Get your damn heads out of the gutter! NO! Not THAT kind of dream. Although realistic enough, there was negative sex with the "Fat Man", as he so calls himself.
Into the warped mind of "Loose", and View Askew Productions via my limbic system (dream center of the brain).
View Askew Productions had moved into an abandoned hospital and it's four floors were bustling with people ready to please the Mastermind behind such hits as "Clerks" "Dogma" and "Chasing Amy" (just to name a few). I was hired on as a PA (production assistant) and was working with a girl named Mhairi. No, not MIRI from his other movie, but Mhairi. We were called onto the SMODcast set to answer a few questions about our favorite Batman, movie, etc. (If you have never heard a SMODcast, then you MUST tune in for the brilliance of each one!)
Mr. Smith calls me over, " Loose, you know how close you were to being fired today?" "Um, no sir? I really was? I did everything you asked, I was professional, what did I do wrong?" He replied, "That's just it, you did everything professionally, you have to loosen up, Loose! Don't be so fucking uptight." I noticed he enjoyed calling me by my last name. Loose. He giggled every damn time he said my name. The high mother fucker. Ha.
"As your punishment, Loose, you must go to every office and leave every person with just one telephone. George Lucas has been trying to reach me for the last hour and couldn't get through because the fucks are tying up the phones with personal phone calls!" Yay for me. Trudge through every damn office on four floors and gather phones with a fucking wheelbarrow that Smith handed me. I can't even handle a wheelbarrow in real life, how the fuck did I master one in my dream so easily?
I start collecting phones. People start getting pissed. I hit the office of one Walt Flanagan and he's got three damn phones on his desk. I told Walt I was there to take 2 of his phones per Kevin's orders. He yelled at me, " What the fuck? I am a big shot here! I can have as many phones as I want! I am an adult!" "Excuse me, Mr. Adult Walt, could you pick up your Batman skateboard? I nearly broke my neck walking up to your desk. Give me your fucking phones and let me do my damn job, Mr. Adult." Phones handed over, on to Mr. Brian Johnson whose response was less hostile. "Yeah, sure, go ahead, take 'em. I hate talking on the fucking things". Typical Johnson.
As I moved on to the tech department with my load of phones, I was relieved. Nearly done, whew!
I did NOT expect what I saw.
Rows of desks with laptops on each. It was like a giant school room for nerds. Wait, it was a room for nerds, because each mouse was a roller ball mouse and they were decorated. I saw Darth Vader, Batman, Spiderman, Ewoks, Jay and Silent Bob, a Pig, a Cat and many other assorted computer mouse (mice?) ... whatever... being rolled across the floor in races. After removing the telephones, I began confiscating the mouse (mice?) ...whatever.... and nerd did hit the fan! I told them this was bullshit and with my arms full of Vaders and Pigs, I headed of to find Smith. Fearing I was going to have to drag my ass around the entire old hospital, I found him on my floor, doing a Q&A for employees on the next project. He saw me coming. "What the fuck are those?" "They are from the tech department sir, they were having races with them." He half-laughed. "You have got to be fucking kidd...no... this sounds like a bunch of fucking geeks with time on their hands. Hey, Loose? "
"Yeah, boss?"
With a mischievous look in his eye, "Are you loose now, Loose?"
"Yeah, boss, I'm Loose."
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Monday, August 26, 2013
Aw, crap. I'm human.
My kids are enough... My kids are enough... My kids are eno... Oh hello! Yes, it's been a while, hasn't it.
I'm sorry, I took a mental health hiatus. Nah, sorry. I'm still crazy. I just needed time to myself and time to adjust to a "different" me. A me that is coming to terms with certain, shall we call them realities, and how to deal.
A me that is nearly 2 years cancer free.
A me that is not taking shit off of anyone, any longer.
A me that is............... lonely.
I admit it, okay? I've been telling myself for the longest time that my kids are enough and I don't need a man. That is true, my kids ARE enough and I DON'T need a man.
I just really want one
I honestly didn't even think of a relationship up until now. There was no room in my life for anyone that wasn't family or female. I was sick, I was getting well, I was depressed, I was getting well. See the pattern? Who had time for a relationship? Not me! For the last 5, yes dammit, you heard that right, for the last 5 years I have been a work in progress.
I was carrying my beautiful daughter, giving her life, battling cancer and recovering from it's aftermath.
It wasn't until a conversation with a friend that I realized I had a hole in my life. I didn't want that hole, I certainly don't need that hole and it just wasn't welcome.
I was lying to myself.
I do miss the human touch. I miss knowing you are loved and loving back. 5 years of celibacy really clears your damn head. It's makes you put everything into perspective. You learn what is truly important and what is fluff.
I will never need that man. I will want him. I feel sorry for those woman who feel they are incomplete with out a partner attached to their hip. I've never felt more a woman than I do at this moment, messy hair, sweats and all!
Now to sit back and be choosy. I've earned that right. I'm old enough now that I know what I want and I won't settle for less than that. I CAN be alone. I CAN live forever without a partner and be fine.
I just don't wanna.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
My Mirrors are Broken!
Hi, let me introduce myself. This is me... well... it WAS me, pre-baby and pre-cancer in 2008.
Kinda cute huh? Maybe even attractive in some one's eyes. Yes, I was thin, younger and confident. I felt I could rule the world!!
BOOM! Pregnancy. Oh the bundle of joys and how they trash our bodies for months! Unless, of course, you are some wealthy wench that can afford personal trainers and expensive diet plans. After bearing so many children, it took 2 years to get back to my near pre-pregnancy weight. I still had 10 lbs to go when the unthinkable happened. CANCER
It totally changed my appearance and not for the good. The steroids they pushed through my port every chemo packed on the pounds, not to mention the fact that I was so exhausted that I could barely prod myself to get out of bed with the exception of peeing. Yes, TMI for some, candid to others. I put all my weight back on that I had lost and then some! I lost my hair, and I gained chemo-teeth.
Chemo-teeth, you ask? Well, a lovely side effect is the rotting of your teeth, but only some are affected. It doesn't matter how well you take care of your teeth, some will just have the misfortune of them rotting. I once had a lovely smile, and I can smile no longer. I will show rotting teeth that I could not help and can not afford to change thanks to my insurance plan. Not being able to laugh heartily or smile at a cute guy hurts far worse than losing my hair ever did.
2 years and a cancer-free body later, here I am now...
I am still over-weight, hating my outward appearance and trying to make the best of it. My smile is different, my hair is growing and my eyes now require glasses (another side effect of chemo). Yet, because of my looks, I am vain enough to regret ever getting treatment. I'm sorry if that is a slap in the face to all those people that lost loved ones to this dreaded disease. I'm not intending it to be at all. I am merely baring my soul, my tortured, once pretty soul for all to understand. Not being able to be "me" anymore has changed me so dramatically, that I don't even know myself anymore. I like to pretend my mirrors are broken, but it's not so, I am the one that is broken. I have let myself fall into the trap of beauty that society has shoved down my throat since I was a little girl, dreaming of being a gorgeous princess.
Society, you suck ass! You force all women into believing we have to be a Barbie doll to be anything. I swallowed that hook, line and sinker! I don't know how to release myself from that rod and reel. The deeper I attempt to swim away from what all consider beautiful, the more I drown in my own sorrow of ineptitude.
I am NOT asking for pity, nor for the "beauty is on the inside" BS that will undoubtedly be heard as a response. I am asking you to raise your children differently! Show your sons and daughters how unhealthy those size zero models really look!
I was bulimic for a time in my life and that is a dark secret that has only been shared with very few people. I had an anorexic best friend, and I was the opposite. It's like we were in a "who can get skinnier" competition. STUPIDITY! I weighed in at 85 lbs at the age of 21, being 5'4"... totally unhealthy! Eating disorders are so very dangerous and it's just another pressure from society AND men that we girls/women MUST BE PERFECT! It's not true and don't let anybody tell you any different.
I wish I could take my own advice. However, once I was bitten by the "vain bug", I will be forever infected. The infestation will NOT pass down to my children. They see me hide daily behind hats and glasses, not smiling and avoiding people.
Hopefully, my daughters will realize just how gorgeous they are, no matter their size, teeth, hair or whatever! I know I am not sending a positive message by acting the way I do about my looks, but maybe it will have the reverse effect and they will accept themselves, willingly, for who they are and not what they appear to be.
UGLY IS INSIDE AND OUT, NOT JUST BEAUTY.
Words hurt. They cut deep. I know I'm fat and I don't need you to point out how "thin" I used to be, or how "cute" I was. I know that. Why do you think I am in such a dark place right now? If I didn't suffer from COPD and lose breath with every step, I WOULD exercise to lose the weight, but it won't change my teeth, now will it?
Remember, bullies come in every age and at every stage of life. I think I am my own biggest bully.
My mirror will forever be broken, just like me.
Hats off to you, society, you win this round.
Me, July 2008
Kinda cute huh? Maybe even attractive in some one's eyes. Yes, I was thin, younger and confident. I felt I could rule the world!!
BOOM! Pregnancy. Oh the bundle of joys and how they trash our bodies for months! Unless, of course, you are some wealthy wench that can afford personal trainers and expensive diet plans. After bearing so many children, it took 2 years to get back to my near pre-pregnancy weight. I still had 10 lbs to go when the unthinkable happened. CANCER
It totally changed my appearance and not for the good. The steroids they pushed through my port every chemo packed on the pounds, not to mention the fact that I was so exhausted that I could barely prod myself to get out of bed with the exception of peeing. Yes, TMI for some, candid to others. I put all my weight back on that I had lost and then some! I lost my hair, and I gained chemo-teeth.
Wig-wearing me and my BFF Jill, 2011
Chemo-teeth, you ask? Well, a lovely side effect is the rotting of your teeth, but only some are affected. It doesn't matter how well you take care of your teeth, some will just have the misfortune of them rotting. I once had a lovely smile, and I can smile no longer. I will show rotting teeth that I could not help and can not afford to change thanks to my insurance plan. Not being able to laugh heartily or smile at a cute guy hurts far worse than losing my hair ever did.
2 years and a cancer-free body later, here I am now...
Me, post cancer, March 2013
I am still over-weight, hating my outward appearance and trying to make the best of it. My smile is different, my hair is growing and my eyes now require glasses (another side effect of chemo). Yet, because of my looks, I am vain enough to regret ever getting treatment. I'm sorry if that is a slap in the face to all those people that lost loved ones to this dreaded disease. I'm not intending it to be at all. I am merely baring my soul, my tortured, once pretty soul for all to understand. Not being able to be "me" anymore has changed me so dramatically, that I don't even know myself anymore. I like to pretend my mirrors are broken, but it's not so, I am the one that is broken. I have let myself fall into the trap of beauty that society has shoved down my throat since I was a little girl, dreaming of being a gorgeous princess.
Society, you suck ass! You force all women into believing we have to be a Barbie doll to be anything. I swallowed that hook, line and sinker! I don't know how to release myself from that rod and reel. The deeper I attempt to swim away from what all consider beautiful, the more I drown in my own sorrow of ineptitude.
I am NOT asking for pity, nor for the "beauty is on the inside" BS that will undoubtedly be heard as a response. I am asking you to raise your children differently! Show your sons and daughters how unhealthy those size zero models really look!
I was bulimic for a time in my life and that is a dark secret that has only been shared with very few people. I had an anorexic best friend, and I was the opposite. It's like we were in a "who can get skinnier" competition. STUPIDITY! I weighed in at 85 lbs at the age of 21, being 5'4"... totally unhealthy! Eating disorders are so very dangerous and it's just another pressure from society AND men that we girls/women MUST BE PERFECT! It's not true and don't let anybody tell you any different.
I wish I could take my own advice. However, once I was bitten by the "vain bug", I will be forever infected. The infestation will NOT pass down to my children. They see me hide daily behind hats and glasses, not smiling and avoiding people.
Hopefully, my daughters will realize just how gorgeous they are, no matter their size, teeth, hair or whatever! I know I am not sending a positive message by acting the way I do about my looks, but maybe it will have the reverse effect and they will accept themselves, willingly, for who they are and not what they appear to be.
UGLY IS INSIDE AND OUT, NOT JUST BEAUTY.
Words hurt. They cut deep. I know I'm fat and I don't need you to point out how "thin" I used to be, or how "cute" I was. I know that. Why do you think I am in such a dark place right now? If I didn't suffer from COPD and lose breath with every step, I WOULD exercise to lose the weight, but it won't change my teeth, now will it?
Remember, bullies come in every age and at every stage of life. I think I am my own biggest bully.
My mirror will forever be broken, just like me.
Hats off to you, society, you win this round.
Friday, March 8, 2013
I Can't Write!
It's official. I can't write. No, I don't mean I am a bad writer (although, I'm pretty sure I am), I only mean I have nothing left inside of me. I've never claimed to be a professional, just an amateur whose only outlet for pain has always been pen to paper; or fingers to keyboard.
I go to bed at night with a billion topics, no, not literally, and come the next morning, I can't remember anything that was swirling around in my little brain. Yes, I have thought of keeping a tablet handy, but when I am falling asleep, I really don't want to jump awake to write crap down. Call me crazy, but in that threshold between half-asleep/half-awake, I'd rather drift off.
Once the sun rises and a new day begins, I am empty. The toddler is now in daycare, so I have tons of free time to write at leisure, but the gas tank is on fumes. It's not writer's block, for I am no writer. Am I pain-free? No, that can't possibly be it, for I face the same issues that I have faced since my teen years, just new ones added. Have I lost the ability to draw on that pain? Possibly. It's more likely that I am maturing (ick) and don't feel the need to share my every thought any longer.
I have noticed a very big difference in my personality. I have withdrawn; from people, from places, from everything on this big blue ball. The social butterfly has reverted into her cocoon. It's happier here. I don't get let down by people. I don't have to trust anyone. I don't have to rely on false comfort. I have built my world and it is just fine by me. The more I hide, the more my energy returns, the better I feel. I keep a very tight circle of friends that I communicate with often, and trust them with my life. Others have fallen by the wayside, others (once I was declared cancer-free) felt no need to be in my life. I am glad that my illness gave you purpose. I gave me a purpose too, it allowed me to rip out the weeds from the roses in my life.
