Saturday, October 30, 2010

Dear Anonymous Commenter - I hate it when you're right. many of you get anonymous comments very often?  I rarely get them and when I do - they are doozies.  Some good, some odd...some right on the money.  And I always wonder how to take them - cuz you never know the person behind the comment but I write publicly so I take them. 

And I've always been the kind of girl who can't stand it when someone doesn't like me and I need to learn that there are indeed many who do not and never will like me....and that's okay.  I need to learn how to deal with that without falling apart.

I can honestly say in the year since I've started blogging I have only received one comment that was negative and sent me into a tailspin.  I used it as a learning tool.  I asked a few friends about it - reacted, got angry, felt sad, wondered if she was right...and then let it go.  I was really proud of that.  I took the "opinion" and I didn't let it change me and didn't spend my life trying to change that person's view of me.  It was a big moment for me.

So obviously - I've had a rough few weeks.  A major depression relapse with little to no eating to recovery which led to eating like an elephant and getting off track.  I blogged last week that I'm back to doing what I know works.  I have journals ready and food planned.  I know what works and I'm ready to do it. 

And then I got this anonymous comment:

I feel like I'm always reading about you "getting on track" and never about you actually on track. That's tough love.. but it's true. This shit is hard.. do it up.

By Anonymous on 10/29/10

And well yah, I'd be pissed IF he/she wasn't right. 

So Dear Anonymous.  While I hate it that you're still doesn't negate the fact that you are right.  So this is me...."actually" getting on track. 

And you're right again.  This shit is hard.

I hope you enjoy the upcoming show....cuz this girl is gonna get there.

Thursday, October 28, 2010


I’m pretty sure I’ve said it before but today I need to say it again.

I shock myself with the stuff I write about here. And I shock myself even more when the “event” happens and my first thought is: “Oh, oh…I can blog about that.” It’s seriously wrong. But I digress…

THIS is my insane family. THIS is why I fit right in.

Incident #1:
Banana turned 5 last week. When I was watching a baby show on TV she looked right at me and said, “Mom, I didn’t want to come out of your tummy. I liked it in there. It was really warm.” Turns out she was serious…she never did come out – they cut her out.

Followed by, “I don’t want to be five. It makes me taller. I want to drink bottles and wear diapers so I can poop in your lap.”

Apparently the child knows my aversion to poop and is taunting me. WTF? What goes on in that brain of hers?

I scooped her up in my arms to take her to bed after that and she giggled and said, “Mama, you look funny carrying a 5 year old.”

Yah – cuz that looks so different than when I carried a 4 year old just days ago.

Incident #2:
I was napping Monday night…just coming out of the paradise coma that a nap is so my eyes aren’t open and in fact, I have a blanket over my head. Watermelon comes in. Sits down. Very seriously says, “Mom, can I talk to you about something on Facebook?” (She uses my FB to play the games)

OH SHITBALLS! Immediately I’m thinking pedophiles, bullying or I’ll need to call in the National Guard….yet I remain calm.

I take the blanket off my face and try to act like a real mother. She says, “Uncle _____’s posts always seem like he’s in a bar. And I don’t like it.”

JESUS – MARY – JOSEPH AND ST. PETER! Call off the National Guard. Send back the SWAT team.

My brother is a bartender. He manages the bar and uses FB to advertise nightly drink specials. He is INDEED in a bar – every day.

I reply, “Let’s just hide his posts okay sweetie?” “Okay Mom.”

Crisis averted. Just wow.

Incident #3:
I was being all pro-active and looking up Christmas present ideas online last night. I found the cutest things and wanted Rambo to see them. So across the computer screens I say, “Hey, can you come look at these and see what you think?”

Now yes, why on God’s green earth any man would even care or want to look at such a thing is beyond me…but I apparently am a glutton for punishment and asked him to look anyway. 20 years into this relationship and he sure as hell can learn how to pretend to care about things that I know he doesn’t right?

I’m looking at the screen, showing him the things, the cost. I’m whipping out my stellar ideas. He’s behind me dutifully saying, “Oh yah, those are nice. Yup, they’d work.”

He’s standing. I’m sitting.

I turn around. And I nearly get swatted in the eye with The Crank. And yah, you’re right. This has happened before. You’d think I’d be more prepared for that thing.

No folks, I’m not kidding. The minute I turned around he felt it necessary for that thing to come out. And he stands grinning.

While I’m all “WTF – I’m talking about Cmas presents and you’re thinking about that? What is your problem? You have some nerve. Pervert.”

He just says, “Baby doll, he misses you. I can’t help it.”

Dude….while I love how we make your penis a separate person with emotions – it’s been like 3 damn days or something. There hasn’t been time for him to miss me. GET OVER IT. PUT IT AWAY.

I gotta hand it to him though. He is persistent. He never misses a moment when we’re alone to at least “throw the option out there” to me if I were willing.

What I really want to know is – is there really a woman out there who would “seize” that moment – right then and there – in the midst of an entirely different topic, middle of the evening, kids outside, still in her work clothes, before supper – right then and there? And if there is…I wanna meet her.

Oh who am I kidding? I’ve been that woman. It can be fun. Don’t hate me.

I’m guessing this is why Rambo still continues to “throw it out there” so often. He’s hoping “that woman” is gonna come back for a visit.

Dammit – it’s MY fault.


So there you go. A day in the life of me. Crazy ass Draz and her family.

It’s become quite clear why I’m anonymous now, right?

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Becoming an un-sham.

Sooo….66 is the magic number today. 66 days left in this year.

Finish out the year – healthy, strong, and at goal.

Oh I’m a funny girl, aren’t I? Lemme just throw this out there….I’m kind of a sham. Oh fine – not even kinda – I just am.

Wait - wait!  Before you get out the pitch forks and start stabbing because you feel so betrayed...know this - starting today - I will become an un-sham.  I know how.  And it's time.

My depression relapse sent me into a tailspin. That’s not an excuse…it’s a fact. When I’m feeling that way – I don’t eat. I physically cannot. The mere thought of food makes me want to run and hide. For me, during that time – my mind is too smart for food. My mind has shut down and wants to lean toward dying, not living. My mind knows food prolongs and sustains life….and that’s not my mind’s goal at the moment – so food feels, looks and sounds like poison to me. You can’t know what that’s like unless you’ve been there. It’s one of the very first signs of a relapse for me. Loss of appetite.

It sounds like a dieter’s paradise but make no mistake…it is a foreign feeling and it's terrible.

And now, let’s just say that symptom is gone. Now that I’m back in the land of the living….so is my stomach. I feel like someone who has been lost in the desert without food and water for days and has been rescued and is now eating and drinking themselves sick to make up for the days of having nothing.

It’s pretty much bullshit. I know better. But to come back from the brink of depression feels like a mini-celebration every day and we all know celebrations normally center around food right? Oy.

The thing is – I beat the relapse but I’m still treating my body like crap – instead of the temple it is. I’m not usually going over in calories but the fact is I’m eating literal junk. Toxins. Additives. Fake crap. Processed shit. My body would probably indeed be better if I ate nothing…rather than the stuff I’ve been shoveling in it.

Don’t believe me? Here you go….this is what I ate yesterday.

½ can of Mt. Dew
1 bag of Skittles (turns out they’re not just for bathing in)
1 Little Debbie
Fried potato crisps
Chicken breast w/ caeser dressing
4 mini pieces of candy
1 homemade crème puff
1 Pepsi

Dudes!!!! Do you all see the ONLY thing in that whole day that was good is the chicken breast? I did manage to drink some water too.  But Jesus, Mary and Joseph. That is ridick.

Holy shit a brick – do you have any idea how much sugar I ate yesterday? It’s enough to choke a giraffe and make an elephant dance a jig.

And it’s wrong. Seriously – today – I need a stern talking to. I don’t want any “everyone has those days” – “you’ll do better tomorrows” or “don’t beat yourself ups”. I am begging you, my friends and followers, to kick my ass. I can take it. I need it. I want it.

So yah, I’m out of depression. I’m going to make it. Hell, I think I might even go from surviving to thriving if given the chance BUT not on this diet. THIS is the diet of someone who doesn’t give a damn about their health. This is the diet of someone who is avoiding getting her blood tests done because she knows the results will be bad. This is the diet of someone who hasn’t worked their ass off the last 5 years to remain healthy.

This is horse doodoo. Lion kaka. Bear poopoo. Bull shit.

If I don’t go back to planning and journaling and doing all the things I know work – I’m going to end up unhappy, unhealthy and relapsing into a permanent depression. That was never part of my plan. Enough is enough.

I lived – and the only way to celebrate that is to treat my body like the temple it is. I need to be grateful I was given the chance to do so. I need to stop abusing myself. I wouldn’t let anyone else abuse me and I need to hold myself to those same standards. I am worth it. I am deserving.

So bring on the ass-kicking comments. And bring on the next 66 days. I’m so over dying.

And now it’s time to prove that. 

Grab some popcorn (air-popped, no butter)'s gonna be quite a show.

Monday, October 25, 2010

P.S.....I have a confession to make....

Okay...not really...but maybe YOU might.  Someone I follow has recently started an anonymous blog for ANYONE to blog on about case you can't on your own blog because you aren't anonymous.  Pretty cool huh?

You can blog about exes, work, finances, love, hate, family....whatever you need to get out....without fearing anyone in your real life will read it on your personal blog....and people will comment and offer support just like on your personal blog.

Today there are two is from someone many of us know really well and the other has no clues at all about who wrote it.  Go check out the blog and the confessions and offer support if you can and if you need to confess something yourself....just follow the directions from the introduction post below.

He came. And I held the roses.

Last week was my birthday and last week I suffered a depression relapse. The relapse made every day hard which meant the birthday meant even more. It was a day I needed. And possibly what got me through to the next day…and the day after that.

