Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Sick and twisted.

I tried farting a gumdrop yesterday….and all that came out was a black jelly bean.


*sigh*

I contemplated not blogging today…only because as of late this blog has turned into a hot mess of negativity and really – who wants to read about someone whining every day like a broken record? Not many of you I’m guessing. Soooo let’s just keep this short and sweet mmkkaayy?

How I feel about the holidays is a toss up for me. I don’t have catalog Christmas memories filled with lights and rosy cheeks and family. I just don’t. I’ve done my best to create new holiday traditions with my own family but of the 10 years Watermelon has been alive, I believe Rambo has worked 8 of those Thanksgivings and Christmases. Hard to make a “family” tradition when half the “family” is gone. Yes, yes I know – be thankful he has a job, be thankful he’s not in some country fighting a war….I am…but remember? For the moment this is my short and sweet bitch and moan pity party….I warned you it wasn’t going to be fun.

I put my neck out Friday night. It is literally painful just to sit still. I put on my big girl panties and made myself suck it up and went to the chiropractor even though my social nerves were on fire. It didn’t help. I feel worse.

Being unable to move my neck makes it impossible to work out. I feel lazy and lethargic and large. No – this is not where you say, “Draz…you are not large.” I get it. But today remember? It’s piss and moan day and I get to feel large if I want to. I have on leggings and knee high boots again today and ladies – there is some serious junk in my trunk. Like wow. It’s definitely a fat day around here. Ugh.

Um yes…keeping this short and sweet. Today is sucktastic. I want to eat everything in sight but I refuse to. I want to shoot my own head off. I haven’t had a Skittle bath with Rambo in days. I haven’t slept well in what feels like weeks and I’m beginning to look, act and feel like a walking zombie. It ain’t pretty.

Oh and wowser – to start my day let me mention this. Banana screamed as I walked out the door. It happens to the best of us right? I figured after I left she’d be fine. Nope – Watermelon called TWICE before 7am to say Banana is kicking and screaming and refuses to get in the car which means Watermelon can’t get to school on time. Jesus. Seriously? What should I do 20 miles away sitting in my office?

I gave birth to heathens. Most people birth angels…I however, spawn the children of Satan. Cute as hell…but they are the devil. And luckily it seems that the 5 year old just learned how to be sassy and fight with the 10 year old. Oh God – it’s fun. Constant bickering back and forth and yelling and taunting. I can hardly wait to go home at night. I assume there’s a rule book somewhere that says kids must possess worse and worse behavior in the days leading up to Christmas right? Seems that’s the only rule my kids can follow. Great.

Okay – that’s it. Happy Effing Holidays from Draz and Sheniqua….they’re running the show lately. It’s kinda obvious isn’t it? Only Draz can fart black jelly beans. And no lie – Sheniqua eats them.

Sick and twisted I tell you. Sick. And. Twisted.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

A myriad of emotions....as expected....

Wowser.  Event #4 is over.  This one is probably the only one where I feel like I overdid it with food a bit.  Which translates to mean - this is one where I was most nervous.  It was immediate family. Isn't that funny?  The ones closest to me in literal blood make me the most nervous.  Part of me feeds off my Dad - who is so nervous - he almost visually paces in front of everyone.  I can see the red splotches on his chest that everyone else misses - because my chest looks the same.

My two brothers came...for a few hours.  I didn't speak much to either of them which is pretty normal.  They aren't home often so they needed to speak to others they rarely see more.  I get that.  My sister forgot to buy a gift for her Godmother.  She said to me:

"Did you buy something for your Godmother?"
I said, "Yes."
She said, "Nice."
I said, "What?"
She said, "How could you not remind me to buy one for mine?  I remind you of stuff all the time."

WTF????  I went by myself to go buy mine.  Noone reminded me.  How is this my fault?  I'm so confused!!  You don't remind me of anything....me with my kids, husband and 3 jobs and other crap.  I later heard my mom tell her she was sorry she didn't remind her and my sister said, "It's no big deal, I shouldn't have yelled at you."  But I never got that apology.  Wow. 

And the size 0 women there - off the charts.  And yah, most of them are indeed mothers like me.  They are all probably 10 years younger than me and unhappy in their marriages and their faces show that the reality is they are just too stressed to even bother with eating but still....it doesn't stop me from wanting to be them.

All night I felt like the ugly duckling and I just wanted to leave....like now.

Today, Rambo let me sleep until 11am and he's making cinnamon rolls.  Yay - more sugar and fat.  Just what this lardass needs.

Yes - calm down - it's fill yourself with self-hate day around here.  This is the only day without an event but it could be the hardest.  Today I don't have to get myself ready or build myself up - I can just be....which means the feelings of internal dislike come.  All I can think about is how tomorrow I have to go back to being corporate and go back to loving accounting and meeting deadlines no human should really be able to meet.  I have to leave the house - again - and be the me people think I am.

Holidays like this exhaust us all.  I get that.  But believe me when I say people with this much social anxiety feel it about 30x more than the average person.  It is fatiguing to have my emotions strung that high for so many days and leave the house so many times and be scared and nervous for so many hours at a time. 

For most of my life - it makes me literally wish there were no holidays.  No days off work - because for me - anything more than two weekend days - makes going back nearly unbearable.  It is why I rarely, if ever, take vacations. But I digress...

Anywhoozle...don't mind my nasty attitude.  I stepped out of CareBear Land for just a minute.  I stopped farting gumdrops but I'll get back to it.  I'm determined to finish 2010 out strong.  I can and I will do this.  I am worth it.

And seriously - farting gumdrops is just fun.  I miss doing it.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Events #1 through #3 done...on to Event #4.....

Looking back over the past year...I've come a really long way.  I know this.  I can see it.  It is evidenced in the places I have gone to that I wouldn't have before.  It is wedged deeply in my writing.  It is ensconced in my still healthy body.

And yet....I have so far to go.  Last night was event number three in a row of going out.  I was ready.  I got all spiffed up in leggings and knee high boots and a fitted shirt even though I was uncomfortable as hell because it was all so fitted.  I always feel better in shirts that are size 5x and show not one inch of my curves...but I've worked hard for this body so wearing fitted clothes is something I'm trying to be better about.  I even put on perfume.  Got out the fancy Guess purse.  I was excited. 

And by the end of the comedian show I was ready to go home.  Like now.  My stomach hurt bad throughout the whole show.  My nerves were shot though I didn't even feel nervous.  I was sweating through my leggings.  The physical signs of how hard being social is for me were still apparent. 

I was pissed.  I have no idea what that comedian even said half the time.  I spent my time just being pissed.  Pissed at my stomach, pissed about wondering if I should go to the bathroom or not, pissed that I may leave a sweat imprint on the chair, pissed that in a great place with people I love - my body still reacted that way.  Pissed beyond belief.

But whatever - I enjoyed, I ignored the stomach pains, I prayed the sweat wouldn't show and I got through.  And I'd do it again if you asked me.  And I'll keep doing it - until the physical signs are gone that this is hard.  I'm stronger than all of them combined and I will not stop living to prevent them.  I wasted half my life doing that and I'm so over it.

