Respect Mah House...

So. This marks the end of the much anticipated (by me if by no one else) Memorial Day weekend. The last government holiday until July 4. And it blow donkey balls.



I'm sitting here sipping on a Corona that I'm not supposed to have, you know since I'm fat and all on this diet bullshit. And for the first time the entire weekend I'm alone. Kinda. The girls are in another room playing happily until one of them begins a fight and then the Mom-meeeeeeee!!! breaks out.



*sigh*



I'd really been looking forward to the long weekend. It was my chance to blow off some steam and relax and not be bothered by anyone. If I wanted to clean house I could do so; If I wanted to just go outside and play with the kids I could've; If I just wanted to sit around butt naked and chant hymns this was my time to do so.



Didn't exactly work out that way.



First there was the dadster coming over uninvited to spend nearly all of the weekend planted firmly on my couch. I managed to hint that perhaps that's not such a great idea this weekend since you know, I wasn't exactly in the mood for company and it knocked his four day visit down to two. He went home early Saturday morning; by that afternoon we were back at his house because he'd told Jaalyn that I'd bring her by so that they could garden. What was supposed to be a 2 hour thing turned into a 6 hour thing. I was so sleepy I could barely drive. Thinking that I could call a friend to talk to so that I could stay awake on the drive home I reached for my cell phone and... no phone. I'd left it at my parents' house and I was not about to turn around and get it. So Sunday my dad decides to bring me my phone. So sweet. He brings the phone; baby daddy shows up; kids are hungry and whining and I'm cooking a dinner I hope to God I can stretch somehow. Mom arrives because she just knew we were plotting a cookout with the intention of not inviting her and is full of bitchiness and mean comments from the moment she entered the house. I spent the entire evening in the kitchen and by the time everyone cleared out and went home... it was bedtime for me and the girls.



Today was the one day I'd hoped to sit back and chill. I had things to do of course, primarily the unfavorable task of washing the girls' hair and braiding it up. Who shows up on my doorstep unannounced but baby daddy and his brother. So today was a bust too (though I did get the hair washed).



All this is so fucking annoying because everyone knew that I'd wanted to be left alone this weekend. And everyone chose to disregard my wishes. That's what really gets to me. See here's the thing about ME: I am extremely polite when it comes to other people. I respect your wishes, I respect your house and unless you're doing yourself harm I mind my business and stay out of yours. I'm not going to offer assvice; I call before visiting. If I do call I'm calling at decent hours of the day, not late at night and I don't call just to say "hi"; I'm calling with a purpose. If I am in your house, I don't wander and poke around into your stuff; if there are people there that I don't get along with I refuse to argue in your house or make a scene. I respect your place. I respect your space. I respect you. Period.

I don't ask for much. I want to be respected in the same way I respect others. Problem is, NO ONE respects a goddamn thing I say. I'd feel terrible if I were to do the shit people pull with me. And I'm tired of it. This weekend I was more than pissed, I was hurt. Because it became so very, very clear to me that despite my saying that desperately needed this time alone to think, to restructure and just bond with my kids no one gave a shit what I thought. Only what they think, feel and desire matters.

But how to deal with it? How to put an end to it?

Hm...

My God, I am so tired.

Not for the usual reasons, i.e. everyday life/too much stress/work/kids/errands, but simply because I didn't sleep well. Because I have a housepest, er, I mean houseguest. My dad, whom I adore and love deeply, has invited himself to my house for what appeared at first to be an extended visit.

Do. Not. Want.

He's being nice. The idea is that since he's retired he'll stay with me for several days and help me finish unpacking and cleaning and will take over the cooking for a few nights. He stocked my freezer full of meats, delivered a jar of his special, secret barbecue sauce for future use, and attempted to entertain the kids so that perhaps I could get a moment of peace. (Didn't work.)

And that my friends, is about the extent of what he can do. Not being hateful, just being real.

Let's put aside my total dislike of overnight visitors for a second, because that's purely a personal flaw. See, the thing is that in theory the things I mentioned above are about the extent of what he could do. The house isn't dirty, per se, and in need of a deep cleaning; it's CLUTTERED. I can be totally upfront and honest and say that the dirtiest things in this house are the bathtub and the kitchen. The tub because, well duh, high usage there. And the kitchen because I will openly admit and scream from mountaintops that I hate doing dishes. I love to cook, but I hate cleaning up. This is a carryover from childhood when my mom, who also hates to do dishes, would have me wash all the dishes long before I was able to even see into the sink. She'd take a kitchen chair and turn it backwards so that it would lean against the sink, take a garbage bag and tie it around me under my armpits and tell me to get started. And if they weren't clean to her satisfaction, back they ALL went into the water. And if they still weren't clean? Or she just didn't want to be bothered with me? Again, I'd be washing. I remember being small, about 4 or 5 and hearing the story of Cinderella and thinking hey that's me! Except I don't have evil stepsisters or a stepmom. My birth mom does this to me. I actually used to pretend that I was this ugly princess and that if I washed the dishes perfectly perhaps my prince would come to rescue me and then when we'd kiss I'd be transformed into this beautiful (white, because that's all I ever saw in my fairytale books) princess and we'd live happily ever after... with a maid. The end.

So, yeah. Cooking, I love. Dishes, not so much.

Anyway, point was that anything beyond that scope of cleaning my dad can't do. And I'm not being bitchy or super anal about this unpacking thing either. See, I'll be at work and he'll be here and unless he calls me for every single thing he unpacks, he won't know where to put the shit. Hell, I'm here everyday and I don't know where to put the shit. This has been a big part of the whole unpacking problem. There is little to no storage in this house. The attic was long ago converted to a second floor and all that remains are two Trinity sized doors that lead to the HVAC systems, so I can't chunk stuff in there. The closets are shallow and super small as is the cabinetry. There is no closet in the upstairs bathroom and while I do have a shed and have stashed many unopened boxes in there, I discovered birds and vermin also nest in there so, eh, not exactly a place for long term storage. But there literally is no place to put my stuff.

What I really need to do is purge. And this is something dad REALLY can't help me with because the man is an insufferable packrat. Things I tried to throw away in previous moves he'd bring right back into the house saying I ought to keep it, it's really nice, he didn't want someone else to get it (?), and so on. Want to know how bad he is about my purging? This last move he snuck stuff back onto the moving truck and didn't tell me until we unloaded the truck here at the house. We ended up unloading several boxes and bags I'd left at the dumpster in the apartment complex along with 5, count 'em, FIVE bags of garbage that were definitely meant for the dumpster. He was shamed enough to carry the bags of garbage with him when he left since I hadn't yet set up trash service here.

So there you have it. Too little space and too much stuff. Stuff that I could give away, sell, whatever. But it takes time to do it and my problem is that rather than take the time, I spend it with the kids. And the rare moment I have to myself, I spend, um, with myself. (NO, not that way! Get your mind out the gutter!) Relaxing and running errands.

And now, tired as shit and looking like hell, I've got to go shower and attempt to look like something human and carry on with this day.

Hopping On The 'Zac Track...

I finally went to the doctor on Monday.

Yup. After 3, almost four, weeks of diet and consistant exercise along with careful monitoring of my blood pressure and weight it appears that I'm a major physically unfit fuck up. Instead of losing weight on a steadily decreasing meal plan, I've gained 7 pounds. Instead of my blood pressure being unsually low (which is normal for me) I'm in the pre-hyper... hyper... yeah well it's pre-high blood pressure. Couple that with major anxiety attacks, overwhelming sadness and listnessness (is that a word?) a trip to the doctor's was long overdue.

And, in a nutshell, I hate my doctor. I hate him for being somewhat honest with me. For telling me that I'm fat, I eat too much (on a 1300 calorie meal plan, imagine that), I exercise too little and if I don't put an end to it all and change my lifestyle I will end up in the exact same state as all the other unhealthy black women in America. Fat, black and dead before I hit 60. So he told me eat as little as possible, work out as much a possible and my blood pressure will decrease naturally. As I gain weight my blood pressure will rise; as I lose it should fall. He said I'm too young for medication and too healthy to not work out more than I do.

And he prescribed Prozac.

I haven't gotten my prescription filled yet. No real reason why. I'm not afraid to take it, more like I simply don't think it'll work for me. I've tried so many anti-depressants/happy pills all with horrible side effects. The nausea inducing, throat constricting, non-eating/gorging, super horny side/zero sex drive effects. I feel so close to the breaking point from all the usual stressors that just adding a new element is like asking for trouble. Yet at the same time, I feel I need it. I've been sad... sadder than sad, for way too long. I'm developing a dependancy on sleeping pills, more because I enjoy a night of sleep without dreams than any actual need for the pills. I've been addicted to them before when I was in my teens and seeking a way to escape my turbulant home life. But I beat that addiction. I realized early on how close I was coming to overdosing and kicked the habit cold turkey. And while I don't feel like I'm in danger of becoming addicted again, I'll cop to enjoying a peaceful, non thinking sleep.

Speaking of which. I'm sleepy now. To the point of not being able to effectively form sentences. So I'll end this missive for the night and pick it up in the morning.

I finally went to the doctor on Monday.

Yup. After 3, almost four, weeks of diet and consistant exercise along with careful monitoring of my blood pressure and weight it appears that I'm a major physically unfit fuck up. Instead of losing weight on a steadily decreasing meal plan, I've gained 7 pounds. Instead of my blood pressure being unsually low (which is normal for me) I'm in the pre-hyper... hyper... yeah well it's pre-high blood pressure. Couple that with major anxiety attacks, overwhelming sadness and listnessness (is that a word?) a trip to the doctor's was long overdue.

