddamn idea why because that's not the first time they've been in trouble, but I don't question when small miracles happen right before my eyes.  I accept it and move on to the next fucking chore that I have to do and know that I'll make up for it and be awesome in another mom way the very next chance I get.

My Own Milestones...

A helicopter mom I am not.  However, I am a mom who stalls and drags her feet at certain milestones when it comes to my daughter.  She's almost 12, and she's an amazingly sweet girl and has earned herself a bit of freedom.  I let her go to school dances (as if I had a choice because it's either let her go or listen to her huffs and puffs all night while ignoring me as she sits on her Kindle).  I got her a cell phone (but I make her buy her own minutes and I have free reign to check the damn thing any time I want).  She roams our new neighborhood with her friends and always is diligent about calling and checking in letting me know she hasn't been abducted.  So I figured the time has come to let her walk home from school.  There really is no reason to say no.  The route that takes her from school to our new house has sidewalks and they're really all side streets anyway.  Hell, she has a cell phone which she can hopefully quickly dial 911 fast enough should my town hold a crazy abductor or some shit I freak myself out with on a weekly basis.

So I decided three weeks ago to give this a try; let her walk home from school all by her big girl self with one rule; call me when you're leaving school and call me when you get home.  As an aside, I should mention at this time that her father informed me that he would be following her in the car to make sure she was all right.  This in turn reminded me of when my dad told me he followed me once upon a time when I walked to the corner store for, gasp, penny candy.  It was awesome.  Not only was I scoring mom points for letting her walk home by herself, but I needn't worry cause dear old dad is apparently more paranoid than I am.  I am proud to say that she did exactly as she was told and called me both when she left and when she got home safe and sound.

Let's fast forward to quitting time for me at work where all I had to do was go home.  There were zero stops to be made.  There were zero concerns that I was going to hit traffic and be late picking her up.  In fact, I was thinking to myself as I pulled into my driveway -- why the hell hadn't I done this earlier in the school year.  This shit was awesome and opened up a whole new world of possibilities - FOR ME!!! Shit, I could run errands after work while she walked home and did her chores.  Shit, I could work late and grab some extra cash while she walked home and did her chores.  Shit, I could just have a little extra "me" time and take the long way home and sing at the top of my lungs to my tunes semi-carefree.

Yes, re-reading this I realize how selfish I sound, but I know for a fact, anyone with kids that have been up their asses for years now can share in my happiness of a little extra time in their day being their own.  It's not a lot but 15 minutes is all it takes to put a new perspective on things.  I don't care that I sound selfish because I know from the get-go it wasn't ever about me.  I had her best interest in mind the entire time.  I am just excited to have found a benefit for me in all of this that I will take full advantage of.

I am realistic though and realize I will drag my feet when the next milestone comes along because that's just the kind of mom I am.  I want to make sure my kids are ready for the next phase of their world.  I know sometimes you have to throw them into it and let them experience it, but I refuse to do it blindly for them.  I am just hoping that in all my nail-biting, feet-dragging mommy moments, I am helping, not hindering them along the way -- just like my very vague job description tells me to.  I love those little shits of mine.  They make me so very proud and prove to me that no matter how often I think I'm failing them I really am doing something right by them.

Superheros Drink Wine and Play Horseshoes

I am just going to get right to it and you can just get right back into reading and tell me how happy you are that I've found my way back.  This past Friday my divorce went through, and not one of you people dare utter anything along the lines of "wow that was fast" or any combination of words that make my Trip de Divorce seem like a breeze.  I'm just a girl who doesn't have time to fiddlefuck around.  I have a life to live you know, kids to raise, shit to take care of so let's get things rolling.

However, in retrospect, I will admit that it was pretty fast even though at the time of going through it all I didn't think that the quicksand-sucking-me-in-too-fast-feeling was going to end.  So let's count all the ways I could have lost my shit and never come back but I'm too strong to give in shall we.  While there are many moments I am sure I cannot recall and there are most definitely many moments I do not care to remember, the thing I can recall with the utmost clarity are the words I said to myself the day my heart fell out of my chest the moment that I was informed my wifely duties were no longer needed, thanks for playing, don't come back now was 'what am I going to do now.'  I think it took me less than 12 hours for the answer to come to me, and it said loud and clear 'whatever it takes because there are a couple of special people counting on you.'  So I did exactly that; I found myself a job outside of the home back into the office.  I then found a place in town to rent a house, not just an apartment but a whole house, because it would be completely unfair to rip the kids out of their schools, and I knew there is nothing worse in the eyes of a tween then being ripped out of sixth grade to go and fend for herself in another school with *gasp* people she didn't know since kindergarten and try not to sink but to swim.