Enough said.  I gotta go. Event #4 is in a few hours and I've got another fitted outfit to pick out, hair to do and perfume to put on. 

I've got a life to live and memories to make.  And dammit - that's what I'm going to do.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

What's on the menu? Dread or excitement?

Here in CareBear Land...it's a little of both.

Greetings my lovely turkies....today is Rambo's birthday AND Thanksgiving AND my parent's anniversary.  Isn't that cool?  The day Rambo was being born into this world, my parents were getting married and saying their vows.  The exact same day and year.  What a coinky-dink huh?  I love it...it's a cool story to tell.

And Thanksgiving.  Meh.  I can take it or leave it.  I have two Thanksgivings and one Christmas to go to over the next three days.  There will be enough food to feed two nations.  And remember me? The hog who can eat massive quantities?  Well not this time.  Really it shouldn't be a problem.  I'm such a picky eater that I usually only eat turkey, potatoes and a bun.  I don't like pies or cranberry thingys or salads or deviled eggs or any of that. 

But let it be known - it is possible to overstuff yourself with just turkey, potatoes and buns.  Again, not for me.  Not this year.  I'm determined to end the year stronger than ever.

It's a big day here for yours truly the anxiety ridden mama.  Rambo is at work.  Which means today I go to the in-laws Thanksgiving without him.  I've been in this family for 20 years but still - it will be hard to go without him.  Normally I'd wait until he got home but this year I'm forcing myself to go early - without him - for my girls.  I'll be a ball of nerves and a mess inside but once I get there I'll be okay.  I think. 

Pretty monumental huh?  Lunch with the mother-in-law and his whole family without the husband.  Probably a first.  But it's good.  (never mind that typing that just made me want to throw up and hives are appearing all of a sudden)

For many, holidays like this are amazing.  Something you look forward to all year.  For me, that's still true BUT they are hard and if I'm not careful I can even let myself dread them.  Yes, though I hate that it's true - my social fears make it hard for me to even leave the house for people I've known all my life.  My fears aren't about being scared of just strangers...I fear every social situation.  I get nervous.  Scared.  Obsess over how I look and what to wear.  I sweat.  My stomach hurts.  I start to devise excuses to stay home.  I look for ways to get out of it. 

It's pretty sad that I'd rather pretend to be sick or something rather than eat scrumptious food with people I love.  But it's the truth.  It's so painful to go out sometimes that I contemplate staying home more than I'd like to admit.  And usually Rambo is here to hold my hand on the way out...except for today.  But I'll go anyway.  I've come too far not to.  Once I get there...it'll be fine.  I know this.  I depend on this.

So yah..this Thanksgiving I'm not really about the holiday or the food.  To me - the best thing about these 4 days is that I don't have to work and after today Rambo is off too.  I miss him on a deep level.  We've been so busy with our jobs and life and his overtime that we've only connected through emails and a few hours here and there.  I need more than that.  And this weekend I'll get it.

If I'm lucky I'll only work about an hour in 4 days for any of my jobs.  I'll put up a tree at my mom's house.  I'll go to a comedy show with friends one night.  I'll dress up for a Christmas and see people I haven't seen in a year one night.  I may even go out to the bars one night.  I'll have hives the whole damn time but I'll do it and I'll be glad I did.

And every moment, right beside me will be Rambo (after he's done working today).  The Harley-owning birthday boy and me. And Watermelon and Banana.

Though I'm aware this entire post makes you want to barf....for me...it's what I need.  To me...that's what this Thanksgiving is about. 

My hope for you is that you get exactly what you need this holiday too.  Oh and some turkey, potatoes and buns would be good too.

Me?  Well, I'm going to be busy choosing excitement and happy anticipation the whole weekend - rather than dread and stomach ulcers.

Cuz duh...you can't eat turkey if you have stomach ulcers.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

I'm a hog.

Well wait...that's not right.  I'm not a hog.  Well then again...I am.  Did you guys know that I'm a HUGE quantity eater? 

I'm not kidding.  I can eat more than Rambo probably any day of the week.  An entire frozen pizza.  Done.  With soda.  And probably an ice cream sandwich to top it off. 

Give me an hour and I'd be ready to eat again.  It's ridick but true.  I've never understood my bottomless pit.  I don't know if I'm truly physically hungry or it's mental and I'm playing the "There was never enough because we were so poor so now I'm going to eat tons to make sure I never go hungry again" game. 

I have siblings with the same appetities so some part of me thinks it's a hereditary thing.  I have brothers who literally eat almost every hour and something like 3 to 4 Snickers bars a day.  Their calorie levels are in the thousands and if they do NOT sustain those calorie levels they lose weight.  We are a hungry bunch. 

Trouble is - they eat like that and maintain or lose.  I eat like that and I gain 3 lbs. a day.  Sickening.

So yes....I am a hog. 

AND guess what?  I OWN A HOG NOW TOO!

Yes, yes...there was a point to my hog-ness.

Tis true - after years of drooling and longing and envy and sneaking into people's garages to sit on their Harleys in the dark (I'm kidding)....we have our very own Harley and it's a full blown hog.  It's got a back seat like a recliner with speakers right by both my butt cheeks.

I mean really?  Is there anything better than your favorite music blaring into your ass with the wind blowing in your hair and your arms wrapped around your biker man?

Well there is.  It's wearing assless chaps with your favorite music blaring into your ass with the wind blowing in your hair and your arms wrapped around your biker man.

Assless leather chaps make the world go around.

Cross this goal off the list folks.  We own a Harley. 

You wanna know what Rambo said to me 5 minutes after it was in our garage?

"Baby doll.....wanna have sex on the hog?"

Romantic biker man isn't he?

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Whys, Mice, and Chickens.

Hi lovey dovies. How goes it?

Here it goes….strange, contemplative and exhausted. Funny combination huh? Let me explain.

Exhausted? Well that goes without saying right? I mean really. The pace that is required at the jobs and home has got me back to chicken mode. You know…that whole running around like a chicken with its head cut off deal. We’ve established I can be a cute chicken though so all is well. I’ll sleep when I’m dead right?

Which brings me to strange and contemplative and sleep. Sleep? Well – that’s been hard to come by. I’m a worrier by nature BUT as of late I can honestly say I’m not obsessing over anything special or living stressed out to the nines or biting my toenails or anything. Soooo the fact that I’m having nightmares is a surprise to me. And that the subjects are memorable makes them even worse.

For one….floods. Again…the wetness…in a house I once called home. I’m forced to live in it and see it. There’s no help coming, no way out. I just have to live in the water. And that’s unbearable. I just want to get the hell out. It feels like prison and I am trapped.

And people and relationships. Some shattered for more than 20 years without a single word spoken between them. Those people are showing up in my dreams and we talk. We are family again. Like 20 years ago never happened and words weren’t spoken and lives weren’t shattered into a million pieces. Again…unbearable. To think of what could have been…

The biggest nightmare though comes from my past. Back from when I was in the black hole of depression that left me bed-ridden. My big hang-up during that time was why? I couldn’t stop asking why? Why am I alive? Why am I here? Why can’t I die? Why does it matter? Why do we have to live this life when we all die? Why do I have to ask these questions? Why can’t I live if I don’t get the answers? Just why?