Jenny sent me gorgeous magnolias and balloons. Mrs. Fatass wrote a guest post for me. I got oodles of texts. A package from Carmen. Lots of emails. Even phone calls I picked up for. A Tiffany charm from Rambo and my favorite pizza. Homemade cards from my little girls. Facebook wishes amuck. Quiet time with my favorite shows.

And one more thing.

I was working – getting through – breathing. It was about 3pm. My day was almost over. I had made it through. And I looked up. I saw my mother walking towards my office….holding a dozen roses.

Followed – by – my – father.

Gulp. Choke back the lump in my throat. Hold it together.

I saw him. Saw him tense up. Saw him get nervous. Saw him look away.

Because if we locked eyes – we both wouldn’t make it through this moment. We both knew what it had taken for him to come in here.

I’ve worked here 11 years. It’s the first time he has stepped foot in my office….during business hours….past other people….in broad daylight.

I hugged my mom. I didn’t hug him. I knew he was barely holding it together.

My mom said, “This was your dad’s idea. He wanted to bring these. He picked them out.” And she handed me the roses.

Three little sentences…I’ll take to my grave

He couldn’t carry the roses. He couldn’t have handed them to me. I wouldn’t have wanted him to. I knew it was all he could do to just be there.

My God in Heaven…he was standing there. In front of me. In my office. On my birthday.

And he didn’t even have to be.

We made small talk and I was nervous now. What would we talk about? Please don’t let there be awkward silence. Please let me get through this without losing it.

I made it. They left. I said thank you. I sat down at my desk....still holding the roses. And I let what just happened sink in.

Beyond the social anxiety that sometimes completely stops him from being a father….there is love. And on special days – even my father fights his demons and his fears and he tells them to go to hell – for me – by walking in here….knowing what it will do for me. He makes choices like I do…even though everything in him wants to do the opposite.

And since I don’t believe in coincidences…I’m thanking the Big Guy upstairs for giving my dad the strength to do what he did that day…knowing the relapse I was in….knowing it would allow me to take one more step up out of the black hole I was in…

To those of you who have parents who buy you gifts – small or large – please, I beg you…never, ever take it for granted. For those of you reading this thinking flowers from your father is commonplace, normal or even expected….I hope you realize that indeed it is not normal for every daughter. And that you are lucky.

For me, it is….

A life raft
Confirmation of sometimes doubted love
Roses I will never throw out
A moment I’ll never forget
A memory I’ll tell my girls about
Simple…yet profound

For 10 little minutes on a day in October…..everything in the world was okay…..simply because….

He came.

And I held the roses.

Friday, October 22, 2010

New beginnings from an old friend....

Hey friends...

There's a fellow BOOBs blogger and wonderful woman in our midst who most of us currently follow but....she's not going to post on her old blog anymore.  She's craving anonymity and has started a new blog because of that.  I promised I'd try to lead you all if you would...can you go check out my favorite redhead here?

She put clues in her first post as to who she is.....I think you'll figure it out here in blogland if you followed her before...but in real life she's gone underground! 

Happy Fresh Start my friend!  May you feel the freedom to be more open and more uncensored and unfiltered in your new spot....more you....the you we all have come to know and love!

He ain’t heavy – he’s my brother.

Let’s just put it out there from the get-go….that title has nothing to do with my post today other than I wanted to use the word heavy.

Heavy is what my life has been lately. That’s not to say bad…but heavy just the same. Which makes my blog posts heavy which doesn’t make for very fun reading.

Yet I write what I feel – and my heart has been heavy – and I can’t apologize for what I feel or what I write or who I am. It’s a package and sometimes you gotta go through the heavy to get to the light….

How I wish sometimes there was one thing wrong that I could pinpoint – so I could say that “this” – whatever this is – is why depression is in me. Then I could fix the “this”. I could eradicate it. Erase it. Wipe out all memory of it. And go on….without depression.

I can go years without a relapse. I can almost forget I even suffer from it. And then I trip. And the trip becomes a fall. And I deny. I throw up a wall or two. My eyes gloss over. My voice becomes small. And literally the next day I can’t wash my hair. I cannot eat. Moving feels like someone asked me to run a marathon without training for it. Nearly impossible right?

I start to care about nothing…which is the opposite of my true character who cares too much.

The only thing I can think about is breathing – to get through the next minute. I imagine depression has huge black grimy hands – squeezed around my heart until I nearly suffocate. I’d rather die than endure another moment with his wretched hands inside me. And I am pissed I can’t control depression, can’t make it stop, can’t curse it away, can’t will it to f*ck off. It remains….like a slow-acting poison.

It is unexplainable. You know you should live but you don’t give a damn if you do.

You know it shouldn’t hurt to open your eyes…but it does. Light is the enemy. Dark is your home.

It’s a helluva place to be. And a helluva place to walk out alive from. I live my life making damn sure I never really go back to that place. I might get close – but I never go back that far. So when days like Wednesday happen and I feel “it”…I react fast. I know I don’t have much time before there’s no going back.

I am reminded it’s real and it owns me and I am at its mercy.

And I fix it the only way I know how.

I write. I work out. I talk to Rambo and Jenny and others who care about me. I let my responsibilities pile up and I give them away – for as long as it takes. I take baths. I up my meds. I pray. I wait. I hang on for dear life. I admit I can’t do it alone. I re-prioritize. I revisit my purpose here.

And I make changes.

Then I fall to my knees and pray to God – that no friend or foe of mine – ever, ever feels this kind of desperation. I vow to God I’ll do anything if he spares my girls from this in their own lives.

And then I get back up. Weaker maybe - yet – stronger for sure. The same maybe – yet – different for sure.

Enough is enough. Too much is too much. I better back the hell up if I ever want to go forward again.

A male co-worker stopped in my office today and within 5 minutes of chatting with me he said, “What the hell is wrong with you? It’s like you have no fight left in you? Who took it from you?”

First I nearly fell off my chair at the shock of a person with a penis being so insightful. Second I told myself, “Self – you better do a better job of pretending cuz you clearly suck at it right now if penis man saw through it.” Third I sat up a little straighter. And I had a little epiphany. A little lecture to myself.  It went something like this.

F*ck you depression. You can’t take my fight. Even if I lose – it’s MY fight. And I want to go down swinging if I go down at all. You don’t belong to me. You belong to Drazil. He needs you. I don’t. My heart has all it can handle without your grimy hands choke-holding it. Go to hell….see how you like it. Me? I’ve already been there and I’m not going back.

F*ck you depression. Just. F*ck. You.

Your heavy is cramping my style.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Happy Birthday to me...courtesy of Mrs. Fatass...

Well it's here.  Today is my birthday.  And the big MF and I had an agreement...I fill her birthday suckhole and in return she'd fill mine.  Lemme just say - it was so worth the wait. 

Sooo here it is...Mrs. Fatass guest posting for me on my big day.  And let me just say MF is more than my very own Mother Effer...more than just my birthday suckhole filler...she's become my friend.  A real one.  The kind you don't sell even when you're offered a good price. 

Enjoy my friends....

The First Time

I don’t really remember when I started reading It’s Just Me, Drazil, and Sheniqua.

There’s been a lot of back and forth between Drazil and I, what with all of the hoohah shaving, and the phone calling, and the general mutual admiration society. But I don’t remember the first time I came here. You’re supposed to remember your first, but what can I say? I don’t.

I do, however, remember the time that she fell ker-splunk right into my heart. And it wasn’t when I realized I finally found someone who was trapped in the same mind I am. It wasn’t when she told us about the flood. Or her uncle. Or her strong aversion to oh so many bodily fluids.

Nope. The day I realized that this Drazil person was a kindred spirit? Was the first time I read about her friendship with Jenny. I sat and read that post with tears running down my face. Equal parts excited for her, and envious, I read it and somehow understood the magnitude of that whole story.

See, I had my own BFF story to tell, and after reading that post I tried over and over to write it. But I couldn’t make it come out the way I wanted it to. It just didn’t belong on my blog, because there it seemed venty and one sided and mean. But as soon as I was asked to write the Official Birthday Post for Drazil, I knew immediately that it was time to get the story out. And I’ll start it that day I read the Jenny post.

I had a best friend once, but we broke up. And it was a bad breakup. One of those where we both tried to be polite and forgiving, because underneath all the need for the split, there was still a lot of love there. But the plain truth is that it sucked. And it hurt. And it didn’t happen in a very nice way. It happened in a gross, public, nothing being held back, can’t take my eyes off of the trainwreck kind of way. That reverberates. That comes back over me in waves.

For a long long time, I pretended that I was okay with it all. In fact, my first words when the breakup happened were something to the effect of “It’s okay. I forgive you. I understand.”

Thing is, it wasn’t okay and I didn’t understand. And it cut me way down deep. Like, so deep it made me not want to make any new friends here. It made me not want to keep in touch with my old ones back home. It made me distrust just about everyone who I wasn’t related to. It made me distant. It made me feel bad about parts of me that I used to really like. It made me want to hide. I just wanted to let people go all together.

I checked out of lots of real life relationships for a while. Threw myself into writing. And reading. And escaping.

Then that day came that I read about Drazil and Jenny. The way they found each other and fell into a friendship. The story was sweet and hopeful and full of love. And? I cried. It’s so much easier to hold on to baggage and excuses than it is to let it go and just put yourself out there again. I was pretty comfortable with the baggage. Lonely. But comfortable.

I don’t know if she knows this or not, but Drazil helped me be okay with putting myself back out there because she told us about the way SHE put herself back out there. Drazil helped me rediscover some of the confidence that was lost the day my old BFF broke up with me. Yes, I’m a handful. Yes, I’m different. But even so, I didn’t deserve what I got that day.

Drazil helped me be able to say that out loud.