There is a whole other group of people that give me more than imagined, but yet, I hide from them as well. You would think that unicorns could stick together, but alas, I am drifting to another part of the rainbow. No, you WON'T get this reference unless you are a unicorn as well. I think my horn snapped off and now I'm just a regular horse.
This is not a pity-post. Don't even go there. It appears I was able to write about NOT being able to write. Oh, the irony.
One day I hope to join you in your world once more. For now, I gladly embrace my gilded cage. I am untouchable. I am healing. I am being me.
I go to bed at night with a billion topics, no, not literally, and come the next morning, I can't remember anything that was swirling around in my little brain. Yes, I have thought of keeping a tablet handy, but when I am falling asleep, I really don't want to jump awake to write crap down. Call me crazy, but in that threshold between half-asleep/half-awake, I'd rather drift off.
Once the sun rises and a new day begins, I am empty. The toddler is now in daycare, so I have tons of free time to write at leisure, but the gas tank is on fumes. It's not writer's block, for I am no writer. Am I pain-free? No, that can't possibly be it, for I face the same issues that I have faced since my teen years, just new ones added. Have I lost the ability to draw on that pain? Possibly. It's more likely that I am maturing (ick) and don't feel the need to share my every thought any longer.
I have noticed a very big difference in my personality. I have withdrawn; from people, from places, from everything on this big blue ball. The social butterfly has reverted into her cocoon. It's happier here. I don't get let down by people. I don't have to trust anyone. I don't have to rely on false comfort. I have built my world and it is just fine by me. The more I hide, the more my energy returns, the better I feel. I keep a very tight circle of friends that I communicate with often, and trust them with my life. Others have fallen by the wayside, others (once I was declared cancer-free) felt no need to be in my life. I am glad that my illness gave you purpose. I gave me a purpose too, it allowed me to rip out the weeds from the roses in my life.
There is a whole other group of people that give me more than imagined, but yet, I hide from them as well. You would think that unicorns could stick together, but alas, I am drifting to another part of the rainbow. No, you WON'T get this reference unless you are a unicorn as well. I think my horn snapped off and now I'm just a regular horse.
This is not a pity-post. Don't even go there. It appears I was able to write about NOT being able to write. Oh, the irony.
One day I hope to join you in your world once more. For now, I gladly embrace my gilded cage. I am untouchable. I am healing. I am being me.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Watch Your Mouth!
Did I move to Europe? I must have missed that. Oh wait, you weren't asking for a cigarette, you were calling some person a fag. Unless we are in Europe, that is an unacceptable word! Don't let me hear you say that around me!
That movie was gay? Really? How could an inanimate object be happy and joyful? Again, I apologize, forgive me for being so stupid that I did not understand you were calling some "thing" a homosexual. Interesting.
Knock off the offensive remarks, or I will find some nasty soap for your mouth.
Your friend is retarded? Wow. I am so proud that your friend is in high school, on the debate team and is an honor roll student. Wait, what? I see, they aren't really retarded, it's a figure of speech. Do you know how horrible that "figure of speech" is? It's such an ugly word, if you find them to be an idiot at any given point, use that one instead. Better yet, how about cutting out all name-calling all together. Wishful thinking....
Moron, jerk, dummy, stupid, retard, fag, queer, gay... these all seem to be mainstream words for the teens of today. It's comparable to we, the 80s kids, saying "gross me out" or "gag me with a spoon"! It's completely normal in their little world to use this language as it is to use "the" or "and".
YUCK.
and more YUCK.
I keep trying and trying to remind my children how hurtful these words can be, starting from when they were very young. It has become a habit thanks to the other teens speaking this way. Having parents that just don't give a rat's ass or are bigoted assholes are the problem. I'm not sure which it is, I just know that if you have not trained your children that these are just as bad (no, worse) than cursing you are totally doing your child a disservice as a parent.
You should also be covered in honey, red ants devouring your hateful body.
I'm not the judge or jury though, so I shall retain my evil fantasy while I listen to your teens speak the nastiness.
I am probably pouring honey on your teens in my mind, just so you know. I know I mentally pour it on mine as I hear these words spew forth from the lips God and I created.
Don't worry, I won't harm a kid, my images are mine and mine alone. They won't be acted upon. It's all just wishful thinking.
Just like the wishful thinking I do on a daily basis that these words are erased from our vocabulary, or only used in proper context.
Here ya go, kiddos! A proper sentence: Isn't it queer that I should be so gay on such a cloudy day?
The other words should just be erased. Period.
That movie was gay? Really? How could an inanimate object be happy and joyful? Again, I apologize, forgive me for being so stupid that I did not understand you were calling some "thing" a homosexual. Interesting.
Knock off the offensive remarks, or I will find some nasty soap for your mouth.
Your friend is retarded? Wow. I am so proud that your friend is in high school, on the debate team and is an honor roll student. Wait, what? I see, they aren't really retarded, it's a figure of speech. Do you know how horrible that "figure of speech" is? It's such an ugly word, if you find them to be an idiot at any given point, use that one instead. Better yet, how about cutting out all name-calling all together. Wishful thinking....
Moron, jerk, dummy, stupid, retard, fag, queer, gay... these all seem to be mainstream words for the teens of today. It's comparable to we, the 80s kids, saying "gross me out" or "gag me with a spoon"! It's completely normal in their little world to use this language as it is to use "the" or "and".
YUCK.
and more YUCK.
I keep trying and trying to remind my children how hurtful these words can be, starting from when they were very young. It has become a habit thanks to the other teens speaking this way. Having parents that just don't give a rat's ass or are bigoted assholes are the problem. I'm not sure which it is, I just know that if you have not trained your children that these are just as bad (no, worse) than cursing you are totally doing your child a disservice as a parent.
You should also be covered in honey, red ants devouring your hateful body.
I'm not the judge or jury though, so I shall retain my evil fantasy while I listen to your teens speak the nastiness.
I am probably pouring honey on your teens in my mind, just so you know. I know I mentally pour it on mine as I hear these words spew forth from the lips God and I created.
Don't worry, I won't harm a kid, my images are mine and mine alone. They won't be acted upon. It's all just wishful thinking.
Just like the wishful thinking I do on a daily basis that these words are erased from our vocabulary, or only used in proper context.
Here ya go, kiddos! A proper sentence: Isn't it queer that I should be so gay on such a cloudy day?
The other words should just be erased. Period.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
The Accidental Addict
I don't even know where to begin on this one. It's a story I've never told, a story I am ashamed of and a story that several will recognize as close to their own.
Painkillers.
They are a blessing and a curse all rolled up into one tiny little tablet. They rush through our veins like the evil little demons they are, easing the intense pain we are feeling, all the while whispering to our brains, "You need us, you need us!"
My first addiction to pills was in 2006 after a very serious car accident that nearly cost me my life. Hats off to the lady who had been drinking, rushing to pick up her child from the bus stop and smashing into the driver's side of my SUV. RIGHT NEAR MY CHILDREN! BITCH! They heard the loud "SMACK" and the crumpling of metal. They ran out to see the commotion, as is normal
thanks to the "nosy gene" in my family, and saw their momma, in the ditch. I had flipped in the air. My kids got to see the lovely sight of their mother covered in blood once I was pulled out. Imagine how frightening it was for their tender ages of 9 (the twins) and 10. Three broken vertebrae, a very strained neck, a cracked skull, broken sternum and several broken ribs were my injuries. I count myself very lucky. I SHOULD have died considering how the windshield WOULD have jabbed me in the neck (or severed my head) if my seat belt had not "miraculously" released.
The point of this story was to give some background on WHY I needed months of painkillers. I couldn't lay on my back, I could not lay on my side. I was uncomfortable no matter what position I attempted to lie in, EVEN ON PAINKILLERS! I even "turtled" myself one day when no one was home. What is turtling, you ask? Ok, turtling may not be a word, but it's MY word, so leave it alone. Turtles get stuck on their backs and struggle to turn upright, and that was me. I was in so much pain on the couch, I decided to "lay on something hard" as had been suggested by a friend. BAD FUCKING ADVICE, DUDE! I proceeded to lay on the floor, 3 hours before anyone was due home and I WAS STUCK! I couldn't roll to my left, I couldn't roll to my right, thanks to all the broken bones and sitting straight up? No go! Those broken bones in my chest would not allow me to move, dammit! Bad idea to drink coffee that day, I had to piss like a race-horse by the time I was saved by my friend.
Now, you've gotten the background and are understanding the pain, let's talk about the addiction. It was 3 months of physical therapy and drugs. 3 months of constant painkillers is more than enough time to become addicted. My naive little ass didn't realize this, until my doctor felt I was well enough to be off of them. I was fine with it. I felt so much better, little aches here and there but nothing I couldn't handle with some ibuprofen.
Me: Hello, doc? Something is wrong with me. I am shaking, having cold sweats and my ass is exploding diarrhea like crazy.
Doc: How long have you been off of your pills now?
Me: 3 days!
Doc: Come in for some more, we have to wean you off of them, you've developed an addiction.
*click*
"HOW THE HELL DID I BECOME A PILL POPPER?"
So, I was weaned off and no more withdrawal symptoms. The End.
I SO FUCKING WISH THAT WAS THE END!
Fast forward to 2011, when I was having a marvelous time kicking the ass of cancer.
Hello, Dilaudid!
Yes, my new best friend. While in Moffitt, after having my chest split and ribs spread like an easy prom queen's legs, I needed it. I needed it so very badly they even gave me my own pump with a happy little button to push as I saw fit. I now had a scar that ran from the top of my sternum to well below it and it fucking hurt. PUSH PUSH PUSH
Nope, I didn't get an addiction from 5 days in the hospital. It was the months after. I was prescribed opiates for pain relief and once it was radiation time they added 12 hour, long acting Morphine to my list of meds. I can honestly report to you that I took my pills AS DIRECTED. I never took more than needed ( I am highly sensitive to the high it gives you and I don't like it) so I always took less than prescribed. If I was told one pill every 4-6 hours, I took 1/2 every 4-6 hours. I kept on my regimen as they were radiating the spot they had just sliced and diced!
MOTHERFUCKINGHELLDIDTHATHURT!
They joys of trying to stay alive.
Please excuse all the cursing. I know I offend a great many of you, but drug addiction offends me, so deal with it.
After a beautiful 5 months of painkillers, I went off cold turkey. Again, my naive little self never once said, "Hmmm, but my other doctor weaned me off of them, why not again?"
2 days later I was dying, I just knew it. My legs hurt so horribly, every inch of my body ached, but my legs were intense! I wasn't sleeping, wasn't eating and my ass decided to expel all the contents of my bowels yet again. I complained to my 20 year old and he laughed and said, "Mom, you are going through withdrawal!"
HOLY HELL, AGAIN?
This doc was of a different sort and didn't believe in "weaning". So there I was, dying a little every day for a week. Vomiting, sweating, shaking, and wanting my legs to be amputated.
I LIVED!!
Hurrah for me, I beat it, alone. I never intended to be addicted. It's been one year since I've taken painkillers for anything, except for my little friend, ibuprofen.
Accidental Addiction.
I would bet you the world I am NOT the only one this happened to and I worry that some never conquered those little shitheads.
I see the why they can take over your life, it's understandable. They take away your pain and give you this gushy feeling, numbing you and making you happy. Thank God this one time for Panic Disorder. Too much of that euphoric feeling would send me into panic mode, so I never was able to over indulge in them. What would my life be like now if not for that? I shudder to think. I don't want to think.
I want the drug problem in the world cleaned up, for you, for me and for our children! Opiates are far too easy to obtain and that's frightening. There are people that genuinely need them for pain control, then there are the assholes that deplete the inventory at the pharmacy, for their own selfish needs, denying those genuine people. It pisses me off and I mean REALLY pisses me off.
Know an addict? GET THEM HELP, NOW! Yes, it is your responsibility. You know them, help them. Imagine if we started taking responsibility for all that was wrong in this world, we could clean it right up, together, as a community.
Look up the nearest treatment center or AA/NA meetings near you.
www.gutsthebook.com to give to those addicts in hopes they will see the light, be inspired and realize they too, through laughter and tears, can recover.
Anything is possible, just believe!
Painkillers.
They are a blessing and a curse all rolled up into one tiny little tablet. They rush through our veins like the evil little demons they are, easing the intense pain we are feeling, all the while whispering to our brains, "You need us, you need us!"
My first addiction to pills was in 2006 after a very serious car accident that nearly cost me my life. Hats off to the lady who had been drinking, rushing to pick up her child from the bus stop and smashing into the driver's side of my SUV. RIGHT NEAR MY CHILDREN! BITCH! They heard the loud "SMACK" and the crumpling of metal. They ran out to see the commotion, as is normal
thanks to the "nosy gene" in my family, and saw their momma, in the ditch. I had flipped in the air. My kids got to see the lovely sight of their mother covered in blood once I was pulled out. Imagine how frightening it was for their tender ages of 9 (the twins) and 10. Three broken vertebrae, a very strained neck, a cracked skull, broken sternum and several broken ribs were my injuries. I count myself very lucky. I SHOULD have died considering how the windshield WOULD have jabbed me in the neck (or severed my head) if my seat belt had not "miraculously" released.
The point of this story was to give some background on WHY I needed months of painkillers. I couldn't lay on my back, I could not lay on my side. I was uncomfortable no matter what position I attempted to lie in, EVEN ON PAINKILLERS! I even "turtled" myself one day when no one was home. What is turtling, you ask? Ok, turtling may not be a word, but it's MY word, so leave it alone. Turtles get stuck on their backs and struggle to turn upright, and that was me. I was in so much pain on the couch, I decided to "lay on something hard" as had been suggested by a friend. BAD FUCKING ADVICE, DUDE! I proceeded to lay on the floor, 3 hours before anyone was due home and I WAS STUCK! I couldn't roll to my left, I couldn't roll to my right, thanks to all the broken bones and sitting straight up? No go! Those broken bones in my chest would not allow me to move, dammit! Bad idea to drink coffee that day, I had to piss like a race-horse by the time I was saved by my friend.
