So, because I’m trying to see some positive when I feel drowned in negative, here’s my theory on the past 16 days.
First I hurt my arm, and then I spent the next 10 days recovering. Then I caught some flu/cold nonsense, and have spent the last 5 days doped up on cold meds and basically parked on the couch.
I quit drinking about 16 days ago. I think the injury and sickness were the universe’s way of distracting me from the fact that I wasn’t drinking. A wise man once told me it takes about 3 weeks to make or break a habit, and I’m a few short days away from the 3 week mark. It flew by, because I was in pain and sick. Generally just wrapped up in trying to feel better.
Or, I could just be a clumsy ass who got too close to the wrong person. Whichever.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Sick As A Dog......
What's your story? Sick as a dog-cat got your tongue?
Sorry, went off on an Aerosmith tangent.
I am very, very ill. I'll be back when I am able to form a coherent thought.
Sorry, went off on an Aerosmith tangent.
I am very, very ill. I'll be back when I am able to form a coherent thought.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Friday, September 26, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Hard At Work, Honest
Lula: do you ever feel bad for the evil thinks you think?
Little Wing: rarely
Lula: lucky ass. as soon as i have an evil thought about, for example, that guy, i instantly feel bad
Little Wing: psh
Little Wing: what was the thought???
Lula: that i want to punch him in the face so it will jar him out of his stupor.
Lula: and how dumb do you have to be if whats her face looks smarter than you
Little Wing: that is perfectly reasonable
Lula: see? im going to hell
Little Wing: nope
Lula: that is why i love you. you think my thinks are reasonable.
Lula: perhaps i will blog this insane conversation
Little Wing: we are equally whack-a-doo
Little Wing: you have to include the random outbursts
Lula: k
Little Wing: so...lemme get this straight...whats his nuts isn't going to get a job that requires him to lift over 20 lbs because it might hurt their settlement???
Little Wing: Loser!
Lula: what a frickin douche BAG
Lula: what fucking settlement? i thought all the lawyers told them they didn't even have a case
Little Wing: I'm starting to think she is a little lair
Little Wing: liar
Lula: a little lair? like where jungle cats and rodents live? trolls and such?
Little Wing: hehe
Little Wing: keeps eating butter
Lula: KEITHS EATING BUTTER
Little Wing: rarely
Lula: lucky ass. as soon as i have an evil thought about, for example, that guy, i instantly feel bad
Little Wing: psh
Little Wing: what was the thought???
Lula: that i want to punch him in the face so it will jar him out of his stupor.
Lula: and how dumb do you have to be if whats her face looks smarter than you
Little Wing: that is perfectly reasonable
Lula: see? im going to hell
Little Wing: nope
Lula: that is why i love you. you think my thinks are reasonable.
Lula: perhaps i will blog this insane conversation
Little Wing: we are equally whack-a-doo
Little Wing: you have to include the random outbursts
Lula: k
Little Wing: so...lemme get this straight...whats his nuts isn't going to get a job that requires him to lift over 20 lbs because it might hurt their settlement???
Little Wing: Loser!
Lula: what a frickin douche BAG
Lula: what fucking settlement? i thought all the lawyers told them they didn't even have a case
Little Wing: I'm starting to think she is a little lair
Little Wing: liar
Lula: a little lair? like where jungle cats and rodents live? trolls and such?
Little Wing: hehe
Little Wing: keeps eating butter
Lula: KEITHS EATING BUTTER
Gotta Love It!
Right wing rocker Ted Nugent has offered to personally help with security for Paul McCartney at his upcoming concert in Israel. The legendary Beatles member and animal rights activist has received death threats from muslim extremists if he plays the concert which celebrates the 60th anniversary of the formation of the state of Israel.
Ted Nugent states: “Regardless that Paul and I have our obvious social, cultural, and culinary differences outside of music, I will not bend or waiver to voodoo religious whackjobs and neither should Paul,” exclaimed Nugent.
“It would be my pleasure to keep this legendary musical hero safe from terrorists and madmen, and then buy him a nice dinner of tofu.
I’m Dirty Harry with a ponytail, and I’m at Paul’s service”
Ted Nugent states: “Regardless that Paul and I have our obvious social, cultural, and culinary differences outside of music, I will not bend or waiver to voodoo religious whackjobs and neither should Paul,” exclaimed Nugent.
“It would be my pleasure to keep this legendary musical hero safe from terrorists and madmen, and then buy him a nice dinner of tofu.
I’m Dirty Harry with a ponytail, and I’m at Paul’s service”
10 Random Things About Me
I admit, I stole this idea from Little Wing, and it seems the perfect opportunity to introduce you to her.Check her out at Butterflies and Zebras. Little Wing is the girl previously known as "Work Friend"-I'm sure you will love her as much as I do!
1. I don't bite my nails, I chew on my fingers. I know, gross.
2. I cry when houseplants die.
3. I kick ASS at Jeopardy!
4. I once ate nothing but french toast for 6 months.
5. I'm allergic to Vicodin and Codeine. Bummer, I know.
6. I've been on my own since I was 15.
7. My husband is the first man I've ever been with who I have never called names.
8. I look horrid in photographs.
9. I either love you or hate you. You know who you are.
10. I have the worst singing voice EVER. And I sing very, very loudly at home.
1. I don't bite my nails, I chew on my fingers. I know, gross.
2. I cry when houseplants die.
3. I kick ASS at Jeopardy!
4. I once ate nothing but french toast for 6 months.
5. I'm allergic to Vicodin and Codeine. Bummer, I know.
6. I've been on my own since I was 15.
7. My husband is the first man I've ever been with who I have never called names.
8. I look horrid in photographs.
9. I either love you or hate you. You know who you are.
10. I have the worst singing voice EVER. And I sing very, very loudly at home.
Why God, Why????
You would think that after spending the majority of my adult life in Southern California I would be a better, more tolerant driver.
You would be wrong.
I HATE driving. I hate driving so very much that if given the opportunity, I would never drive again. I have such low tolerance for stupidity-random lane changes, no blinkers, doing 45 on the freeway-all these things make me so angry so fast it’s almost as if I’m possessed.
Not too long ago I was merging on the freeway when some nut decided he needed to be in my lane. He merged over, forcing me to slam on my brakes to avoid either being hit or being driven in to the brick wall that was conveniently located to my right. (my son was in the car, I might add)
I flipped my noodle. I sped up, caught up with him, and then pretended I was going to do the same thing to him. On the freeway. Doing 65. I did the whole steering wheel swerve fake out thing. Did I mention my son was in the car?