I remember telling my mother I had all those questions in my head back then and when she looked at me like I was an alien, I asked her, “Don’t you ask all that too?” She looked at me without a second’s hesitation and said, “Never.” All this time I thought everyone didn’t sleep because of the barrage of questions in their heads too. I thought everyone lived with the inner turmoil that those questions brought to every second of every day. I thought that was normal. Turns out – it wasn’t.

But big deal right? A few questions we all contemplate I suppose. But no. Not for me. It was like – I’d open my eyes and the first thought in my head was WHY? Why did I open my eyes? Why did I live another day? It consumed me. Without the reasons I couldn’t move or breathe or fight. It wasn’t normal. In a non-depressive non-anxiety-ridden state people don’t ask that or feel that. They just live….and breathe…and sleep…and eat. They just be – without asking and questioning every single moment of every day. It is fatiguing. Beyond any exhaustion I’ve ever felt.

And even then sleep is elusive. For me, it always has been. I can lay awake for hours cursing the universe because I’m so tired I can’t move – yet I can’t sleep. I suppose that’s insomnia huh? I just don’t want to say that out loud I guess.

Back to the nightmare. I can’t shake a feeling lately…one I’ve woken up in a cold sweat about. One that shocks me. Not necessarily that I had the nightmare…but the fact that the question is back.

Why?

I’m questioning the why of my life. Please, please understand this is deeper than all of us wondering if we should change careers or go another direction or leave our lover or have a child. This is why as in why do I breathe? This is why as in when the question comes out – it hurts to ask it.

Rest assured that though the question is back I don’t feel depression is back. To me the only way to describe depression is this. It is a beast. The blackest of black shadows with no face, no expression….just a heavy raspy breath at your neck, behind you…always a shadow. With grisly, huge hands that you can’t see because you feel them…they are wrapped around your heart in a chokehold and every breath is a struggle. And darkness. All of this happens in darkness. You can’t see light. You don’t even want to. Though the chokehold nearly kills you, part of you finds comfort in the sadness. It is what you know. It is what you feel. Coming out of that chokehold is like a mouse moving a mountain. It’s just not worth it….or so it seems.

I eventually figured out that mice can move mountains. And the end to the depression for me means the end to the questions. It does NOT mean I figure out the answers. For me….it just means the questions stop. I don’t question my being, my life, my reason, my everything. I just simply live. It is an unbelievable relief. It is when I know the beast is gone.

But the other night I woke up – clutching for breath and sweating – and asking why. I wonder why any of this matters. We all die. Everyone forgets who we are. Nothing really matters in the end. Hell – I can’t even remember what I did or what I said or how I felt just a matter of a couple of days ago. Why in the hell do I put so much stock in daily feelings and events and material possessions and lives and hate and love and life…..when it really, really, really doesn’t matter?

Take for instance, my Grandmother. A saint on Earth. Literally never drank or swore, walked 5 miles a day, was a vegetarian, spent every day volunteering….dead in her 60s from cancer. It’s been years since anyone even spoke her name. Did anything she did matter?

Or the Uncle who died at 22 by his own hand? Who was once a baby infant who brought joy to so many and as an adult brought laughter and joy to me? Gone – at 22. It’s been literal decades since I’ve heard his name uttered by anyone in the family. Did his life matter? How did the world change with his being in it? Did it?

And me? Gasp. It hurts to even turn the questions towards me. What have I done? How long after I leave this world will it be before I’m never mentioned or completely forgotten? Why do I try so hard when in the end it doesn’t matter? I do not matter. What I say and do today will not matter in the end. I will leave this world. I will be forgotten.

*Gulp* That’s hard to type and feel and man, it’s heavy - but calm down everyone. Put down the pitch forks. Don’t stab me yet. I know these questions are ridiculous. I hate that my brain goes “there”. I hate that my heart is once again asking them. I want them to stop coming. I want to push them away BUT I believe my big Buddy upstairs is probably trying to tell me something. So I’m trying to listen and figure it out. I’m trying to embrace the effing questions though they scare the literal crap out of me.

I normally equate the questions with the beast. But this time – the beast isn’t here. Just the questions. Hence the strangeness of how I feel lately. It is one thing to have a nightmare with substance and people and places and events. It’s another to wake up in a cold sweat and the nightmare is simply “Why the hell am I breathing? Why must I go on living when it’s all for nothing?”

I’m not trying to find the answers. Seriously – I don’t want answers. That would validate these questions and give them meaning. And to me, these questions are silly and ridiculous and 99% of the time my head never asks them….which is how I want it. There are no answers to some of these questions.

Life just is. Moments just are. We all will die…but it shouldn’t stop us from living. We matter.

And mice can move mountains remember?

Strange, contemplated and exhausted I shall remain. I can handle that because there is no beast….no chokehold this time.

I may look and act like a chicken with my head cut off…but rest assured my friends….I’ve got a little mice in me too.

Friday, November 19, 2010

The Time Peace Spread Hives

I'm guest posting over at The Peanut Gallery Speaks....hope you enjoy!

Thursday, November 18, 2010

The skin debate....

Today I'm guest posting over at Mizfit's domain about the great skin and tummy tuck debate.  Hope you get a chance to hop over there and read it.  Oh and you should totally follow Mizfit...she's one of a kind....and I love her like caramel loves ice cream.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

I want the powerful for you.

Last night me and Sheniqua and silly ass Draz got on the treadmill. They both kicked and screamed the whole damn way. They can be such children that way. Then again, the treadmill seeks to eradicate both of them from my life so I guess I’d be scared too.


The truth is I didn’t really want to do it either. I even had a TV show to watch and everything. No kids. Nothing better to do. And the plan all day was “you’re going to do the treadmill tonight”. So I went.

And once again I realized that half the battle is just getting there. It’s almost like going to a party for me. I drag my feet and think of ways to get out of it BUT when I get there it’s never as bad as I thought it would be. In fact, I kinda like it.

Working out makes me feel powerful. I feel able-bodied. Most every time I find myself literally thanking God I have the ability to get on a treadmill and walk or run with no pain – when there are so many who cannot – and would love to. I love that my girls see me on there – being powerful and taking me time – for my health. I love that it helps my depression and anxiety. I love that the sweat takes away the shit I conquered all day long.

I feel powerful.

And let’s face it – it’s necessary. At this stage of the game, I literally cannot change my weight with just dieting/food changes. I eat 1200 calories or less a day and I’m smart enough to know going under that isn’t healthy. At this calorie range I can maintain – but that’s not my goal. The only way to lose more weight for me is to work out.

I have noticed some of you struggling out there who are stuck at the same weight and I wonder if maybe it’s that time when your bodies are requiring more. It sucks – yah…but it could be your body is used to its calorie range and it’s comfy and it’s going to maintain. A little planned exercise could be just enough to push the scale and wake your body up to renewed weight loss. It works for me every time.