Now, you've gotten the background and are understanding the pain, let's talk about the addiction. It was 3 months of physical therapy and drugs. 3 months of constant painkillers is more than enough time to become addicted. My naive little ass didn't realize this, until my doctor felt I was well enough to be off of them. I was fine with it. I felt so much better, little aches here and there but nothing I couldn't handle with some ibuprofen.
Me: Hello, doc? Something is wrong with me. I am shaking, having cold sweats and my ass is exploding diarrhea like crazy.
Doc: How long have you been off of your pills now?
Me: 3 days!
Doc: Come in for some more, we have to wean you off of them, you've developed an addiction.
*click*
"HOW THE HELL DID I BECOME A PILL POPPER?"
So, I was weaned off and no more withdrawal symptoms. The End.
I SO FUCKING WISH THAT WAS THE END!
Fast forward to 2011, when I was having a marvelous time kicking the ass of cancer.
Hello, Dilaudid!
Yes, my new best friend. While in Moffitt, after having my chest split and ribs spread like an easy prom queen's legs, I needed it. I needed it so very badly they even gave me my own pump with a happy little button to push as I saw fit. I now had a scar that ran from the top of my sternum to well below it and it fucking hurt. PUSH PUSH PUSH
Nope, I didn't get an addiction from 5 days in the hospital. It was the months after. I was prescribed opiates for pain relief and once it was radiation time they added 12 hour, long acting Morphine to my list of meds. I can honestly report to you that I took my pills AS DIRECTED. I never took more than needed ( I am highly sensitive to the high it gives you and I don't like it) so I always took less than prescribed. If I was told one pill every 4-6 hours, I took 1/2 every 4-6 hours. I kept on my regimen as they were radiating the spot they had just sliced and diced!
MOTHERFUCKINGHELLDIDTHATHURT!
They joys of trying to stay alive.
Please excuse all the cursing. I know I offend a great many of you, but drug addiction offends me, so deal with it.
After a beautiful 5 months of painkillers, I went off cold turkey. Again, my naive little self never once said, "Hmmm, but my other doctor weaned me off of them, why not again?"
2 days later I was dying, I just knew it. My legs hurt so horribly, every inch of my body ached, but my legs were intense! I wasn't sleeping, wasn't eating and my ass decided to expel all the contents of my bowels yet again. I complained to my 20 year old and he laughed and said, "Mom, you are going through withdrawal!"
HOLY HELL, AGAIN?
This doc was of a different sort and didn't believe in "weaning". So there I was, dying a little every day for a week. Vomiting, sweating, shaking, and wanting my legs to be amputated.
I LIVED!!
Hurrah for me, I beat it, alone. I never intended to be addicted. It's been one year since I've taken painkillers for anything, except for my little friend, ibuprofen.
Accidental Addiction.
I would bet you the world I am NOT the only one this happened to and I worry that some never conquered those little shitheads.
I see the why they can take over your life, it's understandable. They take away your pain and give you this gushy feeling, numbing you and making you happy. Thank God this one time for Panic Disorder. Too much of that euphoric feeling would send me into panic mode, so I never was able to over indulge in them. What would my life be like now if not for that? I shudder to think. I don't want to think.
I want the drug problem in the world cleaned up, for you, for me and for our children! Opiates are far too easy to obtain and that's frightening. There are people that genuinely need them for pain control, then there are the assholes that deplete the inventory at the pharmacy, for their own selfish needs, denying those genuine people. It pisses me off and I mean REALLY pisses me off.
Know an addict? GET THEM HELP, NOW! Yes, it is your responsibility. You know them, help them. Imagine if we started taking responsibility for all that was wrong in this world, we could clean it right up, together, as a community.
Look up the nearest treatment center or AA/NA meetings near you.
www.gutsthebook.com to give to those addicts in hopes they will see the light, be inspired and realize they too, through laughter and tears, can recover.
Anything is possible, just believe!
Monday, December 17, 2012
"You Worry too Much!"
(Note: This blog was written over a week and a half ago, and I forgot to hit publish. It seems more fitting that I find this out today and more appropriate that it gets published now.)
That's what my 16 year old son said to me, "You worry to much!". He was referring to himself and his siblings. They complain I never let them go out, never let them hang out with friends and they honestly just don't understand why I don't want them wandering around neighborhoods or parks.
Here are some statistics for OUR neighborhood. There are 29 'registered' sexual offenders in a one mile radius of my house and 125 offenders in a 5 mile radius. They don't get this? One is more than enough to make my skin crawl, this many is ridiculous. I stress from the time they walk to their bus stop until I can breathe a sigh of relief when they get home. Bad people exist in the world and I know I am not prepared for them, so I definitely know my teens aren't either, no matter how 'bad' they think they are!
Times are different from when I was a child/teenager. My parents worried about underage drinking and pot. I have to worry about drinking, pot, ecstasy, cocaine (yes, it was around in the 80s but I have never to this day seen cocaine with my own eyes!), huffing, meth, pain killers, crack and a whole lot more I know I am forgetting. I did do underage drinking and I know at some point they will as well, I just pray they never touch the other stuff listed. They wonder why I worry? How about 4 gunshots in my neighborhood over a 3 day period, 1 one night and 3 another. I live in a tiny town (we aren't even considered a city, as we've never been incorporated as one, we, last I knew, were considered a village) that has really bottomed out as a nice place. It's drug haven. It's a retirement town, but why people would want to retire to this hell hole is beyond me! I want out. I don't want my baby raised in this mecca of pill-pushing, child-molesting, gun shooting idiots.
Don't EVER tell a mother to not worry. It's our God given right from the time we first learn we are pregnant until we take our last breath. Yes, I will be worrying about you when you are on your own, married and with your own children making you crazy. I bestow the parental curse upon your heads: May you spawn children that are exactly like you!
When you hear them tell you to 'not worry', maybe, just maybe, my words will click in that head of yours. This world is NO LONGER SAFE and it getting much, much worse.
I love you, you are my babies and it's my job to protect you. I'm sorry, the words 'over-protective' aren't in my vocabulary, I don't understand them. Stop using them. I will shield you when I can from what can or will harm you and pray when I am not their to do so.
Stop asking about certain things, you are not going to do them, period. I won't give an inch if I feel your safety is compromised in any way. I could never imagine, nor do I want to attempt to imagine, every losing one of you.
Author's Addendum:
This was written before the horrific act on 12-14-2012. I was gutted, horrified, and really, really needed my children home that day. It could happen any where at any time. I wish I had the solution so I could sleep better at night knowing my children are safe at their school, but I don't. It's the one place we count on to be semi-safe for them, especially at the elementary age. This has made me pause and contemplate home schooling my youngest. I am just not sure I want to deny her the privilege of socializing with her peers.
I swear if I hear that I worry too much again pour from their teen lips, I am going to rip them right off.
Don't worry, I am pretty sure they grow back, like Daffy Duck's bill, or something!
Hug your kids, tell them you love them, worry about them. Never take for granted one second with them, for tragedies occur all the time.
Pray for those families, every person in Newtown, because they ALL were affected, WE all were affected. This will weigh on my brain for a very long time. This will affect how I raise my kids forever.
I fear we have only begun to see what ugliness this world has in store for us.
That's what my 16 year old son said to me, "You worry to much!". He was referring to himself and his siblings. They complain I never let them go out, never let them hang out with friends and they honestly just don't understand why I don't want them wandering around neighborhoods or parks.
Here are some statistics for OUR neighborhood. There are 29 'registered' sexual offenders in a one mile radius of my house and 125 offenders in a 5 mile radius. They don't get this? One is more than enough to make my skin crawl, this many is ridiculous. I stress from the time they walk to their bus stop until I can breathe a sigh of relief when they get home. Bad people exist in the world and I know I am not prepared for them, so I definitely know my teens aren't either, no matter how 'bad' they think they are!
Times are different from when I was a child/teenager. My parents worried about underage drinking and pot. I have to worry about drinking, pot, ecstasy, cocaine (yes, it was around in the 80s but I have never to this day seen cocaine with my own eyes!), huffing, meth, pain killers, crack and a whole lot more I know I am forgetting. I did do underage drinking and I know at some point they will as well, I just pray they never touch the other stuff listed. They wonder why I worry? How about 4 gunshots in my neighborhood over a 3 day period, 1 one night and 3 another. I live in a tiny town (we aren't even considered a city, as we've never been incorporated as one, we, last I knew, were considered a village) that has really bottomed out as a nice place. It's drug haven. It's a retirement town, but why people would want to retire to this hell hole is beyond me! I want out. I don't want my baby raised in this mecca of pill-pushing, child-molesting, gun shooting idiots.
Don't EVER tell a mother to not worry. It's our God given right from the time we first learn we are pregnant until we take our last breath. Yes, I will be worrying about you when you are on your own, married and with your own children making you crazy. I bestow the parental curse upon your heads: May you spawn children that are exactly like you!
When you hear them tell you to 'not worry', maybe, just maybe, my words will click in that head of yours. This world is NO LONGER SAFE and it getting much, much worse.
I love you, you are my babies and it's my job to protect you. I'm sorry, the words 'over-protective' aren't in my vocabulary, I don't understand them. Stop using them. I will shield you when I can from what can or will harm you and pray when I am not their to do so.
Stop asking about certain things, you are not going to do them, period. I won't give an inch if I feel your safety is compromised in any way. I could never imagine, nor do I want to attempt to imagine, every losing one of you.
Author's Addendum:
This was written before the horrific act on 12-14-2012. I was gutted, horrified, and really, really needed my children home that day. It could happen any where at any time. I wish I had the solution so I could sleep better at night knowing my children are safe at their school, but I don't. It's the one place we count on to be semi-safe for them, especially at the elementary age. This has made me pause and contemplate home schooling my youngest. I am just not sure I want to deny her the privilege of socializing with her peers.
I swear if I hear that I worry too much again pour from their teen lips, I am going to rip them right off.
Don't worry, I am pretty sure they grow back, like Daffy Duck's bill, or something!
Hug your kids, tell them you love them, worry about them. Never take for granted one second with them, for tragedies occur all the time.
Pray for those families, every person in Newtown, because they ALL were affected, WE all were affected. This will weigh on my brain for a very long time. This will affect how I raise my kids forever.
I fear we have only begun to see what ugliness this world has in store for us.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Standing on My Soapbox
Please forgive the following rant. Actually, no, don't. Hate me, disown me, applaud me, I really don't care what your opinion is about what I am going to say.
I have been loathing FaceBook lately. There is so much whining going on! Yes, I have done my share but NOT for the same reasons.
I don't want to hear you whine about your damn job. You should be thankful you have one in the first place. You are aware of the unemployment rate, correct? I know several people that would be thankful to take that job from you and do it with a smile on their face, without complaint. Be thankful you are healthy enough to have a job as well, several people in this country are disabled and cannot work at a job, and they probably would trade their life for yours any given day of the week.
I'm so sorry your car repair was $500. A little gratitude that you can afford car repairs AND a car would be nice to see instead of the bitching.
Who cares if you are single! You can be fabulous AND single! You don't need a woman/man to make you complete. Sure, it's always nice to have a companion, but you don't need one. The right person will come along when it's the right time. If they never do? You really didn't need some one.. Pat yourself on the back, you did life solo and you were amazing at it!
Oh, so you are spending too much on Christmas? Budget yourself! There are some of us that won't be spending anything this year, or next year possibly, due to this economy. Hell, could be the next four years! No one knows. Set a limit and stick to it. I am sure that computer from last year still works and you really don't need to purchase a new one. Your children won't remember every gift they receive, they will remember the time you spent with them, however. Which will go farther with them in their lifetime?
For once in your self-centered lives, think of the less fortunate. The family looking for shelter on cold nights, the single mother working double shifts to put a few gifts under her tree, the couple that was just laid off right before the holidays, the man that has been unable to find a job through no fault of his own, the family that lost a family member recently, the sole provider that has an illness... I could go on and on, but you get the point. All I see is people complaining over empty shit when there are REAL problems in the world. REAL people affected by these issues are shaking their head at you and just don't have the balls to say anything. Mine are brass, thank you. I will remind you of your needless spending when the Toys 4 Tots drive is here, I will poke you when the soup kitchens run low on food and I will ask that you carry ONE BAG. You have never heard of ONE BAG? Look it up, it's so easy to do and really makes a difference in one person's life.
Thank you, I am now stepping down. Proceed to pelt me with stick and stones...
I have been loathing FaceBook lately. There is so much whining going on! Yes, I have done my share but NOT for the same reasons.
I don't want to hear you whine about your damn job. You should be thankful you have one in the first place. You are aware of the unemployment rate, correct? I know several people that would be thankful to take that job from you and do it with a smile on their face, without complaint. Be thankful you are healthy enough to have a job as well, several people in this country are disabled and cannot work at a job, and they probably would trade their life for yours any given day of the week.
I'm so sorry your car repair was $500. A little gratitude that you can afford car repairs AND a car would be nice to see instead of the bitching.
Who cares if you are single! You can be fabulous AND single! You don't need a woman/man to make you complete. Sure, it's always nice to have a companion, but you don't need one. The right person will come along when it's the right time. If they never do? You really didn't need some one.. Pat yourself on the back, you did life solo and you were amazing at it!
Oh, so you are spending too much on Christmas? Budget yourself! There are some of us that won't be spending anything this year, or next year possibly, due to this economy. Hell, could be the next four years! No one knows. Set a limit and stick to it. I am sure that computer from last year still works and you really don't need to purchase a new one. Your children won't remember every gift they receive, they will remember the time you spent with them, however. Which will go farther with them in their lifetime?