So, with those two major things in place I moved out in November and pretended to never look back.  I clung to my friends and family who refused to let me drown.  I drank too much wine and muddled through the holidays with snots and tears running down my face from time to time.  I laid awake more nights than I slept from anxiety and fear that I would let my kids down.   I admit to using Hamburger Helper from time to time because it was easier.  I lost my first job that I had gotten and refused to let that break me, and that path brought me to the job I currently have, the job which is, quite frankly, freakin' perfect for me, and that I actually do very much like.  I also came to enjoy the "me" time I don't remember really ever having or taking full advantage of in the past.  I go to the gym and run 5Ks because it's a terrific way to let out aggression and feel accomplished.  I hung out, and continue to hang out, with friends that I know I neglected and made sure to make memories with them that will cause us to say more often than not, "Remember when..." and then fall into fits of laughter because yes, yes I do remember when.  I also am now realizing how much I am capable of.  I never really believed deep down inside I would fail my kids because that's not the type of person I am.

So in thinking about the past year and all the ridiculous events that unfolded causing the demise of my marriage, and my, let's face it, inevitable divorce, instead of having a pity party, I am spending my time actually seeing how far I've come.  While I don't own my own house right now, it's okay because I own a lawnmower, and that pretty much makes me somewhat of a homeowner, or at the very least, a big girl who has to do things by herself, for herself, for her kids because that's what it means to do what you have to do.  I am not considering this part of my path in life a bump in the road simply because I have learned so much about myself since this started but rather a real, honest-to-goodness, not-cliche-at-all second chance, or in my case, third chance.  As the old saying goes, the third times a charm, and while I've never had reason to believe those silly words, I am slowly realizing that whoever started that saying might just know what the hell they are talking about.  It makes me realize that if someone were to ask me, do I have everything I want, my answer would be yes because my kids are happy and my kids are happy because I never let them down.

So in closing, what came to me as I was mowing my lawn after work, besides that, shit, I have a much larger yard than I first realized, is that superheros come in all shapes, sizes, and strengths, and they really do exist not just in the movies or in life-and-death newsworthy situations.  I should know because I would like to believe that I am proof.  Also, my birthday is coming up, and I would really, really like it if someone could bring me, besides a box of wine (red, ahem), a set of horseshoes.  I really, really am looking forward to playing horseshoes, in my freshly mowed backyard, with my incredible, never-once-thought-to-let-me-go friends and family.

*cheers my friends*

Psst...if I try really hard to keep my page up, you can find me at Confessions of a Truu Mom

Friday Morning Goodness...

I almost forgot how much I like to write, but I also remember that I hate to re-read my prior sad, bitchy, whining, sometimes funny posts because most days I walk this fine line where any little thing could kick me in the face and force me to my knees so I tend to steer clear of putting my words on "paper."  Today, however, I find myself feeling really strong, and it really is no surprise that I feel this way on a Friday morning after taking my spin class (yes, I still consider it mine even though I've been MIA for a few months now) and visiting with one of the few women I hold very high up because she always has the right words for any given moment without even trying. 

There I was feeling all smug that I was still able to hold my own in this class because let's face it, no amount of running (or insert whatever it is that is your go-to exercise) can prepare you for the onslaught of a crotch killing, cardio blasting meltdown that is this class, and I was quickly reminded of how far I've come in a relatively short time.  There was a time about eight/nine months ago that I would come to this particular class just because I knew I could forget about what was going on in my personal life for 60/65/70 minutes.  It was what I looked forward to; a moment's peace that I could grab onto for a short period of time.  My brain reminded me today of the many times I would leave that class with Gail's words ringing in my ears and cry alone in my car before I went home.  I felt so overwhelmed, and I could not see that I would ever be able to crawl outside of this hole I had fallen into.  Her words (and that every other day sob-fest) were the only thing in that moment that helped me find myself again and try again the next day.  Okay, in all honesty, I will admit that the kids' survival had something to do with it too, but they often get all bitchy and shit so sometimes they weren't entirely the reason I kept going.

I could do the whole "thank you list" of people that have helped pick my sorry, pathetic, bitchy ass back up but that list continues to grow, and I'd hate to miss anyone.  I will say that today was the first day in a very long time that I didn't have to pick myself up and keep going.  This morning is a day where I truly feel like it's all ahead of me now but not as far as I once thought it was and completely within my reach to get it.  That, my friends, is not a place I really thought I'd be in or at least not for a much longer time.  Hell, even my therapist is impressed so I gotta pat myself on the back for taking that first step so many months ago.  I should pat myself on the back for a lot of things, but that sounds way too cocky right now, and I am a big believer in that shit comes back to bite me in the face so I'll just stick to what I know.  The one thing that I do know is that it's always been up to me to fix the very-broken girl that lives inside me, and while I'm still healing, I can finally see that the struggle, turmoil and all the tears shed will eventually be worth the bruises I've gotten.