Those tears that I cried while reading about Jenny really helped me let go of the shame and embarrassment of my ‘breakup’, and remember that I am a good friend. A GOOD friend.

That post helped me heal.

So, my dear Drazil, my partner in crime, my whootenany sister, my dessert-loving, always remembering to lock the door hussy, often covered in hives colleague, thank you. From the bottom of my heart. This? Has been the start to a very beautiful, albeit phone-challenged friendship.




Wednesday, October 20, 2010

It is here......

Well, this is it. The hardest post I’ve written to date – mentally and today, even physically. I never thought I’d be here again…and saying it out loud feels like admitting failure…though I know that’s not true.

But it’s a slippery slope…like a slide at the playground and you can’t really stop mid-way. You’re either at the top or sliding to or at the bottom. It’s a downright dangerous endeavor to try to stop in the middle. It doesn’t work. At least not for me.

Sooo I suppose this has been a long time coming – and I stopped living in Care Bear Land and moved right into Denial Land. They don’t poop rainbows there. There are no gumdrops. It’s a big jungle and everything is dark and creepy and old. Denial Land makes you wanna run away and never stop. And it’s where I’ve been for a while now.

My best friend and I were talking last night and she said 5 words to me…and she doesn’t know it but they physically made me gasp for air. My throat constricted. My heart jumped. My throat tightened. I felt sick. They meant I had started down the slide. They meant I was done denying.

She said, “Your eyes are not happy.”

SHIT. Double shit. Triple shit on a stick wrapped in peanuts.

If depression hits me and comes back – you know in my eyes. My mother can take one look at me and know that I am not okay. In fact, she can hear it in my voice. I can simply say “Hello” on the phone – and she can know I’m falling. My eyes and my voice have always been the window to my soul and the first sign of my depression having a choke-hold on my heart. I can hide almost every sign – but not those. I can’t even see them myself so hiding them is futile.

When I over-react when some of you say you feel depression coming on and you’re going to watch it and I freak out – this is why. Because for me – in one day – life changes and it’s balls to the wall, scraping the walls with my nails, digging out of the hole, can’t get out of bed. It’s dangerous and it’s fast….and for me there is no “watching it”.

It’s here.

I have no appetite, I am on the verge of tears every second, I literally am forcing one foot in front of the other, I can’t look anyone in the eyes for fear they’ll see I’m not okay, I don’t want to speak, I slept all but a few hours yesterday, my heart hurts, I want Rambo, I care about nothing, I have no energy, just moving is fatiguing, I’m dizzy…and did I mention I can’t eat? (we all know how huge that is)….the symptoms are adding up.

It’s here.

The jig is up.  I am flawed.

For me, there’s never been a decisive reason or event….it’s a buildup usually and this time I think I’ve taken on too much. Too many school groups, too many jobs, not enough time, too many meetings, too many obligations…though self-inflicted – physically my body is screaming STOP. And for months I haven’t listened. I’ve gotten used to telling my inner demons and Draz to shut up – that I can do anything.

Lately though – even Draz is scared for me. I’ve ignored his little warnings. Told him to go to hell. Told him that I’m different, more capable, okay with myself, happy. Draz shakes his head at me and walks away. He knows I wouldn’t listen until this – until I can’t get out of bed. I am my own worst enemy.

Sooo I have plans to make it through the day and then collapse. I have plans to not look anyone in the eye and use migraines as the reason that I seem sick. No one in my professional life knows about my depression – I hide it like a leper hides his boils. It is not who I am. And maybe I will never let go of the shame.

I will be okay. It is my birthday tomorrow and my mom wants to have a supper for me. I’m going to decline. She won’t like it. And I’ll have to deal with that. Right now – I need to voice what I need or I won’t come out of this. I need to find balance. I need to learn to say no and set boundaries. I need schedules for these extra jobs and time off for two little girls who I’d move heaven and earth for.

This disease is not theirs to take on. This disease is something I do not want them to see. I own this. I own beating it.

The first step in getting better – even after having this under control for 15 years – is literally admitting that it is here. I can’t will it away….or I would have by now. I have to take steps to fix this and climb back up the slide until I’m sitting on top.

I’m gonna need a new pair of shoes with major traction…cuz the ones I’m walking in now are shot. It’s disappointing to say 15 years later I haven’t beaten this, that the disease still controls me, that at the core I’m not really stronger. But it really doesn’t matter – what matters is that when I smile, it’s real. When I laugh, it’s real. When I talk, it’s genuine. When I’m here – I’m present.

Right now – I’m here physically but you can’t get to me. There’s a wall up that I didn’t even put there on purpose…and I’m unreachable. I’m hanging on to a cliff with one finger left on it….and my sole intention today is to get one more finger on that ledge…until it’s both hands again.

I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again. God give me the strength to want to fight for it.

Because like it or not……..


Please don’t worry about me….I have my best friend Jenny watching me closely and Rambo and my family and they know when to step in. I will be okay…writing it out is part of the process of being okay…so bear with me if you can.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Bullets of bullsh*t......

Monday. Yah Monday. It’s almost like the number on the scale and how it determines my mood. The simple word Monday is like that number. That word makes me want to crawl in bed and never move. I nearly didn’t today. I can’t form a complete story today so it’s bullet bullshit time. Bear with me.  You have every reason and my permission not to read this.  For realz. 

• I had a wonderful weekend with my best friend Jenny and her family. We both knew we were crabby going into the weekend….in the history of bad weeks – well, we’d definitely had one and we contemplated cancelling our weekend and staying home, under the covers, mad at the world. But we didn’t. And it was good. Like Cold Stone Creamery ice cream good to be exact. I even got Jenny a 50 cent plastic bright green ring that said BFF on it – and she wore it – in public….because that’s just how we roll. THAT - my people - is the definition of a best friend.

• I am beginning a sugar detox with Dizzy. She is literally attending meetings to beat her sugar addiction and I’m living vicariously through her bravery. Today is day 1 for me. We have vowed to text each other in moments of weakness and get through this together…and we will.

• I am not really okay today. I am pretending to be but I can “feel” I am not. I’m winging it. I’m going through the motions. I’m one second away from a total meltdown. And it’s my birthday week…which normally makes for walking around on clouds. Today? Meh…not so much.

• I have to run a board meeting tonight. I’d rather poke forks in my own eyes. Enough said.

• Amey from Idaho at “Does this donut make my butt look big?” (God I love that title) sent me a gift. A precious gift….awaiting on my steps when I got back from Jenny’s. It was a glass lizard. A real life mascot – my Drazil. And a heartfelt card. And I cried. She is a fellow BOOB and I miss her and the sentiment touched my heart in ways I can’t put into words. More than anything – she is a friend….I love you Amey. Thank you. I’ll have to take a picture for you all of thee Drazil…

• Rambo has a furlough day this week. I’d like our dumbass governor to have to take furlough days that he imposes on state workers along with the additional 3% off the top of every check he takes “because of the deficit” he put this state into. Okay – I’m done – I know this is no place for political views….though I have many of them.

• Rambo will get his 58” TV this week, went to Hooters with Jenny’s husband AND is looking at Harleys. Um, whose birthday month is this anyway?

• I have a cold that makes me blow my nose like a whale like Martha Stewart, my co-worker, does. People 6 offices up can hear me and it’s all good – cuz they think it’s Martha Stewart – and I think that’s funny.

• There are 75 days left in this Godforsaken year. I will end it thinner, stronger, and healthier. I promise. How about you?

• I started a blog topic of childhood obesity and how our parents dealt with that and how it has affected us and so on and the blogs about it were so enlightening and so therapeutic for so many of us. Truly great. This week I have this blog topic spinning off of that about being overweight in relationships – like now or like in watching it in our parent’s relationship – and seeing that as a child….and dealing with a significant other who does or does not understand. I think we all have great views on this and I can’t wait to write about it – when Monday is over – cuz today I have nothing of merit in me.

• My brother knows I blog. Yup – it’s official – someone in my real life finally knows. Nearly a year out and the secret is no longer a secret. He wouldn’t stop asking how I met 50 women and went to Chicago with them. He knows that was something I’ve never done. He kept asking and I finally admitted I know you guys from blogging. One day later he asked for my blog name. I said no. I even shocked myself. I said I couldn’t give it to him because I’m anonymous and I want to stay that way and I begged him to tell no one.

Which brings me to the rash of emails I’ve gotten lately from fellow bloggers who are not happy that they are public. I think when we start blogs so many of us literally believe it will only be about weight loss or family updates or whatever topic we think we are starting the blog about. Then…we get blog friends and comments and we see others writing and we want to have input and it becomes a safe place and all of a sudden we want to tell more and want the blog to be more and we want it to be our confessional – but it can’t be…because someone in our life knows about it…and so we filter and the blog isn’t as real as it could be out of fear and judgement. We find that we can’t just write about that one topic we thought the entire blog would only be about – we want and need to write about more. But we can’t. And now the blog is owned by everyone but you.

When I began blogging and still today – I remember being VERY envious of those of you who are public and post progress pics and talk about real people in your lives and such. I felt my blog was completely less personal and just less than in general because no one knew my face and I felt I was holding back from people I loved. But now – well now – I thank God for the anonymity. I never fear what I write here. I never filter – it’s balls to the walls and vagina pimples and all. THIS has become my safe place. MY therapy without the $100 an hour price tag. And it wouldn’t be if a single person in my real life that I didn’t trust read it.

I love those of you like Amy W. who put it all out there for everyone and have family and friends reading your blogs. It is so extremely courageous to me. I want to be clear that the only reason I stay anon is because here for the first time in my life I complain and vent about my childhood or family members and my jobs and inlaws. I stopped shoving it down – and started writing it out. While I complain about this stuff and make jokes – I love them deeply and reading any of that – would break their hearts. But I need to get it out to move past it and process it though I wish them no hurt. Reading it would hurt. And that is not the point of my blog. So I will stay anon…and everybody wins.