For once in your self-centered lives, think of the less fortunate. The family looking for shelter on cold nights, the single mother working double shifts to put a few gifts under her tree, the couple that was just laid off right before the holidays, the man that has been unable to find a job through no fault of his own, the family that lost a family member recently, the sole provider that has an illness... I could go on and on, but you get the point. All I see is people complaining over empty shit when there are REAL problems in the world. REAL people affected by these issues are shaking their head at you and just don't have the balls to say anything. Mine are brass, thank you. I will remind you of your needless spending when the Toys 4 Tots drive is here, I will poke you when the soup kitchens run low on food and I will ask that you carry ONE BAG. You have never heard of ONE BAG? Look it up, it's so easy to do and really makes a difference in one person's life.
Thank you, I am now stepping down. Proceed to pelt me with stick and stones...
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
The Depression Depot...All Aboard!
My post about depression brought in the greatest numbers of readers I have ever seen. I don't feel so all alone now. I am not riding solo on this crazy train, which is comforting at the same time it is sobering. I am disheartened that so many others suffer from the ultimate sadness ever known.
This is an update to my mind's working as I type.
I am far better.
I look out and see blue skies instead of seeing skies the color of old black and white movies. I see the sun shining and appreciate the bright yellow of it's warming glow. I no longer want to run and hide like Count Dracula when Sol makes his appearance in the early morn.
I can take a deep breath and exhale and not regret it.
I don't weep at every little thing and I can now arise from my bed with purpose (when my muscles allow).
Food has flavor once more, my children's laughter is even more contagious that it ever has been.
I did not get this way alone. I sought help. I take medicine.
Please don't say to your dear ones, "Snap out of it!" Time does not heal everything. There are moments in our lives where we are not strong enough to go it without professional help. Would you tell someone with a ruptured appendix to snap out of it? Depression is a medical condition AND a life threatening one if not treated.
Thank God I had a great support system and the knowledge to do what had to be done. Damn the stigma! Who cares what people think when it comes to your physical and mental health. You must take care of yourself, no one will do it for you.
Again, I beseech you, if you know of some one suffering, talk to them.
If you feel like they are a danger to themselves then call National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-TALK (8255)
Life is worth living, trust me.
xo
This is an update to my mind's working as I type.
I am far better.
I look out and see blue skies instead of seeing skies the color of old black and white movies. I see the sun shining and appreciate the bright yellow of it's warming glow. I no longer want to run and hide like Count Dracula when Sol makes his appearance in the early morn.
I can take a deep breath and exhale and not regret it.
I don't weep at every little thing and I can now arise from my bed with purpose (when my muscles allow).
Food has flavor once more, my children's laughter is even more contagious that it ever has been.
I did not get this way alone. I sought help. I take medicine.
Please don't say to your dear ones, "Snap out of it!" Time does not heal everything. There are moments in our lives where we are not strong enough to go it without professional help. Would you tell someone with a ruptured appendix to snap out of it? Depression is a medical condition AND a life threatening one if not treated.
Thank God I had a great support system and the knowledge to do what had to be done. Damn the stigma! Who cares what people think when it comes to your physical and mental health. You must take care of yourself, no one will do it for you.
Again, I beseech you, if you know of some one suffering, talk to them.
If you feel like they are a danger to themselves then call National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-TALK (8255)
Life is worth living, trust me.
xo
Monday, November 12, 2012
The Spider and the Chief
As I have said in the past, my writing sometimes comes in the form of dreams. I dreamt of a fable, so bear with me. I have never written a fable before, but the dream was clearly one. I am no Aesop, just a tiny warning.
The Spider and the Chief
In a tiny village there lived a great Chief and his loyal tribe. They were a peaceful race, full of love and happiness. Despite their shortage of food, they thrived with smiles on their faces and minds filled with stories of the Great Spirits. They had only one enemy, the Queen spider and her army of workers. One bite would take the life of his precious kinsmen, and send them on a journey to meet with the Old Ones.
Summer was nearly over and it was time for the tribe to start storing food. The scarce supply they had would last only a week, maybe two. It was time to go out in to the deep forest to see if they could reach the berries.
The purple and blue berries carried a magnificent perfume and their taste was other-worldly. The Chief said they were the "ambrosia of the Great Spirits". They were high in the tree tops and it was very rare when one would drop and be retrieved by a tribe member, for the forest they were in was spider territory. The Queen was not one to share her special treasure of the berries, they were hers and hers alone. She would send her army out to bite any human that dare attempt to steal her fruit.
One day, as the spiders were gathering the berries, they were attacked. High in the canopies of the trees lived the Great Bird. He had been watching the spiders for weeks and decided he would now make his move. He picked off several of her little soldiers and happily snacked on them, screeching out his pride to his flock. They too, moved in to feast with him, smiling as they devoured their prey.
The Queen was outraged! They were too fast to bite, too strong to fight and could fly away so very easily. She had to think of something to save her family.
As the moon opened it's eyes upon the land, the Chief heard a very small voice. "Oh, wise Chief, please hear and honor my request." The chief looked around and could not see what was speaking to him. "Down here, on the floor before you!" The chief looked down and before him were 20 spiders, with the Queen in the front. "Dear Chief, I feel we have been wrong to your clan. My army has bitten many of your men and I have come to ask for forgiveness." The chief gazed down upon the tiny spiders, unsure of the menacing creatures. The medicine man would not be fooled by such trickery. "Do not listen to evil tongues, Mighty Chief! She is surely lying!" The chief held his hand out to the medicine man and looked at the Queen and spoke, "What is it you want from us, tiny ruler?"
The Queen stepped aside as part of her army brought forth three very small pies. "Dear Chief, I have brought you lovely pies of berries as a peace offering. I only ask that you help rid us of our enemies, the Great Bird and his people."
"Do not eat these pies, Mighty Chief!" spoke the medicine man. "She has obviously put her venom in them and is trying to send us to the Old Ones!" The chief picked up a pie and took a small bite. A smile crossed his lips, "These are very delicious. I once had a berry when I was a child and I had forgotten how wonderful they were." The medicine man cried out "NO! What have you done? You have now just committed yourself to a life with the Old Ones!"
"Old friend", said the chief, "The Queen is a wise one. If she were to poison me, no doubt you and the other men would have stepped on her and her army, killing them instantly. I have no fear of poison being in these pies. She is truthful. How may we be of service, tiny ruler?"
"I have a proposition, Dear Chief, bring your men to the forest so that they may protect my workers as we gather berries. You will have plenty to eat as the Great Bird and his people are large and juicy. You will not only have the tender meat of the birds, but we can never eat the amount of berries we harvest before the next bloom, so we will share those with you also." The Mighty Chief pondered this request of the Queen. "You will no longer bite my people?" "Oh no, Dear Chief, your people and my people will work in harmony from this day forward, so that we may also thrive as well as you."
The chief nodded in agreement. The very next day, the tribesmen were off to the deep part of the forest. The Great Bird and his family were no match for the skill in which the natives used their arrows. They fell easily and the spiders rejoiced. They were able to work at such a great speed without having to worry about being gobbled up, that they gathered much more berries than they could carry. Berries were raining down upon the chief's tribe like the Great Spirits were blessing them. The spiders happily crawled home and the tribe gathered up the birds and berries and were prepared for the winter, both having achieved their goals. They lived in harmony together for many, many years, each giving and taking to make life pleasurable.
Even mortal enemies can come together, for the greater good of all.
The Spider and the Chief
In a tiny village there lived a great Chief and his loyal tribe. They were a peaceful race, full of love and happiness. Despite their shortage of food, they thrived with smiles on their faces and minds filled with stories of the Great Spirits. They had only one enemy, the Queen spider and her army of workers. One bite would take the life of his precious kinsmen, and send them on a journey to meet with the Old Ones.
Summer was nearly over and it was time for the tribe to start storing food. The scarce supply they had would last only a week, maybe two. It was time to go out in to the deep forest to see if they could reach the berries.
The purple and blue berries carried a magnificent perfume and their taste was other-worldly. The Chief said they were the "ambrosia of the Great Spirits". They were high in the tree tops and it was very rare when one would drop and be retrieved by a tribe member, for the forest they were in was spider territory. The Queen was not one to share her special treasure of the berries, they were hers and hers alone. She would send her army out to bite any human that dare attempt to steal her fruit.
One day, as the spiders were gathering the berries, they were attacked. High in the canopies of the trees lived the Great Bird. He had been watching the spiders for weeks and decided he would now make his move. He picked off several of her little soldiers and happily snacked on them, screeching out his pride to his flock. They too, moved in to feast with him, smiling as they devoured their prey.
The Queen was outraged! They were too fast to bite, too strong to fight and could fly away so very easily. She had to think of something to save her family.
As the moon opened it's eyes upon the land, the Chief heard a very small voice. "Oh, wise Chief, please hear and honor my request." The chief looked around and could not see what was speaking to him. "Down here, on the floor before you!" The chief looked down and before him were 20 spiders, with the Queen in the front. "Dear Chief, I feel we have been wrong to your clan. My army has bitten many of your men and I have come to ask for forgiveness." The chief gazed down upon the tiny spiders, unsure of the menacing creatures. The medicine man would not be fooled by such trickery. "Do not listen to evil tongues, Mighty Chief! She is surely lying!" The chief held his hand out to the medicine man and looked at the Queen and spoke, "What is it you want from us, tiny ruler?"
The Queen stepped aside as part of her army brought forth three very small pies. "Dear Chief, I have brought you lovely pies of berries as a peace offering. I only ask that you help rid us of our enemies, the Great Bird and his people."
"Do not eat these pies, Mighty Chief!" spoke the medicine man. "She has obviously put her venom in them and is trying to send us to the Old Ones!" The chief picked up a pie and took a small bite. A smile crossed his lips, "These are very delicious. I once had a berry when I was a child and I had forgotten how wonderful they were." The medicine man cried out "NO! What have you done? You have now just committed yourself to a life with the Old Ones!"
"Old friend", said the chief, "The Queen is a wise one. If she were to poison me, no doubt you and the other men would have stepped on her and her army, killing them instantly. I have no fear of poison being in these pies. She is truthful. How may we be of service, tiny ruler?"
"I have a proposition, Dear Chief, bring your men to the forest so that they may protect my workers as we gather berries. You will have plenty to eat as the Great Bird and his people are large and juicy. You will not only have the tender meat of the birds, but we can never eat the amount of berries we harvest before the next bloom, so we will share those with you also." The Mighty Chief pondered this request of the Queen. "You will no longer bite my people?" "Oh no, Dear Chief, your people and my people will work in harmony from this day forward, so that we may also thrive as well as you."
The chief nodded in agreement. The very next day, the tribesmen were off to the deep part of the forest. The Great Bird and his family were no match for the skill in which the natives used their arrows. They fell easily and the spiders rejoiced. They were able to work at such a great speed without having to worry about being gobbled up, that they gathered much more berries than they could carry. Berries were raining down upon the chief's tribe like the Great Spirits were blessing them. The spiders happily crawled home and the tribe gathered up the birds and berries and were prepared for the winter, both having achieved their goals. They lived in harmony together for many, many years, each giving and taking to make life pleasurable.
Even mortal enemies can come together, for the greater good of all.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Green Eggs and Ham
Welcome to the 1st annual Green Eggs and Ham awards!
Why are they called this? Well, they represent me! My green, chemo eggs and my hammy personality, my dad was Sam and my twins were born on Dr. Seuss' birthday. Now you are catching on!
These awards are to honor those people in my life that have supported, helped, inspired and impacted my life from diagnoses to this last year of remission. IF you were not mentioned, you have just been over-looked by mistake. Send me a message like, "Dammit Wendy, remember how I did.... " and I will edit this award show. Don't mince words, don't be offended, just message or call. No one is INTENTIONALLY left out.
Best All Around Support System- Damon Stickney, Barb Chandler and Stacey Mabry. Thank you for constantly being there not only for me, but for the children as well. It doesn't matter what the request is, if you can honor it, you will, no questions asked. You are the most giving and loyal friends and I greatly appreciate all of you. I just don't say it enough and I really should. I love you all.
Best in Inspiration- three-way tie! Bruce C. Rosenberg, Renee Heidtman, and Kristen Johnston. Bruce, you inspired me to continue the fight and to enjoy every moment life has to offer, and for that sir, I honor you daily. You amazed me and your memory will last for all eternity. Rest in Peace sweet friend. Renee Heidtman, you inspire me daily. Your fight and strength, grace and enthusiasm during a dark time is mesmerizing. Kristen, you have saved so many with your book, GUTS and continue to inspire by example. You lit a fire under my butt, with your words, so that I may share my darkness and try to follow in your foot-steps. You start charities that are so very important (SLAM), and tell it like it is. What an honorable trait! Helping people is so gratifying and I thank you. You all are loved by this girl.
Best in Humor and Support- Reina Phillips. Thank you Reina, for showing me what a pair of nuts we are in this pea-pod built for two. You are my sista from another mista and I love you. Thank you for taking care of my family when I couldn't.
Best in Strength- Julie Rosenberg. Lady, you never cease to amaze me. You 'Berg women certainly know how to get up and out during the most difficult of times. I so admire you for standing tall despite what you have gone through. I draw from that strength and hope I can be as strong as you one day. Love you.
Best in Love- 5 way tie! This award is shared among Scott, Seth, Tabitha, Addison and Serenity. My love for you and your love in return has been just the medicine I really needed. Never forget how much I love and appreciate all you do for you mother. I treasure every second we have together.
Best Entertainment- The Pit Crew. Thank you for all the laughter. It was all of you that made me giggle through tears, laugh through pain and remain strong in our bond for one very special man. What an amazing group of people you are and I am truly honored to have been a part of this with you. Much love and Unicorn farts.
Best in Long Distance Support- Sheelagh Smyth. I have never quite told you how much you have meant to this family. You totally saved this family when we were desperate and saw no hope in sight. You are there with your humor, hope, friendship and french fry penises and we love you. May the Money Fairy rain constant showers of money and good fortune upon your head.