And, in a nutshell, I hate my doctor. I hate him for being somewhat honest with me. For telling me that I'm fat, I eat too much (on a 1300 calorie meal plan, imagine that), I exercise too little and if I don't put an end to it all and change my lifestyle I will end up in the exact same state as all the other unhealthy black women in America. Fat, black and dead before I hit 60. So he told me eat as little as possible, work out as much a possible and my blood pressure will decrease naturally. As I gain weight my blood pressure will rise; as I lose it should fall. He said I'm too young for medication and too healthy to not work out more than I do.

And he prescribed Prozac.

Ever Had A Superbly Rotten Day?

And then something totally off the wall breaks through the gloom and makes you smile?

Oh God. Laughed. SO. Fucking. Hard.

3:23 A.M.

That's what time I'm sitting down to write.

My body is weary yet I'm too keyed up to sleep. Too worried to rest and too taut to relax. Trinity is ill... again. Another virus. *sigh* I pray she's better soon. We're not long getting back from a 2 a.m. run to the local Wal-mart (closed) and then onward to the Wal-mart in a neighboring town (praise God for the 24 hour ones). Pedialyte, formula (shut up), a bottle (I said shut up) and some quick fix breakfast items for later. I've about 4 open bottles of Motrin and various syringes lying around the house and a fifth bottle in the passenger seat of the car. My poor kid... feverish and just a bleary eyed as me she removed her pacifier long enough to give me the biggest, most beautiful smile while I leaned against the counter in the checkout line.

Trin, bless her, is teething throughout this virus that I was praying to God would be only 24 hours. Well we've passed that mark so we simply pray for the best and strength to withstand it. I know it's a mild bug, but it worries me to see her so uncomfortable and I'm worried that if it lasts longer than the weekend I may not be able to stay home with her thanks to the bullshit from my job.

Emotionally, physically, mentally I'm spent. I'm so fucking tired I can't stand myself. The slightest thing makes me cry, and not always in a bad way. Complete strangers in Wal-mart wished me a heartfelt Mother's Day. The first was a guy sweeping the aisle that the Pedialyte was on and he stuttered and stammered until he got out his well wishes. I was touched that he went through the effort of working through what appears to be a severe speech impediment just to wish someone he doesn't know a happy Mother's Day. That's more acknowledgement than I'll get from anyone else other than Jaalyn. Songs on the radio bring tears to my eyes; thinking about how blessed I am despite my problems causes me to weep; I know firsthand how much worse it could be. I've been in the hospital with sick babies before and I know what it's like to be separated from your child by steel bars of a crib cage and the only thing you can touch is her bruised hand and it kills you to be unable to hold her, rock her and comfort her. I know the anxiety felt because you don't know if your child will live or die. I know the pain of watching an infant get a spinal tap, having major surgery, and still being considered the healthiest baby in the nursery.

Originally I was going to write a bitching message about how underappreciated most mother's feel and all about the useless and usually pointless gifts given us. None of that matters anymore. As I sit with my sick tot, there's no greater gift I could ever receive than her and her sister. They, quite simply, are the best things to ever happen to me. The day I became a mother my life had meaning and purpose. Lately I'd lost sight of that purpose. Reminiscing brought it all back.

Stray Thoughts...

Sometimes I sit back and wonder why I don't get the respect that I feel I deserve. Maybe respect is the wrong word... more like common decency. For example, I am just plain sick and tired of married men hitting on me and asking me for fuck appointments. I mean really, I think at some point we've all gone through a whore phase or just a period of indiscretion but shit's getting ridiculous. Anyway, so I say no more. And I tell the married/boyfriend-y types a very clear NO. Within twenty-four hours two guys came back with the Baby Please nonsense. Jesus, I finally decide to have a shred of respect for myself and you want me to slice that to pieces so you can get a nut? It wouldn't bother me as much if I didn't explain how I felt about the whole matter. But everyone knows, especially anyone that reads this piece of shit blog of mine, how I feel about being #2 (4, 6, 8 who do we appreciate!). I feel I deserve better than to be a cumbucket for a dude, which is basically what happens before he cleans himself up to go cuddle with wifey and the next girlfriend.

Why am I so wrong for trying to respect myself? For wanting and knowing that I deserve better than this? Why do I allow guys to repeatedly ask me any fucking way after I've already said we're done? I don't know who to be angrier at, their dumb asses or my dumb ass.
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I had one of those gut wrenching "Where is my life going" moments this morning. Sitting at a traffic light just before going through the gates to my job. I feel like a such a fuck up at life, at parenting, at everything. I mean I'm a good mom to the kids, but not the best I could be. It's like I've lost hope in everything and I'm afraid to try new things. Totally unlike me. But much of it has to do with the stress and pressure from my job and just dealings with life in general. I'm under constant pressure and my mind is constantly going. My body is constantly going too and I don't feel like I can properly rest it. It's like I never get a chance to relax and just, I don't know, do what I want to do. Problem is, I'm not sure what to do if I actually had free time so I guess it's a moot point altogether isn't it?
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Had a heart stopping moment this past Sunday. I discovered a black widow spider in a box at the foot of my bed. She was the biggest black widow I'd ever seen. I like black widows (praying mantis too, can you guess why?), but I do not like them in the house... in my bedroom... inches from where I and my child sleep. She scared the shit out of me and made me realize fuck the foolishness I've been spouting for years, I have too much shit EVERYWHERE and who knows what else might slither indoors one day? Who knows what could be nesting under beds, inside cabinets and closets that I can't reach because there's clothes, boxes, etc in the way? Hell no, the shit's got to go. Pronto.
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The other day I was listening to some music, just soft tunes playing in the car as the children slept and I realized just how lonely I am. Not for a man specifically, but just for adult company period. I've given thought to dating and discarded the thought immediately. I'm not ready to date and quite frankly I'm not interested in falling in love either. Love is pain, pain is love... I say no to both. I'm discouraged and dejected because of what I see. I see men loving women dishonestly. After being the town whore and seeing that perspective I'm not sure I could ever trust a man. But then, man was not made by God to be trusted. And neither was woman. I'll take loneliness over love any day. At least with loneliness I can dream of the love I hope to have someday. By actually being with a man... Jesus, that hope is destroyed entirely.

Yes, I am bitter. I don't deny it. I am bitter, I am angry and I am discouraged but I am smart enough not to inflict this self induced angst on someone else nor use a person for base purposes until I "sort this all out".

Bitter, much.
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My great aunt passed on Saturday. Just thinking about her makes me smile. She was an incredible woman in life. She is the only person I know that could scold you, curse you and Praise Jesus all in one breath. I did not visit as often as I should. I didn't call. I didn't write. But I loved her and she knew it and said she understood my distance. And she reiterated the importance of family. My response then (we were at her sister, who was my grandmother's funeral) was that the last part of this branch of the family died in that casket. She squeezed my hand and told me:

Bitch, not all your family is dead. Bring your ass over to visit me and I'll show you. Where are my cigarrettes?

Aunt Mack I loved you but God loved you more. NOW the last part of that family that meant anything to me is gone and I've no reason to look back anymore. As you would say they're all going to hell in a handbasket anyway... shit.
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All I want out of life is to be happy. Simplicity is what I crave and it's odd that it eludes me. I haven't quite figured that out. I sit here now and I'm not sure what direction I want my life to go, what to do, what to be, how to act, or anything. It's like I'm standing before a brick wall. Not hit a brick wall, as in life's going so fast that wham! I hit a wall and am startled to see it's there. More like I casually sauntered up to the wall and examined it before making a decision.

And I bet if I stop staring at the fucking wall, I'll look to the left or right and just walk around it.

Still Here...

Okay, so my life is in limbo right now.

Things aren't going so great on my job.

The kids are healthy despite my paranoia that they've contracted life threatening (read: time-off from work) illnesses.

The house is still a complete fucking wreck and I still have boxes every fucking where and I am thisclose to calling the local trash hauling place and having a dumpster deposited in my driveway to toss every single bit of clothing, box, books, etc that I own into it so that I never, ever in this lifetime have to pack/unpack this amount of shit ever again.

I still do run-on sentences as witnessed in the aforementioned statement. Ha.

I am slowly trying to de-stress myself. I've had some faith shaking experiences these past several weeks/months/years. I'm not sleeping well, not eating well and feeling blue more often than I'd like. But, I'm here. My girls are my life and my love and they are well and happy so what more could I ask for?

A lot. But I won't. I know I won't get what I ask for and quite frankly I don't need it anyway probably. Yeah, yeah, I'm lonely... shut up. I get like that sometimes. NO, I don't like to admit it but I had a conversation with a former lover of mine and it brought out a great deal of emotion in me. Not emotion for him, but just feelings of wistfulness and hopelessness that there is such a thing as a good man. I told him that it seems that the only men that ever want me are married men (and the one soul that isn't married may as well be. You know who you are.) and well, to be quite frank I'm the hoe that won't be the housewife, the freak in the sheets you'll never take home to mama. It seems that the only men that approach me want to lay me and keep me as the number #2 (3, 4, 85th) girl. That gets old. Quick.

I'm told I'm too intimidating and that I don't make a man feel like I need him. Well, I don't need a man. I want one but need? Pfft. Will my world crumble if you leave me? Will I neglect my kids and sob if you're gone or if we argue? (Don't trip I know women that have left their 2 year olds at home alone chasing after a man.) I don't need a man for financial reasons. I don't need a man to make me feel "complete". But it'd be nice to have someone around for more than just sexual reasons, more than just friends, more than just whenever he had time away from his wife and family. And at this point, at the ripe age of 30 (ha) I don't think I'll find "a good man". Is there such a thing as a man that won't cheat? Won't lie? I don't know anymore. And I'm not so delusional as to think there's a "perfect" man. I just want the perfect one for me. But if he doesn't come along I'll be just fine.

