Bah Humbug

I'm in a foul mood, and have been since Tuesday. On the one hand, professionally, I am on top of the world. I'm getting a great new office space and it's bigger and better than anything I could have hoped for. I am truly excited for this, and I get happy butterflies thinking about it, and talking about it apparently makes me glowy. 

That doesn't change the fact that this time of year always bums me out a bunch. I get wonderful tokens of appreciation from people that I flutter in and out of their lives that makes my heart smile, but to the people that hold the most real estate in my heart, I get their leftovers. I don't do things so people will do things for me, that is a gross way to live life. That doesn't change the fact that every time I give someone a gift that I put a little bit of myself into, and in return I get their scraps nice enough to pass off as gifts, that it stabs me deep inside. 

It goes back to something I mentioned a couple of posts ago, if I am constantly pouring myself out, but there's nothing to refill me, eventually there will be nothing left but a shell. 

Luckily my birthday is towards the end of the year, as well as these heart-wrenching holidays, so I only have to feel like this all at once for a couple of months. Come the end of January/beginning of Febuary I will have gotten over these sad pity me feels, just in time for me to start planning birthday gifts for the ones I love. 

Wash, rinse, repeat. 

(Next post, I'll word vomit some happy on you)

The Other Kind of Block....

A handful of posts back I mentioned a brief stent of writer's block where no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't figure out how to get the words out of my brain so I got stalled. That is no longer the case, but I currently am dealing with the exact opposite problem; too many ideas.

I want to write about how it was starting my business, and I want to write about my coffee obsession, I want to write about toxic relationships and how strong people can still find themselves in bad relationships. I want to successfully write a fluff piece based on a prompt. I want to work on my side project and push through that because it's important. I recently realized why I dislike the holidays and that would make a FANTASTIC blog post if I could calm myself down. I want to write about feeling like a walking life lesson, and how that kinda sucks sometimes.

That little "paragraph" (sorry English majors) is a small sample of some of the things in different parts of progress that I'm currently working on. With the exception of my project each of those things are ::mostly:: done, or could be within an hour (plus an editor's eyes) if I could just pick one.

Wanna know a secret?

I'm scared.

Writing scares me. I love it, I feel like I have potential to do something with all the words swirling around my brain, and I want so badly to write something meaningful that changes someone's life for the positive. BUT. What happens if I succeed and then never have another thought worth sharing again? Or, what if I'm wrong and I'm just some foolish gal sharing her crazy anonymously through the internet, just another red dot on a map somewhere? If I can stop myself before I succeed then it all stays a what if, but keeping consistent, and going after what I really want means there's a chance for it to go either way. It could be amazing, or it could be a disaster.

Wanna know another secret?

"If I can stop myself before I succeed then it all stays a what if, but keeping consistent, and going after what I really want means there's a chance for it to go either way. It could be amazing, or it could be a disaster. " Doesn't just apply to my writing. I have been a huge coward in a lot of ways in my life, and I hate it so much. This is my MO, right here: want something, go for it, get a taste of success, get scared, self sabotage, fail, throw small pity party over losing something I never really had. I am trying so hard right now not to turn and run away from the things I want, and instead I'm at least standing facing my wants, sometimes taking steps forward.. No steps backwards at least, but still.

I am a grown woman facing a lot of hopes and goals and desires all at once. I am scared shitless. And trying really hard not to run away.

Swings

As long as I can remember, I have been telling stories. In second grade we wrote and illustrated our own stories. I wrote a story about 3 little girls, princesses, who were slaves to their evil father the king. The oldest was able to save the day, and they all lived happily ever after. My teachers heavily edited my story when the words went from my pencil to the computer, but that's not relevant to the specific story I'm telling now.

As I got older, I started heavily reading to avoid reality, and my stories stayed mostly in my head as distractions for when I was doing any activity that books didn't fit into (like dish washing for example, I gave the utensils their own stories and lives to lead as they went through the wash). It's kinda my MO, life gets scary: crack open a book. Live somewhere else for a while, feel someone else's emotions for a while, and just pretend reality can be found between these pages.

Sometimes that wasn't enough though, even with any number of combinations of my vices to indulge. Sometime reality demanded my attention. So I would go to the playground, find an empty swing set and fly. The rhythm of the swing set creaking, slow, steady, calm. I would pump as hard as I could, going as high as possible, for as long as possible. The harder I pushed, the quieter my brain became, and once I had pushed myself to the point of physical exhaustion I could think clearly.

As an adult, anytime I've felt like my brain was going to explode, I've gone to a swing set. Tonight, I went to swing and instead of clarity I just felt lonely. Every other part of the experience was the same, right down to when I jumped off, except the clear thought was " Why aren't you talking to so and so about this?"
 Well, how about the fact that it's 1:15 in the morning brain? Or that just because I'm having an internal freak out about things of various importance that doesn't make it equal to others, especially factoring in the clock again? Or how about the fact that knowing what you need is an entirely different skill set than obtaining said need?


This was supposed to make me feel better. It didn't help as much as I had hoped. But it helped a little, so it counts.

Is Original Thought Dead?

So I spend a lot of time reading opinion pieces. This isn't to say that I don't stay current in events that happen, just that when I want to expand my brain, I do it by comparing my thoughts to others. I firmly believe that if you don't ever challenge your own beliefs you don't really believe it, you're just regurgitating someone else's thoughts and ideas.

It's almost a year since I went from 2 player to 1 player and I'm constantly looking at past decisions and thought processes, deciding what's worth keeping around and what needs to be kicked to the mental curb.. So yesterday I came across an opinion piece written by a gal who is just as scatterbrained as me, but in her own unique way. Similar in age, trying to find her best fit in the world. She was writing about how she's sick of listicles about what people are looking for in relationships, and how they mostly consist of basic foundation pieces that Any ::Healthy:: relationship should have: Mutual Respect, Boundaries, Feeling Safe to Express Yourself, Honesty, Faithfulness, etc.. and if that's your list, you fail at life. (She was nicer. Kinda). She argued that when looking at the people that surround you, you should probably be more choosey than just "Treats me Like an Actual Person". Then in pure irony, she went to list some very specific to her things she looks for in the people she spends her time with.

Her article spoke to me, so I wrote a quick little sentence of appreciation in the comment section. One little sentence and apparently it angered someone enough to accuse me of not thinking for myself. I snarked back, but the accusation has stuck with me.

English has existed since about the 5th Century according to Wikipedia, and we are living in the 21st. That is a long time for a language to exist. And before that? Language has been around as long as people have, and each and every one of us have had thoughts to be expressed to others. (Traditionally referred to as conversation.) Are we really supposed to assume that no one has ever shared a thought with us? I remember being 19 or 20, and having this terrific idea for cats that would let them get petted, even when no one was home. I kept it close to the vest, because I was afraid someone would steal it and make it a reality before I could come up with the materials. Guess what... It exists. And I'm not the one who brought it to the market. Someone else had the same idea as me, and was able to make it a reality. Good on them!

So here's the rub. If I read a story, or hear a song that makes my lungs catch, is it wrong to want to share it? If someone else is able to perfect craft something that causes me to leap with appreciation that someone else out there has felt what I have felt, do I really need to try to come up with my own words? Why? I'm not talking about plagiarism here, because word theft is still theft, but if someone else has the words and has shared them, why is it such a crime to share them as well? I see my friends sending full or partial lyrics to the ones they're dating, and even recently I had a dear friend share with me the artist Meg Myers because Myers is intense and helped her through some shit. (Total side tangent, I love her. The first time I heard her song Monster I felt like I already knew the lyrics. Her song Desire ripped strips of my soul from me.) Besides wanting to roll our general eyes at the mooneyed couples being all goopy, no one thinks twice about this common practice.

Why is that more acceptable that saying "Hey! You put a lot of thought into this, I can relate to this."? I know. I know. Trolls are trolls, and you should never feed them, but this isn't just because of some one off. All the time, people are stuck with words in their throats, not sure quite how to form our thoughts and emotions, because they either sound too much or not enough so we stay silent. Instead of accusing others of being robots who can't think for themselves, why not appreciate that even if you personally might not agree with the thought being shared, be happy that someone found relief by someone else's words?