Best in Guidance- Claudia Armstrong. My sister, my friend and my own personal "Dear Abby". Her advice and wisdom comforted me and led me to a better place in life. I love you, big sister. I wouldn't trade you for all the world. I am so glad and proud to call you sister, but even more proud to say you are my friend as well. We stand tall together, defend each other and if I was given a choice for a sister, I would have picked you.
Best in Food and Drinks- 2 way tie! Lee Bacon and Jill Timmerman. Lee and Jill, I will never forget our adventure with fried pickles and crab legs! I still laugh at that time and it's a favorite memory. I love you guys dearly and love our Starbucks time together as well, Jilly. Best friends come and go, but you have been a constant since high school and are more like a sister to me. Lee... what can I say? Thanks for the hilarity and loyalty. The emotional support was amazing and I thank you for that also.
Honorable Mentions- Jimmy Page, Beth and Curtis Nice, Kimberly Rutter Weld, Dacia Houser, April Bradley, Janus Haeussler, Leigh Morphies, Christine Nutile, Sonja Elliott, Crystal Elliott, Desiree Elliott, Tiffany Elliott, Doug Elliott, Wayne and Barb Elliott, Matthew and Nicole Elliott, Gary Elliott, Dale Elliott, Carla Hiltunen, and Cara Shuerman. I love you all for everything you did, be it support, surprising me before surgery, texts, phone calls, letters, it mattered. YOU mattered.
Thank you to every body listed and many more not listed. It's been one year since I was diagnosed as "in remission" and I couldn't have reached that point without any of you!
Why are they called this? Well, they represent me! My green, chemo eggs and my hammy personality, my dad was Sam and my twins were born on Dr. Seuss' birthday. Now you are catching on!
These awards are to honor those people in my life that have supported, helped, inspired and impacted my life from diagnoses to this last year of remission. IF you were not mentioned, you have just been over-looked by mistake. Send me a message like, "Dammit Wendy, remember how I did.... " and I will edit this award show. Don't mince words, don't be offended, just message or call. No one is INTENTIONALLY left out.
Best All Around Support System- Damon Stickney, Barb Chandler and Stacey Mabry. Thank you for constantly being there not only for me, but for the children as well. It doesn't matter what the request is, if you can honor it, you will, no questions asked. You are the most giving and loyal friends and I greatly appreciate all of you. I just don't say it enough and I really should. I love you all.
Best in Inspiration- three-way tie! Bruce C. Rosenberg, Renee Heidtman, and Kristen Johnston. Bruce, you inspired me to continue the fight and to enjoy every moment life has to offer, and for that sir, I honor you daily. You amazed me and your memory will last for all eternity. Rest in Peace sweet friend. Renee Heidtman, you inspire me daily. Your fight and strength, grace and enthusiasm during a dark time is mesmerizing. Kristen, you have saved so many with your book, GUTS and continue to inspire by example. You lit a fire under my butt, with your words, so that I may share my darkness and try to follow in your foot-steps. You start charities that are so very important (SLAM), and tell it like it is. What an honorable trait! Helping people is so gratifying and I thank you. You all are loved by this girl.
Best in Humor and Support- Reina Phillips. Thank you Reina, for showing me what a pair of nuts we are in this pea-pod built for two. You are my sista from another mista and I love you. Thank you for taking care of my family when I couldn't.
Best in Strength- Julie Rosenberg. Lady, you never cease to amaze me. You 'Berg women certainly know how to get up and out during the most difficult of times. I so admire you for standing tall despite what you have gone through. I draw from that strength and hope I can be as strong as you one day. Love you.
Best in Love- 5 way tie! This award is shared among Scott, Seth, Tabitha, Addison and Serenity. My love for you and your love in return has been just the medicine I really needed. Never forget how much I love and appreciate all you do for you mother. I treasure every second we have together.
Best Entertainment- The Pit Crew. Thank you for all the laughter. It was all of you that made me giggle through tears, laugh through pain and remain strong in our bond for one very special man. What an amazing group of people you are and I am truly honored to have been a part of this with you. Much love and Unicorn farts.
Best in Long Distance Support- Sheelagh Smyth. I have never quite told you how much you have meant to this family. You totally saved this family when we were desperate and saw no hope in sight. You are there with your humor, hope, friendship and french fry penises and we love you. May the Money Fairy rain constant showers of money and good fortune upon your head.
Best in Guidance- Claudia Armstrong. My sister, my friend and my own personal "Dear Abby". Her advice and wisdom comforted me and led me to a better place in life. I love you, big sister. I wouldn't trade you for all the world. I am so glad and proud to call you sister, but even more proud to say you are my friend as well. We stand tall together, defend each other and if I was given a choice for a sister, I would have picked you.
Best in Food and Drinks- 2 way tie! Lee Bacon and Jill Timmerman. Lee and Jill, I will never forget our adventure with fried pickles and crab legs! I still laugh at that time and it's a favorite memory. I love you guys dearly and love our Starbucks time together as well, Jilly. Best friends come and go, but you have been a constant since high school and are more like a sister to me. Lee... what can I say? Thanks for the hilarity and loyalty. The emotional support was amazing and I thank you for that also.
Honorable Mentions- Jimmy Page, Beth and Curtis Nice, Kimberly Rutter Weld, Dacia Houser, April Bradley, Janus Haeussler, Leigh Morphies, Christine Nutile, Sonja Elliott, Crystal Elliott, Desiree Elliott, Tiffany Elliott, Doug Elliott, Wayne and Barb Elliott, Matthew and Nicole Elliott, Gary Elliott, Dale Elliott, Carla Hiltunen, and Cara Shuerman. I love you all for everything you did, be it support, surprising me before surgery, texts, phone calls, letters, it mattered. YOU mattered.
Thank you to every body listed and many more not listed. It's been one year since I was diagnosed as "in remission" and I couldn't have reached that point without any of you!
Monday, November 5, 2012
In the Closet
Bare with me for a few moments and deal with the first paragraph.
I am a closeted Twilight fan. Okay, so not too much in the closet as my friends and family know I love it. I know, I just dropped like a hundred cool points with you, right? Okay, again, bare with me as to why and continue reading. Thank you.
Stephanie Meyer took vampirism to a whole new level. The "sparkling" gimmick that has so many hating these movies is what endears me to them. She went in a different direction with the vampire legend and for that I respect her. She's showing individualism. Good job! Here's where I get to my mind-blowing thoughts:
How many OTHER legends have been changed over the hundreds of years that we've had the written word?
Mind blown now? Mine was. As I sat and thought about this, my book-loving mind shot to history lessons and classic legends. Let's say that Homer, while writing The Iliad, changed it up. Are we sure it was a Trojan HORSE? What if Homer was sitting there, quill in hand (or scribe in seat next to him) and was like, "No way! I can't tell this tale the way it went. Trojan Duck's just aren't cool! Who sends a duck full of soldiers,anyway? Egad, I must make this better than real. HORSES! YES! Women LOVE horses!" Thus began the legend as we know it, the Trojan Horse. What about Paul Bunyan and Babe, the big blue ox? What if he was a real man? He could have been larger than the average size of ,men at the time, inspiring someone to write about a giant! Babe could have been so black that she appeared blue, promoting her popular color.
People change stories all the time to make them their own, to elaborate on them. What we hold to be facts or legend isn't necessarily so and Stephanie Meyers just proves that. A few hundred years from now, generations will be wondering what is truly fact or fiction about vampires (even though they truly don't exist) just based on one small change made in our time period. If you recall, vampires couldn't cross running water, yet so many books and movies have removed that big piece of information.
Writers embellish! They make all topics sound glamorous or exciting. They write to keep you reading. Would you really read a story about a Trojan Duck or a story about an above average height man with his black ox that couldn't carry a whole tree on his shoulder? Neither would I....
I am a closeted Twilight fan. Okay, so not too much in the closet as my friends and family know I love it. I know, I just dropped like a hundred cool points with you, right? Okay, again, bare with me as to why and continue reading. Thank you.
Stephanie Meyer took vampirism to a whole new level. The "sparkling" gimmick that has so many hating these movies is what endears me to them. She went in a different direction with the vampire legend and for that I respect her. She's showing individualism. Good job! Here's where I get to my mind-blowing thoughts:
How many OTHER legends have been changed over the hundreds of years that we've had the written word?
Mind blown now? Mine was. As I sat and thought about this, my book-loving mind shot to history lessons and classic legends. Let's say that Homer, while writing The Iliad, changed it up. Are we sure it was a Trojan HORSE? What if Homer was sitting there, quill in hand (or scribe in seat next to him) and was like, "No way! I can't tell this tale the way it went. Trojan Duck's just aren't cool! Who sends a duck full of soldiers,anyway? Egad, I must make this better than real. HORSES! YES! Women LOVE horses!" Thus began the legend as we know it, the Trojan Horse. What about Paul Bunyan and Babe, the big blue ox? What if he was a real man? He could have been larger than the average size of ,men at the time, inspiring someone to write about a giant! Babe could have been so black that she appeared blue, promoting her popular color.
People change stories all the time to make them their own, to elaborate on them. What we hold to be facts or legend isn't necessarily so and Stephanie Meyers just proves that. A few hundred years from now, generations will be wondering what is truly fact or fiction about vampires (even though they truly don't exist) just based on one small change made in our time period. If you recall, vampires couldn't cross running water, yet so many books and movies have removed that big piece of information.
Writers embellish! They make all topics sound glamorous or exciting. They write to keep you reading. Would you really read a story about a Trojan Duck or a story about an above average height man with his black ox that couldn't carry a whole tree on his shoulder? Neither would I....
Friday, October 26, 2012
About MG, but Not the Cool Car...
Most of you have read my post about depression. I am thankful for that. I hope it helps some one, I truly do. Alas, that was not my only issue. I thought my aches, pains and lack of energy were all due to the depression, I was wrong.
Before my cancerous, pain in the ass thymus was removed, it decided to leave me with a gift, a very special antibody. How long it has been producing this antibody is unknown, it's gone now, so who the hell cares. What this antibody does is leave you with Myasthenia Gravis, or MG for short.
Here's the textbook definition as stolen by the Myasthenia Gravis Foundation of America (crap, you know it's bad when there's a foundation for it!)*
*Myasthenia Gravis (pronounced My-as-theen-ee-a Grav-us) comes from the Greek and Latin words meaning "grave muscular weakness." The most common form of MG is a chronic autoimmune neuromuscular disorder that is characterized by fluctuating weakness of the voluntary muscle groups.
Holy shit! Cancer AND this too? Wow, what a lucky gal am I!!
Nah, I'm not really handling this as well as you may think. Two steps forwards and like 100 back!
Unfortunately, I missed my doctor's appointment to go over my regimen of whatever, I don't know what he has in mind. I didn't miss it on purpose, insomnia has struck fiercely and I am not getting to sleep until the hours of 4am-6am and sleeping until nearly 11am most days. I am an early riser, so this is definitely not me! I slept right through my appointment! It was a frustrating day yesterday to say the least.
Now, I must wrap my tired little brain around this, cope as best as I possibly can, and pray, pray, pray!!
This too shall pass, or me first... I'm not clear on the details yet. I need to go more in depth with my doctor, but he decided it was a great time to take a vacation and so now I must wait a month more to find out what's in store for this broken doll.
Never give up, never give in!
On a brighter note, I totally scarred my toddler for life today. I took her to pick out her costume at a Halloween-chain store. You know, those kind that have the "animatronic" monsters. Yup, you got it, massive decibels of screams came from this tiny tot. 4 hours later and my ears are still ringing. Oh boy! Trick or Treating this year is going to be some treat with all the little ghouls and goblins running around and my anti-zombie girl peeing herself with each step!
I hope she learns in time for Halloween next year, in order to fit in with this family, you must embrace the gore or go! (I really won't make her go, unless it's to the bathroom).
The hauntingly good fun shall never cease in this house! We are one "spook"tacular family!
Happy Halloween and Boo!! to you MG! :P
*for more information on MG, please visit www.myasthenia.org
Before my cancerous, pain in the ass thymus was removed, it decided to leave me with a gift, a very special antibody. How long it has been producing this antibody is unknown, it's gone now, so who the hell cares. What this antibody does is leave you with Myasthenia Gravis, or MG for short.
Here's the textbook definition as stolen by the Myasthenia Gravis Foundation of America (crap, you know it's bad when there's a foundation for it!)*
*Myasthenia Gravis (pronounced My-as-theen-ee-a Grav-us) comes from the Greek and Latin words meaning "grave muscular weakness." The most common form of MG is a chronic autoimmune neuromuscular disorder that is characterized by fluctuating weakness of the voluntary muscle groups.
Common symptoms can include:
- A drooping eyelid
- Blurred or double vision
- Slurred speech
- Difficulty chewing and swallowing
- Weakness in the arms and legs
- Chronic muscle fatigue
- Difficulty breathing
Holy shit! Cancer AND this too? Wow, what a lucky gal am I!!
Nah, I'm not really handling this as well as you may think. Two steps forwards and like 100 back!
Unfortunately, I missed my doctor's appointment to go over my regimen of whatever, I don't know what he has in mind. I didn't miss it on purpose, insomnia has struck fiercely and I am not getting to sleep until the hours of 4am-6am and sleeping until nearly 11am most days. I am an early riser, so this is definitely not me! I slept right through my appointment! It was a frustrating day yesterday to say the least.
Now, I must wrap my tired little brain around this, cope as best as I possibly can, and pray, pray, pray!!
This too shall pass, or me first... I'm not clear on the details yet. I need to go more in depth with my doctor, but he decided it was a great time to take a vacation and so now I must wait a month more to find out what's in store for this broken doll.
Never give up, never give in!