And the holidays are coming faster than Martha Stewart can knit new underwear….it’s now or never. If I go into the holidays losing weight and on track I’m WAY more likely to stay on track. If I go into the holiday feeling chubby and lethargic…my tiny head figures it’s a free for all because everything already sucks. Ridiculous but true.

I’m talking about scheduled exercise. I don’t mean your regular walking to work or being busy and remaining active. Your body is used to that level of activity now too. Sometimes we have to shake things up. Sometimes it sucks but I swear – once you do it – you won’t be sorry. Sheniqua will be pissed but who gives a damn about her anyway right?

My wish for you if you take on some new exercise – is the powerful. There’s something about pushing yourself to the limit and it can be done every time. I only did 53 minutes on the treadmill last night but for each 5 minute set – I increased the speed after every interval – just to see if I could. I told myself – it’s 60 freaking seconds…how can you not handle 60 seconds? Do it. And then you can get off.

You can bet your ass I bargain with myself. Some days it’s easy and the run feels amazing. Some days it’s a struggle to get on it and put one foot in front of the other and I can only walk. But I will tell you this – every single time when I am done – I feel better. I have never ever exercised and regretted it or felt worse. Those are some good odds right? I mean how many things in life have such a good guaranteed result? Not many right?

So today – I challenge myself and you – to perform a planned workout today. Whether it’s a video, a treadmill walk, going to the gym or just climbing your own steps in your house for 30 minutes…..can you do it? Can you value your health and well being enough to find the time to feel powerful?

I hope you can. I swear on everything that is holy (you know – like Skittles) that you won’t regret it.

I’m going to do the treadmill again…what will you do? 

Will you reach out and grab the powerful?

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

A raise for the hive-covered hermit.

Well my little snowflakes….last night was my big dreaded board meeting. Dreaded why? Cuz yours truly was going to muster up the balls to ask for a raise. I’m the Treasurer of said board and my job is to make the board member’s – all men – jobs easy peasy. Payroll, taxes, ordering, budgeting, balancing, deal with the DNR, etc. That’s the job. I love it. Dare I say I do it well?


When I took the position in late 2008 – just two years ago – the board was literally borrowing money from other villages to pay its electric bills. We were in the red…like crimson blood Satan kind of red. It wasn’t pretty. I had to petition villages for a raise of our rates which would affect every resident and in these tougher than snot economic times…well…let’s just say that wasn’t exactly something I was really looking forward to. It had been asked for before – and denied – numerous times. No one could prove the raise was necessary. Until I put it in black and white and then they approved the raise. And today – just two years later – we have over 50k just in our checking account. We have 200k total at least.

Things are now in the black – like midnight, dark as Explosive Man’s poop black. (Yes I would know - remember I see his poop along with everyone else in this office.)

Even armed with this positive information, I’ve been nervous all week to ask for a raise. For no apparent reason…the relationship I have with these men is stellar. The fact that I fear asking them for a raise of money that isn’t even coming from their own pockets is MY issue. It’s amazing first of all that I am out of the house running a meeting – much less going there to plead for more money.

And Rambo is no help. He’s the Prez of this board so literally he has to abstain from voting on my raise of course. In his mind, I think he thinks that also means he can’t give me advice on how to broach the subject. Jesus.

Anywhoozle – I’m pretty sure there is a point to this rambling. Oh yes - the point is once again I worry myself sick for freaking nothing. I’m not kidding you. These men deliberated over ½ hour on giving our plant manager a 45 cent raise. 45 cents! And me? Well, I stood there and I told myself I would not ask meekly. I would not beg. I would not use words like “I think I deserve”….instead I would say “I have done this, I deserve this, I am worthy” etc.

Turns out I only needed two sentences. I said, “Speaking of raises, it’s my turn. I believe you know the work I do.” A board member stopped me and said, “How much do you want?” I said 5 more dollars an hour. That same board member said, “I make a motion to approve the raise.” Before I knew it another member seconded the motion. Before I could even turn my head Rambo said, “All in favor?” And all I heard were “Ayes”. Not a single nay.

In less than 60 seconds and two sentences uttered from my mouth it was done. I, of course, was stunned so even after the motion approved, I felt it necessary to let them know all I have done and do. Pretty much yah – just talking out loud to cover my shock. I just couldn’t believe it was already done.

It’s pretty safe to assume I wasted upwards of about 10 hours freaking out about these less than 60 seconds! What a freaking waste of time – even if they had said no! A. Waste. Of. My. Precious. Time. And. Energy.

When will I learn to have the faith in me others do? When will I learn I don’t need lists of my accomplishments when the accomplishments speak for themselves? When will I know it’s enough?

I was prepared for a speech. A list of things I’ve done. Reasons why I deserved this.

Unnecessary. Just like the worry and hives.

I spent most of the night in excruciating stomach pain as part of the aftermath of the worry. Again, for nothing.

This is the part of social anxiety I despise. Yes, I realize most people would be nervous about asking for a raise. But for me – it goes to another physical level. As I said – going to the meeting is hard on its own. I prepare myself all day to go to the meeting. And then adding into it asking for a raise – makes it almost unbearable. More than once I said to Rambo….”Can you do it for me? Maybe I shouldn’t even ask.” He would only say, “I guess you don’t want the raise that bad then huh?”

Jackhole. Yes I do. Don’t use reverse psychology on me. I hate him for knowing exactly what I need.

I can’t explain the nerves….that they are extraordinary compared to someone who has no social anxieties, who looks forward to leaving the house and talking to people. Like Rambo. I watch him. He’s excited. He hasn’t thought about going to the meeting but about 10 minutes before we leave. No prep. No worry. He likes these people and could sit and talk to them all night. He laughs. He doesn’t get hives. He doesn’t lay away with stomach pains later. He just holds my hand during the night as I get through them.

I am jealous. And though I can’t make him understand how terribly frightening a simple meeting is for me….he gets it enough to know I won’t go unless he holds my hand on the way to the car. He knows enough to use his reverse psychology on me. He knows enough to high five me when we get home. He knows enough to be proud of me as he sits in that meeting and hears other men praise my work.

He is a social butterfly. I am a social hermit.

It is who I am. I get that. I either have to accept and embrace it or live my life hating that part of me. There are nights like last night when I want to be Rambo…and not me.

I am very grateful I’m in a place in my life now that allows me to force myself to fight the fears. I’m grateful I have the desire to fight the anxieties and not let them rule my life anymore. I’m grateful my girls see that I leave the house and I volunteer and I help the community.

I have to focus on that. Many years ago had I been approached to take this job…even though I know I would have excelled at it – the answer would have been unequivocally no. Just no. And I’d have run into Rambo’s arms for refuge.

My goal now is walk beside him instead. For now, this social anxiety that sometimes freezes me solid – can kiss my $5 an hour - raise getting - hive covered ass.

Monday, November 15, 2010

I am honored.....

I'm going to sleep get around this week.  Hop from bed to bed blog to blog. Live out all my fantasies vicariously using someone else's mattress internet space. 

Three guest posts on my agenda this week...and I'm sooooo excited and nervous....and humbled to be given the opportunity.