So here we are, at the end of my train of thought, and I think I was able to get it all out in a way that makes sense, but here's my big flaw. I do not know how to end this. Or really anything I write. Conclusions are my kryptonite. Maybe when I'm next feeling like pretending I'm deeper than I really am, I'll spin it into a positive, but for now, I'm going to say Until Next Time! and end with a smiley.

Until Next Time!! :)

Achievement Unlocked

My son is currently on a two week vacation with his father, visiting some family clear on the other side of the country. I'm glad that they have this time, and even though it's been borderline tough for me, it's also been really good. I wrote an article about things parents are sick of hearing about while he was gone, and it sparked an important conversation with my son's father. (You can read the article here if you want) My ex feels that I don't write about him, and that through his eyes, it looks like I try to act like he isn't involved.

That has NEVER been my intent, and just in case that is what it looks like to more than him, let me explain. My writing is about my life experiences, and how I interpret them. When our relationship was falling apart, I was writing about it, but not publicly, out of respect for him. When I first started writing again, he asked me not to write about him because it made him uncomfortable. For the majority of things, I have honored his wishes, and when I do write about our relationship, I focus on where I failed. Same when I talk about it with other people. Knowing where I failed is arguably more important than knowing where he failed, because if I ever am to grow as a person I have to look at myself under the microscope before placing anyone else there.

TL;DR: He's involved, we both love our son very much, but out of respect for his privacy, I don't talk about him a lot.

---------

If someone was to say negative things about me, the least believable would be to call me selfish. One of my biggest faults is my need to justify my actions for almost anything. I attempt to please as many people as possible, while still maintaining my own sense of self. I'm kinda a walking contradiction here, because so many pieces of who I am at the core of my being makes others uncomfortable, but other than my core beliefs that are non-negotiable, I will totally go out of my way to make sure everyone else's needs are properly addressed before even acknowledging my own.

I've gotten to a point in my growth where I can say out loud: "I need/want ::insert need/want here::" which is pretty great, but I don't know how to go about going after said needs/wants. Usually, when I decide to do something I usually have a list of reasons why I am doing it, justifying that it is ok for me to be going after it. This is not the case right now.

At this very moment, I am sitting at an undisclosed location, where only 4 people know where I am. I decided to call this experience a Secret Spy Mission, because I don't want anyone to know where I am, because I may or may not be in a closer proximity than usual to certain things, and I would then feel obligated to interact. This weekend is not for obligations. I am having a selfish weekend. I am where I am for the weekend, and the only reason I am here is because I want to be. I closed up shop completely, gave my staff the weekend off and went ::poof::. I can't tell you the last time I did something just because I wanted to, and it feels good. Everything I have done/will do between yesterday and Sunday is because of the simple desire of me wanting to do it.

I'm not going to start being totally self-indulgent, and self centered in all that I do, because my genetic makeup will not allow me to do that, but I think it has to be ok to treat yourself to things with no other reason other than the desire to do so. Maybe not all the time, but it probably shouldn't be a once in a while thing either. Balance should exist.

So, now that I have this no longer rattling in my brain, I'm going to go enjoy some nicotine, and decide between working on my next article, watching S3 of VGHS, or something else entirely..... Until next time!

The Debate I'm Having (With Myself) Over the Importance of Titles...

I pretty much have an opinion on everything. Well, everything I have even a partial story on at least. Usually, once my mind is made up it stays that way unless I either witness/experience something to change my mind, or have an intelligent conversation with someone that opens my eyes to a thought process I hadn't considered. Right now, the subject is titles, and the intelligent conversation is with myself. ;)

Titles have always been super meaningful to me. I am the Oldest of Nine, and that is a title that I use to partially define myself. Family titles are like the royalty of titles. Family is the one thing you are supposed to have no matter what else is thrown your way. It's supposed to be that unbreakable bond.

I remember when I had already left my mom's house as an "adult", coming over to celebrate one of my sisters' birthday. It was a bunch of her friends, my mom, our other sister, the lady that rents a room from my mom, and my sisters' grandparents. I watched as the birthday girl kept talking to her "Grandma" (the lady that rents a room from my mom) while her actual grandma sat in a chair, jumping to attention every time her title was used, and slumping each time she realized that not only was she being ignored, her title, her special name, was being used on a stranger with no actual ties to our family. Granted, the lady has now lived in my mom's house for over a decade, but when this had happened the lady had recently moved in. I vowed to never call someone by a title they didn't rightfully have.

Rewinding the clock a bit, when I was old enough to talk to my mom about the boys I was kissing, my mom gave me very clear guidelines to follow. Basically, going on a date with someone does not automatically mean you are in a committed relationship. Going on multiple dates does not equal boyfriend/girlfriend status. Conversations are required for either of those things to happen, and she told me that if I liked someone enough to make out with them, I should probably make sure we're only making out with each other. (I was 15 when I was given that advice, that's about as serious as she wanted me getting with anyone). That carried over to my dating life as an adult, where just because you asked me to dinner, that didn't mean we were a couple. I've always been pretty ambiguous when there's no titled attached, BUT you throw a title onto something, and I follow the title to a T.

So I bet at this point you're wondering what my point is.

One of my sisters temporarily lost custody of her children. One of my dearest friends and her husband became the foster parents of said children. They raised those children for about a year (sharing time with my sister while she went through the steps to get them back), while building bonds with the kids and their family members. These children are my son's cousins. My friend has nieces and nephews, which for simplicity purposes became the foster kids' cousins. My son is now calling my dear friend "Aunt" because that is the title you have for the person who is raising your cousins. I'm not going to lie, the first time I heard it, it made me uncomfortable.

Sunday, I had a family day with my son and his dad, AND my friend, her husband, and my niece and nephew. It got the wheels turning a bit. This woman has been there for me through some pretty heinous stuff over the past decade or so, and she went out of her way to keep my niece and nephew from being separated by the system, knowing fully that by taking on my sister's children, even in the best case scenario her heart would end up shattered. How is this woman not my family? Because we aren't blood related? I call bull. If there was a title I could give her stronger than aunt for my son, I would give it.

I guess I still stand in the corner of titles are important, but I think I've realized that just because you are born into a title doesn't mean you get to keep it.

Life is kinda like a cloud puzzle. Everyone is a different piece, shifting around, figuring out where they belong. A lot of the pieces sometimes look alike, and sometimes pieces even manage to sort of fit together, but when you find the right spot for the all the pieces, it looks pretty great, and you'll wonder how you ever thought it was supposed to look different than the end result.

And now, even though I really enjoy that last paragraph, I wonder if anyone else will find it relevant to this post. (I'm keeping it though, because I enjoy it.)

Late Night/Early Morning Ramble....

When I was younger, I used to love my birthday. I would throw a party every year and it would be one of the highlights of my year. Actually, I really enjoyed all the holidays, but birthdays were always my favorite. Two or three years in a row I threw my mom a surprise party (once it even stayed a surprise until the day of the party!) 

Somewhere along the line, that changed, and all holidays, especially my birthday became huge hassles to me. Was it the year I had the chicken pox for my birthday? Maybe. At the very least that was the start of my declined interest in celebrating, but the real defining moment where I clearly remember being totally done was when I was in high school. 

The guys in our lunch group made me a card, and it was sweet, until I opened it. They drew me as a cow, and came over when they saw I was reading it just to throw pieces of their pizza at me. There was also a cowbell involved, as well as moo-ing but I'm not sure what happened to the bell. Before that moment, I thought those guys were my friends, and even afterwards it was treated as a non-issue. A little after my birthday we had a half day and all went to McD's. I got my revenge, but I'm not proud of my actions, so let's just say my response made us even, and they never gave me a present again. 

For the longest time, the less attention I called to my birthday, the less horrible it seemed to be. As technology has advanced, I've even gone as far to hide my birthday from the social networks so not to be bombarded with sincere and not so sincere well wishes. 