Anywhoozle – those of you thinking about going anon to try to take back a blog that is all your own and you want my opinion on it – I say go for it. Writing is a proven therapeutic endeavor and journaling without filtering can change your life. Let the old blog stay open – as a history – and just don’t update it. People who know about it will just assume you stopped writing. Start fresh. A new background. A new title. A new you who now writes about everything including the one topic you initially started the blog for. Because you now realize you are so much more than that one topic. You always have been. It just took blogging to realize it.

That being said – to my followers – if you see me doing shout-outs asking you to follow someone new….keep in mind – they may not be new at all. They may be someone you already know and love publicly. They are just starting over, new and fresh…and they need your love privately now. So thank you for being willing to follow someone new from a shout out.

* Okay – I’m finally done. If any of you really read all that – you deserve a medal or a cookie or something. Sorry. Seriously – it’s Monday’s fault. Not mine. I take no responsibility – until Tuesday.

Friday, October 15, 2010

BYOC!!!! Bring Your Own Crazy!

Alright my bumblebees, tell me honestly if you’re sick of BYOC Friday. Has it worn out its welcome? Should we stop? Or is it still fun for getting to know all the newbies out there? Just doing a status check….

On to this week’s BYOC – Bring Your Own Crazy – where we answer 5 little questions to get to know each other better. Copy to your blog and enjoy!

1. Tell me about someone you envy.

Hmm…I actually sat and thought about this for a long time. I think before I would have simply answered everyone – meaning – anyone is better than who I am. I don’t feel that way anymore. I don’t literally really and truly envy anyone – I love what I have and the love I have and I wouldn’t trade it. That’s not to say on certain days I don’t envy millionaires or people who don’t have to work or people who fulfill their every dreams or Jennifer Anniston’s hair….I’m just saying at the core – I am finally okay. And accepting. And grateful.  And that's been a helluva long time coming.

2. What makes you angry?

When people settle
Alarm clocks
In-laws (lol)

3. In an effort to help so many that seem to be blue and sad….what do you do when you feel very sad or depressed?

I usually take a bath – with bubbles instead of Skittles. I ask Rambo to hold me for as long as it takes for the tears to stop. I am usually drawn to my old journals – so I can read that in the past I’ve felt way worse and lived to tell about it. I go for a walk and pray for exercise endorphins to come flooding out. I call Jenny and we laugh. I give myself permission to lay on the couch and not move – with the understanding that tomorrow – I have to get back up. Mostly now – I admit how I’m feeling and don’t shove it down or hide it in shame. I reach out….because someone is always there willing to take my hand.

4. If you were stranded on a lonely beach, what five things would you want with you to survive (not people)?

Food – copious amounts of it
Water – in unlimited quantities of course
A bathtub – not only to be clean but for Skittle relaxation purposes
A laptop – to blog! What else!
My phone – to hear my loved one’s voices and ask them to get me the eff off this island!

5. Repeat question: Summarize your week in real life and blogland.

My real week was hmmm….just meh. Not good, not bad…just stressful. I was overloaded with the three jobs this week and knowing I took on these 3 jobs means I can’t complain and that pisses me off. I had trouble focusing and my mind is wandering and a couple times I felt like I was drowning. I can admit there were more than a few “just shut up and hold me” hug requests from me to Rambo and more than a few panicked phone calls and texts to Jenny. Oh and let’s all not forget the big occasion of the week…see this post if you want to read it at Getting naked for someone other than Rambo.

Blog week is full of angst it seems. Blues, depression, seasonal sadness….it breaks my heart. I hope everyone comes out of it soon. We've also had some really candid discussions on children and obesity and parenting....all VERY thought provoking and I hope they helped both the writers and the readers.

Love you all!  I'm going to see Jenny in just a few hours....I'll be sure to hug her tight for all of you BOOBS that miss her so much!

Thursday, October 14, 2010

A Mother's Pain.

A friend emailed me recently after reading my post about me putting my social anxiety fears onto my daughter’s shoulders. It was a painful email to read…and I imagine equally as painful for her to write. It was in reference to putting our “fat” fears onto our children. And man…while my head is spinning with myriads of thoughts on this….it’s still not easy to write.

The mother's email to me said this:

I am constantly worried I am putting my hang ups and fears onto my daughter. I know I do it and I try to stop myself, but it's so hard because in my mind I say I'm trying to protect her - but I'm really trying to protect me when I was her age.

I am REALLY struggling with her right now because in the last year she's really chunked up and the little inner fat girl in me would do anything not to have her struggle with weight the way I did my whole life. She is not fat, but she is right on the borderline and at the age where she'll start getting teased if we don't stop it. It's hard to handle and I know I'm failing because I say things I shouldn't. It's like walking a tight rope because I don't want her to go through what I went through, but if I'm super strict about everything the poor girl puts in her mouth I'll end up giving her an eating disorder when she grows up.

If I go back into my own history, as a young child and teen, I wasn’t overweight. I wasn’t thin either. And I swear to you that about 8 out of 10 of my friends were literally either anorexic or bulimic. At lunch – they’d see who could throw up first. Or who could go the longest without eating…until they passed out. It was a fad. One I never dabbled in – um cuz – I was in love with Oreos. I was muscular though and weighed more than anyone ever guessed and my mother never saw me as thin.

To this day when I am thinner now than I was then…she still can’t see it. She sees me as the same size as her….which I am not. I used to be but am no longer. Just the other day I had her take a skirt to get altered. She picked it up for me. I had the lady make it the same size as a skirt I wear regularly – which is a 6. My mother handed me the bag with the finished skirt in it and said, “Well I sure hope it fits you because it doesn’t fit me.”…in a tone that clearly said, “It ain’t gonna fit you sweet thang.” Or at least that’s what I heard.

I was scared to death to try it on.  What if she was right and it didn't fit?

It fits. I wore it Monday out of spite. It took everything in me not to drive over there and walk in wearing it.

So while my mother never said any unkind words to me about my weight…there are little jabs here and there like the above and always comparisons to my size 2 sister.

I kind of had a mother who saw fat on me that wasn’t really there. Which leads me to my next point – the opposite – the mothers who can’t see fat.

I have a cousin and her children – a boy and a girl – are very overweight, as is she. I swear to you on everything that is holy – she doesn’t notice. When we all lined up for a family picture, her own father yelled out loud enough for everyone to hear, “Yup, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Look at my fat daughter up there looking just like me.” He is indeed obese too. He laughed. She laughed. Everyone else cringed and waited for a fight because God knows for most people – them would have been fighting words.

Nope, nothing. Laughter. She never blushed. Never got mad. She laughed. A real laugh.

And on Facebook she constantly talks about her kid’s beauty and constantly talks about making them pies, taking them for ice cream, eating entire pizzas, candy bars by the dozen. In fact, most of her posts are about food. But my God – she seems so happy. For real. Not a fake, empty kind of happy with sadness lurking behind it. Like for real happy and she doesn’t see her kids as anything but gorgeous and healthy.

And I wonder – is that a bad thing? I mean with a mother who clearly is happy and enjoys life overweight – won’t they grow up to be/act the same? Won’t they be fine if they never change and get thinner? Hell – they won’t be emotionally scarred like some thin girls are – because their mother only treated them as if they were perfect.

Which brings me to what we teach our children even when we’re trying not to. When I initially lost all my weight I probably went overboard. I stuck to my calorie range every day and never ever missed a workout. It was my life. It had to be at that point in time. But I realized I don’t want to teach my girls that diet/exercise are the only things in life so I backed off the food and workout dialogue.

I seriously walk around naked quite a bit – not because Rambo likes it – but because I want them to see that I am not ashamed of my scars and my body and that I am proud of it…and I will not hide it in shame from people like my husband or children. I do not talk diet in front of them. I do not whine about exercise in front of them. I don’t talk about my weight or pounds.

But yet they know….because just yesterday I ate a Tootsie Roll and my 4 year old Banana simply stated, “Mommy, you cannot eat that. You are on a diet.” I nearly choked on that chocolate turd of heaven. Now I’d bet my left titty – she has no idea what a diet even is….but it shocked me. Apparently I “do” talk food around her – enough that she knows candy is not allowed.  At the age of 4.  *sigh*

And the family went on a walk the other night – and I left them all – to go ahead so I could run. Watermelon wanted to run with me but couldn’t keep up the entire time. So it was me running alone and the three of them walking. Was that smart? Did I teach her exercise is more important than precious family time and discussion? Why couldn’t I have walked with them? It still would have been exercise. Sometimes I still go overboard it seems. Running burns more calories you know – and last night – that’s all that mattered to me. Regret mattered later.

Back to the friend who emailed me….I don’t know how to help her….so I’m asking you guys for her. I have two very active thin girls and I have never had to watch what they eat. They eat everything from health food to junk food to everything in between in different quantities. Sometimes they eat very little – they say they are full – and I say okay. I never tell them to finish their plate and overeat. I let them listen to their stomachs and of course if they come up hungry again in 5 minutes – they need to eat more of that supper they claimed to be full on. But chips and stuff like candy are allowed because my kids go outside until dark every night and run and walk and ride bikes. They don’t own video games and usually only watch tv after dark. They burn off what they eat so it’s never been a problem. I’ll keep an eye on it but so far we are okay.

Lest you are mistaken - let me assure you - the fear of them gaining weight is always in the back of my mind.  No mother wants that for her child....when you've been there yourself.

If I had little girls on the verge of being overweight – what would I do? I don’t know. Like my friend said – if you take food away – you give them a complex and possibly an eating disorder. If you let them continue to gain weight – it gets worse and they get picked on and have to go through losing it as an adult. How do you stop it? Is the answer a family diet where everyone is involved? Is the answer a candid conversation with the child? What if the child is too young to understand?

