WW
Here we go again… the Wicked Witch of the West (shortly to be turned into an acronym because I’m tired of saying my mom, my mother, etc.) or WW is on a warpath again. She’s emailing S.O. constantly for stupid reasons and of course, we know from my cousin’s wife that S.O. is the ONLY employee she harasses.
She has some lovely, pompous posts on her blog that contain little jabs here and there that, of course, only I would recognize.
These Dreams…
About the time I begin to think that I’ve never had a “recurring” dream. I do…
Oddly enough it always centers around Christmas. Seriously. Ridiculously.
Several months ago I had a dream that I woke up and realized it was Christmas Eve. I hadn’t bought any presents and nothing was decorated. I freaked. To put it lightly. I ran around everywhere and couldn’t find my list, couldn’t find my decorations, and then realized that no one had gone grocery shopping and I would have to do that too.
Last night I had a similar dream. It was Christmas Eve and again, not only had I not done anything for Christmas I was somehow supposed to return 5 tickets to the local drive-in (that was torn down YEARS ago) for $200 to go buy a tree – on Christmas Eve. The people at the drive-in felt very sorry for me. Rowan was with me and it was just… awful!!! Then I remember looking at the trees thinking, “I don’t have enough time to pick a good one!” and then fretting because I thought I had read somewhere that the freshest trees were bought weeks before Christmas. Then I panicked because I went to the tree lot where we always buy our tree – the same one Jake works at and I was upset because he wasn’t working there.
And, just try looking up, “forgets to decorate for Christmas” in a dream dictionary!!!
Ugh.
Wax On, Wax Off, Grasshopper
I need a Yoda, I’ll even settle for an Obe Wan Kenobi. I’m a little lost and I need someone who sees my potential and someone that nods knowingly at the end of the day after I have hauled his ass through swamps and up and down hills and swung on vines and fought imaginary fights and confirms that yes, it was all for a very good reason. That in those grimy, slimy, gross, and terrifying moments I was growing, I was making progress, I was FINALLY getting somewhere.
It’s been a long time since anyone has looked at me and said, “Wow, you’ve come a long way. Look at what you’ve done! Sure, things look bleak, but not as bleak as before and let’s look at what you’ve learned here. No, no, put away the “bad shit happens to good people for no reason” thing, it’s part of your experience and that experience has brought you to some very important truths…”
Some jack off said “these truths shall be self-evident” but nothing is evidencing itself to me these days and I look around and there is no Yoda. No Obe Wan. The universe can’t even spare a Mr. Miyagi. I’m fresh out of ridiculous chores that will embed skills into my subconscious allowing me to later pummel the bad guy with some terrific waxing on and off.
It really bothers me that I’ve spent a lot of time plodding along, doing the best I can and no one says a word. Months after falling out someone says, “Wow, you aren’t as good as you used to be and you used to be awesome.”
Blink. Blink. First thought is always, “I was awesome?” Then, wait! That is the sort of comment that would have been nice to hear while I was “being awesome” not after I’ve fallen off the awesome truck and have been sitting in the gutter fermenting for a couple of months.
It’s sort of like those people who have lost a loved one and they say, “tell everyone you love them now because you don’t know what might happen tomorrow.”
What about “say every nice thing you’ve ever thought because if you ever get around to finally voicing it, it might be too late.” Mainly because you never know how someone is feeling while you think they are being awesome and maybe that moment would have been the best time to have spoken up and recognized that awesomeness right there on the spot. But waiting until they are no longer awesome sounds like you are disappointed in their current inability to be awesome and that makes it all that much harder to simply be even a tiny bit better than they currently are.
(and note here, I am NOT fishing for people to tell me I am awesome right now, please! Not the point! Honest!)
I’ve often said, “I’m so tired.” One day it dawned on me, I’m not physically tired at all, I’m soul tired. Soul tired.
I don’t need another cup of coffee, another Red Bull, or a vacation, or a good night’s sleep.
(although, let’s be totally honest, those things are pretty good band-aids!)