Sooooo, what's the point? I don't know. I still really enjoy doing things for other people's birthdays, and I really like the idea of a day dedicated to making someone feel special, but the idea of my birthday being treated that way makes me extremely uncomfortable. Ugh. I sound like one of two things. Either like a whiny passive aggressive girl trying to trick people into making a big deal (gag me with a spoon) or like a depressed annoying person. 

Anyway, believe it or not, I'm actually planning on doing my best to not be a hag about it this year. I'm probably still hiding it from social media, but I'm making a concious decision not to go out of my way to avoid it. That's something right? ;)

When You're On A Roll....

Eventually you stop. And that is exactly what happened to me! I was writing A LOT, making tons of progress, and then one day BANG! Writer's Block. So I tried to change what I was writing about, and failed pretty spectacularly. The small amount of writing I managed was so bad I deleted them completely.

I'm still fighting a bit of a block, but I'm feeling triumphant right now which means if I had someone around right now I would be word vomiting on them. BUT, it's Friday night and I'm mom to a toddler so you get my word vomit instead! Betcha feel lucky huh?

So my block is caused by the fact that I'm still nervous about sharing my truths. One of the smartest people I've ever met sent me this quote semi recently:
 "You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better." -Anne Lamott

Problem is, the people I can write warmly about would probably be confused at the depth of regard I hold them in, and writing about the other people is scary because they don't realize how much pain they have caused me, and those (very different) depths would be startling and a very rude awakening. No one wants to be rudely awakened by some silly bright haired gal. These are things they should discover on their own, without my interference (main reason I use an alias when I write btw).

I want to be able to share and make a difference, but A lot of these people are still in my life to some degree. Most of the things I'm writing about are things from people that claimed love-like emotions and family-like closeness. I've done some major purging of the ick in my life, and I really like the direction I'm headed in. That doesn't change the fact that some people that have (accidentally or not) caused me pain aren't going anywhere. Sure, they can be pushed to the edge, and not be as centered as they used to be, but they still exist and I still care.

I'm not one to purposely cause pain to anyone, even if it would be technically returning the favor. That's not how I roll.

And that's why I get writer's block.

Unconditional Love is a Beyotch

Unconditional love is the kind of love that you have for someone that means no matter what they say or do to you or anyone else in the world you will still love them. No matter what. It's the best kind of love in the world to be on the receiving end of, but can be a total bummer to be on the giving end of.

The love I have for my son is most definitely the strongest example of unconditional love I have ever felt in my life. And it's awesome. His existence seriously makes my world a better place (and me a better person in this world). Right now he is 4 years old, and upset. He's angry and hurt and confused, and he doesn't know how to process how he feels. So, he plays at school, and at grandma's at with his sitter and her extra people that come along. He gives everyone HUGE hugs and kisses and he is a very happy boy. Then he remembers that he is upset, and he pushes it down and waits until he is around his Mommie. He knows how much I love him, so he yells and cries and kicks pillows and hides under his bed and refuses to listen to me. So I will tell him I love him and that it will be ok. He throws all his ugly at me because he needs to get it out from inside of him, and so I can cuddle him and kiss him and reassure him that it will be ok.

That's my job, and I will do this until my last breath, and I am forever grateful that at such a young age he knows that he is loved. That doesn't mean that having someone's worst thrown at you doesn't take it's toll. It is taking it's toll on me. It is getting harder for me to stay calm, and my ability to stay calm is usually my strongest trait. I'm afraid that I'm going to snap and say something I don't mean or do something unforgivable. Not necessarily to my son mind you, just to someone I come across, and they probably won't deserve it. I don't want to snap.

It's taking more coffee and nicotine than it used to for me to make it through the day, and when I finally get to my quiet part of the day the world is sleeping so it is sometimes too quiet for me to get distracted.

I feel like I'm a water pitcher constantly pouring out, but the water delivery truck only comes once a month and I am having to stretch out the water to make sure I don't run out. But the stretching comes at a cost. I'm lucky to have such awesome people in my life, and I don't want it to sound like I am not appreciative of their existence, but something is definitely missing in my life, and what's missing is something to refill my pitcher more often.

This comes from pure, unadulterated, mindnumbing boredom....

I'm warning you now in case this is the worst piece of drivel you have ever read and you immediately want a refund when finished. Never mind that you're not paying and I'm not refunding. ;)

Today is my office day. Usually the phone is ringing and I am spazzing out about all the millions of things I have scheduled to do that I can't do because I keep getting pulled away. Not today. Today the phone is silent, and I actually got through all my items on my to-do list. I've decided that if it's still this silent come 6pm I am hopping into my sad little taped together car and running for the hills. (Or just my second story apartment.. whatev)

I wish I had some fascinating story I could share with you, or that I could remember what I planned on writing here when I sat down here next, buuuut my mind is numb which translates to blank...

The Monk started preschool 3 weeks ago and is having such a blast... He enjoys getting into his "school clothes" (which the angry teenaged rebel gal is still warring with the laundry is much easier and I don't have to fight over outfits mom over) and he has learned to write him name. Mostly. I say mostly because he really wants there to be an "E" in his name where there is an "A". He has a kickass R2D2 backpack and actual homework. What's homework for a preschooler you ask? Homework for mommie mostly. (Like pointing out the letter of the week out in the real world and finding certain shaped things that I'm ok never seeing again once he takes it to school)

So, life is kinda slow right now, but in a nice, peaceful way. And I am totes going home now.. ;)

Finished Projects Falling All Around Me....

A few posts ago I mentioned my list of projects and in the last handful of days I have completely wrapped up two (granted they're connected to each other, but whatev) and I am at a temporary stopping point for one of the hardest things I have ever written.

The two related things are hanging in Megan Needs to Prove She's Human Limbo, but I expect that to be all cleared up by Monday, and hopefully I will be getting AMAZING news sometime that same day. Either that or it'll be ugly cry inducing news that I will have to brush off and fake my way through not becoming a wreck. OR the universe will play a mean trick on me and I won't get the news I'm waiting for.

The third is what I am most proud of. Four pages of pure non-fictional writing. No coy wording or flowery descriptions to make it easier to read. Just my own special version of speech telling the story of me growing up. I sent it off to a friend so I can get her opinion on edits and hopefully she'll be able to help guide me to a suitable ending and I'll be able to submit it somewhere for a lot of people to read. That's always been my goal, share the ugly, let it help others deal with their own demons and let it be known that the labels forced upon us by others don't have to define us if we don't want them to.

What I wasn't expecting was the lightness I feel. After writing it, and reading it and feeling a little (a lot) stabbed in the gut, I felt strangely at peace about it all. Like writing it out drained out the poison that has been coursing through my blood for the last 20 plus years of my life. I feel (finally) detached from it. Like it no longer belongs to me. Yes it helped shape me into the person I am today (tonight to be literal), but it doesn't define me, and it hasn't in a long time, I just hadn't noticed before.

It has taken me a long time to tell this particular story, and now that it's been taken from me, I feel ready for a new story to define my life by.

Yes, its not done yet, and there's still some aftermath to write about, and I need to find an appropriate venue to share it on, but all in good time. I've been actively trying to write this piece since I was 16, and now that I've finally gotten this far there is no way I'm stopping now.

Life-ing Sucessfully..

I was 23 when I got married. 6 months later I was pregnant. I was the first in my group of friends to have a baby so I got to discover things by trial and error.

Being a 24 year old, single without children is COMPLETELY different than being married with a baby, there is absolutely nothing wrong with either lives, but they are each their own lifestyle. I'm still friends with the same people, but the dynamics have changed. When my son was first born and I was starting to leave the house I could carry him around in my carrier and he could sleep while I/we was hanging out with our friends. Sure occasionally I would need to stop and do the mom thing, but when he was first born, it didn't matter all that much. The older my son got the harder it became to hang out with my friends with my son around, not because my friends are child hating a-holes, but because different behaviors are appropriate for different ages.

I try not to be one of those parents who shields their children from the world, but I do try to introduce things to him at an age he can process whether or not it's something new for him to try or if it's strictly for older people. Take alcohol for example. I will not have more than one alcoholic beverage around my son, and I tell him that he can't touch it because it's "Adult Soda" and will make him really sick. Sometimes he gets curious about my sugar rims so I've let him dip his fingers into the sugar packet, but he knows not to touch anything that comes in a beer bottle, different shaped cocktail glasses (or even solo cup).