I guess as a mother I wish this wasn’t even a topic to discuss. I wish it was all as easy as my cousin – literally enjoy life, eat what you want, only see beauty no matter what you weigh – period. But we all know it’s not that easy…and that would only happen in CareBear Land.

It’s sort of like me wanting Watermelon so badly to never feel the social anxiety I feel or miss out on life like I did because of it. When we try to prevent our children from becoming overweight we are hoping like hell they never feel fat like we did or have to work their asses off to lose it like we are.

But the subject is intense and controversial and there are so many options on how to handle it. I wish I knew the answer….so I could help this friend. In the meantime, can you guys chime in? I’m curious as to how you handle it if you’re in the situation now or how you would handle it if you were some time in the future.

And I'm curious out of selfishness, in case down the road I have to deal with this regarding my girls. 

And to my friend who emailed me….your daughter is lucky to have you….that’s the one thing I do know. And thank you for sharing your pain with me…..I wish I could make it go away.

I truly do.

Getting naked for someone other than Rambo.

For those of you who thought I meant I was taking a break - meaning like longer than 24 hours - um, not so much.  Even when I was taking a break I blogged.  I just meant a break from the heavy stuff - the writing that takes all my energy and depletes me for a few days.  But I'm not leaving leaving - I'm addicted.  I love blogging like squirrels love nuts. 

I want to tell you all about my day yesterday.  It was fun.  (totally lying)

What did I do you ask?  Oh let me tell you in disgusting graphic details so that you don't want to eat for about 6 days.  Cuz that's how I feel.  And I want to share my pain.  It's just the kind of girl I am...always sharing.

Let's just get to it.  I had the gyno appointment yesterday.  Oh f*cking joy. 

I swear to God I was a mess all day thinking about it and counting the minutes until 3pm.  Now - I know no woman likes these things unless you have a massive crush on your doctor - and well then - have at it.  Crush away.

Imagine how one with social anxiety deals with going to the gyno.  It is your normal person's angst x 100 million - complete with ass hives, dry heaves, and sweaty nether regions.  It is terrible.

But I go - I put on my big girl panties and I go...err... I went.  This is how it all went down.

First - the universe states when you go for your annual you must wait at least one half an hour in your panicked state. The appointment simply cannot be on time.  It's just the way the world works.  Prolonging of the pooty process.  Done and done.  I waited 1/2 hour. 

During which time I promptly texted Jenny and told her I was about to get naked.  Her so very concerned reply was, "Do you feel a draft?"  Wow - she loves me so much huh?

Then I texted two of my other favorite bloggers so they would also know I was about to undergo the gyno experience.  This texting thing is da bomb...though I'm not sure any of those three women think so after I texted them about my vagina.  Blogging is teaching me to put it all out there - they should be proud - not vomiting right?

I am weighed.  I most politely tell the nurse she should subtract at least 5 pounds from the number due to my ridiculously heavy stiletto heels and clothing.  The witch had the nerve to roll her eyes.  Whatever.

I am put in a room.  She asks, "Did you have a pap last year cuz we can't find it?"  GREAT - you mean someone was all up in my junk with plastic tools and you have no recollection of it!?  Can we do it twice this time just to be sure because it's so much fun for us all?  JESUS.

Good thing I didn't strip naked when I got in there finaly - silly me - this isn't my room.  She tells me to wait - that she'll be putting me in another room - soon.  For those of you who don't know - soon - in doctor world means the closest thing to never.  I wait some more.  Shitballs - I've already texted everyone I know about my vagina.  Now what am I gonna do?

So the doctor comes in - with get this - I shit you not - an entire poster filled with pictures of her son.  AWKWARD.  I mean in a few minutes you're gonna know what my internal organs feel like via my vaginal opening.  Do we really have to do this?  She says, "I thought you'd like to see these while you were waiting." 

I wanted to say, "How about we stop waiting and get on with this feel-fest?"...but I looked and oohed and aahed and pretended to freaking care....

She leaves.  That was fun.  I wait more. 

I finally get to my room.  I promptly strip naked which is when I realize - because of the GIANT mirror in the room - (what the hell are the mirrors for in those rooms anyway??) that I have on my pearls.  Well how pretty am I?  Naked with pearls.  I might as well put my stilettos back on and I could be a full blown porn star.  All dressed up - minus the clothes.  Seriously - I look like an I planned it.  Ugh.

She comes in - and of course - she's not alone.  She has Mrs. 20 year still perky boobs with blonde hair size 1 student with her.  And would I mind if she watched?????

Listen - I get learning and all that bullshit but why now?  Why for this appointment?  I mean it's bad enough two of us in the room have to center an entire conversation around my vagina - but now it's a threesome.  Jesus Mary and just keeps getting better doesn't it?

And what am I supposed to say - NO WAY - get the hell out?  My vagina doesn't want an audience! 

I smile and say, "No, I'd love for her to learn about vaginas using mine.  It's a great example - what with it's zits that kids can ride dirt bikes over and it's smooth as a baby's butt sides.  Oh oh and get this?  Once you get in there you can show her what one looks like AFTER IT'S JUST HAD SEX."

Yes, that's right kids.  I had dessert last night.  And before Rambo even had clothes back on I very not so subtle-y said - "SHIT - now the doctor is going to know I had sex."  Now why that matters because I'm sure my doctor indeed also has her own sex with her own husband....I have no idea - but it does.  It's just another bump in the road on this gyno appointment no one wants to deal with. 

So Doctor and Student then promptly take turns admiring my tummy tuck scar.  At one point I was sure the Doc was going to tell the Student  "Now this is what happens when you are bigger than a truck and pregnant - these are called stretch marks."  *sigh*

Then she sees my belly button ring after she'd seen my new half-back tattoo...and she says, "What's going on - you having a mid-life crisis?  New tattoo and belly button ring since I last saw you."

Damn.  Busted.  Shitballs.  Was it that obvious with the body mutilation overload?

Oh and then she asked, "Any changes in breast tissue?"  Shit - um no - can we call Rambo and ask.  I have no idea.  (PSA - do breast exams so you don't have to lie to your Doctor or call your husband)

And here folks - is where it finally gets good.  Turns out with my history I don't even have to have a freaking pap! 

Did you hear what I said!?  That gel shit over there on that counter can stay on the counter!  Little student girl is not going to see what a "I recently had sex" coochie look like. 

Today is my lucky day.

I ran out of the clinic before they could change their mind....and then I immediately texted Jenny and told her the good news. 

And then I bought a lottery ticket.  Only 365 days until I have to endure this again. 

There you go - just try and eat supper now.  I dare you.

Oh by the way - I went home and told Rambo the good news.  I told him the Dr. still checked my ovaries so I was still violated and felt up in a minor way.  His response?

"Did you like it?  And how come you have threesomes without me?"

I nearly ripped his pecker off.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

She picked me........

Someone I love more than life itself told me I need a blogging break and she’s right.  While you may indeed be reading my blog today (thank you for that by the way)….let it be known this required no earth-shattering talent or thinking….just a few words cuz I’m not Superwoman today.  Today I’m just me….and me requires a writing and life break of sorts.  Never fear - I'm still out here farting gumdrops.

Speaking of writing...yesterday blogger said I'd done 300 cool.

Let me leave you with this….80 days left folks….before 2011. Are you on track to finish the year strong? I have kept up with working out every other day and my food intake is going very well. Eye on the prize – which is goal by end of year. Are you still with me?

And now this. Watermelon (soon to be 10 year old) – told me the teacher told the class to write about either their mom or dad. Anything they wanted. Whichever parent.

Watermelon picked me.

She picked me.

And this is what she wrote…and I’m sharing it with you….because it made my day. There was no direction on what to write or how to write it (or how to end it as you’ll see)….it was just to write. She mentions chocolate so for me – she hit this one out of the park. Enjoy!

“I looked at the woman at the computer. Her hair was as brown as chocolate and as long as taffy. Her clothes so fashionable that I want some just like them. She wears beautiful high heeled shoes as tall as my finger and taller. She stands up and shows off her more than 5 ft in height. She has accomplished many things in her life and she gets up proud of herself.”

Yah that’s it – I told you it kinda just ends….kids are so cute huh?

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Running red lights...waiting in yellow...and onto green.

I stopped her….for me………

And I shouldn’t have.


Let me explain.

Watermelon, my 9 year old daughter, is the one who shares many of my social anxieties and in her young little life has already experienced full blown panic attacks.

When we go to a party with oodles of kids there – her age….she’s the kid who will stay next to me. Usually grabbing my shirt…so as not to lose me. Or holding my hand. She is the one who will stay in the house if going out means she has to see people she doesn’t know. She is the one who will turn down invitations to things if me and her Dad aren’t going. She will turn down an outstretched hand full of candy if it means she has to reach for it.

As a toddler – my sister, my mother, my brothers, Rambo’s family – not one of them could hold her or she’d scream. Most of the time she wouldn’t bring her head up from our neck to even look at them. It wasn’t making strange – it was way beyond that. Being the mature adults they are – they took it personally and held it against her and me.

They’d ask, “Why won’t she let us hold her or even look at her? Why doesn’t she like us?“

I remember one time my mother and sister had an intervention of sorts…they sat me down to tell me basically I was parenting her wrong. That it was my fault she wouldn’t go to them and didn’t like anyone but me and her dad. And that it was hurting them. Wow. Really?

Her symptoms have improved. Rambo and I have forced her most of her life to step out of her comfort zone.

You must go outside….to see it won’t hurt you.
You must go play with those other little girls….to see it can be fun.
You must go to the party…to see it’s not as bad as it seems.
You must let Grandma hold you…to see she loves you too.
You must let go of me…to see you have the strength to be in this world on your own.