Now, before you tell me how stupid I am for risking my son’s life, remember who you’re talking to. I have beat myself up over this behavior for a while now. There is nothing worse than having to apologize to one of your children.
Anyhow, he got behind me and followed me. I tried to remain calm, proceeded to follow my course, exiting where I needed to exit-he followed me the whole way. Up one street and down the other, he was still behind me. I had Youngest dig out my pepper spray and my cell phone, and had my finger on the call button after dialing 911.
He finally turned right as I went straight.
Since then, I have tried to be more calm, I really have. I try to tell myself the most important thing is that I arrive at my destination alive. It doesn’t always work, but I am trying.
I like George Carlin’s answer to stupid drivers. All cars should be equipped with a suction cup dart gun-when you see someone doing something stupid, shoot a dart at them. When they have three darts stuck to their car, they have to pull over. They are not allowed to drive again until tomorrow. Or, license plate numbers can be car phone numbers. Then I could at least call the person and direct my anger towards them, instead of screaming like a banshee at people who can’t even hear me.
If anyone has any helpful tips for dealing with road rage, please leave them in the comments. I would hate to be remembered as that crazy lady who was shot on the freeway because she yelled at some guy doing 45 miles an hour.
You would be wrong.
I HATE driving. I hate driving so very much that if given the opportunity, I would never drive again. I have such low tolerance for stupidity-random lane changes, no blinkers, doing 45 on the freeway-all these things make me so angry so fast it’s almost as if I’m possessed.
Not too long ago I was merging on the freeway when some nut decided he needed to be in my lane. He merged over, forcing me to slam on my brakes to avoid either being hit or being driven in to the brick wall that was conveniently located to my right. (my son was in the car, I might add)
I flipped my noodle. I sped up, caught up with him, and then pretended I was going to do the same thing to him. On the freeway. Doing 65. I did the whole steering wheel swerve fake out thing. Did I mention my son was in the car?
Now, before you tell me how stupid I am for risking my son’s life, remember who you’re talking to. I have beat myself up over this behavior for a while now. There is nothing worse than having to apologize to one of your children.
Anyhow, he got behind me and followed me. I tried to remain calm, proceeded to follow my course, exiting where I needed to exit-he followed me the whole way. Up one street and down the other, he was still behind me. I had Youngest dig out my pepper spray and my cell phone, and had my finger on the call button after dialing 911.
He finally turned right as I went straight.
Since then, I have tried to be more calm, I really have. I try to tell myself the most important thing is that I arrive at my destination alive. It doesn’t always work, but I am trying.
I like George Carlin’s answer to stupid drivers. All cars should be equipped with a suction cup dart gun-when you see someone doing something stupid, shoot a dart at them. When they have three darts stuck to their car, they have to pull over. They are not allowed to drive again until tomorrow. Or, license plate numbers can be car phone numbers. Then I could at least call the person and direct my anger towards them, instead of screaming like a banshee at people who can’t even hear me.
If anyone has any helpful tips for dealing with road rage, please leave them in the comments. I would hate to be remembered as that crazy lady who was shot on the freeway because she yelled at some guy doing 45 miles an hour.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Book Review
Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck.
I've been on a kick lately, re-reading a few of my favorite classics. I love this story-you can really feel the love George has for Lennie.
"Livin off da fatta da land" is a common quote out of my mouth at home. Especially when I'm gardening.
Read it!
I've been on a kick lately, re-reading a few of my favorite classics. I love this story-you can really feel the love George has for Lennie.
"Livin off da fatta da land" is a common quote out of my mouth at home. Especially when I'm gardening.
Read it!
Happy Birthday
Today would have been my sister’s 54th birthday. She died in 2000 after suffering a stroke. She lived with lupus most of her life, and her health problems unfortunately consumed her later years.
I didn’t grow up with my sister, in fact I didn’t even know I had one until I was 10 years old. My mother put her up for adoption when she was 4. That’s the short version anyway. When I was 8, I found a formal portrait of my mother and a little girl. I knew it wasn’t me, so I asked my mother who the girl was. She said it was a little girl she used to baby-sit. Even at that young age, the story didn’t make sense to me. Why would you take a formal portrait of yourself with some random kid?
About 2 years later, I came home from school to find my mother and my brother sitting at the kitchen table. She proceeded to tell us that she had a little girl when she was very young, and she was tricked into giving her up for adoption. My sister remembered her last name, and had found us after all these years. I was so excited-I finally had a big sister! I couldn’t wait to meet her.
She came to visit with her daughter (my niece!) who was only about 3 years younger than me. (My sister was 14 years older than me) It was very exciting, having new family members to bond with.
Fast forward about 2 years-I was 12 years old, and I was a mess. I had attempted suicide more than once, I was cutting school, smoking pot, and starving myself-all the “normal” things troubled children do. My sister took my mother aside and told her “She needs help. She needs more help than what you can give her.”
I ended up in a “treatment facility”-wait, let’s call it what it was. I ended up in a mental hospital, and after about 9 months my mother went to court and relinquished all parental rights. I spent the next 3 years bouncing around different foster homes until I left at 15.
My sister saying that to my mother probably saved my life. I still had many, many more years of irrational self destructive behavior ahead of me, but me spending time in that hospital planted a seed in my brain. It made me realize that my behavior wasn’t normal, and that I deserved so much better than what I was letting myself have. (it took me until I was 35 to get my shit together, but that’s another story)
The last time I spoke with my sister on the phone, she was bedridden and dependant on a morphine pump. She was in and out of consciousness, and couldn’t carry on a conversation. It was very upsetting, and when my mother told me to call her about 2 months later I didn’t. I didn’t want to hear her like that- I wanted to remember the sister that I used to laugh and joke with, the sister with a heart of gold who would give the shirt off her back if she thought it would help you.
She died about a year later, with me never having spoken to her again. I will never forgive myself for not picking up that phone and talking to her. It wasn’t about me at that point, it was about her. And I failed.
Happy birthday sister. I love and miss you so much.
I didn’t grow up with my sister, in fact I didn’t even know I had one until I was 10 years old. My mother put her up for adoption when she was 4. That’s the short version anyway. When I was 8, I found a formal portrait of my mother and a little girl. I knew it wasn’t me, so I asked my mother who the girl was. She said it was a little girl she used to baby-sit. Even at that young age, the story didn’t make sense to me. Why would you take a formal portrait of yourself with some random kid?