Anywho, for the majority of the past 4 years I have usually either had to get a sitter or play Rock, Paper, Scissors with my ex to decide who gets to go out with our friends and have some adult time. Every invitation I get I ask "Is it a kid friendly event?" and base my attendance on that. Since my ex is still off on his adventure right now my options are either get a sitter or stay in. OR IS IT?? ;)
This weekend one of my friends had a pool party that I was originally going to be hours late for and just catch the tail end of it and take my son home for bedtime. I had something better happen instead. My son got to play to the point of exhaustion, pass out on the couch and I got to stay to the end of the party (much later than I'm admitting to strange eyes sorry) and there was no pressure to "Keep my Kid in Check" or any sort of discomfort of him being around. The next day I had to stop by a house that is by definition a Bachelor Pad with my son and again, he wasn't just tolerated, instead he was welcomed and I wasn't made to feel like a pariah. 

I don't know if it's because he's older, or if we're all getting older, or maybe a combination of both, but this weekend was the first time I didn't feel like the Child-less population was waiting for my apology for bringing my son into their part of the world.

It was nice.

Being Dissapointed and the Ugly Path It's Taken me...

If you would have seen me last week, I was a glowing ball of happiness. Not one, but two things that I have quietly dreamed about for a VERY long time seemed to be coming together for me. I was excited. I felt like the roller coaster we call life was heading up and that it was going to stay there for a while. Now, I'd like to think I'm a realist. Life last week still had it's struggles, but for the first time in a while it felt like they were less important since the majority of life was good. And not just good. Good on it's way to amazing. I was laughing harder, smiling bigger, I just generally felt GOOD. More than that, I felt like the things I desire and have been working for were close enough to touch, and if they were close enough to touch, then finally, it was safe to say those words out loud right?

My bubble popped Wednesday. In reality, it was less of a bubble pop and more of a feeling like I got punched in the stomach. This morning, the second dream of mine has been put into limbo. Neither is certain, but one is definitely less certain than the other. I've wanted both of these for so long, and to get so close just to have it pulled away has really done a number on me.

I'm not good with my emotions. For the longest time I had them safely walled away and was able to only see things in the most clinical way, but over the last couple of years my wall has been slowly chipped away and I've been feeling things, not just burying them deep down. But the intensity of suck I'm feeling right now really takes my breath away. I was crying the other night, and while I was crying I was going "What the hell? Why are you crying so hard? Is this really this big of a deal?" It's like I'm at war with myself. Brain v Heart and no matter the outcome my physical body is the one that suffers.

I don't even know if I'm overreacting or not. Like, am I really this affected by these things or am I just so new to experiencing emotions it's hitting me harder than it would normally?

I have a nervous stomach, and whenever I start to feel any emotion too strongly my stomach starts rocking and I usually end up sick. Like when I wrote my article that got posted on TC, I couldn't eat for a week after it posted my stomach was tied in such knots.

The worst part of how I'm feeling is that there's no answer. I thought I was getting the Yeses of my dreams, and instead I find out that I'm not nearly as close to the final answers as I originally thought. I thought I was getting out of life limbo, and apparently my sentence has been extended.

All this ^^^^^ internal bullshiet I've been dealing with has lead to me being a pretty nasty person yesterday. I actually verbally lashed out at someone just because I'm hurting and I didn't want to be alone in my hurt. What kind of shit person does that?

So now, I'm sad and hurt and a little angry, which led me to being an ass to people I actually am quite fond of, which now adds guilt to the mix.

This being human thing is hard. Can I go back to being a robot please?

Why I'm Not A Great Writer (Yet)

Everyone can write, to some degree, when they are feeling any sort of extreme emotion. Fall in love, have a baby? The poetic words will come flowing out of you. Have someone close to you die? Watch the pain scream out from the page.

But the mundane? Writing about the trip to the grocery store, or the traffic home, in an unique and rivoting way? THAT takes talent. Even wanting to sit down in front of a screen and find a way to accurately describe the silly thing that happened takes a whole 'nother mindset.

A completely different perspective. I'm not there yet.

At any given point I have so many half thoughts and dialogues that if I could get it onto paper they would have a chance of life beyond my brain. (A scary place sometimes)

So, that's my goal. I want to be able to write about the mundane.

Geronimo!!!

Hello there Anonomous Eyes!

Approximately 9 months ago my life was completely flipped upside down, and I had to start redefining what everything meant, and more importantly, I had to start redefining myself. I still have a ways to go, but I really feel like for the most part I'm taking steps in the forward direction. 

This upcoming Tuesday, (as in 3 days from now), my life is getting another huge flip. This one is temporary, but still huge. For 7 weeks, my son's father will be working in another state, far enough away that there will not be any visits. Now this is awesome, and amazing, and I'm super proud and excited that my ex is getting this opportunity. I honestly would've been a little mad if he hadn't gone after this, but that doesn't mean that it doesn't change everything here.

In two weeks my son starts preschool. He's missing the first day of school. That's heartbreak city for both of them. While he's gone, my son will be able to talk to him on the phone, and over Skype, but he won't have his Daddy Days. 

As luck would have it, a kitty has found his way into our lives this week, and I truly think it's a Godsend. My son has bonded so incredibly with this cat, and loves him SO MUCH, that in this week he's become emotionally softer. Having another living creature in his life has opened him up to the many different faces love has. I am so grateful for this cat entering our lives when he did, I think it was kismit. 

--

Before these changes happened, I was planning on writing you here and telling you a little bit more about some of the progress I've made in my writing projects, so I'm going to do that now. I am currently writing 2 articles, one on how Geek Culture influenced my life as a teen, and another on the not so pretty part of my personal story. I am also working on a script for a kick starter project for some MASSIVE changes at work (more on that later), and a matching script for a video for the same project. Then because I'm a lameo, I'm also working on a poem like thing. (Don't expect to see that anywhere, and if you do see it, it'll be under another alias). 

Writing on any sort of regular basis is a bit of a struggle for me, I always have thoughts that get re-buried before seeing the light of ink to them, so to have so many projects going on right now, PLUS being a mom, PLUS working full time, PLUS actively trying to make room for the people that count in my life.. I feel like I've earned a star. Maybe not a gold star, but definitely a silver or a bronze star. 

I've also come to a tentative truce with technology right now. The secret to my successful juggle of all things previously listed? Google Drive. I'm amazed at it's awesome butt saving skills. 

So, I guess I'm feeling pretty good about things right now. Sure, I need to do a better job of focusing sometimes, but seriously, who I am today is a lot better than who I was a year ago. I keep catching a case of the feels of the overwhelming sort, looking around at how many awesome people I have in my life to call friends. I swear without them, I'd be as batshit crazy as before. 

This is a hodgepodge post, so I apologize if you feel I bounced from subject to subject without paying proper due, but it is what it is. Freestyle blog writing happens a lot here. ;) 

Sliding Doors..

I'm feeling a lot less pessimistic since my last post, I even got out of town for a weekend which was pretty amazing, so here I am. There is a very strong possibility that what I am about to share sounds COMPLETELY wackadoo, so yeah, prepare yourself or whatevs.

There was a movie approximately a decade ago called Sliding Doors, starring Gweneth Paltrow (and a totally fake British accent) that showed the difference her life could take based on a random 5 second event that made her either catch or miss her train home. It floated between the two paths pretty seamlessly, and both paths were pretty bumpy (just one was worse than the other) and the one that ended up being her actual reality, while was pretty brutal, the ending still got her to a point on the path that merged with the other alternative path.

I originally saw, then dismissed this movie as a teenager, mostly because I wasn't at a point where it made sense for me to take anything from it.