On a brighter note, I totally scarred my toddler for life today. I took her to pick out her costume at a Halloween-chain store. You know, those kind that have the "animatronic" monsters. Yup, you got it, massive decibels of screams came from this tiny tot. 4 hours later and my ears are still ringing. Oh boy! Trick or Treating this year is going to be some treat with all the little ghouls and goblins running around and my anti-zombie girl peeing herself with each step!
I hope she learns in time for Halloween next year, in order to fit in with this family, you must embrace the gore or go! (I really won't make her go, unless it's to the bathroom).
The hauntingly good fun shall never cease in this house! We are one "spook"tacular family!
Happy Halloween and Boo!! to you MG! :P
*for more information on MG, please visit www.myasthenia.org
Saturday, October 20, 2012
A "Private" Horror
Kids, they make me laugh. It doesn't matter their age, they are always doing or saying something funny. The young ones though, they get me every time. They are always coming up with new and inventive ways to say things, and discovering new things every day. It's always an adventure when you have a toddler, nothing is sacred in discussions with them. They will talk about anything! They will discover everything!
Especially their "private parts".
During a moment of "muscular weakness" on my part, I was especially frustrated at trying to get the panties back on my little girl. She kept giggling and squirming while I was trying to get her feet into them. It's just one of the things kids do, make getting dressed extremely difficult. They enjoy watching us go from light-hearted to a frustrated ball of exasperation.
My arms now feeling like spaghetti, needed a break from the struggle. I told her to have a seat on the bed. She laid down, exploring her now naked buttocks and proceeded to check out her vaginal area. Thus hilarity ensued...
HIGH PITCH SCREAM
Me: What's wrong?
Toddler: What is that thing?
Me: What thing?
Toddler: The thing growing out of my "hoo hoo"!
Her face was completely horror stricken as if some giant insect was forging it way out of her "hoo hoo" (our nice name for it)
Me: That's your vulva (trying my best to not giggle hysterically)
Toddler: What is it?
Me: Your V U L V A, vulva. It where your pee comes out.
Toddler: Where does my pee come from?
Me: Your vulva.
Toddler: Why?
Me: I don't know, God made you that way.
Toddler: I don't want it!!!
Me: You have to have it, all girls do.
Toddler: All girls have my "bulba"?
Me: No, you have yours and they have theirs.
Toddler: Why?
Me: I don't know. Aren't you watching Dora or something?
Later on when the teenage daughter comes home, I go over this conversation with her and the toddler over hears.
Toddler: Look! I'm touching my "Foofa"!!
Teenager: Ew, gross, don't do that!
Me: I am sure that "Yo, Gabba Gabba" would not appreciate you calling your vulva after one of their characters.
Toddler: What?
Me: Never mind.
And thus it begins....the private parts will no longer be private anymore. *sigh* Here we go again!
Just when I thought I had been through this with all the others, I get to enjoy even more! Oh, yay for me!
Especially their "private parts".
During a moment of "muscular weakness" on my part, I was especially frustrated at trying to get the panties back on my little girl. She kept giggling and squirming while I was trying to get her feet into them. It's just one of the things kids do, make getting dressed extremely difficult. They enjoy watching us go from light-hearted to a frustrated ball of exasperation.
My arms now feeling like spaghetti, needed a break from the struggle. I told her to have a seat on the bed. She laid down, exploring her now naked buttocks and proceeded to check out her vaginal area. Thus hilarity ensued...
HIGH PITCH SCREAM
Me: What's wrong?
Toddler: What is that thing?
Me: What thing?
Toddler: The thing growing out of my "hoo hoo"!
Her face was completely horror stricken as if some giant insect was forging it way out of her "hoo hoo" (our nice name for it)
Me: That's your vulva (trying my best to not giggle hysterically)
Toddler: What is it?
Me: Your V U L V A, vulva. It where your pee comes out.
Toddler: Where does my pee come from?
Me: Your vulva.
Toddler: Why?
Me: I don't know, God made you that way.
Toddler: I don't want it!!!
Me: You have to have it, all girls do.
Toddler: All girls have my "bulba"?
Me: No, you have yours and they have theirs.
Toddler: Why?
Me: I don't know. Aren't you watching Dora or something?
Later on when the teenage daughter comes home, I go over this conversation with her and the toddler over hears.
Toddler: Look! I'm touching my "Foofa"!!
Teenager: Ew, gross, don't do that!
Me: I am sure that "Yo, Gabba Gabba" would not appreciate you calling your vulva after one of their characters.
Toddler: What?
Me: Never mind.
And thus it begins....the private parts will no longer be private anymore. *sigh* Here we go again!
Just when I thought I had been through this with all the others, I get to enjoy even more! Oh, yay for me!
Friday, October 19, 2012
How to Avoid Volunteering and Alienate Yourself
Cornered by the committees? Pounced upon by the PTA?
If there are some of you out there that are like me, and
hate being roped into committees, volunteering, the PTA, etc. at your child’s
daycare/elementary school, I have some sure-fire ways to NEVER get asked to
participate. WARNING: These suggestions may also get you kicked out
of day cares/schools and/or require you
to have a psychological evaluation.
On a side note, warn your child ahead of time about the
discussions. All pertain to the teacher’s daily report on your child’s
behavior. Make sure MOMS are around in
ear shot and that they cannot hear your child’s response. A
nice, little high five for the praise and a frustrated or understanding tone
for the troublesome notes will go a long way.
1.
“Oh, I’m so proud of you! You didn’t stab any one today!”
2.
“I am happy you are having show and tell tomorrow, but you may not bring
your gun. They don’t allow weapons in
school. Mommy will take you shooting
later.”
3.
"Sweetie we don’t bite. No, you
are NOT a zombie. You have not been
bitten by one. Once you are, then and
only then may you eat other children.”
4.
“How many times to I have to remind you, when you run with scissors, run
with the point near YOU so you don’t stab anybody, only yourself! Remember, safety first!”
5.
“No, you may not bring home the dead bird you found. Do you realize we have nearly 10 graves in the
back yard already from all the dead things you drag home?”
6.
“So I see we’ve had an especially awful day. I guess you will have to go into your closet
for a while. Yes, you WILL have to sit
in the special chair.”
7.
“Honey, you need to stop saying Satan is your father. You are going to scare other children.”
8.
“This is a religious school, you can’t just walk around asking kids to
join your coven.”
9. "You MUST stop eating bugs in front of the other children. If you must munch on an insect, please do so in private."
10.
Last but not least, “Come along, Buggy
Butt” (turn to another parent and
whisper, “Don’t ask about the nickname, it’s a medical condition and we don’t
speak about it in front of him/her.”)
Have fun tormenting the other parents and
enjoy never having to volunteer again!
P.S. If you DO happen to take this advice, which is meant ONLY in jest, I am truly worried about you and request you do get that psychological evaluation!
P.P.S. I HAVE had my evaluation, and although my humor is sick, I'm all good! :)
Monday, October 15, 2012
Random Socks
There is no way in hell you can walk into my house and find it perfectly neat. Let's face facts, I have teenagers, a toddler and have been sick for quite some time. I have come to embrace the term "clutter". I would not consider it disgusting, just messy. Toys scattered, teens forgetting there is such a thing as a garbage can when it comes to soda cans, chip bags, etc. Basically, it's totally and completely the "lived-in" look.
Poking, prodding, grounding and the like just don't work when it comes to getting them to do chores. The prodding is sounding better as long as it's a cattle prod and I am at the correct end of the stick! They want MONEY now, for all they do. UGH! They have received allowance here and there, but it's never lasted for one reason for another. They either slack off and don't deserve it or I just can't afford to fork it over.
What gets my goat the most (I honestly wish I had a goat to solve this issue), I mean, really sets me en fuego?
RANDOM SOCKS!
Yes, they toss their socks around like confetti and to make matters worse, my dog has a foot fetish. At a minimum of five times a day I have to ask, "Kaylee has a sock, who's is it?" and it totally grinds my gears. She chews holes in them, hello!! You all know this and yet you still toss your socks on the ground like some sock fairy is going to deposit them in the hampers. Oh wait, I WAS the sock fairy for years! If I do get that cattle prod, I will be the SHOCK FAIRY! Zapping their little butts would just crack me up.
I spent 10 minutes the other day JUST picking up socks! How the dog manages to drag them to the places she does amazes me. In a child's play tent? Really? OK, I get it, you must now be sneaky to eat the socks. We have halted you from eating our shoes and now your foot fetish must be your deep, dark poochy secret. I get that everyone has an addiction, but could you find a cheaper one, Kaylee?
How about a snack-food fetish? Grab those soda cans and chips bags and march them to the trash for me. Not only would it be awesome to teach you that, but helpful in the long run. It's getting much too expensive to keep replacing socks that you only chew the HEEL on. At least if you ate the toes off, we would have several pairs to make sock buns with!
Oh yeah, and if we have to pull one more string out of your butt...
Poking, prodding, grounding and the like just don't work when it comes to getting them to do chores. The prodding is sounding better as long as it's a cattle prod and I am at the correct end of the stick! They want MONEY now, for all they do. UGH! They have received allowance here and there, but it's never lasted for one reason for another. They either slack off and don't deserve it or I just can't afford to fork it over.
What gets my goat the most (I honestly wish I had a goat to solve this issue), I mean, really sets me en fuego?
RANDOM SOCKS!
Yes, they toss their socks around like confetti and to make matters worse, my dog has a foot fetish. At a minimum of five times a day I have to ask, "Kaylee has a sock, who's is it?" and it totally grinds my gears. She chews holes in them, hello!! You all know this and yet you still toss your socks on the ground like some sock fairy is going to deposit them in the hampers. Oh wait, I WAS the sock fairy for years! If I do get that cattle prod, I will be the SHOCK FAIRY! Zapping their little butts would just crack me up.
I spent 10 minutes the other day JUST picking up socks! How the dog manages to drag them to the places she does amazes me. In a child's play tent? Really? OK, I get it, you must now be sneaky to eat the socks. We have halted you from eating our shoes and now your foot fetish must be your deep, dark poochy secret. I get that everyone has an addiction, but could you find a cheaper one, Kaylee?
How about a snack-food fetish? Grab those soda cans and chips bags and march them to the trash for me. Not only would it be awesome to teach you that, but helpful in the long run. It's getting much too expensive to keep replacing socks that you only chew the HEEL on. At least if you ate the toes off, we would have several pairs to make sock buns with!
Oh yeah, and if we have to pull one more string out of your butt...
Monday, October 1, 2012
If you think...
I have a need to say a few things... so if I offend you... GOOD! The message hit home!
If you think life is easy, then you do not belong on this planet! Life is a complex struggle between good and evil, right and wrong, the poor and the wealthy, the weak and the strong. If you are sailing through without any issues, I totally hate you. No, I mean it, HATE!
If you think the world revolves around YOU, why the hell am I not burning up? That would mean you are the SUN! Get over yourself, you ego-maniacal jerk and realize there are more people here than just you. The only reason I wear shades does not have to do with "your" brightness, but the brightness of my future! (Thank you for the great lyrics, Timbuk 3)
If you think I am going to pucker up these lips to any one's ass, you are sorely mistaken! I am a genuine soul, I will tell you what I think, in my time, when I so choose, if I so choose! This nose will never be brown, nor will these lips EVER suck the rectum of some loser to get what I want. Just for those of you that do, I give you the one-finger salute! How about being yourself to achieve your dreams or is that a new concept to you?
If you think you can move forward, kicking dust in my face, then I have some news for you. I will be eating that dust just to spit it back in your face. That's right, my honest ways versus your deceit will always win out. When you look for me, I will be the one laughing and pointing, at the finish line, while you are still looking for your lost shoe in the race of life.
If you think I will go quietly, you obviously don't know me! I will be singing, laughing, and dancing my way through everything that gets thrown at me. I may stumble here and there, but the outcome will always be the same... TRIUMPH!
If you think I am alone in this world, look again. GOD is at my side, and although I may not sound or write like a typical "Christian", I am. What I say and how I chose to say it is between me and the "Big Guy' and not any of your concern. Worry about your soul, I will worry about mine.
If you think you have to be mean to people to reach them, wake the hell up! I bet I have reached more people with my kindness than you have with your nasty ways. Why in the hell would people give you the time of day if you only show your ass? Try smiling, or will that crack your face???
If you think that I'm a freak, thank you! It's the highest honor to be different and not just one of the "sheeple". If you literally follow the pack of the "what should be normal" in looks and behavior, I have lost all respect for you. Be an individual for freak's sake! The world has enough boredom running around, let's make it lively!
If you think all people weren't created equal, bye-bye! I don't need you around in my life! Close-minded assholes need not apply. Love one another, people. I said love, dammit... LOVE!!
If you think this post is just a ramble, you are right. But it's MY ramble, MY blog and MY RIGHT to ramble, so shove off! (for those of you that have stayed long enough to reach this far, I treasure you)
If you think I love you, you are definitely correct :)
If you think I stole this photo, BUZZ! Wrong answer!
Photo courtesy of Kristen Johnston
Follow her on Twitter @kjothesmartass
Read her book GUTS
(no, I am NOT smooching her butt...she is incredible, she is raw, she is incredibly funny and she is a friend and I totally love and respect this woman. I also got her permission to use this photo as it went so well with my rant) So bleh to you !
P.S. On a "health" note, for those that still tune in for my medical drama... It looks like Myasthenia Gravis may be my new diagnoses. Ick! It explains EVERYTHING I have dealt with for the last few years. I will be tested for the anti-bodies on the 11th. I will update then, with a more in-depth explanation of this shit, MG.
Kisses!
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Nobody Knows...
This is dedicated to Kristen Johnston, who gave me the GUTS to share my darkest secrets and Reina, my darling friend that gave me the GUTS to publish it.
Depression
It's the worst thing you could ever feel. Nobody understands that hasn't experienced it. I am not talking about your "run of the mill" sadness, but the "I don't want to get out of bed" type. I am at my lowest. I don't think I've ever felt this low before.