I'm starting today with a guest post over at  A Journey to Embrace.  I hope you have time to go read and leave a nice comment for my dear friend Lori. 

Enjoy and lemme know what you think!

Friday, November 12, 2010

Learning how to drop-kick....

Angst.


Such a stupid word. Short. Not much fun to say. Carries a negative tone. Not used very often. Just a stupid, stupid word.

It’s better than a lot of others though. I mean let’s face it – when I say words like black hole, depression, anxiety and fear…the words alone produce a physical reaction in me and they are literally hard to say, feel and even type. Angst? Not so much. I can say it, feel it and type it and it doesn’t produce the physical nausea that other words do for me.

Today that stupid word is how I feel. Side note: Does anyone else notice that this place feels and sounds like a confessional these days? *sigh*

Another confession - yet another flaw – another “not new” find….but another thing I finally might be ready to admit and work on and change. Angst. And worry. They are twins and they live in me 24/7. It never ends. I worry in my sleep. I worry in my dreams. It comes complimentary with the paranoia I wrote about yesterday. Drazil has more best friends than anyone needs in a lifetime. They all play hopscotch together. Him, Sheniqua, Paranoia, Angst, Fear and the Need for Validation.

I hate them all. Every last effing one of them. I want to drop kick them one by one and watch them flail in the air and land with an incredible thump…never to inhabit my body again.

I mean I get that everyone worries. I get that. Dare I say and dare I admit that mine is obsessive? Like off the charts? Like all-consuming? I worry about worrying too much. LOL I’m convinced my worry is the sole cause of my migraines. I worry until I’m physically sick. My worry plays a part in my social anxiety and it makes me someone I am not. I play out scenarios in my mind that even Satan couldn’t think of. Even his mind can’t go that dark. And then I go into proactive mode and I fix and I heal and I plan things out to the last millisecond so that my worries never come true. Which as we all know is a freaking futile act. It’s a crock. What will be – will be. Period. Worry and angst never had the power to prevent a damn thing.

Lately my “angst” is about Rambo’s job. He’s a state worker and our state’s budget is crazy out of control and we elected a new Governor and rumor is he has plans for a massive cut of state jobs. State workers they say – make too much money? Really? That may be true for the state worker who writes parking tickets or guards the front steps of the Capitol BUT not Rambo. I’d dare any political pundit to do his job. To get feces and urine thrown on him, to treat men who rape 2 year olds with dignity, to strip search gang members, to be on constant alert for contraband, to suit up in full riot gear daily to physically restrain a man who has nothing to lose….for the same pay that I, his wife, makes….sitting in an office – safe and sound – all damn day. Bullshit. And then you want to cut the amount of co-workers he would have to rely on in those dangerous situations?

I implore you – send your spouse into a room full of 200 men in general population who again – have nothing to lose – who roam freely – with hits out on their heads and axes to grind and hate in their eyes – alone. That’s right – one guard – 200 men. Any of you feel comfortable with that? How about you Mr. Governor? Would you stand in that room? I think not.

Like I said – THIS – is the root of my angst today. It’s either Rambo with less co-workers to rely on or Rambo gets cut leaving someone else’s loved one with less Rambo to help them. And maybe it’ll never come to that. Maybe it’s just political ramblings and rumors. But it pisses me off.

And it gives me angst. I hate angst.

It makes me believe that in one fell swoop of a Governor’s pen – we’d be living on a box in the streets. See? I told you I can paint the darkest of pictures.

Angst makes me lose myself…in worry. And remember me? Gentle, loving, happy me? I love Care Bears and Skittles and farting gumdrops and wearing pink underwear and blue striped socks to piss Martha Stewart off.

Angst doesn’t match my underwear or my blue socks. And God – I’m so tired of wearing it.

I think it’s time to drop kick angst. Who’s with me?

Thursday, November 11, 2010

I'm going to build a mansion.

Inspiration comes in the strangest of places. Like say…a construction site.


Let me explain. Yesterday was a hard day. Hard as in mentally taxing…swamped and busy doesn’t even begin to describe it. But good nonetheless because I was productive beyond belief and plowed through. And I was proud. Another part of me was….irritated.

Irritated why? Well because…many times throughout the day I realized a couple things about myself. Not new things by any means. Things I have always detested. Flaws I genuinely dislike about myself – and not just because they are unbecoming – but because they are nasty to feel. They choke-hold my heart. They squeeze precious energy reserves from me. And I let them.

These two flaws are pretty closely intermingled. They are like best friends, holding hands, whispering secrets to each other, connected at the hip…so much that oftentimes you can’t tell them apart.

They are my paranoia and my need for validation from others. And they are sucking the life out of me. Yet I continue to hold onto them both with white knuckles and all.

So back to yesterday – I worked my literal ass off. Okay, that’s not true because as of this morning my larger than life booty was still hanging out with Sheniqua. But you know what I mean. I’ve put in extra hours to get this new office up and running. I’ve never fallen behind. I excelled. Yet, when office doors around me go closed, I freak out. Are they talking about me? What did I do? Will I be getting in trouble for something? What could that be? Followed by…fear and erratic heart beating. And the truth? It’s never about me…which brings us back to me…because really – it takes a pretty big ego to believe every closed-door discussion is about me. Wow, that stings.

But why the fear? The worst thing I do is blog. Other than that – exemplary, model employee. How come that can’t be enough? Why the panic? Why, why, why?

And then the need for validation pipes in. People are saying “When are you going to get an assistant – you can’t keep this up forever?” And in my mind – the short answer is never. Others are in disbelief it’s all getting done but they know it will. I’ve backed myself into a corner. And NO – I’m not bragging. I’m just saying that having a reputation of doing it all and doing it well and fast….well after a while that kind of work is expected. You can’t really have off days….because that’s not your history. It’s a good history and respect abounds from it…but in my heart I wonder why I created the history. But then again I know why. It’s so someone will notice and validate that they saw it and it was good. The problem with that is….I want that from others because I can’t believe it about myself in my own heart. It will never be enough. And I’m so tired of that. Tired of needing more than I can be. Tired of needing and seeking validation in others.

My new quest in life is figuring out how to be enough for myself. Period.

Oh and the construction zone I mentioned. (you thought I forgot about that right?) Lately that’s how I feel. I’ve been driving by all week and watching the progress and I feel like that’s been me this year.

I was broken, shattered and torn. I had built up years of walls around my heart and had what I thought was a solid foundation. Few people were welcomed in the front door. It was my choice who entered the threshold. I liked it that way. And then I began blogging, began the mental journey of changing…and it was all taken away and knocked down. Just like the tragic flood we suffered that was symbolic in so many ways – it was all gone in less than minutes. Devastation, torment…heartache. And crumbled walls and a heart left open to the world. Inside those walls were broken promises, fights, self-doubt, tears, the need for validation, hate, anxiety and paranoia. Those things aren’t welcome in my new “house”.

I started walking out of the rubble. And just like the crane I saw last week – I’ve been digging out a new foundation. Digging up the broken glass, broken walls, and broken hearts…and emptying them into a truck to be taken away. They aren’t needed anymore.