I don’t need religion, I don’t need to “find God.”
Over time I made the conscious shift to prefer peace of mind and inner peace to outer satisfaction. And, if you go back to that beginning paragraph, I’m in no way claiming that I’m totally there yet. I’m just trying.
I’m overweight, my health has suffered from all the stress and bullshit of the last two, nearly three years. I’ve found myself floundering, drifting, swimming against the current, treading water, and nearly drowning more times than I can count. Right now, what feels right is healing the inside.
“if you don’t go within you go without.” (Neale Donald Walsch)
Only going within sometimes leads to a quagmire. Stuck in stickiness that makes no clear sense, searching for a sign, some sort of familiarity… some… something.
I’ve always been a “jump in and get it started” type of person. I make the leap and then hope the pieces fall into place. Sometimes they do and sometimes they don’t. If I want to redecorate a room I’ll mention paint colors, S.O. will groan, and I’ll find myself dashing out of the house with Deirdre or Julien in tow buying cans of paint, tape, and rollers and then coming home with a “I’m doing this. You’ll like it, and no, you don’t have to help” attitude. Then I make due on whatever budget I have and hope it comes together nicely. I don’t spend a lot of time thinking, planning, and prepping for whatever it is I want to do.
Back to the paint example, I never move the furniture out of the room, drape it carefully and commence with looking like one of those scenes from a movie. I move the furniture as I go, taping off sections of the wall only if and when necessary and the prep is woven into the process of painting not a precursor to it. Sometimes that works brilliantly, sometimes not so much…She says about the spot on the family room floor that she hides carefully with a piece of furniture. Ahem.
If I have a big idea that requires research I’ll research it, make notes, and then move forward with putting it into action as quickly as possible.
But, this… this feeling of stagnation this rut that I’ve been in for months… this is something that feels a lot like waiting for something to happen. I don’t like it. I don’t know where I got this belief but it just seems wrong to “wait for something to happen.” I know I lack patience, sure… but I also sort of feel like if you want something to happen you get out and make an effort to bring it about. Maybe the problem is that I don’t know what I want to happen. I know the very basics of what I want, happiness, peace, and some sort of fulfillment, but I don’t know what that means.
Not yet, anyway.
– Do not search for life’s meaning, or the meaning of any particular event, occurrence, or circumstance. Give it its meaning. Then announce and declare, express and experience, fulfill and become Who You Choose to Be in relationship to it.
– Here is a great secret: Happiness is not created as a result of certain conditions. Certain conditions are created as a result of happiness.
– A single sentence could change everything, “Ours is not a better way, ours is merely another way”. This humble utterance could begin to heal the divisions between religions, close the gap between political parties, curb the conflicts between nations. With one word you could end them – “Namaste” – God in Me honors God in you.
– The experience of your life beginning and ending is really nothing more than the onset and dissolution of your idea of yourself as “separate.” At a conscious level, you may not know this. At a higher level this is always clear.
All the above also from Neale Donald Walsch and I have no idea why I have plunked them down here other than I thought they were interesting.
Trouble In Paradise
Over the past few weeks I’ve noticed some spats between Julien and Scarlet. They are quiet about it, no one knows – minus her acting moping. Deirdre picks up on it the fastest. She notices Scarlet’s mood change. One minute Scarlet is chatty and friendly, the next minute she’s quiet and looks like she’s been crying.
The two of them spent the weekend with her grandmother. Let’s just say that when it comes to her mother – the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. That psycho-pants bullshit started somewhere and I’ve got a pretty good idea of where that is.
Grandma decided to pull a tantrum and although it appears that Scarlet and her mother are covering – I got the distinct impression that she was screaming at both Scarlet and Julien. She hasn’t seen them since their graduation in June. Prior to that it was spring break and before that it was Thanksgiving. She decided that their relationship is “unhealthy” that Scarlet is “sick in the head” and so on and so forth. Why? Apparently, Scarlet and Julien didn’t feel up to going to see a movie after walking around all day at an art exhibit and THEN – THEN babysitting Scarlet’s two cousins (ages 5 and 6 months) until very last Saturday night. So, when it was supposed to be a trip down there to hang out with her grandmother – they roped MY kid into babysitting. Grandma got pissed and threw a temper tantrum. These women in this family LOVE to SCREAM. I mean… huge SCREAMING fits.