About 2 years later, I came home from school to find my mother and my brother sitting at the kitchen table. She proceeded to tell us that she had a little girl when she was very young, and she was tricked into giving her up for adoption. My sister remembered her last name, and had found us after all these years. I was so excited-I finally had a big sister! I couldn’t wait to meet her.
She came to visit with her daughter (my niece!) who was only about 3 years younger than me. (My sister was 14 years older than me) It was very exciting, having new family members to bond with.
Fast forward about 2 years-I was 12 years old, and I was a mess. I had attempted suicide more than once, I was cutting school, smoking pot, and starving myself-all the “normal” things troubled children do. My sister took my mother aside and told her “She needs help. She needs more help than what you can give her.”
I ended up in a “treatment facility”-wait, let’s call it what it was. I ended up in a mental hospital, and after about 9 months my mother went to court and relinquished all parental rights. I spent the next 3 years bouncing around different foster homes until I left at 15.
My sister saying that to my mother probably saved my life. I still had many, many more years of irrational self destructive behavior ahead of me, but me spending time in that hospital planted a seed in my brain. It made me realize that my behavior wasn’t normal, and that I deserved so much better than what I was letting myself have. (it took me until I was 35 to get my shit together, but that’s another story)
The last time I spoke with my sister on the phone, she was bedridden and dependant on a morphine pump. She was in and out of consciousness, and couldn’t carry on a conversation. It was very upsetting, and when my mother told me to call her about 2 months later I didn’t. I didn’t want to hear her like that- I wanted to remember the sister that I used to laugh and joke with, the sister with a heart of gold who would give the shirt off her back if she thought it would help you.
She died about a year later, with me never having spoken to her again. I will never forgive myself for not picking up that phone and talking to her. It wasn’t about me at that point, it was about her. And I failed.
Happy birthday sister. I love and miss you so much.
Thank GOD
I feel so much better today. When I woke up this morning it felt like a spell had been broken, and all is well in Lulaland. I was pretty worried about myself yesterday, worried that I was falling into a deep, dark depression. And now-presto! I feel great. I’m sure I have a lot of mood swings to look forward to, but for now-I’m good.
I did have a slightly disturbing dream-I dreamed one of Husband's friends was setting up a lunch date for him and some woman. I woke up and blurted out "You're not allowed to go out with anyone else!"
His response? "Why would I do that? I'm happily married."
I love that man. Excellent answer at 4 in the morning!
I did have a slightly disturbing dream-I dreamed one of Husband's friends was setting up a lunch date for him and some woman. I woke up and blurted out "You're not allowed to go out with anyone else!"
His response? "Why would I do that? I'm happily married."
I love that man. Excellent answer at 4 in the morning!
Monday, September 22, 2008
Word O' The Day
Disdain.
I was in a meeting, and I looked around and thought-"It's getting harder and harder for me to hide my disdain for these people."
I was in a meeting, and I looked around and thought-"It's getting harder and harder for me to hide my disdain for these people."
Caution-Foul Language Ahead
I am one miserable bitch today. The not drinking isn’t really bothering me-at least I don’t think it is. I’m not craving alcohol. I am, however- bitchy, impatient, frustrated, angry, and very, very tired.
What the hell? When will I feel better? I’m trying to tell myself I feel terrible because I spent the last week on pain pills, but I don’t know if that is true or not.
I’m not sleeping for shit, and haven’t in a week. My arm is a bit better every day, but I swear it hurts worse when I lay down. I have tried every position I can think of and I still can’t get comfortable.
I don’t deal with pain very well, and I’m about ready to saw my fucking arm off so I don’t have to worry about it anymore.
I am consumed with negativity today, and I think I’m just going to ride it out. Maybe I just need to be pissed today.
What the hell? When will I feel better? I’m trying to tell myself I feel terrible because I spent the last week on pain pills, but I don’t know if that is true or not.
I’m not sleeping for shit, and haven’t in a week. My arm is a bit better every day, but I swear it hurts worse when I lay down. I have tried every position I can think of and I still can’t get comfortable.
I don’t deal with pain very well, and I’m about ready to saw my fucking arm off so I don’t have to worry about it anymore.
I am consumed with negativity today, and I think I’m just going to ride it out. Maybe I just need to be pissed today.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
P.S.
I can't believe I forgot to add this to my post yesterday, but....
Since I've quit drinking, I have not had one problem with my acid reflux. I've eaten Taco Bell, Hot and Spicy Pigskins, peppercinis, and Tapatio hot sauce this week, and I haven't felt a thing.
It's amazing how things fall in to place when you start acting like a grown up.
Since I've quit drinking, I have not had one problem with my acid reflux. I've eaten Taco Bell, Hot and Spicy Pigskins, peppercinis, and Tapatio hot sauce this week, and I haven't felt a thing.
It's amazing how things fall in to place when you start acting like a grown up.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Still Positive
I am working hard to maintain my positive attitude. I'm still in a bit of pain from the shoulder sprain, but not so much that I need pain pills to get through my day. I can do a few basic chores, but I plan on relaxing the majority of the weekend so I can hopefully drive without pain on Monday.
Today is day 7 with no alcohol. I actually feel surprisingly good! I'm very tired, which is probably a combination of my arm healing and the pain pills leaving my system. But in the past 7 days, here are a few things I've learned.
The amount of money we spent on beer was RIDICULOUS. I'm too embarrassed to give the exact figure, but we have definitely noticed the savings this week.
I smoke a hell of a lot less when I don't drink. And cigarettes are grossing me out more and more each passing day, so I see quitting in my near future.
I can eat a lot more food when I'm not trying to balance alcohol calories. No more drunkorexia!
The 3 pounds I gained and was trying to lose? Gone. I didn't even try. Maybe I'll hit 135 after all!
I seem to have quite a few more hours in my days and nights. I can actually stay up past 9pm!
I haven't had a headache in a week.
Mentally, I'm doing ok. I haven't noticed any huge anger or frustration issues, but as I said I'm sure there is still Darvocet coursing through my veins. But for now, I'm doing well. And I'm very, very proud of us. Hubbs and I have a long history of feeding in to each others bad habits. Now that we have decided to use our powers for good, things are much smoother.
This concludes your alcohol chronicles update for the day. Have a great weekend!
Today is day 7 with no alcohol. I actually feel surprisingly good! I'm very tired, which is probably a combination of my arm healing and the pain pills leaving my system. But in the past 7 days, here are a few things I've learned.