And then up went new walls. Not “to keep people out” walls….but “to welcome people inside the warmth” walls. A new foundation was poured. I’ve been picking out new windows and curtains to match. I let go of what I never really liked about that old “house” and made changes for the new “house”.

There have been snafus. Over-budget, off-schedule, fights between the builders, disappointments and even wanting to give up. But the construction continues. Because the end product is a dream. It is hope. It is the future. No matter the setbacks – you have to keep building. You can’t just stop building hope and dreams and futures because of little snafus.

You fire deadbeat contractors and you search out new ones who see your vision too. You lie awake at night unable to sleep because you’re laying out rocks and flowers for the new garden that will greet anyone who enters the new place when it’s done. You imagine just where the Christmas tree will go. You see a crackling fire in the fireplace. You can even feel the warmth on your face.

It’ll take a while before my new “house” is finished. We’re gonna run into plenty of snafus. But rest assured, I have the tenacity and strength and the team to keep building. One nail at a time if I must.

And this time I know not to take it for granted. I know that in one fell swoop I could lose it and all the progress. I have to keep working to pay the “mortgage”. I have to carry insurance. I have to do preventive maintenance. I have to hang the obligatory “Bless This Home” sign. I have to keep the demons out and let the angels in. I have to pull up the shades and let the light in – instead of preferring the dark. And over the years, I have to keep adding on. Because you see…I’m pretty sure that my original plans weren’t big enough. I didn’t think I deserved a mansion back when I started building.

But now? Well….there can just never be a house too big right? I’ve got shitloads of guests….like love, hope, dreams, inspiration, self-confidence, pride, self-validation, peace, calm, and understanding.

Sheniqua and Drazil can sleep in the basement, in the corner…under the furnace.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

I Wish Wednesday

Hi Tootsie Pops!

I’m going back to I Wish Wednesday today. Enjoy!

  • I wish everyone had a Jenny. For realz. She’s the caffeine to my Mountain Dew, the crayon to my coloring book, the frosting to my cinnamon roll. I like her – a lot. This week Blogger got blocked where I work. Now…yes…hives and panic attacks ensued. I believe as my best friend, Jenny even suffered a sympathy panic attack for me. And today – you got it – Jenny is posting this for me….because the thought of not posting today threw me into the hugest of tizzies. I nearly peed my pants and stabbed my own eyes out. She saved me. She does that a lot. You all should get yourselves a Jenny.
  • I wish that there were more days in November. I’m finally back on track – staying under calories, working out, journaling…and I need more time before holiday parties and such begin. I’m spot on – I can tell. After doing this for so long I just know when my attitude has shifted into a success mode. And it has. And man, it feels good.
  • I wish everyone knew how creative I was. Well, you will now cuz I’m going to tell you. Yesterday I wore crème high heeled boots with fur on the top. Tucking my jeans into my socks just wasn’t keeping my jeans down like I wanted. Soooo I got out the duct tape. Yup – this hick taped her jeans tight around her ankles and created my own sort of skinny jeans in oh…about 20 seconds flat. Worked like a charm. At least 4 people complimented my boots – and do you know how badly I wanted to rip them off and show them the duct tape handiwork underneath? Bad, I tell you. But I resisted.
  • I wish every business was feeling the success we are. We won another multi-million dollar project Friday which means by this Friday I have to take an empty space and fit it with everything 30 people need to make it a functioning office….from furniture to pens to electronics to laptops to toilet paper. Top to bottom. We are out of space. We have bodies and no chairs. We have employees with no desks. We cannot find enough people. And it stresses me the f*ck out. There’s nothing to do but rise to the challenge. And trust me – that’s my plan.
  • I wish I knew what I wanted for my next tattoo. Rambo is getting a full back tattoo soon. He keeps saying that finally he’ll have a back tattoo bigger than mine. Between you and me – and all of blogland – I’m jealous. And I’m working on a plan to fix that.
  • I wish I had a housekeeper. Like for freaking real. With all the jobs and school functions and groups and working long hours here, the dust bunnies are multiplying and well, taking over the house. I might start charging them rent – then I can afford the housekeeper.
  • Speaking of affording – this month – next week actually - I’m going to ask for a raise for one of the PT jobs. I’m 99% sure I’ll get it but that evil witch Self-Doubt keeps creeping in and telling me I don’t deserve it. She’s the second cousin of Drazil and she’s good at what she does. I’m scerred to ask. But dammit – I’m going to do it. I earned it. They all know it and now I just have to convince myself.
  • I wish everyone had Earthly Harmony by Mac fingernail polish like Carmen wore in Chicago. I got it – and love it. I’d dry hump it if it wasn’t such a small bottle. To die for. It’s a little bit of Carmen with me every day…and you just can’t beat that.
And I’ll leave you with this little conversation I had with Rambo before I left for work this morning. Totally not funny to anyone but me. But I never want to forget how happy it made me so I’m writing it down here.

This is how it went down. Last night he started snoring. After punching him numerous times, I thought I’d try another approach. With my voice dripping with honey, I said, “Sweetie, could you please turn over?” Now mind you – he’s sleeping – deeply. So he gets huffy and says, “I wasn’t even G*ddamn snoring.”

Okay – first of all – Rambo never says *that* swear word. It’s like the mother of all words right? I hate it. It’s almost as bad as the “C” word. I brush it off because um – did I mention he was sleeping and has no idea what he said?

This morning I’m of course secretly wondering if he’ll remember – and I quickly think not by the way he’s not allowing me to get out of bed.

So Rambo has an interview this morning. I was leaving and I said, “Have a good G*ddamn interview. Travel safe G*ddamn it.” He laughs and says, “G*ddamn it, I will honey. Want to have some G*ddamn sex tonight?” I say, “No G*ddamn it.” To which he replies only, “Well, just plain G*ddamn. That sucks.”

So there you have it – my “have a good day at work” conversation before 7am – and enough of the almightiest swear word to get us both an express ticket to Hell. Ack – I want to wash my own mouth out with soap – but I had to prove my point right? Don’t get huffy with me and say the GD word – I don’t care if you’re sleeping or dead. I hate that word.

Later gumdrops!

Monday, November 8, 2010

Heifers and fatties.

Yah, you read that right...I said heifers and fatties.  Before you all puff up and grab your pitchforks - hear me out.  It's kinda funny.

First off - no one in my real life (except Rambo) knows I blog.  And if you remember, back in September I went to Chicago with 50 other bloggers.  Of course my sister and mother wanted an explanation of who these women were and how I met them.    I couldn't say, "They are my blogging sisters."....so instead I said they are from a health and fitness group I belong to.  Not even a lie right?  And they bought it. 

So yesterday I was with my sister.  I, of course, was thinking of one of you guys and was telling a story to her and I said, "She's one of the HF'ers."  HF as in healthandfitness-er.  My sister gasps and says, "She's one of the "heifers"??" 

Did you call one of my girls a HEIFER?  She says, "I didn't - YOU did."  Oh no I di'int!! 

And then I explain what I really said.  Laughter ensues.  And as revolting as it sounds...I have now tagged myself and all my other blogging sisters as heifers. 