Anywho, about 2 months ago I was working and all of the sudden I had the strangest sensation that I was sitting somewhere else, doing something else, with a different person. It lasted maybe 10-15 seconds, but it was strange. I'm calling it a sensation because my body actually felt the different fabrics and the brush of skin against my own. Almost like reliving an intense memory, except that all I have of this event is the memory of itself, no original event to have flashed back to. Since then I've experienced the same sort of thing maybe 3 more times or so and I've been super confused. Netflix reminded me that Sliding Doors existed, and I watched it (and liked it shh) and it got my little brain thinking. What if for every choice we make, or everything we almost do, there's some sort of alternative path that follows to completion? I am definitely a word vs numbers person, but I'm also pretty fact orientated in my thought processes. Honestly, typing this experience out feels like I'm putting my crazy on display, and comparing it to a silly RomCom from the 90's makes me feel like a complete doof, but I can't help myself, I needed this weirdness out of my brain.


TL;DR: I'm quite possibly crazy, or living in a crappy RomCom movie with a small budget. ;)

I'd be lying if I said I haven't been avoiding you....

See, right or wrong, I feel like if I'm going to take the time out of my life to sit down and write I owe it to myself to be honest. Trouble is, right now my brain is filled with so many different thoughts, and they're all sorta heavy.

But honestly, I don't necessarily want to just concentrate on the heavy shiet. I want a break from the serious.

Yes I just went on a family vacation, but what I need is a mental vacation. Just a couple of days away from everything to clear my head and get some fresh air. Like lazy camping or something. (I say lazy because I'm way too klutzy to manage things like tents and campfires)

So this is super short, but I promise to give you an actual post of substance next time. Probably. ;)

Excuse me while my brain explodes....

So very recently (as in since the last time i slept) I had two pretty huge epiphanies that I am still in the process of absorbing and putting into practice in my life. Originally I meant to grab my computer from work tonight and just spend tonight putting my brain through the ringer, but I forgot so I'm going to talk about something else that's been clanging around my brain a bit longer than 12 hours.

There are two things I know for certain about myself: I like rules, and dislike absolutes.

I like rules. I have a very specific set of rules that I live by, and no they weren't made by any religious entity. I made them for myself to keep me in line. A few times I have deviated from my rules, and even when the rules ended up being right, the experiences were worth it. Very rarely have I ever put myself on the line, but it's always been worth it. 

Recently I was talking to a friend who wanted to play a game where we asked questions and we could only answer truthfully. Since I agreed to play I took that to mean only truths could come from me for every part of the interaction. Those were the rules I was playing by. There were some questions that if the stipulation wasn't in play I wouldn't have answered. Not because they were bad, but because they are truths I don't normally share with people I'm not close to, and even then, it's not topics brought up frequently. You ask me to play a game and I don't know how? Explain the rules to me and I will play that way forevermore (until taught differently of course)

I like to think I make a good boss because I was taught how to do the job and that's how I do it. Show me a better way, and I'll blend it together into efficiency and comfort. 

I very rarely say things like "always", "forever", "never"; instead I live a life filled with "maybe", "probably", "sorta", "usually", "I think". To me, saying something is an absolute is me making a promise, and promises should be kept no matter what. 

I try to be honest. As honest as I can manage to be. I try to not give guarantees of anything, even as small as saying what time I'll be somewhere because who knows what will happen?? 

But here's the thing. I am in the middle of breaking the biggest promise I ever made. If I'm capable of going back on a promise of such enormity, what else will I go back on? How can anyone ever trust another word that ever comes out of my mouth? Aren't I automatically a huge liar? Does it even matter? 

I think I'm generally a good person, I'd like to to think that the things I'm drawn to do make me decent. But I also believe that you can't judge someone by the number of good/bad or the best/worst thing they've very done. But I also think you're only as good as your word. 

So where does that put me?

Just roll with this one... (See also ::Insert Clever Title Here::)

Ever have something to say, and you know what the meat of what you're trying to say is, but you don't know how to start? I have a few of those situations going on in my life and I kinda feel stuck in life limbo because of it... Same with this post, I know what I want to try to say, but I'm not sure how to get there, so consider this a disclaimer while I ramble and try to get there...

I think I'm a brunette. Well, ok. I am a brunette, but my natural color isn't a pretty brown. No Chestnut or Chocolate Brown for me. No. If we were to name my natural hair color, it would be called Dirty Diaper Brown. I have never liked my hair color, so when I was in 5th grade I started using Sun In Bleaching Spray after every shower. (My mom was against me dying my hair since I was so young and that was our compromise). By junior high I was changing my hair and nail polish color on the regular, and if asked people would assume me a natural blonde. (And that I was dumb as bricks. I didn't correct either) By the end of high school my hair had hit every color in the color spectrum, natural and unnatural and I had settled on a very nice Blue Black for my "Big Girl Management Job". And that was it for a while. Eventually I chopped off my at the time styled Betty Page do to a 90's boy actor style, let it grow out a couple of times and ditched the dye for ::maybe:: 3 years. I had a friend who needed a guinea pig before adding funky colors to her line at work so I volunteered. That was almost 3.5 years ago and since that moment my hair has been Blue, Pink, Purple, Red and multiple variations of each color, as well as the base color once again going around the color wheel.

Ask my mom and she'll tell you she LOVED my natural color. She'll also lament on how she wishes I would make the decision to go back to my natural color (with or without the streaks).

But I won't. Not out of defiance or a lack of respect, but because I don't like it. One of my friends is getting married next year and out of respect for her big day my hair will be drastically toned down so I blend into the crowd. I recently experimented with a look and killed the streaks in my bangs and only left the ones in the middle. So many people told me I looked pretty and more mature, I even got a random sexy out of it, but the very next time I got in the chair I put them back. I changed how they're placed, but my bangs are pink again. When I looked in the mirror, I didn't like what I saw. It didn't matter that the world around me liked me better without, I didn't.

I'm also not a fan of dudes changing their facial hair to keep their ladies happy. It seems very much a "I like you, but I'd like you more if....." and that's not right. If you don;t like the person staring back at you in the mirror, even if it is over something "superficial" like your body hair, do something. But don't make the changes to please the people around you.

Now, extremists. If you have diabetes or some health altering condition and someone is begging for a change, ::maybe:: consider making those changes, but in all other circumstances, if no one is being hurt, and you like yourself, that should be enough.

All The Catholic Guilt, None of the Theology...

Here we are, like I promised, same title as planned, and for the most part the same general idea. But also more. I think. This is going to be slightly more narcissistic than normal, and either really long winded or much shorter than I expected. (This is MY blog about MY life, how is this not an act of narcissism? Exactly.)

Since I originally set out to write this I've read other thoughts, by other people that have helped me realize how far I still have to go. My guilt complex (which I'm about to go into great detail about) has succeeded in trapping me into either doing things I don't want to, or most recently preventing me from going after the things I want.

 Onward.

5 years ago I became a Massage Therapist, and because one of my lame super powers is the ability to snag any job I ever interview for, I very quickly landed a $25/massage $12/non-massage hour job where I easily took home approximately $600 a week. Not at all shabby for a gal just out of school. Before I left there due to my pregnancy from hell (not an exaggeration, it was awful), I had become the Billing Manager, the Receptionist, the Lead Therapist, and the Janitor. When my boss went on vacation he trusted me with a key to the place to still see clients. It was awesome.

I've had two real clear consistant wants out of my life: to be a mother and to own my own business. The details involved with them both have changed and sometimes have been totally blurry, but the bare bones has always been the same.

After my son was born I was given an opportunity to go out on my own and start my own official business in a shared office space in Old Town. With nothing but my table and a couple days off from my "real" jobs (yes, plural) I dove in. I was sharing my room with a girl that did facials so for starters we offered $100 for both an hour massage and a facial. Trickle, trickle it started. We were next to a bar, and there was about 10 other people working in the building so I printed off some cards from Vista Print and told people I usually charged $60 an hour but since I was new to the neighborhood I could give them a one time try at $25. Boom. More clients. Then I had the conversation that changed everything for me.

One of the girls in the building ran a special through a website that no longer exists and they pre-sold her services then wrote her a check for $400. $400!!! That's a lot of money all at once for a start up with no working capital to speak of. Hell, back then I didn't know what working capital meant. I made $6,000. Then another $4,000. I went from bumkin business owner to needing more space and helpers. I went from 4 full time jobs plus being a mom to being a mom with one full time job.

