Friday, June 21, 2019

Summer Solstice - My Fucks Have Flown Away

It's been 9 months since I've written on here.  My last post was written while I was working at my old job.  I have a new job.  I loved that job, but the part-time paycheck wasn't cutting it.  Now I'm working full-time, making some good bank and my job is ok.  I'm the only female in my department.  Wait, it gets better, and the only non Orthodox Jew.  My building is a place where they all come at 1:50 for prayer time.  The fact that I speak very good Yiddish and Jewish men have always loved me is probably the only reason my dumbass still has a job because I've fucked all kinds of crap up because my Bipolar meds have turned my brain to swiss cheese.  Anywho, that about sums up the job front.

The boy is getting his learners permit to drive.  What the fuck just happened?  I can't even with this shit right now.  He also started his first job as a cashier at a local grocery store.  Again, I can't even with  this shit.  I've mostly come to peace with our somewhat strained relationship and have let most of the shit go and plopped myself in the present and am doing the best I can as a mother.  It's all I have.

The Husband is doing good.  He's on medicinal (legal here in Jersey) for his psoriatic arthritis.  It's been a roller coaster getting him on it, but thank all of the deities that every existed for Cannabis.  It's a miracle herb.  If it ever does become legal, I may try some edibles (can't smoke anymore because of my asthma).  My psych thinks a strain  with high CBD and low THC would work well for me, but only as needed during certain cycles.  Hey, a girl can dream can't she.  We've been married now for 3 years and so we've settled into ourselves.  There are some growing pains here and there but the older I get the more I realize that growing pains are actually opportunities to strengthen yourself and your relationship not to mention to become closer to yourself and your spouse.  We really are the same fucking person.  Which is great when we're both on our game, or at least one is.  The trouble comes when we're both in a fucking mood.  Like today.  I left work early because I literally woke up feeling like I could shoot flames from my fingertips and work was making me feel paranoid.  The Man was supposed to stay home today but went to work because I did.  Now you getting the picture?  He's gonna be in quite the mood when he gets home so I'll have his pipe ready to chill his ass down and I'm making steak with baked potatoes for dinner which we will eat outside IF IT EVER FUCKING STOPS RAINING IS THIS GODDAM IRELAND OR FUCKING WHAT!

If you even question whether I write like I talk, I just starting doing little videos with a friend I met blogging about 13 or so years ago.  She has the cutest Southern Accent and she will attest that I talk like a fucking trucker.

Anywho.  So I've caught you up (very briefly) on work, The Boy, and The Man.  What about ME?

Well, an epiphany occurred a few minutes ago which prompted me to drag out my laptop and start pecking away at these keys.  I've lost my way.  I'm so worried and obsessed over being the perfect wife, mother, employee that I've forgotten how to be...…..ME.  I think that's why I had to run out of work like a lunatic and get home for some alone time.  I feel like I'm losing myself in life.  I've gained some of the weight back that I lost.  I was down to 186 and now I'm 213.  I do little things that I think will make me feel better (got a sweet eyebrow piercing)

and some other shit not worth mentioning but will bring smiles to my face but all in all, I've lost my way.  What the fuck does that mean.  Well, I sincerely, think this is almost 100% Spiritual.  

I used to be a big planner.  I didn't work, I had time and money to plan for a holiday.  Nothing was spared and everything was perfect.  Now I work at least 40 hours a week, have a home and family to take care of and figure if I can't do it the "way I want to" then why fucking bother.  Today is the perfect example.

I woke up like a fucking asshole.  Weighed myself and gained weight.  Talked to myself for an hour about calling out of work but went in and left early anyway.  I obsessed from the moment I opened my eyes about today being the Solstice and how I haven't done a fucking thing.  My altar would normally be beautifully dressed, I'd have a meal with dessert planned and a Ritual waiting for me.  None of those things were done, which is why I think my panties were in a wad.  I bailed outta work at 11:30 because I was starting to get paranoid (thank you Bipolar you fucking superstar).  I came home, couldn't calm the fuck down and then got a fucking plan. 

What's my plan?  I took out steak to grill for my Solstice dinner and the circular food is a potato (yes, I realize it's not a complete circle but fuck it).  I took a prayer candle and some sharpies and wrote all the fuck over it.  I sat in front of my altar and yelled and screamed for a good 5 minutes.  I got it all out.  Verbal vomit.  I lit my candle and pulled up my laptop.