I'm pretty sure that means you're all gonna oust me out of the group now right?  I'm sorry...it's a little funny though right?  Right?

Moving on to fatties.

While with my sister yesterday we went to a jumping kid's place where you can go all day and...well...jump.  Bounce - run - leap - fall - jump - and laugh your ass off.  We were being the "fun adults" and went in with the kids.  Jumping, acting like fools and screaming.  I fell out of a tube onto a little girl.  Um, I nearly killed her.  She got up and went away so apparently she still had her lungs.  I'm still laying on my stomach and I look up and my sister is now catapulting toward my head.  Whomp!  She lands on top of me.  We're screaming and laughing so hard we cannot talk or breathe or move really. 

Right then - a woman from animal control - seriously her shirt says animal control on it....comes over to us and says, "There is too much weight in this corner girls.  Please vacate the corner."

What the what?  We look at each other and we're like "Did she really just call us fat?"  We didn't have time to answer cuz she was still standing there giving us the evil eye - like get your fat asses out of my corner.

Here are the facts.  My sister is like 5'9" or something and weighs 130 pounds and is a size 3 to 5.  Mrs. Animal Control wasn't talking to my sister.  She was talking to yours truly - 5'3", 160 lbs, size 5 rarely, 7, 9, and 12s depending on the brand and the day.  Thank you Animal Control.  Duly noted.  I'll move out of your corner you crotch-head. 

Yes, people, I'm aware Animal Control was just doing her job.  But all day my sister and I carried what she said like a badge of insult.  We told everyone we knew, "Animal Control called us fat today."  Sometimes you just gotta laugh don't you think?

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Change. Life. Meditation.

Meditation. I've decided that’s what I need.


Do any of you partake in this? Seriously – take depression tendencies, social anxiety that is off the charts, a warped desire for perfectionism, the ability to take on the feelings and problems of others I care about and major ball-juggling – and wrap them into a ball and you’d be in my brain.

It’s kind of like I know this much “stuff” in my life lately can be my downfall…but a part of me knows that THIS – this whole running around like a chicken with her head cut off thing – is what makes me tick. I can be a pretty cute chicken with no head after all.

Headless chicken-ing….is often when I’m at my best. Rising to the challenge is my place in life.

Anywhoozle….I have always wanted to learn to meditate. To be able to shut down my brain for just 10 minutes a day in times like these. While I excel during conflict…I can also feel it constrict my heart and my lungs and I can find it hard to breathe.

I suppose none of us handle change well but for me with my issues – change magnifies every depression and anxiety symptom I’ve ever had. Change throws normal people into a tailspin. Change throws people like me into a tornado. I need predictability and stability. Same-ness. It’s the reason I can eat the same foods every single day of my life and never tire of it. I need to know what’s coming – even if it’s food – because I fear any kind of unknown.
My body never knows the difference between good or bad change.  It only reacts with fight or flight.

I will never forget crying and pleading with the doctor that he was wrong about his diagnosis of depression the first time. I felt so guilty for being bedridden when my life on the outside was a freaking fairy tale. I told him that in the last 3 months I had married my soulmate, bought my first home, got my first job, bought a new car and moved out of my parent’s home. All amazing life goals…that nearly threw me into a deathbed. That doctor looked me straight in the face and said, “Your body can’t distinguish between good and bad – it only knows change and it doesn’t like it.”

Well giraffe balls. That sucks a fat baby’s ass. Turns out over the years he was right. Any change – good or bad – and my body reacts in ways others don’t.

I’m worried about a family member and when I say worried I mean I feel like his pain is my own. Not being able to fix it is nearly killing me. My work is changing – we are adding on and growing and growing – which yes….is good….but not for my mind and body. I can’t shut my mind off about the end of year things for the part time jobs. I suck at commenting on blogs lately and though I know everyone understands…the key is that *I* have to understand and back off of myself.

I am still on plan – journaling, planning, treadmilling, under-calories-ing and water-drinking. It is working but damn – it’s another thing on the huge to do list you know?

And Banana is sick. Nothing major – a cold. This morning despite my schedule and the fact that I was late I held her in the bathtub. Time be damned. I knew I could never get that moment back so I made the choice in that moment to be nothing but a mother. Tomorrow I am taking the day off to work from home so I can be close to her. And on and on it goes.

Change and life happen. I either need to stop the change, embrace the life or learn meditation. Today I pick learn meditation. Anyone have tips? Anyone actively do this daily? How? Do you chant? Music or silence? Incense?

I have oodles of self-hypnosis tapes that walk me through every bone and muscle in my body to help me fall asleep and they work. But I want to learn meditation to feel calm when I’m awake. What a stellar concept huh?

It and the benefits of it intrigue me so much and I think my high strung personality could benefit from it….so I appreciate your input.

And to quote a dear friend of mine - until I figure out this meditation thingy – just like little Nemo in the Disney movie “Finding Nemo”…I’m just going to keep swimming….just keep swimming….

It beats the hell out of drowning.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Get me off this porch.

Hello my tulips!


I realize that in the past I’ve given you cause to worry when I drop off the Earth…so though I wasn’t going to blog today…here I am…to allay your fears. And well, let’s face it. For me, a day without writing is like a day without breathing.

The truth is – I’m busy. Dare I say too busy?

Ack…I hate admitting that. I take a lot of pride in being a pretty accomplished ball juggler. Lately though – I find myself surviving instead of thriving…and drowning just a little. Still – it’s laughable really. I’m so busy – yet I *am* here blogging and just a minute ago I read Dr. Phil online.

My full time job is CHAOTIC. This year we have opened 4 new offices and now we’re on to a fifth and a sixth. Literally sometimes we hire one person a day. For those of us in Accounting, it’s a nightmare of paperwork. For those of us in Purchasing – oh wait – that’s just me – it’s a logistical nightmare to set up offices sometimes in days – from cords to computers to pens to chairs to toilet paper to electricity to plumbing. Top to bottom – it’s up to me to get everything needed to have a fully functioning office where there wasn’t…while I do the rest of my job too. We are literally out of space for bodies. Success has its price I guess.

It doesn’t help that my part time jobs are picking up speed since it’s year end. The PT jobs are for the community I live in and can I just say some people suck? I mean people who live here know damn well that beyond these jobs I work full time and have kids and such. They *know* this is part time, that I give 100%, that I can’t babysit them, etc. And yet, you’ll always have your troublemakers. This week I’m dealing with the big dogs…and it ain’t fun. You know the saying “If you can’t run with the big dogs…get off the porch.”

Well dudes – I never wanted on the porch. I’m not a fan of porches. Okay that’s a lie – but seriously – THIS porch? I want off.

I’m dealing with the PSC, FEMA and the DNR specifically and let me tell you – they don’t mess around. And they don’t take violations lightly. Funny thing is I’m not that upset. I mean I didn’t cause the violations though I’m charged with fixing them. Literally – I can only do what I can do. If you think you can do it better – have at it – there’s a vacated spot on the porch I left just for you.