So in the meantime with all this hell and stress I've had in my life recently I've been trying to focus more on the little things that make me happy. Small things that make me smile, beautiful things that make me cry, and simple joys that make me laugh. The girls have been a big help in some ways. They make me focus on what they are doing instead of my own problems that I should leave at the office doors.

Trinity is growing so fast and she's rapidly learning our language. I say "our" because she has her own toddler-ese that she speaks and expects you to understand. She's speaking in sentences now and it's both delightful and hysterical at times. Like yesterday when she wouldn't sit down for breakfast. I brought out the last Trix yogurt and asked if she wanted it. She nodded and I said well, I don't know that I should give it to you since you won't sit down and eat your breakfast. I don't think you really want it. Her response was a deadpan expression and "I want it. I'm serious." Oh really? I don't think you're serious. She went and sat down at the table and again "I'm serious" followed by the most serious expression her not quite two year old self could muster. Hilarious.

Jaalyn is growing into quite the young lady. She's still my girly girl that's into makeup and scents, nail polish and boy crushes. And she talks. A LOT. Holy shit that girl can talk a hole in your head. Even if you ask her to be quiet just for a few minutes, the wait just kills her and she talks in spurts, reminiscent of the air squeaking out of a balloon. She's also picked up my habit of writing, which I secretly love, and she's got about 4 journals stashed in various places around her room. Mostly they are filled with "I love {insert name here}" or "I :heart: Troy" the dude out of those God awful High School Musical movies. But she also writes her feelings and illustrates them and I think it's wonderful.

The two of them together though? Oy vey. The NOISE they make. The screams. The tears. The, the... NOISE. Jesus God, they fight so! Sometimes they can play nicely but most of the time it's Trinity screaming at Jaalyn and then pummeling her with her fists. The kid is truly a terror at times. This weekend was nice though because thanks to my love of old video gaming systems coupled with some Ebay-fu we are the proud owners of many NES, SEGA and PS1 (and 2) games. I even bought Trinity her very own Barney game for the Sega system, where Barney never dies (unfortunately) , he always finds his friends, he talks directly to you and your kids always win. Most brain decaying thing I've ever witnessed but she likes it and it makes her chuckle. She's happy, I'm happy. I got Jaalyn two Sonic games and she's got about 5 games for her Nintendo DS. I got myself my beloved Tomb Raider games once more, and we're all happy on our separate televisions and gaming systems.

Hey, the family that plays together...

Still Hanging In There...

So, the kids are better and now I am sick. Upper respiratory infection, sinus infection, and just physically worn down. I've been under copious amounts of stress and I'm just barely holding things together at this point. Been really depressed too but I think that has more to do with my physical exhaustion than the actual circumstances I'm experiencing. Not that the circumstances aren't enough to be depressed about, just that I know when an already worn out body coupled with a vapid mind (of late) makes one very sad girl. Even now, as I type this I should be resting. My eyes are burning, my head is swimming and I feel rotten in general but I also feel the need to vent to someone, anyone, other than my normal crew that gets more than their fair share of my whining and bitching.

These past couple of weeks has been hell and not just because the girls were sick as dogs either, though that's reason enough. But the stress from my job, particularly my supervisor that I know can't stand me; from finances (pending garnishment, back taxes owed that I'd no idea about, daycare, prescriptions, etc.) to the possibility of my daughter's 133 year old school closing; parental worries and fights and being sick on top of it all. I'm just plain weary of it all.

But for now, rather than bitch and whine like I wanted to...

I'm going to bed. Where I belong.

Mo Money, Mo Problems?

Straight up bullshit.

I'm fading and I'm fading fast.

Depression doesn't describe what I'm feeling right now. Anxiety is at an all time high. Why?

Money. Lack of it, if you couldn't guess that. I swear if it weren't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all. How is it that through all these odd twists of fate I always end up with my back up against the wall, defensive and on the losing team?

Still Yet Keepin' On...

And so... another day, another doctor's visit. So far this week we've visited our now not-quite-so-friendly pediatricians every single day with the exception of Friday. I told them today, believe me, I am every bit as sick of you as you are of me.

Jaalyn's still feverish, whiny, cranky and having periods of "just not feeling good".

Trinity's not feverish anymore, but whiny, cranky and having periods of "just not feeling good".

Both are coughing themselves to death.

It's the coughing that gets me. Breathing treatments don't seem to be helping. Cough medicine is good for nighttime, but throughout the day? Oh man, I've tried everything from saline treatments, nasal flushing (to rule out the post nasal drip possibility in Trin), Halls cough drops, constant fluids, steamy bathrooms and allergy meds (singulair, allegra for Jaalyn)/benadryl (for Trinity) to rule out possible pollen/histamine/whatever the fuck is in the air to cause them to cough like a 125 year smoker with emphysema.

So I took them both to the doctor this morning, hoping for something. I don't know what. Just any sort of advice on how to treat this. Trinity's at the point that she coughs so hard that it hurts her chest and Jaalyn cough is so constant that she can barely breathe for coughing. And what I got was a "Oh, its you again." Um, yeah it IS me again and as long as my insurance company is paying your bill you'll keep seeing me again until my kids are healthy. She examined Jaalyn and said she had an older kid type of croup cough. Saline treatments and step up her breathing treatments a notch. The fuck? That's it? When little kids get croup they get a shot and bam, they're better. I get told to do the exact same shit I've been doing, excuse me, the exact same ineffective shit I've been doing all along. But that's not what really ticked me off.

She didn't even bother to examine Trinity.

That ticked me. She didn't examine her because she said she assumed she had the same issues and just do whatever it is that I normally do. So after waiting over an hour to be seen (with a prescheduled appointment) I got no effective advice to help my kids. And you know what happened, they hacked and coughed their way through the rest of the day. Completely miserable and zonked out from medication I'm praying to God will work to give them some sort of relief.

(It did.)
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Please forgive me for my lame ass posts of late. I am beyond tired and stressed. Hope to be back to my usual bitch self soon.

Where the Fuck is My Calgon?

What a week it's been. Trinity has been sick with this since Monday, which isn't as bad as this but it's still pretty bad. Jaalyn actually had hand, foot and mouth disease three times before the age of 3 so I am familiar with the symptoms, longevity and (non) treatment of it. Trinity has a milder version of it, so she doesn't have the ulcers in the back of her throat but something akin to tiny blisters, along with the raging fever and she's been miserable since the onset. Just as I thought she was getting better and her fever had broken, she began screaming uncontrollably, smacking the sides of her face and the fever returned. An impromptu trip to the doctor's office (where they are quite familiar with my girls since we've been in their office every single fucking day. Twice on Monday and daily ever since.) proved that she'd developed an ear infection in her left ear and a sinus infection as well so now she's got medicine for that on top of everything else. She's been horribly congested all week long (we all have) and chokes off the thick mucus in her nose and throat. Couple that with the ear pain and that means Mommy's awake nearly all night holding her bolt upright to keep her from choking/coughing, etc. But... thanks to the antibiotics she's doing a lot better, feeling alot better, but still sort of miserable from the pain of the ear infection and the yeast infection she's got thanks to the fucking antibiotics.

And just as I thought Trinity was getting better and that we were finally in the clear and perhaps I could get some sleep... nope nope nope. Jaalyn's spring break began Wednesday and I took her to my parents' house to spend the week there but I'd forgotten her allergy medications. So I dropped them off yesterday and as soon as I walk through the door I see her cheeks flushed scarlet, her eyes are weak and on the verge of tearing. Back to the pediatrician and now Jaalyn has a strain of the virus Trinity has. High fevers, headaches, zero appetite, sore throat... yeah.

I've probably walked a hundred miles in this house last night alone, going from room to room, child to child, forehead to forehead. Tylenol, Motrin, saline treatments, breathing treatments, antibiotics for each. I've slept far too little this week and it's really beginning to take it's toll on me. Tired doesn't do justice for the way I feel. I'm nursing a sinus infection that I really ought to go to the doctor for but am steadfastly refusing. One more trip to a doctor's office, ANY doctor's office and I think I'll go apeshit. I've a really bad pain in my back, between my shoulder blades, I guess from sleeping upright and awkwardly holding Trinity the past 4 nights. The pain is enough to draw tears from my eyes. Can't stretch it out, crack my back, nothing helps. No meds for Mommy at all. I can't run the risk of them making me sleepy and I won't hear either kid when they need me.

And I was going to write so much more... but guess what? I'm too fucking tired to do so.

At Least I'm Not the Only One Whose Week Sucks Donkey Balls...

Okay, my period is gone, my emotions have died down and I sort of have a resolution in this credit union foolishness. I can take a breather for a minute or two, refocus, and realize that OTHER PEOPLE ARE QUITE POSSIBLY HAVING A MORE FUCKED UP WEEK THAN I AM.

ahem...

Case 1: Eliot Spitzer - I am SO sick of reading about him. Although Bill Maher's blog had me in stitches. I mean what is the big deal? He's doing the same thing that men have been doing for centuries, since time began. Only difference is that his ass got caught. He fucked up and his wife gets the blame for being boring and lame in the sack. And when you think about it from that perspective, can you really blame Spitzer for stepping out and paying for good pussy?

Case 2: Oh Rebecca... My heart and soul weeps for you because I know exactly how you must feel now.

Case 3: Mrs. B., principal of my daughter's Catholic school. Her personality is abrasive and that's putting it nicely. She's nicknamed the Colonel and is every bit as strong in character as a Marine, but her voice cracked and eventually broke when she announced to parents this evening that the school is in incredible financial danger and could possibly close after nearly a century and a half of operation.

Case 4: Hillary Clinton because she has complete fucking idiots working for her. But for the record, I agree with everything Ferraro said.