Pretty awesome yeah? Where's the guilt? Right here. In my industry there are hundreds of MTs getting ripped of and under paid/undervalued by not just jerk bosses who see us as instruments for their success, but by consumers who don't think we're worth our full price. They jump from office to office looking for the cheapest deal instead of the best individual provider for them. They want 5 star service at a half star price. I know that I'm not the only one responsible for the bargain hunting mentality in my industry, but I feel strong pangs of guilt whenever this subject comes up since I know my naivety and eagerness played a huge part in how the market looks for my industry in my city area.

I have a kid sister. Well. I have a lot more than that, but for this example I'm only going to be talking about two of my sisters. We had a rough time growing up in the Cross house, and I was given the burden of my younger sisters' care before elementary school ended. There's no nice way to say this, but I thought I could only save one of them so I poured all my energy into keeping the baby sister safe. I in no means ignored our other sister, but we were like fire and ice and she really only wanted basic care from me. My entire life's purpose was giving our baby sister the best life imaginable, and I gave up countless things to make sure she was well. She lived with me during summer breaks and weekends, and even her entire junior year of high school. Making sure she had every opportunity I never did was the most important thing to me. I got her out of the bad neighborhood, and gave her the chance to be around good, solid, non-stereotype embracing people. When she started smoking like me it broke my heart a little. When our other sister started too I felt the first twinges of fauilure. They both are grown and have chosen to walk down the familar paths of our childhood, bad boys, worse decisions, etc.
I have no clue where exactly I failed them, but when I see their lives it tears me up and I just feel like I should have failure stamped on my forehead.

I also feel partially responsible for making bright hair more accepted in the work place, but I don't feel guilty for that, just slightly more prideful than I have actually earned. ;)

This is pretty heavy shiz isn't it? Sorry. It feels kinda nice to unburden myself of my irrational levels of guilt, and to be able to recognize the errors in my thoughts.

So besides realizing I truly am not the mother of the world I've come to this conclusion: It's not all my fault. Sure, there are some cut and dry things I am guilty of, but when it comes down to it, there is a lot of things not my fault and not my job to care about. At some point I have to stop worrying about everyone around me and start paying attention to myself. I can't keep basing my decisions on others, I need to be able to do things I want to do without feeling guilty for having fun. I haven't had the most fun life, but at this point in the game its my own damn fault, and I need to chase after it before I end up guilting myself.

The Absolute WORSE Advice I Have Ever Received...

Holy Crap Guys. I think I'm starting to take my bright pink blog seriously or something, since I actually am planning out in advance what I'm going to writing about... I actually have a half written in my head blog called "All The Catholic Guilt without the Theology", that was next in my queue that none of you knew existed, that I'm bumping back to share this following information.

I've reached the point in my break up that people that aren't privy to my personal life have started to notice that I haven't mentioned my ex recently, so the innocent prying of "I haven't heard much about XYZ lately, how're things doing with him?" has been coming up more in conversation. Which then is usually followed by the "Oh no!!! How are you doing dear?!?" Annoying, but they mean well so I try not to be a hag about it. Except for one lady. "Oh no! You poor dear! You're a single mom now?!?! Well. Let me tell you, you need to go find yourself a handsome married man, sleep with him, then threaten to tell his wife unless he takes care of your bills for you."

Um. Wha? Holy Horrible Stereotypes Batman! You sure did just make a WHOLE lot of assumptions in 60 seconds. First off, my ex and I are on pretty good terms, and ::if:: I needed more help to take care of my son, he would help me figure things out. Secondly. I don't even have nice words to say about the advice I was given so I'm just going to leave a pair of googly eyes right here and let it be known that I am still flabbergasted, and that THIS is why I hate people. O.O

Anywho, there's a handful of questions that seemed to be the FAQs of someone getting a divorce that seem highly inappropriate, but are asked anyways so here's the common 3 I get, with my answers.

Why Did You Guys Split? Helllllo there person just arriving to the party! You are just finding out about something that happened months ago, why do you think you have any right to know the private details of why we split? Anywho. To ease minds, neither one of us are cheaters or beaters so you don't have to pick a side unless you really didn't like one of us anyways. ;)

Is He Seeing Someone Else? Honestly? I dunno. I don't think so, but that is none of my business anymore, and the next time it will be my business is when there's someone in his life important enough to introduce to our son. We tried to be the really cool ex-couple that could talk to each other about stuff like drinking buddies do early on, but we're not. So we don't.

Are You Seeing Anyone? Juicy question.... None of your business. I know! I'm so horrible! Trying to keep my private life private! Refer to question one. If you are just finding out about this, what makes you think you have any right to know anything else in my life. Don't you think that if I thought it was important to mention I would? Really, the only people my dating life should matter to is to someone who is trying to date me, anyone else it's just being nosy. Besides, I'm kinda of the belief that if you need to know something you do. If you don't know, it's none of your business. ;)

So angry at me right now I know!!!! How dare you with such an active social media presence try to claim privacy!!! But think about it. The outrage is coming from people that see my cute kid, my career, and that I'm snarky and think I'm hilarious. I control what I share in the public eye, not you. Most people see what I let them see, and that's a bunch of fluff about glitter and shiz. If you feel like you are someone who should know these things ask yourself when the last time we spoke was. Then get over yourself. ;)

Until Next Time!!

"Best Friends"

I have a few really good, really close friends in my life, and I think they each would feel slighted to think they didn't have the label "Best Friend", but I'm also pretty sure they'd also feel slighted to know that they share the label with about.. oh 5 other people. I consider myself extremely lucky to have found such amazing people in my life that I can be totally open with and them not thinking I'm a (complete) wack-a-doo, and unfortunately the English language has only coined "Best Friend" as the closest title to where these people fit in my heart.

Two of the people that share the over simplified title are two of the most beautiful women I have ever met in real life. Make up, clothes and fashion is an art to them, high heels and hair straightening tools essentials to their lives. I am the COMPLETE opposite, most days forgetting to even put on mascara, and today I couldn't even get my mess of a hair to cooperate enough to get into a bun for me. But. I love these ladies, and they love me.

One of these ladies recently got engaged to the man of her dreams and I was super excited for her, and I'm not going to lie, I wanted to be a bridesmaid. I knew that chances were 50/50 with us living in different states and us not being as close as we once were, but I still wanted. I saw on facebook how she did this super cute collage thing to ask her childhood bff to be her maid of honor and I was like "awe, how cute... I want to at least be invited.." (I was alone. And I know how to be happy for someone while acknowledging my wants too.) Anywho. I recently went out to visit my dad and got to stay with her, and while sitting on the couch chit chatting and smoking from her super cool e-cigs, she just kinda looked over at me and says "So, like I was gonna do this big thing to ask you, but I couldn't figure out something you'd like and ran out of time, so... will you be in my wedding?"

If you don't know me well, that might sound like a slight. But it wasn't. It was absolutely perfect. Yes. The ::idea:: of a super cute gesture thing sounds nice, and I love that she wanted to do something like that for me, but the reality of it is that I don't know what to do when things like that happen. It makes me awkward and uncomfortable and takes away from the moment. I love her, and I love that she knew me well enough to make it feel special. Now I can do my best to contribute from a state away. I did it for my sister's wedding so I think I can pull it off for hers.

The other gal is my skating buddy. She is also a social media maven. I am constantly introduced to the different programs she has to interact with the world. I'm actually pretty sure the reason I IG is her. So we skate, and we're dorks, and we do silly things that you know you're jealous you don't do, and I usually post a youtube of my favorite song of the night and/or a brief description of one of the more humorous parts of our night. She's a Snapchatting, Vine using gal and does the same thing as me, but with videos and pictures. A couple of weeks ago she noticed me discreetly sliding out of her shots and she called me out on it. I then kinda explained how I'm not the most comfortable in front of the camera, and how I've always been more of a behind the scenes person. The following week? She took a few shots with me in them, but for her BIG shots of the night, she asked to hold the camera for her. Again, loves me enough to help push me to the edge of my comfort zone, but then lets me go back to where I'm at. Progress is progress, but it has to happen at everyone's own speed. She even stopped hassling me about backward skating for the time being, because I'm not ready. I want to do it, but I'm still too scared to, so until I get over that hump she's letting me be, and once I'm ready she'll hold my hand.