*cheers*

Rantings of a Sick and Whiny Bitch...

I am sick.  I have not been sick in a long time.  I am, however, grateful that I am not sick like most of you people have been.  I just happened to get my daughter's head cold.  That's what I get for snuggling her and kissing her goodnight I suppose.  How dare she get me sick after all I do for her.

I'm sitting here in my pink fluffy robe, a cuddlescarf that barely leaves my neck, a hat and slippers.  Yes, I have my heat turned on.  I just refuse to get a chill.  That's the worst -- oh, and not sleeping.  So with not sleeping comes a torrent of bullshit that won't stop entering my mind.  The biggest bullshit line I keep telling myself not to believe myself when I tell myself is that I keep making some seriously fucked up mistakes that are going to one day land my kids in therapy.  It seems as if every move I've made on the game board the past couple of years has been the exact opposite of what I should have been doing.  I mean I swear I thought I had learned some lessons from prior wrong moves made, but at this point in time it seems like I can't get out of my own way and can't possibly stop myself from screwing up.  So at about 3:00 a.m. this train of thought needed to be derailed and thought as logically as possible.  These moves I'm making are supposed to be made because it is within these moves that I will get what I need, what I'm searching for and will eventually get.  I will eventually reach the spot of security that I will second-guess every chance I get but never take for granted because it seems so long since I've felt that.  I worry about that because I hope I am not reflecting my feelings of insecurity onto my children.  They should never feel that way every, and it is my job as their mother, the authority figure, to make sure that I not pass that shit onto them.

I'm working on about 3.25 hours of sleep right now and my foggy head wants to lay down on this desk and pretend something, anything better than how I'm feeling.  I know this is just another moment I need to work through, and one day I will reach the point where it won't be so hard to work through.  I'm going with that day should be a nice spring day sitting out in my nice big backyard overlooking the water that is hitting my backyard watching the ducks swimming by with a cup of coffee in my hand and the morning sun warming my face.  Yes, that is exactly what I'm striving for, working so hard for, that exact moment that I know isn't too far off.  It may only be January, but if I can make it to my newly envisioned happy place, then I'll continue to beat the bullshit that gets thrown my way.  I suppose I'll dig a little bit deeper now and hold on just a little bit longer because a day like that here in New England, in my very own backyard, does exist sooner rather than later.

*cheers my friends*

Confessions of a Truu Mom on FB

Why, Hello There...

Yes, I am still around.  Yes, I do still exist.  In fact, I am finally doing more than just existing so that's a wonderful thing.  Do I teeter?  Sure as shit I definitely do.  Do I throw pity parties for no reason other than I want to cry just because?  Yes, yes, I do, but I am here.  I can breathe without it hurting every day.  In fact, I can go days breathing now without it hurting.  It's a nice feeling when you stop and think about the past week and realize you can't pinpoint an exact moment of pain.  It's quite the opposite of what it used to be; being unable to pinpoint an exact moment of happiness.  So, clearly, I'm moving on, moving past, moving through.

With the holidays behind us and a normal routine beginning once again, yesterday the kids and I had a very long overdue pajama day.  No one put shoes on as we didn't even step out of the house.  I got snuggles and giggles all day.  I noticed the little things that I've been missing and am so glad I made a conscious effort to stop for a whole day.  My ass went numb from doing absolutely nothing all day.  It was as perfect a Sunday as I could have asked for.

I am also grateful to be able to say that I am no longer at the beginning of my new "journey."  I'd never wish that shit on anyone that's for certain.  I call bullshit on myself actually.  I should be honest and say that, yes, yes, I do wish that on one person in particular but I'm only human and shouldn't be condemned for it.  Now I'm regressing so back to where I was trying to go with these thoughts of mine.  I do not wish to ever be in that beginning place again.  It was dark and lonely and frighteningly sad.  I will forever be learning more about myself and for that I am grateful.  Now that I've started to open my eyes and look at and listen to myself, I'm not so scary.  Sometimes it sucks to realize something new about yourself, but in the end it always feels so good because being aware feels so much better than hiding. 

I've always tried to hold onto the comforting thought that this new road I'm on will bring me new adventures and new people.  I'm happy to report that I have already had the pleasure of having a new person come into my life and share her friendship with me.  It's nice to add her into the mix of my world because my days are better having her around.  If all I get is one new friendship out of this mess I was in, then I consider it a blessing.  However, I know in my heart that I will have many more blessings to count as I continue along because now that I am holding my head high, my whole perspective is changing, and with a new perspective comes new chances of not missing the important moments and the important people.

*cheers my friends*