And no, I am not an Obama supporter but my reasons are my own and at present I'm not up to discussing them.

Let the bashing begin because I'm a black single mother that's not supporting Obama.

So, yeah... a fucked up week for all. For once I'm glad my issue, though major to me, was minor in reality compared to other people's.

The Suckage of Mondays...

Does anyone remember the Garfield comics of the late 70s and early 80s? Even today Garfield has this decades long gag of hating Mondays. Pies would fly from nowhere to splat in his face; Pookie would go missing; the coffee would be weak and cold and Jon would invariably schedule all his vet appointments on Mondays. Garfield's answer was rebellion. If he didn't get out of his extraordinarily small bed, nothing could go wrong and the Monday curse would be avoided.

Man, I wish I'd never gotten out of bed yesterday.

Monday had to have been one of the worst days I've had in a long time. You know the type when it's a nonstop trip of insanity and madness? Every thing that can go wrong, does go wrong.

I awoke to a splitting migraine.

Remember my last post when I was lamenting that I only have two pair of jeans that fit? Well, make that one pair since the zipper busted on one. Nothing earth shattering, just annoying.

Later that day I speak with my mother. On the phone. At work. Shouting and cursing ensues. I have a pain in my head ten times greater than the migraine I woke up with and my chest is tight and hurting after I end my call with her. I swear I was hatched. That woman cannot be my own mother.

During lunch I receive a phone call from the credit union. Seems there's been a problem with my automated debits and all the transactions came out of another account. So they freeze my account and tell me I owe them an estimated $2,400 for an error they acknowledge to be their own.

I swear, I can't win. It's times like these that I thank God I have children. They force me to behave normally, to push on... Because were it not for them, I'd be too depressed, too angst ridden to even get out of bed. I'm so discouraged right now. I try and try to do the right thing, to raise my girls right, to give them a decent home, pay my bills on time, private school education, etc. I've stopped messing around with married men and men with girlfriends. I don't drink, do drugs or anything of the sort. All I do is live for my kids. Be that super strong woman. And yet... bad things continue to happen. I've always been a strong believer in karma. If you do good and live right, good follows and comes back to you. The Golden Rule. Cosmic Karma.

I do good. I do real good. And still I get nothing but shit. Weird, once in a blue moon shit at that.

I could be like any number of women (and men) that support their income with adverse means. Hell, I've done it myself before but I said under no circumstances would I ever go down that road again.

I'm starting to rethink that.

As a matter of fact, I'm starting to rethink a whole lot of stuff and not in a good way. I'm starting to think that there is no karma, that there's just life. And life, supposedly, is what you make it. I'm sick of just barely making it. Barely hanging on, barely scraping by. I want my kids to be happy and healthy. I want to be able to provide for them without having to worry where my next dollar is coming from.

And it's funny. I have a good job, I make decent money, I don't have a single blessed credit card at ALL. I have no extra expenses outside of the basics: rent, daycare, utilities, groceries, gas, cell phone, and cable. And I just recently added the cable. I monitor my money. I use coupons when shopping. I don't spend more than I earn and I'd even managed to store a tiny bit in savings to pay off a bill or two on my credit report. And then this shit hits the fan. Or some other shit hits the fan. Always something.

But that's life right? The ups and downs and unexpected. But the money... I can't stand worrying about bills. Will I rob Peter to pay Paul this month? I need to supplement my income and my tried and true methods of obtaining it just aren't working out.

I'm just so sick and tired of struggling when I shouldn't be. There are ways to make money, but me being all lofty and high minded about things, I just don't want to stoop down to do certain things. I've done amatuer porn before. I didn't like it, but it paid well. A couple of scenes and I had enough to pay my back rent on my apartment and catch up on all my bills my rotten husband left me with when he deserted me. It wasn't something I wanted to do; but it was something I felt I had to do in order to pay the bills. And I may end up doing it again. Again, it's not that I want to but really, there's little else that pays well in such a short time period. But I'd swore I'd never go back down that road again. I don't knock women that do it, in fact I admire them. Some do it because they enjoy it, some make a career out of it but most are like me and just trying to put food on the table, pay the bills and keep a roof over the little people's heads.

And that's really all I want to do. With all this hell going on around me, it's given me reason to think very hard about life and getting what you want out of it. Right now I'm exhausted from thinking and worrying, emotional as hell, and depressed to boot so please don't take my ramblings as a declaration on my dedication to become a porn star. That's not happening. At least not yet anyway.

Moody Blues...

It's official, my natural high is gone thanks to hormonal girly bullshit, aka my period.

It was nice while it lasted though. I dunno, this cycle, PMS included, has been rough. I've been tired, back aching, bitchy (I mean REALLY bitchy), etc. But I've also been feeling really depressed and repressed about stuff that ordinarily wouldn't bother me. It's a weird feeling. For example, I'm not a materialistic person. I'm used to going without if for no other reason so my children can have what they need and want. But for some odd reason I've been wanting things and that's unlike me. Perhaps I've neglected my own desires too long. Perhaps it's hormones. Most likely the latter.

I am the type that cares more about my internal presentation vice my outward. I work on my character and mental and physical health rather than other bullshit. (Though I'm failing in that whole healthy eating dept but that's another story for another day.) I've never been the type to give a damn about name brands, or how my house is presented, the types of furniture I had or clothes I wore. I'm not a shoe person, a purse person or any of that. My hair and outward appearance are of (very) little importance to me. A simple ponytail will do and jeans and a tshirt or sweater are fine thankyouverymuch. The only time I really cared what I looked like and felt I had a definite choice in how I chose to present myself was when I was pregnant with Trinity. Because that time I was comfortable financially and I was able to find great outfits really cheap that flattered my growing belly. I felt the need to show how I happy I was about my pregnancy despite not having (or needing) a husband and the extra income he would've provided. I wanted to throw off that pitiful pregnant damsel in distress persona everyone kept trying to saddle me with and show how I really felt like a normal happy pregnant woman.

Right now, pffft. I have this horrible attitude of "I don't need to show no one SHIT", bad grammar included. Now I feel lousy because of my weight and appearance and although I'm still every bit the proud single supermom, I really don't give a shit who knows it, I don't feel the need to show it. I just do what I do and keep rolling really. And I shouldn't be that way. I come off more hardass than I need to and truthfully more hardass than I probably am anyway. If you want to be all psychological about it you could probably say that I'm only reacting this way to hide my feelings of ineffectiveness, unhappiness, low self esteem and extreme distaste for my physical state of being, blah blah fuckity blah.

What. The. Fuck. EVER.

I'm in a funk. I don't like it but there it is. For some reason unbeknownst to me I actually lamented that I don't own more than two pair of jeans that fit, that I don't have "nice" un-mommylike clothing, that my living room furniture belongs on a street corner rather than in a living room and that for once I'd like everything to be "put together" in a total package and look nice for a change. I realize that this type of thinking isn't bad; nothing wrong with it whatsoever. It's the feeling of hopelessness that follows these thoughts that bothers me.

Let me explain: When I think of wanting a new living room suite or just a total home makeover, the actual wanting of it is fine. But the afterthoughts are that I'll never have that as long as I have kids because either they'll destroy it or I will become one of those moms I DETEST that scream at kids constantly for touching, sitting, eating on, etc their "nice" furniture. The last thing I ever want to do is treat my home like a museum. Like it's for show only. That's no way for kids to live. Now there's nothing wrong with either of those thoughts, but because of these bloody hormones I feel blue about not having what I want and focus on my inabilities (can't afford it anyway and even if I could my choices would be limited to a wipe-me-down leather which is ugly ugly ugly.)instead of realizing the reality of my situation (I could find something nice, secondhand that's not too ugly with kid-friendly fabric or slipcovers.).

I've even been feeling all girly like I *gasp!* want a man. Me. A man wanter. Jesus God help me now in my hour of need. The fuck is this all about? Actually I've been watching tv, watching all my dork approved TLC/Discovery channel shows about families, births and organization (seriously, the only reason I watch the Style channel is for Clean House and when did they replace Neicy Nash with that other wanna be chick? Oh I was heated when I saw that shit.). And watching all those reality, birthing, baby, and family shows has made me want a real live nuclear family of my own. Husband/mate included. Pregnancy amnesia is setting in (the point where you forget all the rotten morning sickness, nausea, swollen ankles, crying, etc of previous pregnancies) and I realize how much I want to extend my little two member tribe. I've been secretly envious of those two parent households I see on tv that are all happy and shit despite the odds. I admit it, I'm jealous of the supportive partner the women have. Because I don't have it and I don't feel I'll get it any time soon either. Again, another topic for another day.

This post is long enough as it is without me whining about man-envy and babylust.

Besides, hopefully by the time of my next post all these ill-fated feelings will have past.

I hope.

In A Nutshell...

Things have been going great. The move was agonizing (as most moves are), the house is great (with the exception of a few minor issues and more than a few major issues), the kids are happy (unless the meanest mommy in the world has done something to upset them and practically kill them, like serving oatmeal for breakfast) and life is good (on most days).

Ha.

Seriously, things are okay. Everyone is revelling in their newfound freedom from the cats to the kids and even me. It's a relief to know that out here I won't have visitors that are "in the neighborhood"; nor do I have to put up with baby daddy every other day (but hey, I still have to put up with his bullshit attitude nearly every other day at a distance.). I do have a few issues with the house that I need to work out and yes, money is tight. Blessings abound but money is tight. And I hate it. But, eh, so long as I'm not drowning in debt and I'm only worrying about drowning in debt, it's cool.