The amount of money we spent on beer was RIDICULOUS. I'm too embarrassed to give the exact figure, but we have definitely noticed the savings this week.
I smoke a hell of a lot less when I don't drink. And cigarettes are grossing me out more and more each passing day, so I see quitting in my near future.
I can eat a lot more food when I'm not trying to balance alcohol calories. No more drunkorexia!
The 3 pounds I gained and was trying to lose? Gone. I didn't even try. Maybe I'll hit 135 after all!
I seem to have quite a few more hours in my days and nights. I can actually stay up past 9pm!
I haven't had a headache in a week.
Mentally, I'm doing ok. I haven't noticed any huge anger or frustration issues, but as I said I'm sure there is still Darvocet coursing through my veins. But for now, I'm doing well. And I'm very, very proud of us. Hubbs and I have a long history of feeding in to each others bad habits. Now that we have decided to use our powers for good, things are much smoother.
This concludes your alcohol chronicles update for the day. Have a great weekend!
Friday, September 19, 2008
Finally
I meant to post this several days ago, but as you know all hell broke loose last weekend.
After I posted “She’s a maniac”, I thought “Maybe I really am bi-polar.” As I’ve mentioned, I have been diagnosed twice, and spent quite a while on meds. But I never really believed it. I’ve never had the huge mood swings I thought all bi-polar people have. So, wanting to use my mad Google skills, I bring up my home page. There was a story titled “How to live with a bi-polar spouse”. What a coincidence! I read the story and learned there are different levels to this bi-polar nonsense. And there’s a thing called Hypomania. Which is what I get. Racing thoughts, interrupting, unable to focus, doing 5000 things at once-all me. Always moving my foot, irritability-yep, those too. (Especially the irritability. Have you noticed?)
It sounds silly even to myself, but I finally realized, after 39 years-I’m bi-polar. All those doctors were right. It doesn’t interfere with my life to the point where I need to be medicated (much), but it is there.
Now here’s where things should get fun.
I’ve quit drinking. I mean really quit. Quit to the point of “maybe in a few months I’ll see if I can be normal and have a drink with dinner but I might not even do that” quit.
There goes my self medicating. I notice when I don’t drink I have a lot of trouble falling asleep because horrible thoughts fly in to my head. (Thanks, PTSD!) And once I’m asleep, I have nightmares. (Slightly off subject here, but check this out. One morning about 7 years ago I said to my mother “I had the most horrible dream. I dreamt I was sitting in a truck in front of our old house and this guy blew his brains out right in front of me.” Her reply? “Don’t you remember when you were 5 and your cousin blah-blah’s boyfriend shot himself in the head in our driveway?” See why I drink?)
Anyway, I’ll either have to finally deal with all my lovely demons I’ve been holding at bay with alcohol all these years, or I will go full bore manic batshit insane and commit myself.
Let’s find out!
After I posted “She’s a maniac”, I thought “Maybe I really am bi-polar.” As I’ve mentioned, I have been diagnosed twice, and spent quite a while on meds. But I never really believed it. I’ve never had the huge mood swings I thought all bi-polar people have. So, wanting to use my mad Google skills, I bring up my home page. There was a story titled “How to live with a bi-polar spouse”. What a coincidence! I read the story and learned there are different levels to this bi-polar nonsense. And there’s a thing called Hypomania. Which is what I get. Racing thoughts, interrupting, unable to focus, doing 5000 things at once-all me. Always moving my foot, irritability-yep, those too. (Especially the irritability. Have you noticed?)
It sounds silly even to myself, but I finally realized, after 39 years-I’m bi-polar. All those doctors were right. It doesn’t interfere with my life to the point where I need to be medicated (much), but it is there.
Now here’s where things should get fun.
I’ve quit drinking. I mean really quit. Quit to the point of “maybe in a few months I’ll see if I can be normal and have a drink with dinner but I might not even do that” quit.
There goes my self medicating. I notice when I don’t drink I have a lot of trouble falling asleep because horrible thoughts fly in to my head. (Thanks, PTSD!) And once I’m asleep, I have nightmares. (Slightly off subject here, but check this out. One morning about 7 years ago I said to my mother “I had the most horrible dream. I dreamt I was sitting in a truck in front of our old house and this guy blew his brains out right in front of me.” Her reply? “Don’t you remember when you were 5 and your cousin blah-blah’s boyfriend shot himself in the head in our driveway?” See why I drink?)
Anyway, I’ll either have to finally deal with all my lovely demons I’ve been holding at bay with alcohol all these years, or I will go full bore manic batshit insane and commit myself.
Let’s find out!
Book Review
The Kept Man by Jami Attenberg
I enjoyed this book quite a bit. I was able to really connect to Jarvis,and it had a twist at the end that I didn't expect. And you know how I love books that aren't predictable.
It always shocks me when I read a novel that has a character I can relate to so well. It just goes to show, no matter how alone or unique you think you are, you're really not.
I enjoyed this book quite a bit. I was able to really connect to Jarvis,and it had a twist at the end that I didn't expect. And you know how I love books that aren't predictable.
It always shocks me when I read a novel that has a character I can relate to so well. It just goes to show, no matter how alone or unique you think you are, you're really not.
Religion
I should give credit where credit is due, but I can't remember where I found that drawing. Sorry!
Positive!
Let's be positive today! (Did the sarcasm come across?)
I was able to dress myself this morning. (Mostly)
I did my own hair this morning.
I drove myself to work and didn't crash.
My arm is getting better every day.
It's Friday. And thank god, because I am EXHAUSTED!
I haven't had a drink in 5 days. I'm pretty sure that's a record for me.
I am not on pain pills. (Is that really a positive?)
Contrary to yesterdays post, life is good.
I was able to dress myself this morning. (Mostly)
I did my own hair this morning.
I drove myself to work and didn't crash.
My arm is getting better every day.
It's Friday. And thank god, because I am EXHAUSTED!
I haven't had a drink in 5 days. I'm pretty sure that's a record for me.
I am not on pain pills. (Is that really a positive?)
Contrary to yesterdays post, life is good.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
The One Handed Typist
Life frickin sucks right now. I’m so frustrated and bitchy I can barely stand myself. And this is one of those times when identifying the problem does nothing to help solve it.