And I’ve seen her change. If I used to ask her to run over to the neighbor’s to get her sister, she’d say no….unless I went with her. When I’d tell her to let go of me and go play with the others, she’d refuse outright.

Now – she runs to the neighbors by herself all the time. She has invited friends over. She has gone to parties.

She is more herself without even knowing it.

But the other day I stopped her from branching out – for me…..because of my fears. And it’s ridiculous.

Now, I’m not actually beating myself up over this though maybe I should be. I did it, it’s over. She doesn’t know what happened. I need to write it out to move on. I recognize it and won’t do it again. I guess I’m just surprised I’m not as “better” as I thought. It’s one of those weird defining moments I think I’ll always remember.

I am completely aware that this seems like not a big deal to most of you. To me, it is. Wrong or right – it just is.

My girls were outside playing. I had known from looking out the window that the neighbor’s cute chick-a-wow-wow (chihauhau) had been out running around. I thought later I’d go out and pet it. I had seen Watermelon over at the neighbor’s before with it – all by herself….another victory as I smiled to myself and went on my way with cleaning.

It got later and I went out to get the girls to bring them in. I met Watermelon in the grass and told her it was time to come in. I said, “Where did the puppy go? I wanted to pet him.”

Watermelon said, “Oh, he’s around the other side of the house with Tim. Let me go get him.” And she starts yelling, “Tttiiiimm!!!”

And I say – “Stop – NO – don’t – forget it. I”ll see him another time.” And my stomach is churning already. I’m panicking. I can’t see the neighbor. I’m not prepared. This is too spontaneous. I can't believe she's running towards him - he's going to see her and then I'll have to talk to him.....and...


She WANTS me to see the puppy so she starts to run towards their house and is still yelling and I say louder, “Watermelon – NOOO – we’re going in. Leave them alone.”

She stops. We go in. My blood pressure returns to normal right before I realize what I just did and what she just did.

First of all – she just sought out an adult….yelled for them…with no fear…….no hesitation….without asking me to go with her.

Second of all – I stopped her….because of my fears…my hesitation…my weakness.

What could have been a moment of victory for her in seeking an adult out with no fear, petting a cute puppy with mom and laughing….was nothing.

I let it be nothing.

Except a moment of clarity. That I have a long ways to go. That little tiny things that are so easy for others are still hard for me. That fear can still rule my actions. That Watermelon has come a long way.

It honestly makes me wonder how many times I’ve “stopped” her from living. And actually I’m not ready to answer that question. I know the answer – and it’s a lot. And I’m not ready to face that guilt just yet or accept it or forgive myself for it. Staying in the house and turning down invitations and being scared to do things without Rambo….well….that affects my girl’s lives too and that’s pretty shameful.

I thought I was further along in this journey until one little thing slaps me back to reality. I will not stop fighting though.

I’ve been stuck at a red stoplight for a long, long time….and recently found my way into the cautious world of yellow….and I swear I’m going to get to green. And I’ll never stop going once I get there.

And Watermelon will be with me in the passenger seat….holding my hand because she loves me….not because she’s scared.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Haven't paid it forward in a while....

A dear friend of mine has started a new blog...a fresh new start with a fresh new look and she's super excited about it and so am I.

We all know how important followers are - sooooooooo.......if you get a chance, pop over and follow won't be sorry!

I promise!

And thanks!

YOU wrote my post for today.

Okey dokey my little turtles…it’s Motivation Monday and I’m finding my motivation this morning to be YOU! I decided to take the opportunity to use YOU to create a blog post today. I’m going to answer YOUR questions and even comment on YOUR comments….just as a look back for me on some of my favorites. To motivate me. To make me smile. To make my day….as YOU always do.

We begin with a comment from my BFF Jenny:

Ahhh...I'm smiling from ear to ear and crying happy tears. You finally SEE what I've seen all along. BIG HUGS to you!!! By Jen on 10/7/10
You know this whole thing would have been easier if I’d have just listened to you. Fine. I admit it – you’re always right. Love you bestie.

Wow, Woman. Im smiling GRINNING FROM MY CORE. so much so that I cant even stop to tell you how I covet your writing ability. (oh, ok. apparently I can. and I do) Hold on loooosely but dont let go (of the it. sing it with me?) By Miz on 10/7/10
Ah Miz…I sang that song with you ALL day…

Fantastic. You and Jenny are such fabulous complements to each other. GO DRAZ GO! I can't wait to see what you do next. Before we know it, you'll be ruling the world. By Kristin on 10/7/10
Well shit – Kristin – you weren’t supposed to catch on. Ruling the world has been my evil plan all along. Now – keep it a secret okay?

How could you not love someone as wonderful as you? We do! I am so glad the baby steps are turning into a marathon. One step at a time is all it takes. Love you babe. And that's the truth. Now if I only had your phone number... Would you answer if I called? By Sandy Lee on 10/7/10
Um, would you still love me if I said no? As soon as I saw the words phone number – I got ass hives. *sigh* Lemme think about it and get back to you. LOL

I am inside out smiling for you. Inside out. By MrsFatass on 10/7/10
No one kill me. I turned MrsFatass inside out. She’ll resume her normal blogging activies today as usual. No need to send out the zombies with pitchforks after me mmkkaayy?

Whatever happened with the ski slope bump on the vagizzle? These are the things inquiring minds want to know!! (because they distract us -- and you -- from the serious stuff ;) ) By The CilleyGirl on 10/7/10
Well, if you must know….the ski slope was a freaking mountain of a zit. That is all. No need to alert the media or the President after all.

Wait a second. NOT MUCH?!?! Drazil lies. Let's get one of Rambo's guns and kill Drazil in the woods. Do you suppose that your life will be better? I think it would be hard to get away from the habits themselves, and not just the stupid Draz himself. Sheniqua's gone, do you suppose that you'll be too lonely? Let's kill Drazil regardless. By JourneyBeyondSurvival on 10/7/10
OMG – you’re onto something here. We need to plan an old-fashioned blanket party for Draz and Sheniqua. We’ll beat the doody out of them and leave them to lay gasping in the woods…they’ll attach themselves to whoever comes along to save their dumb asses and be fine. When are you free JBS? I like how you think.

Reread your post. Then read it again. Done? Read it one more time. Then, think about what you would tell one of us if we said: 1. I know what I want to do with my life 2. I have the support of the most important person in my life 3. My body is telling me WHAT to do. You don't have to do it tomorrow, or even next year. But, you OWE it to yourself to start taking the steps that will lead you there. Consider this post step #1. Can't wait to see #2. Smooches. By kagead on 10/7/10
THIS is how much I respect you. You said read it again…and I did. Post #2 is coming…just for you.

Are you a Libra??? By Pamela E. Williams on 10/7/10
Indeed I am. Is it wrong that I have an entire birthday month instead of a birthday day?

Is it bad that Rambo turns me on? Hopefully it's okay since I am happily married, quite a few miles away and I know that I'm no competition for you. By Bonnie on 10/6/10
Oh I don’t know about you not being competition. Rambo has a thing for amazing women. LOL. And no – it’s not wrong that he turns you on. Happens to me all the time and it pisses me off too.

Eek, I don't know how you handle being married to someone with such a job! Share your secrets! By Justawallflower on 10/6/10
Um my secret is…I live in CareBear land and take baths in rainbow Skittles. Well, on the days when they let me out of my straight jacket anyway.

Slurp . . . slurp. . . Yes. That's me licking your fur. And the thing is? That's not even going to be the strangest thing we say to each other, is it? By MrsFatass on 10/6/10
Um, is it bad that you know I can’t answer this? We both know it’s going to get crazier than fur licking.

You know you're my absolute favorite of all...right? I had a dream last night that you called me and we were cavorting all over Tennessee (????). For some reason, it's where you lived and wanted to cavort. :) XOXO- ILYG D By Diz on 10/5/10
Tennessee? For realz? And cavorting? What does cavort mean? Is cavorting even allowed in CareBear Land? PS You’re one of my faves too Diz. ILYGTD

Geez - couldn't you wait until we were all close to goal to drop this bomb? By Bonnie on 10/4/10
Um no – I am the official unwanted bomb dropper. Kinda like Explosive Man.

I prefer the word complacent. So much nicer than "cocky". And it it has more syllables, makes me sound smarter. ;) :P lol By Ice Queen on 10/4/10
IQ – why didn’t you tell me about the word complacent before I wrote this post? Cocky felt dirty just to type. I don’t even know what complacent means but if it makes me sound smarter…I’m so using it.

Another great post, you must have a furnace running in your brain.. where do these great thoughts come from!! I have yet to find the reasons why my life has played out the way it has.. but I have no regrets and have fully accepted each day and each challenge. what else can I do.. I just get up each day and say, let's hope this one (the day) doesn't hit the crapper! By Barbara on 10/1/10
No furnace in my brain..not even a little plug in heater…I’m just crazy. NO idea where the thoughts come from…sometimes I scare myself. AND well….good thing you’re not Explosive Man – every one of his days ends up in the crapper – like 16 times or more. Wow.

How do I survive? Barely sometimes. But honestly? I think it is precisely because of my bipolar that I'm able to bear my daughter's terrible illness. That eats her skills away and leaves her mind trapped in her dysfunctional body. How? Because I have been through something that was ten times worse for ME personally. I've had who I am stripped away piece by piece and given back to me a shredded mess. I had nobody I trusted to see through the label and just love me enough to let me talk about it and be normal. I've been alone. Trapped. So I can help her. I can be sure to care for myself. I am able. Because I know what it's like to be trapped, I know the consequences of not caring for myself, and because I medicate responsibly. Who knew that a pile of shredded mess could assemble so beautifully? By JourneyBeyondSurvival on 10/1/10
Who knew indeed? I can’t even add to the beauty of this comment. It’s reality at its finest.