Like, I said the kids love, love love the house. Jaalyn is ecstatic about her room, about having cable, the backyard to play in, a mailbox she can reach and check under my watchful eye. Trinity enjoys climbing the stairs to Jaalyn's room and hanging out up there like a big girl. She also is fond of the door to the room and the upstairs and delights in yelling BAH! (BYE!) and then slamming it. The kittens race all over the house chasing one another from sunup to sundown and throughout the night too. Kadie has more places to hide from the kittens, sabotage the kittens and two litterboxes to piss and shit in and not cover up.

Unpacking is going... slow. I'm not thrilled to be doing it and the more boxes I open the more I wonder why I hauled the shit with me in the first place. I see a yard sale in the very near future.

My mood has fluctuated much in the last month or so. I hover between angst and depression with a pinch of anger thrown in and an occasional sprinkle of euphoria. The anger is not due to the move or anything, but just stupid and ignorant bullshit I've dealt with in the past several weeks from everything from Trinity's daycare to things people have said to set me off. Also a bit of anger from my gem of a landlord, who in fairness may not have realized or known about the problems I've found in the house and I honestly don't think he would've knowingly rented the house to me (in this condition) had he known. The depression stems from... a lot, and we'll just leave it at that for now.

But more on that later. More topics for discussion at a later date and time:
-Why Comcast still blows big hairy donkey balls.
-Why my neighbor's barking dog needs to be shot, not for barking, but for pooping in my flower bed directly under a window. Actually, why shoot the dog, let's aim for the teenage boy that watches the dog shit and not clean it up, tell me, or divert the mutt from shitting there in the first place.
-What exactly is this place zoned as since I've passed not just houses, but cow farms, goats, farmland and the neighbor across the street has a dog that barks and with every bark there is a cluck from a still unseen chicken? WTF? I think I've gone beyond suburbia and went straight country.

All this and more, so stay tuned.

Thoughts...

There's been a very good reason I haven't been posting. Remember all those positive vibes I've been emoting lately? All that optimism? It's not exactly gone but let's just say I'm a bit more... bitchy these days. I'm not slipping and it's not that I'm not enjoying life, the house, etc.

It's just that the move wasn't exactly the way I'd hope it would be. Then again, does a move ever go according to plan? I moved via Smartbox which seemed like a fabulous idea at the time.

Untitled Post #2

So, in effort to continue my disgustingly upbeat and optimistic persona, I've gone and done something drastic.

I hired a life coach.

Why? Because I want someone to encourage me, the same way I've always encouraged all my friends and family to reach for the stars, achieve their goals and be ultimately happy and successful in their lives. And if I have to pay someone to do what truthfully, a true friend ought to do, so be it. I can't make my friends behave the way I do or the way that I would like them to. Part of what makes my friends so endearing is their differences in general. But the bottom line is that I want to succeed. I want to be a better mother, a better person, and have a clear cut plan for business, personal and financial success. The person hired is a very close friend and former college classmate and in my eyes is the near epitome of success. I know for a fact that this "coaching" will come not only from a psychological standpoint but also from the heart. I'm actually very excited about it. Yay me.

**********************************************************************************

To continue revealing crap about myself that no one probably cares to know (since I've been told yet AGAIN that I refuse to let people into my heart and mind for whatever reason)...

1. I am afraid of worm-y type creatures like maggots, centipedes, inch worms and the like and will go ballistic if a caterpillar is within a mile of me. I am probably the only person that can spot one on the highway at 60 mph and will swerve to smoosh it with the car. But oddly enough, I am not afraid of earthworms, snakes or other things that typically creep people out like spiders. I find them fascinating.

2. I love going to multicultural events, especially outdoor festivals, museums, art galleries, book readings and speakers. If I do have the chance to attend any events I almost always go alone since no one I know of would enjoy those activities with me. If I do take anyone, it's usually my dad.

3. I hate shopping. I can probably count on one hand the number of times I've either a) wanted to go out shopping, b) not considered shopping to be the most detested chore on the planet, second only to toilet scrubbing by hand, or c) enjoyed a simple (and by simple meaning I can go in, find what I want, pay for it and leave) shopping trip.

4. I actually enjoy political arena and were it not for scandalous events in my past and the fact that I work for the Gov't I'd run for office myself. As it happens, I'd settle for speech writer, advisor or something out of the spotlight.

Aaand... it's quittin' time once again on this here plantation so you'll have to wait with baited breath for my next startling revelations.

Ha!

I'm still on my upbeat high. Loving every minute of it. Getting closer to moving day and I'm actually enjoying packing this time around. Thinking of having a fresh start in both mind, body and home is invigorating.

I'm on track to make all the positive changes I need in life. I'll be on the road to finishing my degree; moving into a new (for me) house; regularly killing myself at the gym with a personal trainer; and hopefully getting a new(er) car and dumping my ole reliable Hyundai, aka the Purple Pussy. Purging heart and home of negative things and people, useless junk and bad memories.

All that optimism is just sickening isn't it? But I feel good. DAMNED good.

It hasn't been all good though. The kids have both been sick and so have I. Their father still behaves like a giant asshole and my mother... *sigh* There are just no words to describe that situation. My parents lives depresses and oppresses me and causes constant worry. But that's another post entirely and I'm trying to keep this one upbeat. Looking through my archives I've very few upbeat posts unless I'm talking about the children.

And speaking of the girls, we've been having a fabulous time. We've been visiting fun places and I've been more spontaneous with them than I have been in a long time. I find that I yell less (a little bit) and I laugh more now. Occasionally I see them cast furtive glances at one another, usually when they've done something that they think I'll blow up over and it makes me sad. Makes me realize how hard I have been on them whilst going through that PPD period. I'm working hard to reverse those feelings of insecurity in them.

I took the girls and my dad to see the new house this past weekend. All three of them fell in love with the house and seeing it and walking through it a second time made me feel a bit of fondness for it too. The house isn't really all that bad and with a bit of interior decorating it has a ton of potential. And the backyard... oh God, the girls cried when it was time to go. It was freezing cold that day and all they wanted to do was go and explore that backyard. They went into every corner, under the deck, into the storage shed and found tons of little "treasures": a pile of broken shale, a tiny orange (plastic) cat, a baseball, dandilions and more. Jaalyn pointed out and decreed that a garden will go here, her still unpurchased swing set will go here, a tent will be erected here, etc.

I think I've done a good thing...
*********************************************************************************

On another note, I've begun to notice how little my friends really know about me. I was actually told by one of my friends over the holidays that I was extremely difficult to shop for when it came to gift giving. That statement totally threw me. Me? Difficult to please? I get excited if I receive an old magazine or hand-me-down book and I'm difficult to please? The smallest things bring me joy, even in my previous depressed state. Anyway, my point is, I'm beginning to realize how little people know about me and how little I disclose when it comes to, well, me. Most of my friends are men and admittedly most talk, even friendly banter is sexual. Beyond that, they don't have a clue as to who I really am.

So here are a few things you never knew about me (and for all I know you probably never cared to know...):

1. I am a fantastic cook when I "feel like it". I cook in a traditional Southern, country girl fashion but I can also do a lot of multicultural dishes too.

2. I hate movies, period. I feel like 2+ hours of my life is completely wasted. I will on occasion watch them but never, ever a romance or drama and almost never in a theater. I actually own a ton of DVDs for movies that I thought I'd like and I have not watched a single one.

3. Despite my dislike for movies, I have a deep rooted love for stand-up comedy and at one point in my life I'd considered giving that a try as an alternative career.

4. I love to read but few people know what genres hold my interest.

5. Music moves me in a way that nothing else can. I have to be very careful to the types of music I listen to and when. I dunno, it's like the sounds completely consume me to the point that I will be completely unaware of my surroundings. And I can listen to almost anything from R&B to acid rock or Gregorian chants (which is lovely by the way), but I cannot stand country music. Something about that twanging in my ear that is like pouring vinegar in a wound.

More revelations another day, my work day is done and I've a ton of shit to get done.

A Look Back and a Look Forward...

What. A. Year.

I'll be honest and say that I am happy as hog shit to have 2007 behind me. 2007 sucked for me, emotionally, financially, and every other level in my life, 2007 sucked donkey balls, blew donkey dick, whatever.

I mean there were some high points that year too. My youngest baby, my darling little angel celebrated her first birthday and more milestones than I could count. My oldest, lovely and intelligent angel proved to be so much more than I expected. I could not have been blessed with better children and I thank God each and every day for them... even when I'm pulling my hair out and threatening to set them out on the porch with a "Free to a good home" sign. They make life worth living.

But the end of '07, though challenging, has brought about more positive changes than I ever thought possible. It's like looking at a gem under a microscopic lense; with every turn there was a different facet, a different phase, a different challenge.

And for the first time in two years, I AM READY FOR THE CHALLENGE. Seriously. I've got the whole "BRING IT ON MOTHAFUCKA!" attitude and everything. I feel like ME again and I feel whole and complete and fucking wonderful. Much of it has to do with moving out of the city (my God I cannot WAIT to move!). But overall, I think those pesky hormones are finally leveling off, and I'm shedding that grumpy, gloomy persona that shrouded me for so long.

I'm also shedding friends and associates like there's no tomorrow. I'm not sorry about it either. My little infactuation that I've mentioned several times in this blog has finally been curbed. I never dated him, never kissed him, never sexed him... nothing. Today, via text he told me to go fuck myself because I told him for the LOVE OF FUCKING HEAVEN STOP MASTURBATING IN MY EAR I DO NOT DO PHONE SEX, NO I AM NOT WEARING A THONG, I'VE NO IDEA WHAT COLOR PANTIES I HAVE ON I JUST KNOW THAT THEY'RE CLEAN AND WHY AREN'T YOU WORKING? Jesus. Twenty fucking four years old and doing shit a 13 year old would do. So glad I never gave him the goodies because, not to brag, but I would've never gotten rid of him. Boys (yes boys ) like that seem to go ape shit and hump your leg at every chance after you give them pussy. Fare thee well little master-bates boy and fuck you too. Ignorant damned child.