I sprained my shoulder last Sunday, and lucky me! I was fortunate enough to do it the month we are without insurance coverage. I believe the doctor I saw was an inept fool (who is charging me $1000, by the way), so I’ve been turning to the internet for advice. Doing this has done two things.
1. convinced me that the doctor I saw was a quack
2. freaked me out because of course I think I’m much worse now.
I also have not had a drink since Saturday. Which I guess is a good thing to come out of all of this, but it is wreaking havoc with my emotions. I have been on pain pills all week, so it hasn’t really been that hard, but today I decided to just quit the pills cold turkey. And I hate everything as a result.
I hate that my right arm is basically useless.
I hate that my car is a stick.
I hate that I needed to get a ride to work this morning.
I hate that I don’t have a ride to work tomorrow.
I hate that I need my husbands help to get dressed every morning.
I hate that my 12 year old son has been doing my hair every morning.
I hate that gravity hurts.
I hate that I have used all my sick days.
I hate that it’s taken me almost 15 minutes to type this.
I do realize I should be grateful that I have people willing to dress me and drive me around. It doesn’t mean I can’t hate it at the same time.
I sprained my shoulder last Sunday, and lucky me! I was fortunate enough to do it the month we are without insurance coverage. I believe the doctor I saw was an inept fool (who is charging me $1000, by the way), so I’ve been turning to the internet for advice. Doing this has done two things.
1. convinced me that the doctor I saw was a quack
2. freaked me out because of course I think I’m much worse now.
I also have not had a drink since Saturday. Which I guess is a good thing to come out of all of this, but it is wreaking havoc with my emotions. I have been on pain pills all week, so it hasn’t really been that hard, but today I decided to just quit the pills cold turkey. And I hate everything as a result.
I hate that my right arm is basically useless.
I hate that my car is a stick.
I hate that I needed to get a ride to work this morning.
I hate that I don’t have a ride to work tomorrow.
I hate that I need my husbands help to get dressed every morning.
I hate that my 12 year old son has been doing my hair every morning.
I hate that gravity hurts.
I hate that I have used all my sick days.
I hate that it’s taken me almost 15 minutes to type this.
I do realize I should be grateful that I have people willing to dress me and drive me around. It doesn’t mean I can’t hate it at the same time.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Saturday, September 13, 2008
She's A Maniac......Maniac......
I have been going through it lately. Depressed, anxious, can't sit still, etc...
My husband and I were sitting on the bed this morning and he said-
"Do you know what I think your problem is?"
I, of course, panic.
Hubbs-"You're depressed, but you're in manic mode. You can't focus or finish a thought."
Me-"That's what you think?"
Hubbs-"Yes, I do. It's been coming on for a while now."
Me-"What am I going to make for dinner tonight? And what exactly are we doing today? Are we painting?.....Oh my god, you're right."
It made me want to cry, the realization that he was so much more aware of my current mental condition than I am.
I'm thankful that he is aware, and able to help me through this. And that he realizes when I interrupt him or change the subject I'm not being rude, I just can't focus right now. My thoughts are flying at me, I can't make a decision, and the world is currently a very scary place.
My husband and I were sitting on the bed this morning and he said-
"Do you know what I think your problem is?"
I, of course, panic.
Hubbs-"You're depressed, but you're in manic mode. You can't focus or finish a thought."
Me-"That's what you think?"
Hubbs-"Yes, I do. It's been coming on for a while now."
Me-"What am I going to make for dinner tonight? And what exactly are we doing today? Are we painting?.....Oh my god, you're right."
It made me want to cry, the realization that he was so much more aware of my current mental condition than I am.
I'm thankful that he is aware, and able to help me through this. And that he realizes when I interrupt him or change the subject I'm not being rude, I just can't focus right now. My thoughts are flying at me, I can't make a decision, and the world is currently a very scary place.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Shallow? Or Insecure?
We went to parents night last night at Youngest's school. Usually when we go to school events, I'm paralyzed with anxiety. Surrounded by soccer moms with huge diamond rings, I feel my tattooed self just doesn't fit in. My clothes are wrong, my hair is wrong, and every one knows I suck.
Last night, after seeing all the other parents, I looked at Hubbs and said "I thought we lived in a better neighborhood."
One woman was dressed like a stripper. I shit you not. I saw more cleavage and ass last night than I think I have all year. And it wasn't pretty cleavage and ass. It was more....trailer park. (I can say that, I lived in a trailer)
So, my question to myself is this. Am I so shallow that my social anxiety is directly related to whether or not I think I'm better than everyone around me? And I don't mean better like I'm a better person. I'm sure stripper mom is very nice and volunteers at the food bank on the weekends. I mean better like-I know how to dress to go to school functions. Does that make sense? I don't think I'm better than anyone, I really don't. In fact, I'm quite sure the majority of parents there are much better parents than I was/am. But when I looked around and realized I was in the top 10% of the best dressed people there, I relaxed and felt better.
Wow. I am shallow. My social anxiety can be cured with the proper wardrobe. I wonder if I can get a prescription for that?
Last night, after seeing all the other parents, I looked at Hubbs and said "I thought we lived in a better neighborhood."
One woman was dressed like a stripper. I shit you not. I saw more cleavage and ass last night than I think I have all year. And it wasn't pretty cleavage and ass. It was more....trailer park. (I can say that, I lived in a trailer)
So, my question to myself is this. Am I so shallow that my social anxiety is directly related to whether or not I think I'm better than everyone around me? And I don't mean better like I'm a better person. I'm sure stripper mom is very nice and volunteers at the food bank on the weekends. I mean better like-I know how to dress to go to school functions. Does that make sense? I don't think I'm better than anyone, I really don't. In fact, I'm quite sure the majority of parents there are much better parents than I was/am. But when I looked around and realized I was in the top 10% of the best dressed people there, I relaxed and felt better.
Wow. I am shallow. My social anxiety can be cured with the proper wardrobe. I wonder if I can get a prescription for that?
Thursday, September 11, 2008
I Remember Mom
I realize it's 9/11 and the majority of the country is busy with memorial services and all, but all this day does for me is make me miss my mother.
I had just moved here, living with Mom, and I was in the shower when she burst in, threw a towel at me and said "Get out here".
We spent the day together glued to the television, crying and worrying about where they would hit next. I like to remember this story because it's a story of her being well, aware and alive, so different from the last year of her life when she was partially paralyzed and losing the ability to speak.
So today, my personal memorial service will be things I remember about my mom.
She loved animals. I mean LOVED. She fed every stray cat in the neighborhood for years.