I found out about this (they were still out of town) after Julien had texted Deirdre and told her about it. He didn’t text me. So, I called Scarlet’s mom and she was shocked to hear from me (I’ve called her maybe three times the whole time they have been together) and I explained that I had heard there was trouble. She explained that it was her mother fault that her mother is control freak and so on and so forth. She said that this was just how her mother is and that you have to just blow it off.
Okay, I can blow off a bad mood. Not someone who is ripping someone apart verbally. There is a difference between being pissy and verbal abuse. Needless to say as long as I have any say over it – Julien is not going back down there again and if that woman thinks she is coming to MY house for Thanksgiving – she can forget that too.
Julien and Scarlet came home today. Neither has mentioned the trouble at her grandmother’s house but I can’t believe for a second that her mom didn’t tell them all about our conversation yesterday. I think the two of them have been in his room fighting all morning. It’s dead quiet, but the two of them are acting strange. She’s overcompensating for something and he’s either bizarrely chatty (I’ve had to hear a play by play of a movie they watched on Netflix) or straight up pissy.
It’s nearly unnerving how we’ve had this lovely, peaceful weekend and as soon as they get back the house is back on tension mode.
When You Hot… You HOT!!!
I should have known this morning when I woke up with massive cramps that it was already time to call it a day. Instead I got up, helped Julien with his resume and worked on some business files.
By noon Deirdre and I were putting ourselves together so she could go downtown with me while I got my hair done. I was way excited because I was beyond overdue for a “trim” which ended being a major whacking. I left the salon feeling lighter, cooler, and oh-so pretty. Deirdre and I decided we would stop by Starbuck’s for an iced tea and a snack. We blared the music that the guys make fun of us for blaring and sang along at the top of our lungs happily lost in our own little world.
I swear, if I had had the money we would have just left for the coast for the night, stayed in a cute hotel, had breakfast and come home in the morning.
So there I am wishing I wasn’t “just” Deirdre’s mom and that I was about XX lbs LIGHTER and 20 years younger. Really. I was barreling down the highway in my big ol’ “mom with kids” screaming Suburban heading west as far as I was willing to go without wasting too much gas or more time than I probably should. We drove to the outskirts of town and turned around and came back. All the while I was dreaming of summers in the backyard at my grandparents house, music on the radio, and at least 2 or 3 girls squealing, barefoot, swinging on the porch swing.
Deirdre was telling me about her friend who spends summers on the rodeo circuit with her dad and all the cute cowboys that were hitting on her now. I smiled and told Deirdre how I always seemed to have too big a weak spot for those cowboys and that the ones you always fall for are the biggest heartbreakers. How’d I put it? Ahh, yes, that they are nice to look, sometimes they are fun to touch – but never, NEVER let them go to your heart, girlfriend.
I laughed and told her how her daddy knows about my weak spot and asked if I’d still have him even though he wasn’t one of *those* cowboys. Meaning, boots, hat, and one of those asses that make you shiver when you see them in a pair of jeans. My man is a sort of cross between mountain man and cowboy. He had horses, knows his way around them and knows how to hunt through some very rural and scary mountain parts with a gun and a pack of dogs. After all, he killed his first bear at the age of twelve and it wasn’t a cub by any stretch.
Deirdre smiled and giggled. The kind of giggle that means she gets me and isn’t thinking of me as “ugh, just my mom” for that moment. It was nice.
But, nice wasn’t about to last… because around here nice never does.
I came home to find Julien seeming more wired than usual. S.O. was at my desk trying to get my computer to turn on. Okay, power surges and bullshit are nothing I am unfamiliar with in this oh-so wonderful energy sucking state we live in. As S.O. went out to check the electrical panel (on a house that is barely 4 years old, mind you!) our son let it slip that we had gotten a letter in the mail from city code enforcement.