I am evolving.  My Litha of 2019 looks nothing like my Litha of 2006 and it shouldn't.  Nothing stays the same and this is my life now.  Messy, beautiful and untamed.  I'm tuning into that and accepting the beautiful mess that I am which carries into every aspect of my life, including my Spirituality.  Right now, I am feeling the Goddess of Chaos and that's ok.  It doesn't matter whether the altar is perfect, the meal exquisite, the Ritual written out and planned ahead of time.  It matters that I show up and open up.  Everything else is just decorations.  

Thursday, September 13, 2018

Fog, Mist & My Broken Ass

Before I start whining and bitching about my broken ass, I'd like to shout out at my brave sisters about to ride out this hurricane.  Living in Jersey 37 of my 43 years on this Earth, I've seen some shit and I beg you to please be over prepared.  If you think it's too much, it's not.  For Sandy everyone teased me about being over prepared......then I had a family of 4 and their dog living with me for 10 days because they were just barely prepared.  I'm listening to the weather right now (my boss watches the news and car shows all day and happens to have the news on now) and I have to admit, even I'm nervous and it's no where near NJ.  I guess after Irene and Sandy, I get freaked out just hearing about it.

So now that you bitches know I give all the fucks about you and your families, I'll commence my barely 1st grade writing skills eloquently written dribble.

With regard to weirdo pic above, I've busted out my cauldron mug today because I'm at work staring out huge windows at dreary clouds, fog and mist.  Sounds kinda romantic if it weren't THE 6TH FUCKING DAY OF THIS SHIT.

Also, I broke my ass.

At least that's what it feels like.  Long story short.....the last weekend of July I sat for about 100 hours like a fucking sloth on a shitty cheap piece of garbage couch.  The couch was brought by my husband when he moved in and I banished it to the man cave thinking I won't spend much time in there.  All movies and sports are watched in there so I spend more time than I thought.  First it was NASCAR, then 2 movies.  My driver didn't win and the movies were meh.  We didn't even have couch sex because The Boy was home so NONE OF THE SHITTY COUCH TIME WAS WORTH IT.  When  I finally peeled my fat ass off my back felt "wonky".  "Wonky" turned into barely being able to walk.  Barely being able to walk turned into a trip to doc in a box where I got muscle relaxers that completely fucked with my head.  I don't understand why people love those things.  My body was relaxed but my head was going a million miles an hour.  I'm sure I was a fucking pleasure to be around.

I started to feel better and decided to take a nice long WALK ON THE UNEVEN SANDY BEACH.  What kind of asshole does that?  This asshole.  Flared that shit right up again.  Started feeling a little better.....then last week I decided to clean my house like Martha Stewart was stopping by and get the picture.  I have zero patience and always jump in gung ho at the first sign of feeling a little bit better. 

I have fought going to a chiropractor and in desperation went on Tuesday.  Within hours I felt worse but was told "that's what's supposed to happen".  I think this fucker made whatever the Hell is broken in my ass even broker.  Girls, I was in such pain last night I literally got stuck on the crapper.

Picture a nekkid woman with middle of the night psycho hair and too much junk in her trunk trying to pee by the light of the moon (which there actually was none because it's been fucking raining for 6 goddamn days) while crying in pain. 

I gave in this morning after 2 cups of coffee and a half hour on my heating pad and called a specialist.  I go tomorrow morning and have my fingers crossed this shit gets fixed.  

I joined Weight Watchers on August 8th (it was the first time my ass started feeling better) after gaining 25lbs from medications.  Basically, I'm actively attempting to shed some of this ass and not being able to get my walks in isn't helping my cause.  Restorative/Yin yoga is great, but it reduces your heart rate....not exactly a number one choice for cardio yo.  I've managed to lose 8.6 lbs. probably because The Goddess feels sorry for my pitiful broken ass.

Other than the shitty weather and my broken ass, things are going great.  Job is good, husband is good, kid is good and life is good. 

As an aside, I stopped several times while writing this for some witty banter to make it's way out of my fingers.....I must be really fucking exhausted because even sarcasm bone has fallen asleep.  Fucking slacker.

Friday, July 13, 2018

Mine Doesn't Look Like Yours

Self-Care.  To each her own.  My brand of self-care (and sometimes survival care) may not look like yours and vice versa.  What is extravagant to you may be something I do on a daily/weekly/monthly basis aaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnddddddddddddd vice versa.  I'm sure you see where this is going.

Lately I've been dodging shade from all directions about my lifestyle and some of my life choices.  If it were one or two random comments I'd put them in my Zero Fucks Given drawer and get on with it.  Unfortunately, it seems I'm being critiqued pretty fucking often lately.