She had waist length, beautiful hair.
She collected earrings. When she died, she had over 300 pair.
When we were small, she was a terrible mother.
When I was an adult, she made up for it.
She was afraid of the dark.
She called me "her little girl", even when I was 6 inches taller than her.
She had terrible road rage.
She risked many things to help save me, including her marriage and her job.
She loved her computer games. Even though she could barely work the damn thing. I had to go over at least once a week to fix some crazy thing she did.
She had quite a taste for beer the last month of her life, after never liking it.
She was a terrible cook.
She made excellent fudge.
She loved Agatha Christie.
She always held me when I cried, no matter how old I was.
She loved me fiercely, the best way she knew how.
I had just moved here, living with Mom, and I was in the shower when she burst in, threw a towel at me and said "Get out here".
We spent the day together glued to the television, crying and worrying about where they would hit next. I like to remember this story because it's a story of her being well, aware and alive, so different from the last year of her life when she was partially paralyzed and losing the ability to speak.
So today, my personal memorial service will be things I remember about my mom.
She loved animals. I mean LOVED. She fed every stray cat in the neighborhood for years.
She had waist length, beautiful hair.
She collected earrings. When she died, she had over 300 pair.
When we were small, she was a terrible mother.
When I was an adult, she made up for it.
She was afraid of the dark.
She called me "her little girl", even when I was 6 inches taller than her.
She had terrible road rage.
She risked many things to help save me, including her marriage and her job.
She loved her computer games. Even though she could barely work the damn thing. I had to go over at least once a week to fix some crazy thing she did.
She had quite a taste for beer the last month of her life, after never liking it.
She was a terrible cook.
She made excellent fudge.
She loved Agatha Christie.
She always held me when I cried, no matter how old I was.
She loved me fiercely, the best way she knew how.
Parent Night
Today is already an idiotic day. I'm halfway in panic mode thinking about parents night tonight. We have a schedule to follow, in order to visit all of Youngest's classes in the time allotted. Tons of people, walking the halls of a junior high that is an exact replica of the one I spent 3 tortured years at-this night is not looking good.
And Hubbs is mad and doesn't want to go.
Xanax here I come.
And Hubbs is mad and doesn't want to go.
Xanax here I come.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Fear
I am gripped by fear today. I do this to myself every now and again, I’m not sure why. Fear of school shootings, fear of crashing on the freeway, fear of going anywhere-doing ANYTHING-alone. Fear of talking on the phone, fear all my decisions are bad-the list could go on and on.
Maybe it has something to do with parent night tomorrow. Being surrounded by people always freaks me out.
I am an insecure, anxiety driven kook.
Maybe it has something to do with parent night tomorrow. Being surrounded by people always freaks me out.
I am an insecure, anxiety driven kook.
Update!
We had bartender/hairdresser friend over for dinner last night. It was nice spending time with her in a normal setting. Now that she doesn't work at the corner bar I don't see her as often. Which is good in one way-I am completely burned out on bars. But bad, because we both get so busy it's hard to catch up with each other.
Someone tried to break in to her house a few months ago. He boyfriend bought her a gun, but she doesn't know how to use it. We're going to try to get together Saturday so he can give her a few lessons. Hubbs and Youngest like to shoot, so we'll make a day of it. Sandwiches!!
So, the update. Remember Garden Friend's girlfriend-the "I better not accidentally get pregnant" girl? She's in prison. Sentenced to 2 years for her FOURTH drunk driving.
I guess accidentally getting pregnant is no longer a concern!
Someone tried to break in to her house a few months ago. He boyfriend bought her a gun, but she doesn't know how to use it. We're going to try to get together Saturday so he can give her a few lessons. Hubbs and Youngest like to shoot, so we'll make a day of it. Sandwiches!!
So, the update. Remember Garden Friend's girlfriend-the "I better not accidentally get pregnant" girl? She's in prison. Sentenced to 2 years for her FOURTH drunk driving.
I guess accidentally getting pregnant is no longer a concern!
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Hey You!
Yes, you. I see you. And you. And you over there, wondering what the hell you're doing here.
Thanks for stopping by. Leave a comment or two, if you're so inclined. Aren't we all part of this wonderful blogging community? Take part-let others know you've been there.
I am very guilty of never leaving comments. I've been trying to do better-let people know I agree, or don't. Or that I think they're doing a great job. Or just thanks for entertaining me.
I know, I know. It's not you, it's me.
Thanks for stopping by. Leave a comment or two, if you're so inclined. Aren't we all part of this wonderful blogging community? Take part-let others know you've been there.
I am very guilty of never leaving comments. I've been trying to do better-let people know I agree, or don't. Or that I think they're doing a great job. Or just thanks for entertaining me.
I know, I know. It's not you, it's me.
Book Review
The Story of Forgetting by Stefan Merrill Block.
Excellent! Very well written. When you lose it all, you realize what is really important.
Mini-Tangent ahead-
If I was asked to name important lessons I have learned, one of them would be "Say it."
Whatever it is, say it. I was lucky enough to know my mother had very little time left, and I was able to let her know that I'm ok, I understand, and she could go in peace. I seem to be reading a lot of books lately that make me thank God or whoever that I had that opportunity.
Excellent! Very well written. When you lose it all, you realize what is really important.
Mini-Tangent ahead-
If I was asked to name important lessons I have learned, one of them would be "Say it."
Whatever it is, say it. I was lucky enough to know my mother had very little time left, and I was able to let her know that I'm ok, I understand, and she could go in peace. I seem to be reading a lot of books lately that make me thank God or whoever that I had that opportunity.
Book Review
Let me tell you where I've been : new writing by women of the Iranian diaspora. Edited by Persis M. Karim
I have noticed whenever I read about another culture, or my own in the past,I find myself longing for that way of life. The food, the role of women, whatever. It intrigues me, and I have a tendency to believe the grass is always greener. Even though the average life span was 54 years and they had no antibiotics. Or the women have to wear burkas.
Anyhow....
I LOVE short stories, poems, etc.. This is a great collection. It amazes me the injustices women still suffer in this day and age. A sometimes heartbreaking read, I recommend it nonetheless. It will help remind you just how good you have it. Or maybe make you long for another culture.
I have noticed whenever I read about another culture, or my own in the past,I find myself longing for that way of life. The food, the role of women, whatever. It intrigues me, and I have a tendency to believe the grass is always greener. Even though the average life span was 54 years and they had no antibiotics. Or the women have to wear burkas.