Code enforcement.
For what?!?!?!?
Oh… because I had a couch sitting in my driveway on Monday when they happened to bring their sorry asses by – because a friend was coming to pick it up.
AND… wait for it…
My patio.
MY PATIO in the REAR OF MY HOUSE. My professionally constructed (by my DAD a BUILDER with a CONTRACTOR’S LICENSE!!!!) outdoor kitchen and patio – why? Oh… because even though it is under 100 Sqft. in this money fucking grubbing economy these cocksuckers are looking for every fucking dime they can get their stupid hands on. We have an existing patio and my dad added on to it. So now they want it permitted. My dad is calling some friends downtown. Thankfully.
It’s fixable, but it’s a royal pain in the ass.
In the meantime, my husband did a quick search on our property and found out that the same floor plan as ours just sold for $80,000.00 LESS than what we owe on our house. After all the modification drama… we were only maybe $20k in the hole… so in that time values have dropped again. Thankfully, there isn’t much we can do except continue to make our house payment and see what happens in the future. Still, S.O. isn’t happy.
Back to the permit bullshit… yeah, well, we have 2 bantam hens in our backyard that are also against code because they are considered livestock even though they aren’t full-size chickens and are bred for pets and show. Which means I am going to have to hide them out like illegal refugees or something.
It’s just more than I want to deal with and I’d just about kill for a couple of months of peace and quiet. Don’t get me wrong – I don’t mean a two month VACATION – I just mean two months were nothing dramatic happens. Where we work and pay bills and raise kids and just live like normal people. That’s all I’m asking for and at this stage in my life – that can’t be asking for THAT much, RIGHT?
Joan Crawfords Abound
It’s Sunday, I’ve had a few beers and one week ago today I stopped taking anti-depressants so I’m feeling pretty good. Good enough to give you a bit of background on my cousin, Jake.
It feels very strange calling him “cousin” since he is only 3 months younger than Julien. Jake’s mother, SZ, and I are close in age. Well… mostly. She was 23 when I was 15 and pregnant with Julien. She was married to my uncle (then 32) who is my stepmother’s older brother. We were pregnant at the same time and my uncle played on the same softball team as my boyfriend at the time (Julien’s sperm donor) along with my dad.
SZ and I were very close. She was the older sister I had never had and someone I could trust. You’d be amazed at how few people there are a pregnant 15 year old can actually trust. I adored her. Jakey was born 3 months after Julien in the same birthing center and same room with the ridiculous mural of the little girl sitting on a crescent moon with her teddy bear or bunny. Whatever it was the mural melted down the wall under the effects of heavy drugs for intense labor pain. 
My little boy had dark brown hair and dark brown eyes, her little boy had dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. We took them to the park together and attended gymboree classes together with the boys. The boys loved each other and it was nice having someone somewhat close to my age with a baby too. From my perspective it always appeared that SZ lived and died for Jake just as I did with Julien. But, I guess time changes everyone…
SZ and my uncle divorced when Jake was 3. I’m sure my uncle wasn’t the most perfect husband in the world, but the sad fact is that SZ wanted more. A lot more. She left him. From that moment on my uncle’s world was about Jake. He never remarried and rarely dated. He didn’t even drink for 17 years and my uncle used to be a party boy.
SZ on the other hand, married one of those bonehead, jocko, jerks who came from money and often talked about his glory days on the high school football team. Yeah, one of those. He treated Jakey okay for a while until SZ got pregnant with HIS kid. Then all bets were off and Jakey became the second-best… the extra kid. The one beautiful, adorable thing that reminded him of his wife’s previous life.
Jake adores his baby brothers. He has two now. They are in still in elementary school nearing junior high. His stepfather looks like Homer Simpson – I kid you not. The guy is one of those guys that attempts to intimidate other men by trying to “crush” their hand when he shakes hands upon meeting them. He tried it with both S.O. and Julien on the day Jake shipped out to bootcamp.