I could go on about how amazing each and every one who I call my "Best Friend" is, but I won't. At least not today. ;) I just hope that I am at least half of the friend that they all are to me.

I've decided. I must be a fictional character.

It's the only reasonable explanation I can come up with. Somewhere there is a SUPER talented writer telling this story about the person who grows up to be the world's biggest villain or the person who cures all sickness and disease. There is no way I am an actual person.

My back story is great fodder for either of those options, and both are totally plausible outcomes based on the storyline so far.

My roommate asked me about a specific family member last night after I visited with another one all morning, and the words that nonchalantly came out of my mouth shocked me. When giving friends updates on the people I shared a roof with for my childhood I have to water down their most mundane events to not sound like I'm making things up to be cruel, and even then people assume I'm exaggerating. For example: Someone I am blood related to was at one point addicted to meth and hooking for her drugs. Even that one sentence sounds like a cheesy start to a Hallmark channel movie, not something that happens to everyday people. My little "adventures" always have something weird and quirky happening to make the story more interesting, my boring days still have an element of ridicule in them, even when all I want is peace and quiet.

The worst part of starring in this ridiculous life of mine? Since crazy, dramatic, stressful things happen to me/around me ALL THE TIME I'm supposed to be immune to it. I'm not allowed to feel the feelings associated with the trauma of someone I love being hit by a car by someone else I love. My job is to go clean it up and let everyone else deal with their emotions. I'm not allowed to have an opinion on situations where people I care about are pitted against each other and there is no clear cut right and wrong, instead I am Switzerland the neutral party to spew at.

I don't mind it. Most of the time. I want to be helpful and useful and to be that shoulder for whoever needs it, but because of the enormity of the messes I deal with, I can't let it all out to one person. That would be incredibly irresponsible of me. I'm not saying I bottle it (all) up, I do let it out in pieces to a few close confidants, but there is a good chunk I have to deal with myself and it's kinda burdensome. Especially since I am not a robot and have some pretty intense feelings sometimes.. (If anyone knows of the off switch for strong emotions I am interested in the location of said switch)

I was talking to a few people the last couple of weeks, and they all basically said the same thing to me. "But you're so strong, you can handle this all on your own, why do you think you need anyone's help?" Well, duh I can handle it all on my own, that's not the point. I can and will handle any and everything that comes my way because that's what we do as people. We handle whatever is given to us. But does it really make me less strong of a person for ::wanting:: help sometimes? That just seems so.... silly. There's a saying about how strands of rope twined together are stronger than just an individual piece so I have to imagine the same goes for people.

So, dear author of my fictional life, how about you throwing in some levity in my life. Like a carnival with a ferris wheel landing across the street from my house, or letting me stumble across some great treasure. Enough of the back story nonsense, my character is pretty well defined at this point. Let's get to the good stuff huh?

Perfection NEVER lasts forever.

So, back about 5 years ago I found my dream house. 2000SF, 4b/2b, vaulted ceilings, big fancy tile throughout, and then super lush carpet in the bedrooms. The master SUITE (which was half mine) took up about a third of the house, had a separate room for the toilet, a two sink vanity, a soaking tub AND super fancy shower, and a closet big enough to be a bedroom. All for $900. I loved it. And I got to live in it for 9 months of the best living I have ever experienced. The story ends badly since the landlord wasn't paying his mortgage and we ended up having to leave due to foreclosure in like 3 days or something ridiculous. (Cherry on top, the day we discovered we had to move was the day I found out I was pregnant with The Monk)

When I talk about that house, I focus on the beauty and all the great things I got out of living in my dream house. My bar of perfection is that house, and I know that when I go to buy my own property (as many years off as that might be) it will be better than that house. My bar has been set.

I ended up driving past that freeway exit today, and there was a strong urge to drive past it, to check on it or something. The other person in the car did NOT feel the same. When I look back at that time in my life I am grateful for the small version of the perfect living situation. When my fellow traveler looks back at that time, all he sees is the last 45 days of hell we had there.

It made me sad for my traveling friend, because my little sister and two of my dearest friends got to share my idea of perfection embodied in an house for 8 months and that to me is pretty amazing, whereas another set of eyes can only see the bad ending. Maybe I'm naive, but I will have these memories until the day I die, and it seems silly to stay bitter about it, when the good memories outweigh the bad by like a million.

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In a totally unrelated note, I was told I need to remember how to have fun. My response? Ok. I need to go home and reorganize my towel cabinet. Old dog + new tricks = hard. ;)

Writing is hard.. (Duh)

So, I have this here Blog, a Facebook page, and a pen n paper journal.. That is a LOT of places to split thoughts in. 

Here's my breakdown: Quick one liners that I think is funny during my day goes to Facebook; moments I don't want to forget and personal revelations go into the handwritten notebook; and then thoughts that bounce around in my head that I feel might be found important go here. 

I just spent a great (but very stressful) weekend out of town, and I feel like I'm learning a lot in this time of my life, but I'm having trouble processing, and I'm not sure the best outlet. 

Anywho. 

I read a book a while back called Skipped Parts, and it was about two pre-pubescent kids smarter than their surroundings who read books above their age range. The title comes from their curiosity about the parts that get skipped in a lot of books (ie: sex) and they go exploring. 

The story popped in my head during my looooong drive this weekend and I realized that when I'm old and grey this part of my story will be the skimmed over part. I will have reaped the benefits of my hard work and the decisions made, so I won't want to dwell on the hard parts of my life story. 

"When I started my own business things were hard for a while, but that ended and then this and this and this happened and here's the end result" sort of thing. Same way women lie about pregnancy, the baby is freaking amazing, so they gloss over the hellish parts. (I do my best to share the awful pregnancy stories for balance in the universe) ;)

With that being said, not everything that happens in this time of my life is glossed over worthy, and I want to remember everything important that happens, or at least the feelings that I get to feel, so horray for multiple outlets. 

Ha. Full circle writing at its accidental finest. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't get my thoughts sorted out of my brain.. 

Whispers versus Shouts

I'm a rambler. It can easily take me a paragraph to say what only needs three words. I'm "well read" (in the sense that I choose books over most people, but that doesn't mean that everything I've read is worth conversation) so I have an above average vocabulary and I have had people with huge deal degrees ask me what words come out of my mouth mean (yeah, I'm bragging just a bit, sue me).

Despite the awesome vocabulary knocking around in my brain, I have trouble actually verbalizing the things that I need to, especially when it involves those annoying things called feelings. I either keep it all locked up tight and hope it's not read on my face or ramble and try to slip nuggets of importance mixed in with total nonsense. (And if it's not received well? I can claim it nonsense). I'm not exactly proud of this, but at the same time, I can't honestly say I'm actively working to change it. I sometimes imagine situations where I have the words already on hand and just beautifully articulate whatever it is I need to. The couple of times I've tried? Pauses and fumbles galore. PLUS, conversations don't work like speeches and there's usually another person that has responses before I can get through my well thought out ramble.

Except. Twice. Twice in my life I have been able to clearly and boldly say exactly what needs to be said without the excess ramble. Straight to the point. Sharp shot words hitting their designated targets. Beautiful and eloquent with no wiggle room for misinterpretation.
The first time was a handful of years ago when I loaned a friend a beautiful thing that I wasn't using, but was a personal favorite, to find out that he broke it and tried to hide it. I confronted and gave him a chance to come clean and he lied to my face. Unfortunately, for him we were in a room of about 12 of my closest friends and I verbally destroyed him right in public.
The second happened this last Friday night. My sitter texted me earlier in the day letting me know that my son caught my roommate's boyfriend going into my room and taking my laundry quarters. When my not even 4 year old son yelled at him and freaked out he put it back. Nice, I guess, but my patience snapped. I've been questioning my sanity wondering where my stupid quarters and a few dollars have gone for a while now, no proof, other than missing sodas in the fridge, but I had a feeling.  I changed the lock on my  bedroom door and left the old handle on the kitchen table, part of me hoping he would just see it and know that I know, the other part of me wanting to confront him. He asked. I answered. Again: Beautiful, sharp, ANGRY, totally sincere words. I didn't give him a chance to explain, because when betrayal comes into play, there is no explanation good enough, and I just don't care the reasons why.
I guess I should feel remorse? For being so... cruel? No. I wasn't cruel, I stopped myself before crossing that line, but I was angry. And mean. I feel justified though so I just feel relief of some sort.