I keep having dreams that a gun is put to my head. I can feel the hard steel as if Death himself is poking his finger into my head. I hear the echo of the "click" and I wake up. I can't see the person holding the gun, I don't know if it's me, or someone else. I can't even see the gun, just feel and hear. I know what it is though and it frightens me. Is this a warning from my subconscious mind? A warning from an other-worldly place? I do not have the answer to this question but I wish I did. Usually my dreams are stories and I can evolve them into something wonderful on paper. This is literally a 30 second flash in my head. Unlike what the experts say, I can remember my dreams fully and they are what allow me to create, to draw out the written word. I don't like this dream. I don't like that this is now the fifth night of having it creep through my mind.
I know why I am depressed, I am no longer me. I move along through this world in a different body than two years ago. Two years ago, I could move mountains! Of course, not literally, but still...I was able to do and to get done what I intended. I cry when I think of all I can't do. Between the lack of energy and the desperate sadness taking hold of my being, I am lucky to walk down the hall. I really don't want to move, I don't want to leave my bed, I don't want to talk to anyone. I just want to be left alone, forever. Yes, that is my mindset at this point in time. I miss the old me, the girl who would bubble-forth as she went about her working day. The girl that would make people laugh. The girl that would do things with her children.
Yes, I am not the only one suffering, my children are at the mercy of this monster as well. It's nearly been one year since I finished my cancer treatments. They are still taking care of me. I do make dinner for them when I feel up to it. I try to cook something as scrumptious as possible, making what seems to be their favorites, to try and make up for the lack of mothering. I still discipline, but the constant hovering, playing games, and general "fun mom" is no more. My toddler is content playing and reading with me on the bed and I am grateful for that, but I do know she needs more. I should be running and playing with her outside but I lack the necessities both mentally and physically to allow for that. She is being denied everything my older children had in me as their mother when they were the same age. I am capable of caring for her, although bathing her takes my very last speck of energy. I am grateful that one thing has not left and that is my ability to love. I love each and every child with all of my heart and soul, and tears fill my weary eyes as I wonder what we could be doing together as a family instead of what is the norm around here.
It pains me to write this out. If I decide to publish this, I will be shocked, for I am allowing my deepest and darkest secrets to be revealed to any that shall read this. I have never chained my hands from writing, nor have I locked my mouth from speaking, alas, this may have to remain in the "unpublished" folder.
What do I fear most? Judgement. All people that suffer from a mental illness have one thing in common, they want to hide it. Human-kind has made it impossible for us to feel normal, and yet we are. We are the same as you, we just suffer from a different malady. You have a cold? Well, we have a "cold" in our minds. Oh, so you caught the flu? Our "flu" affects our brain. For centuries, the mentally ill were locked in institutions for something that is now treatable, yet the stigma remains. We carry the burden on our shoulders daily and worry that speaking up will get us locked away. We sit in silence and long for the day when we might actually feel a bit brighter, a bit hopeful. We mourn our old selves, wondering where along our path we lost us. We are afraid of you, for you are the ones that tease and torment, you fear what you do not understand. Many of you won't go to psychiatrists, psychologists or counselors because of that stigma. You think you will be labeled as "crazy" or "not normal". Normal? Please tell me the definition of normal, because I see many troubled souls as I look around this world and I know of many that seek out help for how they feel. With that in mind, now tell me who or what is normal, it seems that WE are the normal ones now, doesn't it?
I once asked my psychiatrist if he thought I was crazy and his response was, " Who isn't? Have you looked at this world lately?" Therefore, please spare me any judgement you might have against those who are looking to find themselves again. You may not even realize you are lost, but one day your path will turn into a forked road and you will not know which way to go. I promise you, everyone will be touched by the cold hand of depression at least once in their lives. It may not be to the level I, or someone else have explored, but you will. You might even bounce back from it much easier than others and I pray you do find yourself back on your life journey better than ever. For some of us, it's not that easy and we must seek help. We do not need your opinion on what we should do for it either, just be there to listen and support. Once we get to a certain point, we will know what to do from there. However, if you find a loved one is NOT making any attempts at healing themselves and you see all the warning signs of severe depression, you may need to gently speak with them about talking to a professional. You don't know the warning signs? GOOGLE THEM! With the Internet at your fingertips, it's pretty damn easy to find a plethora of information concerning depression, anxiety, and support groups for everything under the sun. There are even "help" pages for family members of those that suffer.
Depression affects every single person. It affects YOU. No? Really? Do you have a loved one or family member that seems down? Yes? Then, my friend, it does affect you. Now, what are you going to do to be supportive?
My issue? I am tired of support. I had to be supported throughout my battle with that bad-ass disease known as cancer. I would rather be able to move on with my life, having kicked cancer to the curb. I can't. It has left me broken far worse than I was before. I got my hopes way too high while fighting with my every breath. I was positive once I was cleared and pronounced "cancer-free" I would be back to being me. No more weakness, no more aches and pains and no more treatments! I got one thing right, no more treatments. I sit and feel guilty for surviving, even. I watch my friends lose their loved ones, watch my friends lose their lives and I HATE MYSELF FOR SURVIVING! Why was I spared? Why was I one of the lucky ones? What purpose do I serve? Don't tell me it's for my children, for these people not only had children, but spouses as well! I am very aware of survivor's guilt and I am trying to deal as best as I can, but it eats at me daily, so much in fact, that I have had to shy away from a wonderfully strong lady I consider a sister. I love her desperately, but I survived and her husband didn't and I find it difficult to communicate with her for that one simple fact. Somewhere, deep inside, I know she hates me for surviving. I know a lot of people do that lost a loved-one and I shall never shed that feeling.
Money is another evil in my life. I have never truly recovered monetarily from being out of work for so long. No one understands just how far behind I was, just how hard it is to raise 5 children under one roof with little to no funds and keep your head afloat. I have had the most wonderful support in this area and they know who they are and now much I love them for making sure there was food on the table, clothes on our backs and bills paid. God Bless my son for finding a job and working his ass off to make sure we make it from here on out, but I should be the one working. Living on disability at my age is an embarrassment. I have worked since the age of 16! I am no slouch, well... I am now. I love working, providing and being the strong one in the family. I am humiliated at taking money from the government to provide for us, I am humiliated at taking money from friends for whatever else we need to get by. I am horrified that I had to sell my prized possessions to pay for what medical needs I still require that are not covered. I love my friend that bought them and know they are in good hands and will be cherished like I once did.
Depression comes from deep-seeded roots. It does not come on suddenly, but very slowly, like a snake hunting it's prey.
Understand one thing, please. I was NOT like this one year ago. It's been a very slow moving process that brought me to the pit of destruction, that turned a glorious triumph into an evil loss. Honestly, looking back, I would NOT have done treatment and enjoyed life for as long as I had it. Knowing what I know now, I would not have let the toxins and radiation drag me to this point. I had more life and energy in me BEFORE I won my battle, now the battle scars have run deep and I wonder... what would life be like now if I had my old self back again.
If someone you know is suffering from what appears to be constant sadness, please research support groups, warning signs, and local therapists.
If you know of someone suffering so severely that you are worried, please contact the SUICIDE PREVENTION HOT LINE at 1-800-273-8255.
If you have not read GUTS yet, by Kristen Johnston, I suggest you do. It's funny, emotional, heart-breaking and raw. I love my smart-ass friend! Follow her on Twitter @kjothesmartass
Depression
It's the worst thing you could ever feel. Nobody understands that hasn't experienced it. I am not talking about your "run of the mill" sadness, but the "I don't want to get out of bed" type. I am at my lowest. I don't think I've ever felt this low before.
I keep having dreams that a gun is put to my head. I can feel the hard steel as if Death himself is poking his finger into my head. I hear the echo of the "click" and I wake up. I can't see the person holding the gun, I don't know if it's me, or someone else. I can't even see the gun, just feel and hear. I know what it is though and it frightens me. Is this a warning from my subconscious mind? A warning from an other-worldly place? I do not have the answer to this question but I wish I did. Usually my dreams are stories and I can evolve them into something wonderful on paper. This is literally a 30 second flash in my head. Unlike what the experts say, I can remember my dreams fully and they are what allow me to create, to draw out the written word. I don't like this dream. I don't like that this is now the fifth night of having it creep through my mind.
I know why I am depressed, I am no longer me. I move along through this world in a different body than two years ago. Two years ago, I could move mountains! Of course, not literally, but still...I was able to do and to get done what I intended. I cry when I think of all I can't do. Between the lack of energy and the desperate sadness taking hold of my being, I am lucky to walk down the hall. I really don't want to move, I don't want to leave my bed, I don't want to talk to anyone. I just want to be left alone, forever. Yes, that is my mindset at this point in time. I miss the old me, the girl who would bubble-forth as she went about her working day. The girl that would make people laugh. The girl that would do things with her children.
Yes, I am not the only one suffering, my children are at the mercy of this monster as well. It's nearly been one year since I finished my cancer treatments. They are still taking care of me. I do make dinner for them when I feel up to it. I try to cook something as scrumptious as possible, making what seems to be their favorites, to try and make up for the lack of mothering. I still discipline, but the constant hovering, playing games, and general "fun mom" is no more. My toddler is content playing and reading with me on the bed and I am grateful for that, but I do know she needs more. I should be running and playing with her outside but I lack the necessities both mentally and physically to allow for that. She is being denied everything my older children had in me as their mother when they were the same age. I am capable of caring for her, although bathing her takes my very last speck of energy. I am grateful that one thing has not left and that is my ability to love. I love each and every child with all of my heart and soul, and tears fill my weary eyes as I wonder what we could be doing together as a family instead of what is the norm around here.
It pains me to write this out. If I decide to publish this, I will be shocked, for I am allowing my deepest and darkest secrets to be revealed to any that shall read this. I have never chained my hands from writing, nor have I locked my mouth from speaking, alas, this may have to remain in the "unpublished" folder.
What do I fear most? Judgement. All people that suffer from a mental illness have one thing in common, they want to hide it. Human-kind has made it impossible for us to feel normal, and yet we are. We are the same as you, we just suffer from a different malady. You have a cold? Well, we have a "cold" in our minds. Oh, so you caught the flu? Our "flu" affects our brain. For centuries, the mentally ill were locked in institutions for something that is now treatable, yet the stigma remains. We carry the burden on our shoulders daily and worry that speaking up will get us locked away. We sit in silence and long for the day when we might actually feel a bit brighter, a bit hopeful. We mourn our old selves, wondering where along our path we lost us. We are afraid of you, for you are the ones that tease and torment, you fear what you do not understand. Many of you won't go to psychiatrists, psychologists or counselors because of that stigma. You think you will be labeled as "crazy" or "not normal". Normal? Please tell me the definition of normal, because I see many troubled souls as I look around this world and I know of many that seek out help for how they feel. With that in mind, now tell me who or what is normal, it seems that WE are the normal ones now, doesn't it?
I once asked my psychiatrist if he thought I was crazy and his response was, " Who isn't? Have you looked at this world lately?" Therefore, please spare me any judgement you might have against those who are looking to find themselves again. You may not even realize you are lost, but one day your path will turn into a forked road and you will not know which way to go. I promise you, everyone will be touched by the cold hand of depression at least once in their lives. It may not be to the level I, or someone else have explored, but you will. You might even bounce back from it much easier than others and I pray you do find yourself back on your life journey better than ever. For some of us, it's not that easy and we must seek help. We do not need your opinion on what we should do for it either, just be there to listen and support. Once we get to a certain point, we will know what to do from there. However, if you find a loved one is NOT making any attempts at healing themselves and you see all the warning signs of severe depression, you may need to gently speak with them about talking to a professional. You don't know the warning signs? GOOGLE THEM! With the Internet at your fingertips, it's pretty damn easy to find a plethora of information concerning depression, anxiety, and support groups for everything under the sun. There are even "help" pages for family members of those that suffer.
Depression affects every single person. It affects YOU. No? Really? Do you have a loved one or family member that seems down? Yes? Then, my friend, it does affect you. Now, what are you going to do to be supportive?
My issue? I am tired of support. I had to be supported throughout my battle with that bad-ass disease known as cancer. I would rather be able to move on with my life, having kicked cancer to the curb. I can't. It has left me broken far worse than I was before. I got my hopes way too high while fighting with my every breath. I was positive once I was cleared and pronounced "cancer-free" I would be back to being me. No more weakness, no more aches and pains and no more treatments! I got one thing right, no more treatments. I sit and feel guilty for surviving, even. I watch my friends lose their loved ones, watch my friends lose their lives and I HATE MYSELF FOR SURVIVING! Why was I spared? Why was I one of the lucky ones? What purpose do I serve? Don't tell me it's for my children, for these people not only had children, but spouses as well! I am very aware of survivor's guilt and I am trying to deal as best as I can, but it eats at me daily, so much in fact, that I have had to shy away from a wonderfully strong lady I consider a sister. I love her desperately, but I survived and her husband didn't and I find it difficult to communicate with her for that one simple fact. Somewhere, deep inside, I know she hates me for surviving. I know a lot of people do that lost a loved-one and I shall never shed that feeling.
Money is another evil in my life. I have never truly recovered monetarily from being out of work for so long. No one understands just how far behind I was, just how hard it is to raise 5 children under one roof with little to no funds and keep your head afloat. I have had the most wonderful support in this area and they know who they are and now much I love them for making sure there was food on the table, clothes on our backs and bills paid. God Bless my son for finding a job and working his ass off to make sure we make it from here on out, but I should be the one working. Living on disability at my age is an embarrassment. I have worked since the age of 16! I am no slouch, well... I am now. I love working, providing and being the strong one in the family. I am humiliated at taking money from the government to provide for us, I am humiliated at taking money from friends for whatever else we need to get by. I am horrified that I had to sell my prized possessions to pay for what medical needs I still require that are not covered. I love my friend that bought them and know they are in good hands and will be cherished like I once did.
Depression comes from deep-seeded roots. It does not come on suddenly, but very slowly, like a snake hunting it's prey.