Over the years (I want to use his first name so badly because it would make you laugh and laugh, I swear) Jake’s stepdad attempted to get heavy handed with Jake – inappropriately so. My uncle quietly took him aside and told him that if he put one more hand on Jake EVER that no one would find his body. My uncle would give any part of his body for Jake in a heartbeat. So the dickhead, “Homer” (ha!) found other ways to make Jake’s life uncomfortable.
Meanwhile, my uncle would have preferred to have full-custody… but SZ emotionally manipulated Jake often using his brothers as leverage.
As it turns out SZ’s son with Homer *snort* has some sort of health issue that has caused him to be obese and not able to be active. Meanwhile Homer seems to think of himself as some sort of specimen of athletic perfection. Not quite.. the man has boobs. It’s gross. ANYway… so there is Jake. He’s perfect, he looks like a young Tom Cruise – no kidding. He’s stunning, graceful, and supremely athletic. So stepdad forced him into football and then wormed his way into a coaching position at the school as well. We have poor air quality here and the heat can be extreme to the point that between the air quality and the heat index – the air is borderline toxic. His stepdad would make Jake workout longer than the rest of the team (longer than legally acceptable – we have strict guidelines here because of the air quality and heat) in 100 – 109 degree heat and then force him to walk 3 miles home with all of his football gear. While his stepdad’s fat ass drove by him in his air conditioned truck.
That stopped when Jake finally called his aunt (my stepmom) and she came and got him. A week later – SZ decided she didn’t like Jake’s hair cut so SHE threw him out of the car on the way to school. Jake was going to be late so he called my stepmom to see if she could give him a ride to school.
Last year my uncle fixed up an older camaro and gave it to Jake. There his mom was married to Mr. Moneybags (he even has his own plane) and getting $2,000.00 a month for Jake in child support from my uncle – and she couldn’t manage to get her kid a car. The other boys are spoiled beyond belief.
Throughout the years, SZ was constantly petitioning the court to increase my uncle’s child support payments and the second Jake turned 18 and the child support stopped she shipped Jake over to his dad’s to live. But, not before she had made sure he signed himself up with the marines. She told him if he didn’t sign up with the marines that she would never allow him to see his brothers again. Seriously. And, Homer had a great deal to do with it because he felt Jake “needed more discipline.”
Discipline my ass. Jake is one of the nicest, sweetest, well-mannered, polite young men you will ever meet.
So Jake moved in with my uncle. After years of being told that my uncle didn’t want him and wouldn’t like him living with him – he soon found out that he and his dad got along great and enjoyed each other’s company. He was asked how it was living with his dad, he said, “It’s great. I always have a little bit of money in my pocket and dad and I always have a good time together.”
All those years of paying $2,000.00 / month child support and SZ couldn’t manage to put a little pocket change in her kid’s wallet? Meanwhile the kid worked at a local Christmas tree lot every year to make money for Christmas.
So, in the end SZ won. My uncle got 5 months of living full-time with his only child before Jake shipped out to the marines. His ship out date was pushed back once, SZ threw a fit and attempted to call the recruiter to get him shipped out on his original date because she was trying to have his send-off party and his high school graduation party be one in the same. In her place, as a mom, I would have been grateful my son was given a few extra weeks. Not this stupid twat. The morning he shipped out SZ threw a temper tantrum and forced him to go to church instead of going out to breakfast with his dad.
If anything happens to that boy… ANYTHING… SZ is going to hear from me and I promise it will be a conversation she will never forget.
This Old Heart of Mine…
Broke the news to S.O. that I’ve been off my anti-depressants for 6 days today.
He was actually more excited than I have heard him in a long time. He told me how proud he was of me and how great it was. He also said something about celebrating and making me a nice dinner. It just felt really amazing to get that kind of support.