So we've covered shouts, care to hear about the whispers?

Because I know speaking is not my strong point I instead share through "whispers". Small actions that if you look at them you can see my thoughts. The message might not always be received, but at least I know I was able to express myself even if no one but myself sees it. I like my whispers, they are comforting to do, and even if the exact message isn't read I know that they still probably hit the general area. I'm uncomfortable around you and can't figure out a way to verbally tell you? Watch me slightly modify things so I'm around you less.. And I guess the same in reverse? I'm not big into hallmark holidays (even the more substantial ones seem to get on my nerves because of the BIG DEAL they seem to turn into), but I know that to most people not getting acknowledgment on these days TO SHOW THE WORLD (whatever we're celebrating) stings. So I try to send whispers. Sure, I'm whispering different things to different people, but still whispering.

I've never met someone who whispers like me (or, if I have, I'm more dense than I realize and didn't notice, and if I thought I noticed a possible whisper I assumed I was crazy, 'cause I am ;) ), but I want to be friends with a fellow whisperer.

I could be wrong, or maybe I'm just speaking for myself, but I much prefer whispers to shouts. In my personal experience, whenever I see shouts for the world to see I just roll my eyes in, well, disgust like emotions, but when I catch whispers? Warms that thing inside my chest and gives me goopies.

Well this was helpful to me in more ways than one. Now I feel more mentally prepared to go face the accidental battlefield I created.

Genetics Are Cool.... Mostly.

So I have an adorable little spawnling known on the interwebs as Monkey. (And yes, he earns that name every day of the year) His father and I have been very proud of the fact that he seemed to inherit all of our good traits and none of our bad. Like check this out:

On the left: my son's ear notch birthmark; on the right: MY ear notch birthmark

Pretty crazy huh? (you might have to actually click on the picture to see my notch because of lighting and the angle) My Monk has the same ear notch on both of his ears, just like my ear notch. Apparently when I was born my mom first thought I had my ear attacked by the doctor. Later, in my "Let's pierce anything and everything as many times as possible" stage I seriously debated piercing through my birthmark. I don't know exactly what changed my mind, but when my son was born I was extremely grateful I hadn't gotten it done. 

So. I have a mostly mild case of OCD. I have the cleanest email boxes you will EVER see, I am constantly organizing and reorganizing things so my brain doesn't explode, and when I'm stressed I get to a point where I am OCD about how I eat and move around in my life. It is VERY mild, and even when I get to a manic point in it, it's still hundreds of times better than what some people have to deal with on a daily basis. Yesterday I almost got pulled into an OCD moment, where my brain was SCREAMING at me that I needed to fix something right then and there and make it nice and neat and perfect and ::just:: so, but I had a friend who probably didn't even realize what was going on snap me out of it with a simple smirk and "I already did it. It's fine." I was kinda frantic (and probably crazy eyed for a moment) but that simple it's no big helped me push it down and move on from it. This friend in particular has unknowingly helped me not get pulled into a handful of cycles by that exact method, and it's nice to know how long I've gone without going into one of my spins. (I've learned it's easier to avoid getting into a spin than to get out of one so that's what I try to do)

My son. My beautiful Monkey, has inherited my OCD. With all the changes that have happened these last few months, he has been clinging to small rituals he can control to maintain his sanity. When giving him a hug or a kiss he MUST have 2 hugs and then 2 kisses. If you deviate you must start over or even it out. (A big thing with me is numbers too, and I can easily get hung up on odd numbered things) Also, I live in a second story apartment, so when he's getting stressed he CANNOT share the stairs with ANYONE. So he'll get to the half way point and then let the other person meet him there, then continue on alone. I have been stressing out about how to deal with it. I don't want it to get worse and I don't want him to feel like there's anything wrong with him and feel shame. I've been at a loss on how to deal with this, especially since he's almost to the age where he'll need to be around kids his own age, and I don't want this interfering with.. well.. anything.

I kinda had an epiphany when choosing (forcing) to let my brain be soothed yesterday. I could freak out about this, or coddle my son when he's insisting OR. I can gently re-direct him and prevent him from getting in a spin. Before we reach the stairs I can ask him to either hold his hand or carry him and let him feel the love of those acts instead of the urge to control something. I can give him extra hugs and kisses and not recite the "poem" of his pattern. And when he is stressed and ::needs:: those patterns we can embrace the familiarities of them, but then add to them to break the cycle. Gentle redirects work. And hopefully he can change his brain patterns. (Me too. I like feeling sane versus slightly insane.)

How I Feel...

Life is different now. All sorts of changes and adjustments happening around me, and for the most part life is good. There's always room for improvement, but for the majority of the time I am feeling positive emotions.

I have some people in my life that love me, and as such they've been worried about how much laughing and smiling I've been doing. By all accounts I should be a curled up ball of mess, but when you run into me at the store, or by the mailbox, on the surface all you see is smiles. Apparently that means I am completely falling apart and just need someone to ask me if I'm ok. I love that my loved ones care enough to ask me, and when asked I do honestly answer. But just because you don't like or understand my answer doesn't take away from the truth of how I'm feeling.

So, let me explain a few things to hopefully clarify my position.

I had a "traumatic childhood experience" that resulted in EIGHT years of consecutive therapy. Now, we could debate on the pros and cons of having 8 years of my life over-analyzed not just by me, but a rotating door of therapists, but we will save that for a different time. Point is, after 8 years of being taught how to examine how and why you feel certain ways about the color orange, you do pick up some useful life tools. (Deciding to use them came MUCH later) So what does that mean? That means that I can look at a situation, acknowledge HOW it makes me feel, and let myself just feel for a while. That also means I can properly detach myself from the situation long enough to figure out how much time I need to grieve and where the appropriate times will fit into my life, and then when to let the emotion go.

Basically; I am feeling what I need to feel to properly process the changes happening in my life, but not dwelling on the bad. It's none of anyone's business but my own to count my tears, and if I am choosing to look at the light of the tunnel and smile instead of concentrate on the spots of dark that are being traveled through then shouldn't that be enough?

Everyone is always looking to focus on the bad in any and every situation. I'm not. I don't want to be a bitter ole hag that hates the world. I want to have a happy, peaceful life. And I want the people in my life to be happy, peaceful people.

Easy peasy?

Isn't it Ironic?

Man, how I wish it would have started pouring rain as I typed that, then I could've pretended I'm psychic... ;)

So, growing up I was a Huge Tomboy, and in some respects I still am (see favorite comics, movies, video game and collectables as examples). In jr high and high school I refused to carry a wallet (because then I'd need a purse and I had a hard enough time dealing with my backpacks) so I had things organized by pockets. Money in one back pocket, notes and important papers in the other, one pocket for my chapstick and the last for my keys.

I hated coins. They clanked around, made me sit funny and were just all around obnoxious. I'm a little (a lot) stubborn and I became extremely annoyed at the existence of non papered money, so I found a solution... I tossed the coins. In the trash. Every time I was given some.
Mind you now, money was in very short supply growing up so this wasn't some flippant act, this was hatred pure and simple.

Fast forward to today where my apartment does NOT have laundry on-suite, but instead I must go down a flight of stairs and over into the laundry room and pay $2.50 a complete load, in quarters...

Sometimes life teaches you lessons by making you re-examine past decisions, because being a grown woman now, I can tell you with complete confidence: I was a dummy literally throwing money away. I bet The Universe is chuckling at me right about now. Bonus? I can chuckle now too and realize what a bonehead I was... ;)