Understand one thing, please. I was NOT like this one year ago. It's been a very slow moving process that brought me to the pit of destruction, that turned a glorious triumph into an evil loss. Honestly, looking back, I would NOT have done treatment and enjoyed life for as long as I had it. Knowing what I know now, I would not have let the toxins and radiation drag me to this point. I had more life and energy in me BEFORE I won my battle, now the battle scars have run deep and I wonder... what would life be like now if I had my old self back again.
If someone you know is suffering from what appears to be constant sadness, please research support groups, warning signs, and local therapists.
If you know of someone suffering so severely that you are worried, please contact the SUICIDE PREVENTION HOT LINE at 1-800-273-8255.
If you have not read GUTS yet, by Kristen Johnston, I suggest you do. It's funny, emotional, heart-breaking and raw. I love my smart-ass friend! Follow her on Twitter @kjothesmartass
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Question Mark
I have got to tell you, I'm getting more and more paranoid.
Every little pain, ache, tingle or cough makes me wonder if the cancer is back. My right arm gets tired, is it cancerous? My abdomen is cramping, is there cancer there? My leg aches, is it possible it spread down there?
Oh yes, these are my daily, no... HOURLY thoughts. Having panic disorder does not help one bit. The panic attacks are worse and more frequent now.
Why now, you ask?
My PET scan is coming up, very soon!
The original one was cancelled (thank you lovely state provided insurance for saying I no longer need them) and so I have re-scheduled for September. It should have been Friday and they always leave me scared out of my mind for at least two weeks prior.
I probably wouldn't be so worried if I didn't know the statistics of getting a second cancer from my treatments.
I also would be far less worried if I wasn't still suffering from some of the side effects ( and I will have those forever, unfortunately).
I often wonder if I am the only one that thinks this way, out of those of us that have survived a battle with cancer.
It is at that moment I ponder death. I am in no way making light of dying from cancer in this next statement, nor is it meant to offend any one. It's days like these that make me wish I had lost my battle. No, you misunderstand. I am grateful for my life, I am watching my kids grow and change. What I would rather do without is the constant question of WHEN is it going to return, it's not an "if".
That's when I truly wish I had lost. This constant question mark that hangs over my head and journeys with me where ever I go is so very annoying! I see them over other's heads now, as well.
My question marks have become new expiration date symbols.
I look at people and wonder how long they have. I no longer see faces, but death masks. Morbid, isn't it? I look at my children and pray that they have decades. I look at my face and weep. I know not of my time and it bothers me. I will be honest with any body that asks, I am terrified to die. I know there is a place for me in Heaven and that should make it glorious, but alas, it does not. I will not be of this plane any longer nor will I be able to hug my little ones. I have a grandchild I long to see, I have a toddler I want to see go to school, I have a daughter I want to see graduate medical school and get married. I have three sons that I want to watch turn into men and make their way in this big world. I have siblings, nieces and nephews that I wish to spend time with but they are too far away.
?
Just that little punctuation mark, that you use on a daily basis, is my world.
What is your punctuation mark? Have you ever thought of that or considered what would best describe your life? Probably not. I pray you never have to under these circumstances. 1 year ago, mine would have been the ever so popular exclamation point! I was loud, out going and boisterous.
One curve in my life-path turned it into a ?
! + life = ?
The new equation that has now become me.
Every little pain, ache, tingle or cough makes me wonder if the cancer is back. My right arm gets tired, is it cancerous? My abdomen is cramping, is there cancer there? My leg aches, is it possible it spread down there?
Oh yes, these are my daily, no... HOURLY thoughts. Having panic disorder does not help one bit. The panic attacks are worse and more frequent now.
Why now, you ask?
My PET scan is coming up, very soon!
The original one was cancelled (thank you lovely state provided insurance for saying I no longer need them) and so I have re-scheduled for September. It should have been Friday and they always leave me scared out of my mind for at least two weeks prior.
I probably wouldn't be so worried if I didn't know the statistics of getting a second cancer from my treatments.
I also would be far less worried if I wasn't still suffering from some of the side effects ( and I will have those forever, unfortunately).
I often wonder if I am the only one that thinks this way, out of those of us that have survived a battle with cancer.
It is at that moment I ponder death. I am in no way making light of dying from cancer in this next statement, nor is it meant to offend any one. It's days like these that make me wish I had lost my battle. No, you misunderstand. I am grateful for my life, I am watching my kids grow and change. What I would rather do without is the constant question of WHEN is it going to return, it's not an "if".
That's when I truly wish I had lost. This constant question mark that hangs over my head and journeys with me where ever I go is so very annoying! I see them over other's heads now, as well.
My question marks have become new expiration date symbols.
I look at people and wonder how long they have. I no longer see faces, but death masks. Morbid, isn't it? I look at my children and pray that they have decades. I look at my face and weep. I know not of my time and it bothers me. I will be honest with any body that asks, I am terrified to die. I know there is a place for me in Heaven and that should make it glorious, but alas, it does not. I will not be of this plane any longer nor will I be able to hug my little ones. I have a grandchild I long to see, I have a toddler I want to see go to school, I have a daughter I want to see graduate medical school and get married. I have three sons that I want to watch turn into men and make their way in this big world. I have siblings, nieces and nephews that I wish to spend time with but they are too far away.
?
Just that little punctuation mark, that you use on a daily basis, is my world.
What is your punctuation mark? Have you ever thought of that or considered what would best describe your life? Probably not. I pray you never have to under these circumstances. 1 year ago, mine would have been the ever so popular exclamation point! I was loud, out going and boisterous.
One curve in my life-path turned it into a ?
! + life = ?
The new equation that has now become me.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Mick: The One that Got Away Part 2....
Things have a way of slapping you across the face sometimes. It's not always a bad thing. We all need those moments where we must come to our senses. I was NOT prepared for this slap...
I was just minding my own business, honestly, living my life, raising my kids and just being me. I am happy for the most part. Being single does suck sometimes, but more often than not I am happy I am. This heart has been slapped together with duct tape so many times, I prefer it not fall apart again thanks to the opposite sex.
One message.
Just one.
It changed me. Now, all of a sudden I am thrown back to 2008. Mr. Got Away (Mick) contacted me. We have always kept in touch here and there, like I stated in part 1, but now... he mentioned "rekindle".
??
If you read part 1, you know I never got over him, ever. You also know he has/had a girlfriend. I am not sure which it is, I didn't ask (yes, because I didn't want the answer) but I assume he does. He is not the cheating kind, so of course I am wondering WTH is going on with him. We chatted for hours like we used to, taking up most of my day and it was good to relive some happy memories. We laughed, flirted, reminisced and all was normal.
Normal? 4 YEARS AGO NORMAL!
I still have all of our chat logs and I opened them and started reading. I haven't done that since we split up and now I know why. I fell in love with Mr. Got Away all over again. I never stopped loving him, but to fall back so deeply? I must be nucking futs! Right? Please, someone tell me that is possible. I haven't smiled like this in years, nor blushed, nor felt butterflies. He was the last person to make me fly higher than humanly possible, and here he is again, and here I go flying again.
Tears, lots and lots of tears. They are flowing for no reason. Happy? Melancholy? Sad? Alone? I don't know what I am feeling, I am so confused. I honestly haven't missed having a guy around. I don't NEED a man to feel complete. It would be nice to have one, but I have been so busy taking care of me that I honestly didn't care if one came along or not. If you follow my life, you know this past year was dreadful and there really wasn't room for a man in my life. Sure, it would have been nice to have one for comfort during the rough times, but I had my friends and they did a great job.
As I read the chat logs, I went to all the song links he sent me, to describe his love for me. MELT!
I must be a complete nutter to jump with both feet again. We never did anything slow in the first place, why should we change now?
Hope. I never lost it. How high do I want to hope? Last time it ended badly with him being too impatient on how complicated our situation was during that period of time. I sent him one chat log, to remind him of what we said/did/had back then. He lost most of our entire history when his laptop crapped out. I really don't know why I did. What will that do? Just because I fell for the words we used to share (wish I had phone recordings as well as live video), will it make him? Doubtful, he's a man. Who knows, he may be saying these same words to his current girl. I really don't know.
Loyal. Yes, he's VERY loyal, so I am totally confused on why he would do this if all is perfect in his relationship. Hell, even if it's not perfect, he shouldn't be doing this, it's not like him and it's just wrong. If he's not happy, and hasn't gotten me out of his head either (from what he says) he shouldn't be with her at all! It's not fair to her, to any of us. I have always glared at the photos of them with a contempt for her, like we ladies all tend to do when someone we love has someone new. Today, I looked and felt pity. For her? For me? I honestly don't know. I know him, REALLY know him and I don't understand all of this. I just don't. I wish I had a magic fairy to explain all of this shit to me. Should he crush my heart once again, there is no amount of duct tape in the world to fix it this time around.
We were engaged, we were in love, we were happy. We were "over the moon" happy. We were such a sappy couple. I am sure the people we were around were gagging at the amount of happiness and love we exuded. I am not stretching the truth either. We were sickening. Our holiday to the city was more like a honeymoon than a normal vacation. We said we had found our soul mate, he said it first. I will never forget that. He said he prayed in church to find his love and just a week later, there I was. Instant connection. Everything in common. Because of him, I do believe in love at first sight.
I guess my biggest question would be, if I were that important once, and he contacts me again WHILE having a girlfriend (I am assuming, his status says he's in a relationship with her), what the hell does that mean? If it was/is true love, does it ever really win out in the end? Does anyone have a happy ending, ever, outside of fairy tales?
So again, I sit waiting for that message. Has he changed his mind between yesterday and today? Did he finally come to his senses and only had a fleeting moment of nostalgia? I just know it's 4 years ago as I sit and wait for him to message me. I don't wait for people. For him? I think I would wait an eternity. I only wish he would open up liked he used to and truly tell me what is going on, not just how he missed me and how he messed up with us.
I will wait.
Mr. Got Away came back, for now.
I was just minding my own business, honestly, living my life, raising my kids and just being me. I am happy for the most part. Being single does suck sometimes, but more often than not I am happy I am. This heart has been slapped together with duct tape so many times, I prefer it not fall apart again thanks to the opposite sex.
One message.
Just one.
It changed me. Now, all of a sudden I am thrown back to 2008. Mr. Got Away (Mick) contacted me. We have always kept in touch here and there, like I stated in part 1, but now... he mentioned "rekindle".
??
If you read part 1, you know I never got over him, ever. You also know he has/had a girlfriend. I am not sure which it is, I didn't ask (yes, because I didn't want the answer) but I assume he does. He is not the cheating kind, so of course I am wondering WTH is going on with him. We chatted for hours like we used to, taking up most of my day and it was good to relive some happy memories. We laughed, flirted, reminisced and all was normal.
Normal? 4 YEARS AGO NORMAL!
I still have all of our chat logs and I opened them and started reading. I haven't done that since we split up and now I know why. I fell in love with Mr. Got Away all over again. I never stopped loving him, but to fall back so deeply? I must be nucking futs! Right? Please, someone tell me that is possible. I haven't smiled like this in years, nor blushed, nor felt butterflies. He was the last person to make me fly higher than humanly possible, and here he is again, and here I go flying again.
Tears, lots and lots of tears. They are flowing for no reason. Happy? Melancholy? Sad? Alone? I don't know what I am feeling, I am so confused. I honestly haven't missed having a guy around. I don't NEED a man to feel complete. It would be nice to have one, but I have been so busy taking care of me that I honestly didn't care if one came along or not. If you follow my life, you know this past year was dreadful and there really wasn't room for a man in my life. Sure, it would have been nice to have one for comfort during the rough times, but I had my friends and they did a great job.
As I read the chat logs, I went to all the song links he sent me, to describe his love for me. MELT!
I must be a complete nutter to jump with both feet again. We never did anything slow in the first place, why should we change now?
Hope. I never lost it. How high do I want to hope? Last time it ended badly with him being too impatient on how complicated our situation was during that period of time. I sent him one chat log, to remind him of what we said/did/had back then. He lost most of our entire history when his laptop crapped out. I really don't know why I did. What will that do? Just because I fell for the words we used to share (wish I had phone recordings as well as live video), will it make him? Doubtful, he's a man. Who knows, he may be saying these same words to his current girl. I really don't know.
Loyal. Yes, he's VERY loyal, so I am totally confused on why he would do this if all is perfect in his relationship. Hell, even if it's not perfect, he shouldn't be doing this, it's not like him and it's just wrong. If he's not happy, and hasn't gotten me out of his head either (from what he says) he shouldn't be with her at all! It's not fair to her, to any of us. I have always glared at the photos of them with a contempt for her, like we ladies all tend to do when someone we love has someone new. Today, I looked and felt pity. For her? For me? I honestly don't know. I know him, REALLY know him and I don't understand all of this. I just don't. I wish I had a magic fairy to explain all of this shit to me. Should he crush my heart once again, there is no amount of duct tape in the world to fix it this time around.
We were engaged, we were in love, we were happy. We were "over the moon" happy. We were such a sappy couple. I am sure the people we were around were gagging at the amount of happiness and love we exuded. I am not stretching the truth either. We were sickening. Our holiday to the city was more like a honeymoon than a normal vacation. We said we had found our soul mate, he said it first. I will never forget that. He said he prayed in church to find his love and just a week later, there I was. Instant connection. Everything in common. Because of him, I do believe in love at first sight.
I guess my biggest question would be, if I were that important once, and he contacts me again WHILE having a girlfriend (I am assuming, his status says he's in a relationship with her), what the hell does that mean? If it was/is true love, does it ever really win out in the end? Does anyone have a happy ending, ever, outside of fairy tales?
So again, I sit waiting for that message. Has he changed his mind between yesterday and today? Did he finally come to his senses and only had a fleeting moment of nostalgia? I just know it's 4 years ago as I sit and wait for him to message me. I don't wait for people. For him? I think I would wait an eternity. I only wish he would open up liked he used to and truly tell me what is going on, not just how he missed me and how he messed up with us.
I will wait.
Mr. Got Away came back, for now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)