Julien went to Scarlet’s for breakfast this morning so the girls (Deirdre and Rowan) and I rocked out to 80′s music… actually, we still are as I am writing this. Currently listening to Lisa Stansfield’s “Been Around The World” – *sigh* takes me back to 8th grade when I could still wear a bikini…
Today is one of those days when it feels like big changes are coming and they are mostly for the better. We got two more orders in and that means we can pay for our e&o insurance and still have a bit left over to keep the business account floating and able to pay business expenses for a while. If things keep going like this – even just 4 orders a month we can keep breathing and buying bottled beer. 
What I want to believe more than anything is that the past several weeks have been the final “darkness before the dawn” – do you hear that little hopeful Pollyanna trying to poke her head out from under the bed?
Have you ever stopped and wonder what it is you’re searching for?
Okay… want a detox update?
I am on day 4 (it’s Wednesday, right? *goes to check* Right.) and no brain zaps, one very mild panic attack, one slight moment of bitchiness, and one moment where I broke down in tears – but I had a good reason and I’ll get to that in a second. Basically, I have a really good feeling about this. I have not told S.O. that I am off my meds and I must be doing really well because typically by day 2 he is asking me what is going on and if I have taken my meds.
I took a Benedryl last night (read on line in numerous places that doctors are recommending that for people who encounter side effects or withdrawals while weaning off anti-depressants) and I slept well. Most of my panic attacks seem to set in late at night or around 2 or 3am. I had a couple of intense dreams but so far, so good.
The last time I went cold turkey it was after I had been taking 20mg daily for months straight. By day 7 I was hallucinating and sleeping about 20 hours straight. This time I’m cold turkey off 2.5mg – I’m guessing that’s why my symptoms are so much more mild. *fingers crossed*
On Sunday we attended the send off and motorcycle escort of my cousin to Marine Bootcamp. I’m devastated. I didn’t want him to go into the military and truthfully – he was forced into it by his mother. It’s a long heartbreaking story that I’m not quite ready to get into. Let’s leave it as he’s a good kid – so there were ZERO discipline issues. His mother is just a crackpot bitch who prefers her “new family” to the one she walked away from that included him. His father is my stepmom’s older brother (my uncle, basically).
He’s really more like my nephew (or my son) than my cousin… he’s actually 3 months younger than Julien and he and Julien were born in the same birthing center, same room just 3 months apart. I adore this kid. ADORE. And I showed more emotion and hugged him more at his send off than his own mother did. Deirdre is very upset and Julien has been in tears off and on since Sunday. It’s been very tough.
Then today S.O. called to let me know that the one big contract his company has is being canceled in September / October. If his boss (my mother’s boyfriend) doesn’t bring on more work – S.O. will be forced to take a BIG pay cut. Notice, S.O. actually MAKES money for the company – but the dipshit is going to keep my mother on and cut S.O.’s pay.
Just when I think things are getting better… just when I am sure I can see the light at the end of the tunnel – I find out it’s a fucking train.
I’m okay though. I’m really rebounding quickly on this one. I have a couple of irons in the fire and God willing, they’ll work out and a pay cut will only mean we won’t have much “fun” cash left over. I was looking forward to having “fun cash” again there hasn’t been any of it for a very, very long time – but I can’t bitch. A lack of “fun” means keeping my house and feeding my kids. That works. I can do that.
Protected: And Then Deirdre Showed Her Spine
Nearing the End of a Long Road
Yesterday was my first day without an anti-depressant. I’ve slowly weaned down to 2.5mg daily and I took my last quarter pill on Saturday.
At 3am this morning I woke up with a panic attack. But, it was milder than any panic attack I’ve ever had. I was asleep by a little after 4am and this gives me a little hopeful feeling that the final detox won’t be as bad as I’ve imagined it to be in the past.
I’m a little groggy today because I took an Advil PM at 3am to combat the panic. It helps and I would much rather be groggy now than bitchy, uncomfortable, and anxiety-ridden.
Keep your fingers crossed for me, please.
Stella Mayfair
Thirty-something female coming to the slow realization that she isn't as bad as she thought she was and really had no idea what she was talking about through most of her twenties.
Don't expect anything, it's better that way for both of us.