And in ridding myself of unnecessary associates, I've already completed one of my resolutions for '08. This year I'm aiming for peace, purity and prosperity. Already I'm obtaining peace of mind by removing myself from my detractors and purging certain tangible areas of my life. I aim for simplicity in all things.

My Resolutions, in no particular order:
- Discover my true friends, hold on to them and appreciate them.
- Learn to say Hell Fucking NO to my manipulators.
- Cease procrastinating
- Lose weight because oh Jesus if my ass gets any fucking wider. Actually the ass I can deal with, the muffin top has got to fucking go though.
-Enjoy life more, the way I used to, with my girls. I want to travel, I want to visit, I want to show them and give them the world in an entirely new and different way.
- Promotion, promotion, promotion. Because let's face it, private school ain't getting no cheaper, mama needs a new ride, and baby needs pampers. All about the paper this year. Real talk.
- Love myself more and do some old things I used to enjoy and try some new things I think I'd enjoy.

Resolutions Disclaimer: No where in those resolutions do you see anything about me quitting cussing (dammit), getting a man (why buy the cow when you can get a really good B.O.B** for around $80?), giving up sex (are you kidding me?) or any of that other foolish shit people put in their New Year's Resolutions. I'm not a saint and I don't pretend to try.

**B.O.B = Battery Operated Boyfriend, aka an awesome damned vibrator that doesn't talk, knows all the right spots, doesn't require snuggling or a sandwich or showing him the door

A Little Brighter, A Little Lighter...

Things are looking up just a little bit. I'm hitting some stumbling blocks along the way but I'm doing my best to remain positive and I'm learning as I go along.

Boy, those were two of the most evasive sentences I've written in a long time, no? Let's put it this way, my lease for my townhome is due to expire in January and I've decided not to renew it. Instead I'm taking steps for a major move closer to my daughter's school and farther from my antagonists.

I can't tell you how fucking good that feels.

By making this move I'm considerably increasing my debt, but I'll be renting a home with the option to buy it once my credit situation improves. It's not my ideal home, but it's an excellent starter home and with a few modifications I could net a serious profit whenever I chose to sell it... um, after I buy it first of course. The house itself I dislike. It's a cape cod, a style of home I've never been attracted to, always thinking that it was the most boring of architechural designs. The rooms are awkwardly shaped and placed, the cabinetry in the kitchen is so damned ugly it's a shame. When talking it over with my girlfriend she actually put a hand out over mine and said "Honey, let it go. Shut up about the cabinets already." But, it's got 4 bedrooms, 2 full baths, a small deck, a huge totally fenced in backyard, a large front yard and a ginormous storage shed wired with electricity in the back. The owners live a 1/2 mile down the road (and they are awesome by the way) and the house is located just far enough off the beaten path so that anyone trying to find me will most likely get lost like I did despite my use of Google-fu and Mapquest. We'll be 8 minutes from Jaalyn's school, and it's only another 20 minutes to my job.

And best of all? I'll be so far out that I seriously doubt either of my antagonists will be visiting me frequently. Too far to use the "Oh I was just in the neighborhood" excuse. I'll be at least 45 minutes from baby daddy's house and well over an hour from his job. The house is only reachable (for him) by highway (did I mention he hates driving?) and his car is a little less than reliable. As a matter of fact, his primary excuse for not attending many of Jaalyn's school functions is his car. My mother on the other hand has a good car and loves long drives in the country but she's poor with directions and lazy as hell on top of it all. A quality shared by my baby daddy.

So my heart is singing. I'll be free of them both. I'll be in a safe neighborhood far, far away from mental oppressors, past stalkers, and hoodrats. My outdoor loving girls will have a yard of their own to play in for the first time ever and I'll be on my way to homeownership soon (I hope and pray). I'm afraid of the challenge; afraid of the debt. This is the most I've ever had to pay for rent and I'm desperately afraid of over-extending myself and falling deeper into debt.

But fuck it. I'm taking the plunge and running with it.

So... Again...

So. I took another hiatus from writing. Sue me.

It's been a busy couple of months. I think I've failed miserably from everything I tried to do and then some.

Let's see:

- college dropout? check.
- failure to buy a house? check.
- alienate your children, family and friends? check.
- accept defeat and admit that you're a lousy person, fat to boot, and slink into the worst type of self pity and cry repeatedly about it all? check.

I've sat and cried many nights. Too many nights in my opinion. I've been wallowing in a pity pit. I've screamed and raged and been so depressed I'd have done the unthinkable were it not for my kids. **

But oddly enough I'm okay with things. Every December, or really, the final quarter of the year, is always a terrible time in my life. Even in childhood I can remember being thrilled at the holidays approaching, but having awful sense of dread with it. So, I'm kind of used to the shit hitting the fan. And once I put things into perspective, it's not quite so bad. Things have a way of working out for the good.

But don't get me wrong, I still have those bad days. My depression has never truly departed from me and it's what keeps me from moving forward. I'm determined to beat it but it's very difficult. And though my self esteem is at rock bottom, I'm amused to find myself with several suitors. My darling little infactuation from the past has reappeared and re-stated his, ahem, love for me. He simultaneously amuses me and irritates the shit out of me. I've another friend that has stated he has a serious interest in me and hoped that I felt the same for him (I don't). And then I have another gent that I have had an interest in for quite some time but really never put much stock into that feeling because he was married. Imagine my shock to discover that he is no longer. But even for him, I haven't generated much depth of feeling; perhaps due to my gloomy sadness that I can't seem to shake for the life of me.

That gloom... I wish to be rid of it. It does lift, for days at a time, but then it descends again at the slightest sign of trauma. The part of me that I miss the most is my determination. In the past I was able to make a decision and stick to it or to identify a problem, find a solution and just do it. But I can't seem to do that anymore. I make a decision, then change my mind, and I constantly doubt myself which I positively HATE to do. It's not me, nothing like me to give in to self doubt. Hell, I was the person that would jump into the fire just to see what happens, for it was better to know than not to know and I even earned (rightly) the fucking nickname BLAZE because of it. Because of my blazing personality, because I was the risk taker, the shit talker, the determined one.

And now that part of me is missing. I've gotten my chip back on my shoulder (the man hating chip that is...), I've sort of gotten my esteem just above rock bottom, but that self doubting crybaby shit I can't seem to shake. I miss being firm. I miss being fun. I miss being happy.

I miss being ME.



**And if you thought for one minute I meant suicide you're out of your fucking mind. Anyone that knows me knows I'd never do such a thing. I meant marriage... the fate worse than death.

Not tonight...

Sooo... I took a little hiatus from blogging. Wasn't intentional though. Just had one of those days where I really should've written about a few things but I really didn't feel like it. So I decided not to write that day. And then that day morphed into days and a month and a half later I still don't really feel like writing. I'm forcing myself to do so even now.

A great deal went on the past month or so. I've gone back to college and since dropped out. I've become more active in my daughter's school. I'm freelancing. I'm trying to purchase a home. And I'm still trying to be a supermom, superdaughter and a super employee. Just... a lot. It's been hectic. There've been nights I've cried from sheer exhaustion, frustration, fury or just plain ol' loneliness. There's been days I've been so happy I could burst. There've been many lessons I've learned and mistakes I've made. And I'll write about them, I promise.

Just not tonight.

Emoting...

I hate having emotions.

A fav author of mine once made the comparison of her young self to a giant, sloshing milk filled breast. Meaning, she was so chock full of nurturing compassion and oodles of love she could've exploded; except that she had no one to give it to.

That's how I feel sometimes. I have love. Much love. But I have no one to give it to and that makes me sad.

Hate sad. It's so... not happy. Ha.

Emotions are so dang pesky. I wish I could be rid of mine, with the exception of when it comes to my kids. I wonder can I train myself not to have emotions about anything or anyone except for my children?

When I was in my teens I was indifferent. Didn't care, nothing mattered, dark, despair... a bomb could go off next to me and blow off my left tit and I wouldn't have given two fucks. But didn't we feel that way at that age? No? Just me?

From age 18-20 I'd had a couple of heartbreaks (and rapes) under my belt and I was no longer indifferent. I was a ruthless, cold hearted, down right mean bitch. I dated, I dropped them and didn't give a damn about anyone. I wanted to hurt guys just as much as they hurt me. I wanted to lead them on, turn them on, fuck them stupid and get up and walk away without a backward glance. And I did. Many times. And the insanely funny thing is that I warned each and every guy how this "thing" would work. And each and every guy just knew that he would be different. He would be the one to change things. He would make the ice on my heart melt. And all those "he"'s were dead ass wrong.

But the moment I became pregnant with Jaalyn at age 23 all that changed. All the ice melted off my heart and the moment she entered my arms and turned and looked at me as I first uttered her name I was hooked on this love thing. I never knew you could feel such an intense love for another human being in such a short period of time. And since the Love flood gate was open, I left it that way; thinking that I could get to like this intensity elsewhere in my life.

Not. A. Fucking. Chance. In. HELL.

My God Almighty. I know this much is true: Love hurts. A helluva lot. And even when you think it's gone from your heart for good, even when you try your damnedest to turn it off, you can't.

Or maybe I am not trying hard enough? Right now, I hate loving someone that doesn't love me back. I am sick of loving another woman's man/men. I HATE LOVE. Period. It sucks.

So maybe I should give the cold hearted chick another try, eh? Maybe I should return to those grass roots, dig a little deeper and make sure the roots go down much, much farther so that they can't be removed. Maybe I should build up my impregnable wall of strength, double checking for cracks and let no one in. Except my girls. Sloshing milk filled breast for those two for sure.