Oh Jiminy Cricket! You are too funny. What is wrong with guys sometimes? LOL By Xina on 9/29/10
OMG – do you know how long it’s been since I thought of the little JC (Jiminy Cricket) instead of the big JC (Jesus Christ)? Um…you don’t really expect me to have an answer for your question do you? I can’t write that much and blogger doesn’t have the bandwidth to support that many words..

Lady, are you trying to kill me here? I think you're a wonderful person and you're family and friends are lucky to have you. By Jenny on 9/28/10
Um yes, yes. Wait – shit – NO. That was not part of the plan. Just ruling the world – that’s the plan.

Um, I know you don't really have time for this question, but, um, does the "dry you out" stuff only dry out one's sweat? I mean, not to put too fine a point on it, but there is a certain female location in which moisture can be quite helpful. You know, when you're having "dessert"? By Lisa
You know what Lisa? I’m glad you asked this…I can’t believe you’re the only one who did? And the answer is yes…it only takes away sweat…the “certain female location” stays right on task…all is well in cooterville. Thank you for your concern.

Okay, so I know I shouldn't be smiling because you're clearly stressed, but your post cracked me up. Keep breathing, my friend...and 5 curling irons? I'd like to hear more about that when you have time...:) By ♥ Shrinking Kenz ♥ on 9/22/10
For the record Kenz – I’d just like to say I only took 3 AND Jenny totally used one to make her hair super cute. I believe she even said to my curling iron at one point, “where have you been all my life?” So there…totally worth packing them. YAY. (lol)

OMG!! You know some people call their vibrators battery operated boyfriends or BOB for short. I totally didn't think this post wasn't going to be innocent at all. LMAO!! By Miss S. on 9/12/10
Um – have I mentioned I am the most naïve idiot ever? I had NO idea that was a code name for vibrators…or I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have titled my post with the word BOB in it. Or wait…yah…I so would have.

Is it the 24th yet so I can squeeze the dickens out of you? Yeah, I said "dickens". OXOX By Joey on 9/9/10
Just for the record….the 24th came. I was duly squeezed by Joey. Dickens was promptly eliminated.

Friday, October 8, 2010


It’s another episode of BYOC….Bring Your Own Crazy….where we answer questions to get to know each other better. Come join us! Copy and paste to your blog and have fun!

1. If you wrote a biography on your life, what would the title be?

Finding My Own Fabulous….

From the day I was born I’ve been searching for my own fabulous within me….and though I see it now in ways I never did before….I’ll keep searching for more because that fabulousness feeling is like Milky Way candy bars to me…you can just never get enough.

2. Would you take $1 million dollars to leave your present life – including friends and family – to start over somewhere else? You’re leaving your physical location to never go back but you can contact them via phone and net and such. (you take your immediate family with you..spouse, kids, etc.)

Yup, I so would. That sounds kinda bad but I let my family influence me too much most days and they cause me a lot of stress and hurt and there are MANY days when Rambo and I want to pick up and leave. All the other siblings have done so – leaving Rambo and I with the majority of care-taking and being there and such and that gets exhausting though we don’t mind doing it. We just see that being far away has its advantages and absence indeed – can make the heart grow fonder.

3. Are you a person everyone trusts or do you have trouble trusting everyone or both?

I do think people trust me. Sometimes people I barely know end up confiding things to me and I wonder why that happens. I think I have a sign on my forehead that says, “Do tell….I’ll listen.” And the truth is, it makes me happy. In my wildest dreams I’d have been a therapist or a life coach so I could help people. As for trusting others….I’m pretty naïve and therefore, usually trust too quickly and too easily, then get hurt, see the person for who they really are, swear I’ll never trust again – and repeat the cycle. I want to believe people are good – so I’ll just keep risking it.

4. Looking back, if I asked you what one event changed the course of your life – and you had to answer immediately the first thing that popped into your head…what would it be?

My 22 year old Uncle’s suicide when I was 15. I became a different me from that day forward.

5. Repeat question: Summarize your week in life and in blogland.

Life was good – stressful, couple of migraines and busy – but good just the same. I’m still having fun texting in real life since I just figured out how to use it. YAY for entering the world of technology huh? Big dream-making escapades are in my horizon too – and to say I’m excited is quite the understatement of the year. Rambo has the weekend off so I am ELATED about that!

Blogland seems to have come back to Earth after Chicago and the feelings that came with that. I had a huge epiphany yesterday and found my IT and feel completely different about everything. The general tone seems to be one of struggle lately…it’s so funny how we all go through the same ups and downs. And my BFF Jenny is giving away a free personalized blog header which is so exciting!!!

Thursday, October 7, 2010

My "IT"....

I think I made it.

Made what you ask? I have no idea because my “it” has no name. I just know I finally made it.

How do I know? Turns out I didn’t…until I had a little convo with my bestie, Jenny…just like I do every day. One would think nothing of it. Nothing earth-shattering, just us – figuring out world peace and stuff like that.

And right smack dab in the middle of our email – it hit me. It’s been coming for a while…little hints of it here and there…and a crescendo was building – and today it became clear.

Are you ready for this? (insert annoying drumroll please)

I’m done hating myself.

I made it.

Let me back up….Jenny and I were having a casual conversation about a mutual friend and one of my comments was….it makes me sad to see someone I care about have so much self-loathing – probably because I’ve seen it in me and have constantly worked on loving myself.

So yah – nothing too huge there except if you’re me.

In that one sentence, it’s like I separated myself from this person – meaning I don’t belong in her self-loathing group anymore. Like I’m sad she hates herself….and that’s a sad place to be….for her. I don’t live there anymore. I wish she didn’t either. And notice I said I have constantly worked – as in w-o-r-k-EDED as in past tense - on loving myself. Meaning I used to – as in the past – as in before. As in I don’t have to work on that anymore.

So yah - it hit me. I’m over hating myself. Now yes, I will always want to be more and do more BUT at the core of who I am….I’m over the hate. A year ago, I couldn’t have made that statement. I’m not even sure how it happened but I’m sure blogging contributed.

My identity before wasn’t an identity I was proud of. If you asked me what my good characteristics were….I’d have told you my kids were beautiful or I had a nice house or a good job….nothing that was really inside of me as a person. I literally couldn’t have told you good things about me. I would have been lying. I wouldn’t have believed them. I could not have spoken the words.

It’s lonely and painful and downright exhausting to hate yourself so much each day. And now I realize it’s kind of an insult to those who love me so much. If I can’t see the reasons they love me – aren’t I essentially calling them liars? Telling them they’re off their rocker. Telling them what to do by basically saying “you shouldn’t love me”?

Hating myself completely tainted the good that was me. It’s a negative thought and really I’m sure that when others figured out how I felt about me – they felt like I did about the mutual friend above. Sad for me. Wishing I could see what they see.

And I never wanted to evoke that kind of emotion in anyone about me. I lived my life regretting every move I made or didn’t make. Every word I spoke or didn’t speak. Wishing I was someone else who acted some other way or spoke some other way or lived another way…anything but me.

The fact that I can’t pick up a phone call out of fear was a disappointment. That I physically sometimes cannot go to a party out of fear of walking in and having people look at me. That I can’t look you in the eyes when you talk to me. That I feel too much and love too strongly. That I am dramatic and loud when I feel comfortable. That I don’t drink and there’s not even an earth-shattering reason that I don’t. That I believe in the core values of marriage and that I sometimes get sad about my childhood. That I take medicine to stay alive. That I want to sleep more than my fair share. That I eat the ends off of my husbands brats and put them back. That I am a picky eater to begin with. That I swear. That I constantly freak out about the type of mother I am.

All these things – were reasons to hate myself…and the list goes on. Everything I did or didn’t do was wrong. Never enough. Not okay. Bad.

My God - it’s tiring to second guess every move you make for 35 years. And I’m so over it. If I have that much energy to waste – I’d rather put it to good use.

I’ll tell you again I don’t know how it happened. I know a huge part of it is Jenny. When I met Jenny and would tell her about people who walked all over me – she’d gasp in horror at their comments and wonder how I let that slide. Well I let it slide because in my heart – I thought I deserved it. Jenny had none of that…she’d literally tell me what I should have said and tell me I had every right to be hurt by the comment. And little by little – I started to believe her.

I mean all my life there was Rambo saying exactly what Jenny said but he’s my husband, he loves me, he’d walk through fire for me…he’s a little biased and he has a penis so it was hard to believe him. But here was this woman – successful, beautiful, amazing mother, daughter and wife – who I wanted to be like – telling me I deserved more and was worth more and could be more……and she was right.

So when the offer for my second PT job came in and I was scared and doubted my abilities – Rambo AND Jenny said – You can do it. You’ll kick ass at it.

I believed them. And I rocked that job like none other before and I even had the balls to ask to be paid what I was worth. And they paid it – because they knew I was worth it.

When the offer came for my third PT job as a direct result of the second and I doubted myself yet again, Rambo AND Jenny said – You can do it. You’ll kick even more ass at it.

I believed them. And I rocked that job like none other before me cutting it from over 10 hours to just 1 and some change. I had the balls to raise my rate for this job too knowing I was worth it because Rambo and Jenny wouldn’t lie. And they paid it without blinking an eye – to keep me.

On the days when I told Jenny I’d never recover from the flood and what it did to my heart….she let me take her there - through the house…as part of letting go. And little by little – I am indeed letting go.

When I would say I wanted to do and be more – since the moment I met Jenny – she has answered those doubts with a simple question….”Like what?” Because to her – I’ve done everything I set out to do and then some. She believes that – and now I believe it too. Anything I do from here on out – is just icing on the cupcake.