These part time community jobs are quite an experience I tell you. Rambo works right alongside me on both – actually he holds positions over my head. Thank God. Without him – I wouldn’t do it. My social anxiety would never allow me to talk to this many people on the phone or in person or attend meetings on weeknights. Sounds ridiculous but no way would I be leaving the house if he wasn’t going first pulling me by the hand the whole way. If he’s going – I can find the courage. And did I mention that in both of these jobs – I am the ONLY woman? I do my work like I’ve got something to prove because I want these men to see my value…and so far they do. There is pressure though – self-induced maybe – but pressure just the same.

And on top of these three jobs – Rambo has been working tons of overtime. That means he gets up at 4am and doesn’t get home until 11pm that evening and then does it again. Why they let anyone guard criminals on that little of sleep is beyond me but he does it….and I keep the torches burning at home and listen to Banana and Watermelon tell me 60 times a day they miss their Daddy. I can’t quite figure out if it’s good or bad that we barely function without him…but it is what it is.

Overtime caused Rambo to miss trick or treating for the first time since our girls were born and he wasn’t happy about it. I want you to know that this girl – this woman typing this today – would not have taken my kids last year without him. I would have made an excuse and sulked and not even have flinched when the kids were sad about it. I just wouldn’t have been able to take them. I know my limits and that’s one of them. This year? I went – two days in a row – without Rambo. I went one day with my sister and once with my mom – but I went. Major victory for me.

So yah – I’m just busy….as everyone is. I’m not complaining…I think I’m just throwing it all out there. Not a lot has changed. Oh – other than I’m back on my plan and I pre-planned/pre-cooked my entire week’s meals and am journaling and back on the treadmill too.

I’m drowning a little – unable to breathe a little – and tired a lot.

But…my head is in a pretty good spot. So no worries about this Skittle. I still see glimpses of Care Bear Land now and again. I plan to take a bath in Skittles tonight with Rambo. Explosive Man just lost a limb in the bathroom and Martha Stewart next door is still matching her panties to her napkins.

If and when I find the energy to pull myself up out of the deep waters…I’m pretty sure I’ll fart a gumdrop. For now I’m peeing in the water and hoping no one notices cuz there isn’t even time for bathroom breaks.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Criticism.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately – about criticism. There are so many different forms and they come at me and all of us in so many different ways. Sarcastically, back-handedly, jokingly, honestly, and downright mean sometimes. Let me just say this – I suck a major huge big fat giraffe’s ass at taking criticism. That in itself is a flaw I’ve wanted to change my whole life. I mean a perfect stranger can say something – true or not – and I’d be crushed. Life would be over. Everything good I ever did was negated. I gave the criticizer ALL the power and let them determine my self-worth. And usually – I’d spend my life trying to change their mind…like it mattered. When it didn’t.


I envy those people who take and welcome constructive criticism and use it to fuel improvement. Me? Yah, criticize me and I’ll probably give up. I can’t get past the pain.

I know where it comes from. It comes from a lifetime of trying too hard and excelling so certain people would finally notice…all to no avail. It comes from doing so many things right over my lifetime that my super-sized ego is shattered when someone dares to say I did something wrong. It comes from feeling like the people who mattered didn’t like me so when someone outside that circle validated those feelings of less than with a criticism, my world would come crashing down. And they were right in my mind. I was worthless or less than or unloved or whatever. And recovery from one tiny remark for me – could take a lifetime.

I’ve changed a lot in this area. Not nearly anywhere near okay with criticism – but better. And that’s a start right? Part of it comes from being a public online blogger and realizing that opens me up for criticism. Which is good. Hurtful – but a good lesson if I can de-personalize it and learn from it. It’s criticism from a perfect stranger…and the truth is that if I know who I am inside – it shouldn’t matter.

I recently experienced the honest kind of criticism – that’s probably necessary – but cuts to the core. It was from my family given out of love but Jesus, Mary and Joseph…it’s like they slashed my heart with a dull knife. It happened when the other day Rambo and I contemplated adoption again. We’ve discussed it many times. This time however, my 9 year old mentioned it to my mother who in no uncertain terms looked me straight on and said what her heart believed when I asked her, “What…don’t you think I could handle another child?” Without a second’s hesitation – she looked at me and simply said, “No. You can’t handle your life now.”

Well shit. That’s some honest criticism right there. And yah, it hurt. It stung. I even called Jenny about it. And now? About a week later? It might still hurt – but she’s right. She doesn’t even know about last week’s depression relapse. She didn’t say it to hurt me or be mean. She was being honest. And man do I want to be the kind of person who can take that. I also want to be the kind of person who people feel they can give that kind of feedback to without retribution or fits or tears or whatever. I want to be able to hear…and really listen.

I think that kind of criticism is better than the backhanded, sarcastic kind anyway. In regards to being overweight, I can remember my Dad never really saying what he wanted to say about my mom’s small amount of fat she carried. Her whole body is tiny but she always carried a little extra around her mid-section. And when she’d get dressed and complain about it – he’d make a joke. Even name her fat. And she’d laugh. A real laugh…I could tell it didn’t hurt her. And other times he’d tell her to stop eating so much of something – in a serious tone – because later he knew he’d hear her complain about not fitting into something. Truth be told – he was scared to death for her health and of losing her – but he didn’t have the balls to say that. So he chose the joking, sarcastic kind of criticism.

On the flip side – he never did the opposite and told her she was beautiful. I never heard him speak those words to her ever. Hell, he’s never spoken those words to me. Maybe she would have taken his criticism better and actually heard him if on some occasion he’d have made her feel beautiful.

It’s hard for me to understand because I live with a man who makes me feel like a goddess every day. I swear he can’t see my fat. When Rambo sits at his computer at least once a night, I go over there and by now he automatically pushes his chair out because he knows I’m going to sit on his lap. I did this the other night and I sat there and said, “I’m getting fat. Look at this roll.” He said, “Stop it. Don’t do that to your skin. You are not fat.” And he meant it. And just for one second I prayed that I would see my body like he does. And just for one second I believed him. And I felt beautiful.

Then I think about the fact that Rambo could stand to lose 30 pounds. I could care less about how he looks and still find him wildly attractive but I’m scared for what 30 extra pounds means for his health. Once in a while we laugh about his belly but most of the time I tell him I’m scared for him. I want him fit so he can walk our girls down the aisle. I want him to live a long life with me. I push but it’s not my fight.

I think I’m realizing I can’t take criticism very well…and I may indeed not be the greatest at giving it out either.

Is telling Rambo I’m scared for his health good criticism or bad? Am I doing what my dad did to my mother? Does he know I think he’s beautiful? Does he know I’m just scared? Was joking and yelling and never really saying what you feel better – the way I learned it was as a kid?

How does your family dish out “fat or health” criticism? Does your significant other or family make jokes? Or plead and beg? Or yell or demean? How do you deal with any kind of criticism – about weight or any other subject? Does it kill you or drive you to be and do more? Do you try to see the truth in it or do you just feel the pain?

Do you give criticism in a healthy manner? Or do you stay silent?

I don’t know the right answer…all I know is I have a lot to learn…in receiving AND in giving criticism. How about you?