But for anyone else? I don't think so. I'm starting to think that cold, mean, bitch is the way to go. Certainly the way to protect the heart. Certainly.

Bring Some Cheese For All This W(h)ine...

Oh my holy hell.

I feel like shit. Total and complete shit. It sucks donkey dick to be a girl sometimes. Period came this morning, totally unexpected and of course the day before I see my physician who was supposed to inspect me from head to toe, inside and out and up the yonni.

Obviously there's one spot he can't go. Damn. Was hoping to get that pesky annual exam over and done with.

But I'm crampy; horribly, horribly crampy. My back is aching, I'm tired as hell and I'm cold which is odd since I've heard people complaining that it's warm in here (at work). My neck aches, knees hurt. Wah, wah, wah. Yes I am a big fat baby. Who knew this thing was going to come today? I figured the early part of next week, but not today. I got the oldest kid to school and was walking down the sidewalk when I felt something amiss. No... NOOOO!!!! Not yet! Was making weekend plans! FUN weekend plans! ADULT FUN weekend plans! With a guy! A really hot, heavily tattooed, adorably accented guy!

Damn, damn, DAMN.

Now I'm bleeding, I'm cold, I'm tired. I need ibuprofen, hot coffee, a nice hot shower and a nap.

Oh man...

I hate YouTube.

I rarely go to the site, and only visited because I was looking at this insanely old video I couldn't recall in the ole memory banks.

And then I looked up another video.

And another...

And I was smiling from the memories. Things I hadn't seen since grade school. Hell, things I hadn't thought of since grade school. School girl crushes on boy bands. Friendship bracelets and jelly shoes. Back when you could buy candy from the ice cream man and getting a boyfriend meant beating his ass on the playground to gain both his attention and respect.

Wow. And man I feel old. I wonder... did we realize how unbelievably WHACK we were back then? As if the fashions weren't bad enough, with the mushroom/gumby hairstyles and biker shorts with tanks and suspenders (Hello, Bobby Brown a la "Every Little Step") and rope chains. But the dances? And the... the... innocence of it all. Despite the corruption everywhere - and back then it was the War on Drugs, not terror- there was a certain underlying innocence that is gone today.

Call me old fashioned, but I miss that.

Funny things my kid says, Pt II

I often let the kids play in some sort of dry food when we're home since I never EVER let them set foot into the sandbox (re: nature's giant litter box) at the playground. Some dried lentils or dry beans and a few scoops and bowls and their happy as pigs in mud.

This afternoon they played in dry oats. Just a plain ole giant tub of old fashioned oatmeal I got for about $2.50 from Food Lion.

Jaalyn tells me she's opening a restaurant and she'll slide me in the back door because her restaurant is VERY expensive and popular (who knew I had a hotspot equivilant to the Ivy in my own living room?).

Jaalyn: Today we are serving Kitten Boodle.
Me: Wha? You're serving what?
Jaalyn: Kitten Boodle. It's got some of everything in it and it's VERY good. We're serving the whole thing today. We only served half of it yesterday.
Me: ... do you mean it's got the "whole kit and kaboodle?"
Jaalyn: Yeah, that's it! We're serving the whole Kitten Boodle today.

And now...

How many times has my finger hovered above the "Delete Blog" button?

I'm not sure why I even keep this blog going. It's taken an entirely different direction than I intended. I wanted it to be one thing but it's morphed into a far more personal journal; more personal than I ever expected.

I suppose the biggest "fear" I have, which I know I share with many other bloggers, is that fear of being judged. Yes, I write what I am feeling, but it's not a true embodiement of who I am as a person or an accurate summation of my character. On the other hand, I don't really care how I am judged for the exact same reasons stated. Because I know that this blog is not a full representation of me.

When I write, I write how I feel. Whether it's happiness, or anger, frustration, depression... it's all very spur-of-the-moment. Just as a diary would be. Only this diary is open to the world and some very mean people.

So, I don't know. This may be my last entry. I may decide to print the things I wrote about the kids, tuck it away in their baby books and delete this blog altogether. May decide to start up another. I'm not sure.

So...

*Inhales deeply*

*Exhales slowly*


Now, don't we all feel just a lil bit better? Having gotten all sorts of shit off our chests?

No?

Me neither but hey, it's a new day. Lots of sunshine outside, plenty of heat and the world is full of lovely half naked creatures to gawk at.

I'm doing my best to keep my head up. Doing my best to stay upbeat. I think this evening when I go home I will put Beyonce's DVD into the player, crank up the volume and watch the little ones shake their little booties. Jaalyn knows nearly every move for "Upgrade U" and when "Get Me Bodied" comes on... I get a cramp in my stomach from laughing at Trinity. I mean that diapered butt gets to bouncing, hands clapping and arms akimbo that girl gets it.

Those two are enough to make my spirits soar on any given day. Then again they are also enough to put me in the nuthouse on the other given days.

I'll post pictures of them soon. Just as soon as I can get my brand spanking new Dell fixed.

Congratulations Honey! You made the BLOG!!!

This post is dedicated to one and only one person because I can't effectively say what I would like to over email. At work. In public. And refrain from screaming obscenities.

Hence the reason I have not called you to tell you EXACTLY how I feel. So much more mannerable to do it in written form.

All those not involved in this little tete a la tete you can go bout your merry way...

And honestly if you don't know WHO you are... well then you're about as dense as dino shit. If you suspect it's you...

It's YOU.

It's funny. We've been beefing for the past several days over some really stupid shit. Well, to me it's stupid because it started from fabrication effectively spun by your idiotic co-worker and you despite your lofty intellect took the bait, hook, line and sinker.

So let's just lay it all out on the table m'kay?

We've been kicking it for what? about 2 years? Which not-so-ironically is the amount of time you and your bitc... ahem, lady have been together. (to my lovely readers, if you could not tell, I do not like her. At all.) And we've known each other perhaps almost a year prior to that.

It took me a while to admit how I felt about you. The feelings were always there but I was afraid of being hurt again. By the time they'd bubbled to the surface you were already involved with her. But, as you said, it wasn't anything serious. So, hey, I thought I had a shot.

Fast forward to you telling me you didn't know who you wanted. Then you said you knew who you wanted and it wasn't me. You opted to see where things would go with her.

Insert knife into heart <here>.

It hurt but I did my best to accept it. My love for you never dissipated. We talked about it and I agreed to be the other woman.

That was big assed mistake Numero Uno. Will make mental note to get "FUCKING IDIOT" tattooed upon forehead...

Ordinarily, I'm a good "other" woman. But the depth of my love for you made me jealous. A new experience for me. And bitter.... Reeeaaaallly bitter. So when, in a moment of anger you threw the "Well, it could've been you if you'd done this that and the other" oh hell fucking no. I wasn't even available at the time you expressed interest in me and unlike SOME FUCKING PEOPLE I remain faithful to the one I'm with until the relationship is over. Ah...Remember those arguments?

Ah, the good ole days... of earlier this year.

Fast forward to the end of last week. The straw that broke the camel, that fine line that was crossed, the piss in my Cheerios... you get the point. You listen to O.F. (note: use of initials to protect the stupid) and the bullshit he spouts. Not only do you listen to him but you believe that shit.

The fuck? Are you out of your fucking mind? What in the name of all that is holy is fucking wrong with you? Why would I want such a troglodyte? A lying, cheating married fucker that's shallower than that prick Pangman? I said he was cute once. He shows up at my cube unannounced. Call me crazy but some people would consider that stalking. And then when he gets here all his advances are rebuffed. He calls, I don't call back. He brags, I tell him I'm uninterested. He pursued, I dodged.

Someone out there that's sane, please tell me how this means I want this man in particular.

Oh I see. I love one cheater that must mean I love them all right? After all I am the whore of the Center aren't I? So says Pangman. And Johnson. And Parker. And a host of others.

And then to suggest that you're just looking out for me and don't want me to waste my time and energies on someone that's obviously not good for me.

*crickets*

Yeeeeaah... okay. I appreciate ya lookin' out for this feebleminded ole gal but honey I could tell long before you returned from the academy that Mr. I-gots-me-a-Lexus wasn't bout shit. The fact that you told me he was married only cemented the idea of him being a wholly big assed egotistical jerk.

But good lookin' out.

And then came the statement that totally threw me for a loop: "...in no way shape or form are he and I alike, except the fact we both are interested in you, but even that is for different reasons. You can say we both cheat but that is generic."

*even the crickets went silent on that one*

Generic? GENERIC?! Cheating is cheating is cheating. You can't one up when you both do the exact same fucking thing. He married and he cheats. You've got a bitch, chick, whatever the fuck you call her and you CHEAT. WHERE THE FUCK IS THE GODDAMNED DIFFERENCE?!

Sorry... lost the happy persona.

No, I'm not sorry. Look, if you don't like how he carries himself when it comes to me this is my assvice: Stop listening. It's just that fucking simple. But this isn't about him, at least I don't think it is. It goes far deeper but fuck it. It's not worth scratching the surface because it's a waste of time. You are with her. You made your choice and I have to accept it. And to be truthful, I told you a while back that even if you were free at this moment I still wouldn't want you. You didn't want me then, I don't believe you want me now. So fuck your bitch and be happy about your decision. Hey, you could always marry her and then be JUST like O.F.

And yes, I've been mean to you the past several days. There's a good reason for that.

1. I'm angry.
2. I'm bitter. Verrrry bitter. Not just about you. About all men that knife up a heart till it's bloody but still say they care.
3. I'm still angry. You insulted my pride first when you chose Casey over me. I could deal with that. I can nurse my pride and creep to a corner to lick my wounds. But this time? You insulted my intellect. You believed an asshat over me, despite my attempts to keep you well informed. That was what truly pissed me off and makes me think you don't have a shred of respect for me.