Anyhow....
I LOVE short stories, poems, etc.. This is a great collection. It amazes me the injustices women still suffer in this day and age. A sometimes heartbreaking read, I recommend it nonetheless. It will help remind you just how good you have it. Or maybe make you long for another culture.
Old Woman
I am now convinced it will only be a matter of moments before I am dead. I have found several gray hairs in the past week, and now I need 2 pairs of glasses. Or bifocals. Whichever makes me feel older, I suppose. When I tried on my new glasses, I said “Something isn’t right. Check the prescription please.” Which of course matched the prescription I was given. “But I can’t see that sign over there, and with my old ones I could see (slightly) far away AND (slightly) close up.”
My new glasses are readers. To be used to read. Not walk, drive, or talk to the person 5 feet in front of me. To read and work on the computer ONLY.
Apparently, my last pair were distance glasses, which is why I could see a little bit better when on the computer as opposed to not wearing them at all.
Since I can’t walk with them on, I see a variety of irritating things in my future.
1. I forget to leave them on my desk, which means I take them off wherever I am. Which means I will lose them soon.
2. I carry them to my destination since I forgot to leave them on my desk, and when I get to, let's say the bathroom, I realize I either have to put them on or set them down on the counter in a public bathroom that hardly gets cleaned. Hmmmm, should I put them on and risk walking in to the wall, or set them down and get E. coli of the face?
3. I carry them everywhere I go, and since I get excitable and talk with my hands, they will at some point, either hit someone in the face, or bounce off a wall.
Or, best of all, Hubbs’ suggestion.
4. Get an old lady chain.
Funny how I went from an object of desire for a 16 year old boy to a bifocal needing, granny chain wearing old bat in less than a week.
I cried to Hubbs “It’s not fair! I’m not ready to get old! Why don’t you need glasses, you’re older than I am!”
His answer? “It’s all the glaucoma medicine I smoked”
Nice.
P.S. My ass looks GREAT in my new jeans. Thanks Work Friend who needs a new nickname, and will get one as soon as I can come up with one or two words that do you justice!
My new glasses are readers. To be used to read. Not walk, drive, or talk to the person 5 feet in front of me. To read and work on the computer ONLY.
Apparently, my last pair were distance glasses, which is why I could see a little bit better when on the computer as opposed to not wearing them at all.
Since I can’t walk with them on, I see a variety of irritating things in my future.
1. I forget to leave them on my desk, which means I take them off wherever I am. Which means I will lose them soon.
2. I carry them to my destination since I forgot to leave them on my desk, and when I get to, let's say the bathroom, I realize I either have to put them on or set them down on the counter in a public bathroom that hardly gets cleaned. Hmmmm, should I put them on and risk walking in to the wall, or set them down and get E. coli of the face?
3. I carry them everywhere I go, and since I get excitable and talk with my hands, they will at some point, either hit someone in the face, or bounce off a wall.
Or, best of all, Hubbs’ suggestion.
4. Get an old lady chain.
Funny how I went from an object of desire for a 16 year old boy to a bifocal needing, granny chain wearing old bat in less than a week.
I cried to Hubbs “It’s not fair! I’m not ready to get old! Why don’t you need glasses, you’re older than I am!”
His answer? “It’s all the glaucoma medicine I smoked”
Nice.
P.S. My ass looks GREAT in my new jeans. Thanks Work Friend who needs a new nickname, and will get one as soon as I can come up with one or two words that do you justice!
Monday, September 8, 2008
Paco and Me
Hubbs and I took Youngest to pick up his guitar after getting it repaired and restrung the other day. As we were getting out of the car, this kid, couldn’t have been more than 16 or 17, rides by on his bike.
“Hey… Mama!”
Normally I would have said “Fuck off”, but my brain stopped working because I just couldn’t compute that a 16 year old kid on a bicycle was flirting with me in front of my husband and child. I just stared at him as his rode by. He kept riding, keeping his head turned and staring at me until he was out of sight.
Hubbs: “What the hell was that?”
Me: “I think I was just hit on in front of my family”
The more I thought about it, the more absurd it became. What did he think was going to happen? I’d hop on the back of his BMX bike and we’d ride off into the sunset?
I do realize he’s just a kid and really wasn’t thinking anything except how nice my legs are or whatever, but it cracked me up.
You had to be there. It was a lot funnier at the time.
“Hey… Mama!”
Normally I would have said “Fuck off”, but my brain stopped working because I just couldn’t compute that a 16 year old kid on a bicycle was flirting with me in front of my husband and child. I just stared at him as his rode by. He kept riding, keeping his head turned and staring at me until he was out of sight.
Hubbs: “What the hell was that?”
Me: “I think I was just hit on in front of my family”
The more I thought about it, the more absurd it became. What did he think was going to happen? I’d hop on the back of his BMX bike and we’d ride off into the sunset?
I do realize he’s just a kid and really wasn’t thinking anything except how nice my legs are or whatever, but it cracked me up.
You had to be there. It was a lot funnier at the time.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Say It Out Loud
To my cat, after we replaced the windows in the bedroom-
"Cleo! Don't lick the caulk!"
"Cleo! Don't lick the caulk!"
Friday, September 5, 2008
A Letter To My Husband
Dear Hubbs,
I don’t know if I’ve ever thanked you, but I would like to do it now. In retrospect, I should have done it long ago. I actually should do it every day, but the world swallows me whole sometimes and I just can’t keep up.
Thank you for standing by me after you learned all my horrible, deep dark secrets. A lesser man would have run for the hills. A saner man would have run for the hills. You were able to see that even though I made a mistake or 10,000, I really was someone worth holding on to.
Thank you for standing by me when my mother was dying. I was completely bat shit insane during that time, and I probably would have gone off the deep end if it wasn’t for you. I’m generally never more than 2 steps away from falling, and during that time insanity was 1 very short step away. You held me back. You are my fence.
Thank you for still loving me when I was 35 pounds overweight and refused to wear pants. I thought if I didn’t buy pants in “that size”, it would help motivate me. That took almost a year. But as someone with an eating disorder hospitalization in her past and an incredibly skewed body image in her present, you being kind and loving (as opposed to calling me a pig or oinking when I walked by) was my saving grace. You could have crushed me, but you did not.