When Watermelon was going through her panic attacks and I thought I couldn’t make it through one more day…that I was going to crumble….Rambo AND Jenny would say, “You cannot and will not fall. She needs you. Just be there. This too shall pass.” And they were right.

When I told Jenny I wanted to write – every day – like in a blog but I doubted anyone on Earth would ever read it…she said, “I’ll read whatever you write and I’ve wanted to write a blog too. Let’s do it together.” And that day we began our blogs. And our lives changed…for the better.

There are many more things on the horizon for me – including some day telling my brother how he’s hurt and shaped our relationship so I can stop being mad and telling my father what I regret about my childhood so I can finally feel like I’m being honest with him and we can both move on. There are dreams only Jenny and Rambo know about that I’m going to take on….while they hold my hands the whole way. There are more blogs to come that I hope people keep on reading. There are things I’m going to do with Watermelon to fill up her heart that desperately needs it. There are ways I’m going to break and beat this social anxiety disorder I have – beyond Chicago and picking up phones. There are words I now say when someone hurts me – instead of merely believing them.

I have not lost my flaws. I am crippled in many ways. But here’s the thing I just figured out when I got done hating myself….those flaws – they are mine, they make me – me. They are me as a package. The fact that I can’t pick up your phone call if you aren’t Jenny, Rambo or my mom – makes me Jenny’s BFF, Rambo’s wife and my mother’s daughter. They don’t make me not worthy or less than. Sure, I can work on changing my flaws to become better but if I never did it stands to reason – their love would never falter. It’d probably only grow stronger.

There’s something to be said about realizing that when someone says they love and believe in you…that they are telling the truth and you believe they are. When you don’t believe – you taint the feeling they are expressing…instead of accepting it with gratitude. And when you believe them – man, you feel like you can move mountains.

I told Jenny about another dream today – one that would probably consume all of me – and in a nutshell she basically said, “Do it.”

And in a nutshell…..I simply said………”Okay, I think I will.”

It sounds simple to some of you – to not hate who you are. I am here to tell you – it is not simple. It’s the kind of not simple that makes me cry as I write this knowing that today – this post – marks a turning point for me. I am done hating. And the relief in that statement is all-consuming. I can’t put it into words.

Suffice it to say…..

I finally made it.

And I hope you do too.

Your it is waiting for you…..go out and find it.  And then come back and tell us all about it...I'll wait as long as it takes....just like you waited for me.

Scatterbrained at best....

First off, I suppose I should ask for forgiveness. This may very well be the most scatter-brained random post ever. I’m sorry.

• 85 days left in the year my little lollipops! How’s it going for you? I started on Monday of this week getting back to basics and have lost 4.5 lbs so far. Got my ass back on the treadmill to piss Sheniqua off and last night walked 3 miles with Rambo. That’s a workout every other day and that’s a helluva change from last month. Bring on the holidays I say!

• I don’t understand life. A 47 year old woman from my town died yesterday. Just a few short weeks ago, she was diagnosed with Stage 4 ovarian cancer and yesterday – gone. She had kids in high school and a loving husband. I don’t understand and I pray with everything in me that some day…every one of them will see the reason.

• I love Bon Jovi. Enough said. (a song of his just came on the radio)

• I’m annoyed that it is always the same parents doing all the work for meetings, fundraisers, and events. Always the same parents making donations and giving time. 5% of the time I’m resentful that I’m one of those parents. 95% of the time I’m proud of myself for being something my parents never were. I swore I’d be involved and I am….and I stopped the cycle.

• Armed escort day for Rambo. He left at 3am and I won’t get to know if he’s okay until about 5pm. Strangely enough, I’m not worried. If there’s one thing I learned about Rambo – it’s that he can take care of himself and that every day his sole mission in life is to come home to us.

• There’s a piece of me that was buried deep that is starting to dream again. Believe it or not, I have crazy dreams of what I want to do with my life and sometimes they are all I can think about. I spend hours planning, drawing, writing, listing, praying, hoping and believing. Once in a while I even mention one of the dreams to Rambo and he listens and every time says, “Go for it…you’d be great at that.” I think it’d almost be easier if he just said, “Forget it, that’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard.” But as it is…he gives me a sliver of hope that it’s possible…if I had balls. Most of the time I bury my dreams…I let Drazil take over and tell me I’m crazy and that I don’t have the ability to make any of these dreams come true. But lately – a few ideas have come out again, a renewed enthusiasm has sprouted and a little glimmer of belief has appeared…and I find myself thinking maybe…just maybe….

• That’s all I got today. My mind is filled with preoccupations and stress and worry – though I feel good. I feel like I’m on the eclipse of something – but I don’t know what it is. I had another migraine last night – for no reason – other than my body is physically trying to tell me something. This is my birthday month and while I love birthdays and always looks forward to them…they do make me wonder….what in the hell have I done with my life? The answer is usually quick and it’s always from Drazil….”Not much babycakes, not much.” And that’s not acceptable….I was meant to be more and do more….but again, more takes big balls. And we all know I only have a whootenanny. Does it count that it’s exceptionally smooth?

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

A short diddy on perspective....

YES - I'm completely aware this is blog #3 today. 

This one is going to be short.  I just want to say there are:

86 days until the end of the year!  (in case you forgot)

Since I started reclaiming my health two days ago, I've lost 3 pounds.  YAY ME!  How are you guys doing?

Also - a little diddy on perspective.

Rambo emailed me to make sure I'm alright.  Said he was going to be busy today at the prison.  Then he emailed again saying "Erase is going to be slow....we're on lockdown as of now."

I say, "Why?"....silently cringing at asking but wanting to know just the same.

He says, "Inmate came up with a lost earpiece on his glasses....that piece would make a nice shank.  At least it's on the seg unit."

*sigh*  Yah - thankfully it's not lost out in general population or someone would indeed be getting shanked rigth now.  Seriously - I'm sitting at my desk in heels sipping Pepsi. 

And tomorrow he does an armed escort.  Taking an inmate to the hospital for 6 hours.  Rambo is the button pusher on this trip.

That means he's the guy who contols the devices that throw jolts of electricity through the inmate if he gets out of hand. 

Again - perspective.  Sometimes it blows my mind.....

I Wish Wednesday....

I crave routine….routine is good…and with that said….I’m getting back to my mid-week routine by doing “I Wish Wednesday”….

I wish I had the balls to be mad and stay mad. I’m angry at someone because he hurt me and he has hurt me pretty much since I’ve known him and I swear I’m done and yet….he calls. I pick up. I listen to him talk for 15 minutes never once asking how I am. I wish I had the balls just once to say, “You hurt me – I am angry – I’m not your doormat.”….just once…so I could see what that feels like. And maybe it doesn’t really matter because – mad or not – I just keep right on loving him. What purpose does mad serve anyway right?

I wish I could shove an entire box of Kleenexes up Martha Stewart’s ass so she couldn’t find them when she needs to blow her nose like a whale. Seriously people - I know I never shut up about this (my co-worker) but MY GOD IN HEAVEN – how does such a petite “match my evening supper linen napkins to my silk underwear put puppy shoes on my dogs” Martha Stewart - think it’s okay to snort like a 600 pound lumberjack just because she needs to blow her nose?

I wish high schools included etiquette and tact in their curriculum. For realz. If you have to shit in public, and your track record says that in the past your smell knocks people on their ass up to 4 hours later – try going at home out of courtesy to the rest of us. Yesterday I walked by the bathroom and nearly stopped dead in my tracks and I think out loud I said, “Jesus Mary and Joseph – who died?” before I realized I should keep walking and try not to pass out. It’s just wrong folks. Wrong. If you can’t fart gumdrops that smell like gumdrops – don’t fart at all. Again, old repeated news from yours truly but f*ck a duck people – it never ends.

I wish my 4 year old Banana wasn’t so cute. I told her to clean her room the other day. How on Earth such a small person who owns nothing but toys can make such a mess is beyond me. There is literally a path to her bed. It’s a train wreck and downright dangerous in the dark. Anywhoozle – I told her to clean her room. She put her hands on her hips, looked me square in the eyes and said, “Nope – you’re not the boss around here. Daddy is my Superhero and he’s the boss so I’m not going to do it.”…and off she marched. Now either I haven’t made her properly afraid of me over the years or she’s right and he is the boss. I wanted to scream – “He’s not a Superhero – he’s just Rambo!”….but I didn’t think she’d get it. Ugh….how did I raise such angelic heathens?

I wish I had more energy on a daily basis… do things like I used to when it came to holidays. Maybe I mean I had more time or that I made an effort to make more time. I used to decorate our fireplace every month for a different theme – even if it was St. Patricks, or Valentines or Father’s Day. And the girls helped me and we made memories. Rambo put up our outside Halloween décor this last weekend and I could have cared less. I just don’t think it’s worth the time and effort and all I could think was “How much is that going to make our electricity go up?” WTF is wrong with me? I don’t think or talk like that – ever. All I know is that I stood there watching the girls freak out over Frankenspine (yes, that’s how Banana says it) and flying bats – and I knew I had to change my attitude because the two big doozies are coming – Thanksgiving and Christmas – and it’s not fair to my girls to say “there’s no time” or “I don’t feel like decorating.” THAT is not the memory I want to create for them. Not at all.

I wish I didn't feel the need to write the other blog I wrote today.  It was hard to write. 

I wish I hadn't scared my BFF Jenny about how being at goal weight is as hard as getting there.  Oopsie!  I wished she wasn't as stressed as I am lately.  I wish we both would win the lottery so we could hire cute cabana boys to fan us with huge palm leaves while we sipped drinks and laid out in the sun next to our pool and did nothing all day but gossip about celebrities and paint our nails.  Oh hell, I wish she lived next door. I'd give up the cabana boys for that.

What do you wish for today?