And you my dear have succeeded in giving O.F. exactly what he wanted. A nice deep wedge between you and I. That was his goal all along and he won.

And you won. Because you still have someone to retreat to. So I'm the loser all the way 'round.

Looo-zer. Yep, that's me. But it's cool though.

An aside... was listening to Mary J in the car. God that woman can blow can't she? I think that Mary was her best album to date. That was the scorned woman's anthem of the late 90s. I particularly love "The Love I Never Had" and for you, my love, my not-love, the never-mine love, I dedicate it to you.

The Love I Never Had
Artist: Mary J. Blige
Album: MaryYear: 1999

You know sometimes
There come a time in your life
When you love something
You have to let it go
And even though
You might feel there's still something there
You have to wake up
Stop living in a dream
Cause it's over now
You got to think about you

I have always wondered why,
Why I can't live without you babe
And I'm longing to be your lady
I understand that you are leaving
Please don't live here without me babe
Cause I think I might go insane

Chorus:
Cause everybody needs someone to love
And I know that it's true
And I know that it's you
I don't understand
Why you can't be my man
So I better wake up
Stop living in a dream
Yes I better wake up
Cause I can't lose the love I never had
Oh I better wake up
As painful as it seems
Yes I better wake up
I cannot lose the love I never had

Every time I close my eyes
I see visions of you and I
Sharing love of a special kind
I got to laugh to keep from crying
To hide all the pain inside
Cause I can't get you off my mind

Chorus

Oh it made me realize
But you don't know how hard I tried
What do I have to lose?
Oh I think a little bit more than you
And I doubt you will see things clearly
Before it's too late

Chorus

All the times I've cried
It made me realize
That I was only living a lie
But you don't know how hard I tried
To make sure you were satisfied
yeah
Cause I thought you were only mine (Correction: I NEVA thought that shit.)
And I doubt if you will see things clearly
Before it's too late, too late, too late
I don't understand why you can't be my man
Oh everybody needs somebody to love
Everybody needs somebody
yeah
Oh, do do do
Baby, I can't live with you
And I doubt that you will see things clearly
Before it's too late, yeah
Oh you hurt me so, you hurt me soI can't lose, I can't loseI can not lose, I can not lose
Oh I can't lose a love I never had
---------------------------------

Remember the story of Sleeping Beauty? She slept 100 years waiting for Prince Charming to kiss her awake.

Honey, fuck Prince Charming. I'm kissing myself awake and I'm seeing things VERY clearly.

I love you still. I always will.

We can be friends, never again will we be lovers though. My heart can't take it and neither can my pride.

Kids say the darnedest things...

Mo-ooom! Come here! I got a mergency!

Me: A what??

I hit my big toe, take me to the hospital it’s a mergency!

*******

I know where fish heaven is mommy. It’s right here (points to stomach). Because when they die we eat them so heaven must be here in my tummy. It must be where pig heaven, cow heaven and chicken heaven are too.

******
Our neighbor three apts down has 5 (five!) albino pythons. He had one draped around his neck and we (the kids and I) stared and spoke to him from a distance. He went into his apartment briefly and emerged with another, larger snake which he placed on the ground so it could exercise and explore a bit. I asked could I let the girls come over to see it and he acquiesced. Jaalyn stopped about 5 feet from the snake and announced “You know what? I can see it just fine from here.” The snake had other ideas though since she continued to make a beeline for my feet. Trinity stared and stared at the snake while I repeated “See the snake? See? See SNAKE?!” as if she could possibly miss the giant 14 foot yellow snake slithering towards us.

Trinity stared at it, pointed and yelled “SEE MOMMY?! SEE KITTY! KITTY-KITTY!”

“Uh, no baby, it’s a snake. S-N-A-K-E.”

*looks at snake*

*looks at me incredulously*

*sighs and shakes head*

“Kitty, mama…”

***********

I swear if I didn't have my girls to keep me going I'd go totally bonkers. Come to think of it, sometimes I think I'm totally bonkers because of my kids so I guess that means that I'm cancelling out something somewhere. But they are always a source of happiness and laughter for me. Whether it's Jaalyn's thoughtful theories of fish heaven or a discussion about how everyone, even the divine Beyonce poops and has to wipe their butt, or watching Trinity dance to anything remotely musical. I swear that girl is so much like me. She can find the melody in any noise, whether it's water rushing out of the drainspout, cicadas singing in the trees or the jingles of the neighborhood ice cream truck. That diapered booty gets to shaking, knees bend and lately she's added a head bop that would put the best acid rock head banger to shame. Sends me into peals of laughter and delight every time I see it. One day I will have to post a video of her dancing to Beyonce's "Get Me Bodied" video. When the "pat yo weave ladies" part comes on... believe me, if you're not laughing at her you'll be flinching from the enthusiastic way she, uh, pats.

I seem to be losing more friends nowadays. Some I'm voluntarily letting go and others are blowing up in my face. I think I lost one Friday over something un-fucking-believable. (I wrote about it here.) But I suppose if the friendship is lost over something so damned stupid, perhaps it wasn't true to begin with. Very difficult to have a platonic friendship after you've sampled the merchandise. Perhaps that friendship should've been put to rest a while ago. After Friday I think you could stick a fork in it though; it's done.

Another friendship thats unraveling at the seam involves my BFF (I totally feel like an ass using such a trendy phrase.) but I think I will have to discuss that at another time. Kiddos are antsy and they come first before blogging.

More musings...

Enough of the sappy stuff, let's get back to what we all know and love, eh? My bitching, moaning and whining.

You know, I am more than willing enough to admit I am having a serious issue with depression. As a matter of fact, I'd written about it in a previous post before Blogger's "Autosave" devoured it. And since I'm in a self deprecating mood this morning, let's explore that issue in-depth.

And yes, this is more for my benefit than any of my reading audience's and well... whatever. Don't like it, skip on to the next blog. I won't be mad or blame you if you do.

Still here?

So I sat back and thought how long have I had this lethargy of mine, how long my house has been in it's current state (more on that in a bit) and how long I've been fighting this overwhelming sadness and defeatest (defeatist? is it even a word??) attitude of mine.

And by my calculations that answer would be somewhere around January 2005. Helluva long time to be sad. In January 05, specifically the 22nd of that month, I miscarried. My baby fell into my palm and my whole world caved in on me. Naturally I mourned the loss and was confused as to why it happened. I made my peace with it, got into a whirlwind relationship that unraveled nearly as fast as it developed and eventually decided that my doctors were correct when they said the fastest way to get past the terrible loss of one child is to create another. My lost child will never, ever be forgotten, but the creation of the newest helped me move past that awful pain and I did indeed desperately want another child.

Then came the first trimester and the bleeding. Miscarriage overted, yay yay yay, on to the second trimester... yay, yay, yay. On to the third trimester, yay, yay.... uh-oh. What's that in the baby's stomach? A blockage? A tumor? Will the fetus survive? What the hell did I do God to deserve this agony and worry? The baby was fine, wasn't bothered by whatever it was but my heart, my nerves, my God. I worried myself sick, didn't look forward to the birth because I was too worried that the nurses would yank the baby out of my womb and then whisk her off to surgery before I would even get to hold her. And there was no guarantee she'd survive the surgery either since they weren't sure what the hell they were removing. Then she was born, beautiful and healthy, except for a dead, twisted ovary. Into the NICU at two days old, operated on at 5 days old and on morphine for 2 more days before being released to my waiting arms. Oh my God.

Bring on the postpartum depression, full blast. Dedication and determination to breastfeed Trinity until her first birthday prevented me from getting medication to help me get through the hormonal nightmare. Quit the booby love the week of her birthday this June and now... I've gotten medication. And quit it. And gotten more. And quit it. It seems the medications I've been on have this nasty side effect. While the first one made me feel GREAT it also made my throat constrict to the point I couldn't eat more than three bites of a meal and I'd gag when I yawned. And since I have this thing about breathing and being alive I stopped the medication. Tried another that made me feel, eh, okay, but it too had the same side effect. Not as drastic but still the same throat closing issue. Not due to go back to the doctor until the 31st so... I'm stuck in limbo until then.

And Thursday I was reading one of those Dear Help-Me-Out columns online (did I ever mention my obsession with those things? Love them.) and someone had written in about their home. How slovenly they'd become in the past several years; they wish they could have company and friends over but they were too embarrassed; how it was WAY more than packrat paradise and clutterbug cave but extended to trash, dirty dishes and their mom had a house where you could eat off her floors my God what's the problem? Oh and by the way Miss-so-and-so I've been fighting depression for a while.

*forehead slap*

Forgot bout that one. Makes sense though. When I am happy, I have no problem keeping every aspect of my life clean. But lately instead of operating out of logic, as I used to do, I operate off pure emotion. One minute I'm happy and the next I'm in the bottom of gloom lagoon. It's terrible. I can't imagine how people that are bipolar must feel. And to make matters worse I have all sorts of catalysts to trigger my plummeting spirits that I can't rid myself of. Primary antagonist du jour is my mother. I swear sometimes I wonder if she didn't pick me up off a doorstep or something. I can't be that woman's biological child, the way she treats me. I've never known anyone so discouraging, disparaging and more. But short of cutting her off completely, which I don't think I could ever fully do since we do work at the same place, I don't think I could ever rid myself of her.

So, all of this is to say, I am understanding more about my depression, but I haven't set a path of reconstruction yet because I just don't know how to. I want a quick fix for this, but I know there is none. Just like everything else it will take time.

And even if I can't rid myself of my primary antagonist, I can rid myself of other negative things and people that do me more harm than good. Right?

I just don't know anymore.