Thank you for understanding that sometimes going to Wal-Mart (or anywhere in public) will give me a panic attack. There is no rhyme or reason to these attacks, just the feeling that everyone is staring and thinking derogatory things. Thank you for not laughing. (it really is absurd)
Thank you for never telling me to “get over it”, whatever “it” may be. My “it’s” are generally not the “get over it” type. Mine usually involve therapy, psych meds, and refusing to clean the house for 3 months. I’m really glad you push me when I need it, and baby me when I don’t.
Thank you for not leaving when I was hurting myself and wanted to be committed. That was a very hard time for me, and you never once pointed out that I brought it on myself. Thank you.
Thank you for eating cooked carrots and brussel sprouts. I know you don’t like either one, but I do, so you tolerate them so I can have them too. If there is ever anything you want me to make you for dinner, no matter how icky I think it is, I will. Just ask.
Thank you for your patience in the bedroom. Things that bother me today may not bother me tomorrow, and vice versa. Why this hasn’t driven you bat shit crazy, I’ll never know. But thank you for understanding.
Thank you for helping me raise my youngest child. You treat him like your own, and you’re helping to make him a man. I could never do that. Thank you.
Thank you for pushing me to make friends. You know how hard it is for me, and you don’t want to see me let the good ones go. You help me a lot when you tell me “Call her” or “Go to lunch”. Thanks.
I could sit for hours detailing the many ways you have helped me, and the many, many reasons why you deserve much more than I’ll ever be able to give you. You have helped make me so much better than I was, and I get stronger every day I’m with you. I couldn’t have done all this without you, and I will love you forever.
I don’t know if I’ve ever thanked you, but I would like to do it now. In retrospect, I should have done it long ago. I actually should do it every day, but the world swallows me whole sometimes and I just can’t keep up.
Thank you for standing by me after you learned all my horrible, deep dark secrets. A lesser man would have run for the hills. A saner man would have run for the hills. You were able to see that even though I made a mistake or 10,000, I really was someone worth holding on to.
Thank you for standing by me when my mother was dying. I was completely bat shit insane during that time, and I probably would have gone off the deep end if it wasn’t for you. I’m generally never more than 2 steps away from falling, and during that time insanity was 1 very short step away. You held me back. You are my fence.
Thank you for still loving me when I was 35 pounds overweight and refused to wear pants. I thought if I didn’t buy pants in “that size”, it would help motivate me. That took almost a year. But as someone with an eating disorder hospitalization in her past and an incredibly skewed body image in her present, you being kind and loving (as opposed to calling me a pig or oinking when I walked by) was my saving grace. You could have crushed me, but you did not.
Thank you for understanding that sometimes going to Wal-Mart (or anywhere in public) will give me a panic attack. There is no rhyme or reason to these attacks, just the feeling that everyone is staring and thinking derogatory things. Thank you for not laughing. (it really is absurd)
Thank you for never telling me to “get over it”, whatever “it” may be. My “it’s” are generally not the “get over it” type. Mine usually involve therapy, psych meds, and refusing to clean the house for 3 months. I’m really glad you push me when I need it, and baby me when I don’t.
Thank you for not leaving when I was hurting myself and wanted to be committed. That was a very hard time for me, and you never once pointed out that I brought it on myself. Thank you.
Thank you for eating cooked carrots and brussel sprouts. I know you don’t like either one, but I do, so you tolerate them so I can have them too. If there is ever anything you want me to make you for dinner, no matter how icky I think it is, I will. Just ask.
Thank you for your patience in the bedroom. Things that bother me today may not bother me tomorrow, and vice versa. Why this hasn’t driven you bat shit crazy, I’ll never know. But thank you for understanding.
Thank you for helping me raise my youngest child. You treat him like your own, and you’re helping to make him a man. I could never do that. Thank you.
Thank you for pushing me to make friends. You know how hard it is for me, and you don’t want to see me let the good ones go. You help me a lot when you tell me “Call her” or “Go to lunch”. Thanks.
I could sit for hours detailing the many ways you have helped me, and the many, many reasons why you deserve much more than I’ll ever be able to give you. You have helped make me so much better than I was, and I get stronger every day I’m with you. I couldn’t have done all this without you, and I will love you forever.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Hello, Newman
Newman is a rescue cat. His turn ons are cat nip, tuna, and the sound of a can opener. His turn offs include loud noises, paper bags, and water.
Newman is our Playcat of the Month!
Skeered!
I just sent Work Friend a link to this blog. It has been my deep, dark, secret. But, what the hell. You have to let go sometime, right?
Before sending the link, I went back and read the whole entire thing (yes I do know I'm a loon)and I realized I don't update for shit. I write whats on my mind and never post a follow up.
So, since all 2 of you might be wondering what happened with a few things, here you go.
1. I let work friend read my short story. She said it needed some work, more detail here and there, but that it could be good. As in, I should keep writing. Woo hoo!
2. The insurance paid all but $300.00 of my teeth. Thank GOD.
3. I'm sure there's more, but I have the attention span of a hummingbird. So if you really want to know, ask.
Before sending the link, I went back and read the whole entire thing (yes I do know I'm a loon)and I realized I don't update for shit. I write whats on my mind and never post a follow up.
So, since all 2 of you might be wondering what happened with a few things, here you go.
1. I let work friend read my short story. She said it needed some work, more detail here and there, but that it could be good. As in, I should keep writing. Woo hoo!
2. The insurance paid all but $300.00 of my teeth. Thank GOD.
3. I'm sure there's more, but I have the attention span of a hummingbird. So if you really want to know, ask.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Book Review
Cannery Row by John Steinbeck.
What can I say that you don't already know about Steinbeck? He was a genius. Sometimes I like to re-read the classics.
What can I say that you don't already know about Steinbeck? He was a genius. Sometimes I like to re-read the classics.
I Miss My Mom
I'm going through a very emotional family issue right now. I don't know if things will ever be ok again. I really, really wish my mom was here. I don't know why, she certainly didn't do a much better job than I did. But I wish she was here.
Posting may (or may not) be spotty for a while. I'm depressed which makes me lose interest in things. We currently have no insurance, so I can't go see my therapist for a month. I'll deal with this on my own. What else can I do?
All I can do is the best I can. I haven't always done that. I learned that lesson a little late. For now, I'm doing the best I can.
Posting may (or may not) be spotty for a while. I'm depressed which makes me lose interest in things. We currently have no insurance, so I can't go see my therapist for a month. I'll deal with this on my own. What else can I do?
All I can do is the best I can. I haven't always done that. I learned that lesson a little late. For now, I'm doing the best I can.
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