I've had to make some life changes due to my inability to handle a full-time job because of my Bipolar.  Unfortunately, I am not eligible for disability (even part-time) because the gov'ment sucks balls.  Therefore, I had to quit working full-time and switch to a part-time job.  It took The Man and my psychiatrist months to get me to do it and when a part-time job fell in my lap, it was the trifecta I'd been waiting for.  That decision was met with "well you live the fuckin life you lucky bitch" (exact words, said with venom).  I am a lucky bitch in that I have the amazing support of The Man, but I also had to make some financial sacrifices in order to work part-time.  Sacrifices Judge Judy would NEVER make in order to work part-time, yet I get hurled with insults. 

I live in a 4 bedroom, 3 bathroom Cape Cod style house with The Man and The Boy.  We have 2 extra bedrooms, one of which The Man and I made into a personal yoga studio so those shmeggeges wouldn't bother me when I'm getting my zen on.  This was recently met with "must be nice to have a house that's too big."  Actually, it's not all it's cracked up to be biatch.  We would love to downsize right now but I have to keep this house until The Boy graduates so he can stay in his school district.  I'm paying a RIDICULOUS amount of money in property taxes to own a home my family is too small for.  I hesitate to go further about the specifics of the extra rooms and such because when I do, I get looks. 

Speaking of downsizing.  Once The Boy is out of high school and we can sell the house, we've decided to move to Florida since The Man will be old enough for us to live in a retirement community and save a shit ton of money.  (Reminder, he is 10 years older than me people).  As soon as I started discussing this with friends and family I was asked "what about your son?" (insert his name there since I don't use names on this fucker).  This is a REAL tough one.  I have a few years before this move happens and I'm already feeling guilt about moving across the country away from my kid (who will be 18 at that point).  He will be an adult with a very wealthy father so I'm sure he'll have money in his pocket to fly down and visit his crazy mother.  To that end, The Man and I would be crazy to stay in NJ and pay such ridiculous taxes and insurance.  I believe I read somewhere that NJ is the number 1 state people are fleeing because it's so fucking expensive.  My answer to the question about my son is usually comparing it to a young adult leaving home for an out-of-state school.  Recently, I got the reply "yeah, but they come home all Summer".  I swear, that one made me feel sick to my stomach.  I had to excuse myself and go in the bathroom to get my shit together.  That comment first.  Now it pisses me off as much as the others.

Some other crap is various comments on social media about pictures I post.  Today I posted a video of me relaxing before work.

I actually had someone private message me to passive-aggressively insinuate I'm a lazy fuck who lays around drinking coffee and doing yoga in my "private studio" all day.  Yeah, I relax and drink my morning coffee.  Pardon the fuck out of me for having a cup of coffee in peace and quiet after I've packed lunches, gotten The Man and The Boy out the door for work/school, then tidied up the house before leaving for work.  Pardon the fuck out of me for taking care of my body and mind by doing yoga. Here's a picture of my "private studio".  It's one of my extra bedrooms that's basically void of furniture and decorated as a peaceful place for me to go so I don't lose my shit. I am blessed to have this space and wouldn't criticize someone else for making use out of an otherwise empty room. I'm kinda supportive of my friends and family that way. Anywho, here's my space.

Last night I sat on the couch crying to The Man about my guilt for working part-time and taking a paycut.  About my guilt for wanting to move away so we can have a slower paced life and some fucking money in our pockets and "abandoning my child".  He looked at me like I had 3 heads because he understands I am doing this because if I don't, we will have 1 income because my address will be changed to "1 Psych Ward Avenue, Crazytown, USA".  Basically, I was crying about the bullshit I've been hearing lately that I allowed to set up shop in my head.

I guess this boils down to I'm tired of this shit.  I shouldn't have to apologize for taking care of myself in whatever way that is.  Self-Care is not being selfish and the fact that all of the shit I'm getting comes from women is disturbing.  Don't we get knocked around enough by the patriarchy?  Why do women knock each other down as well?

Friday, June 15, 2018

Why? Who the Fuck Cares?

I was recently inspired by Oma Linda to get back on the horse and write some shit down.  It's been roughly 4 months since my last post, so here's a quick catch-up on what's going on in Fairyland.

I love my "new" job.  I have no complaints, which is a fucking miracle because I can find anything to bitch about, for serious.

The sun has shined for 2 days in a row here.  Yes, that's fucking news since at one point the state of NJ was actually applying to change it's name to Seattle2.  I shit you not.

The Boy has 4 days left of his Freshman year and his birthday was about a month ago.....15 fucking years old.  We let him choose a couple of friends and I treated them to a movie and pizza followed by a video game fest, raucous basketball game in the driveway then spinning some yarn in the kitchen over cake and coffee.  He is so different when he's with his friends.  Different in an amazing way.  It's like they pull him out of his shell and he shines.  He is funny and sarcastic and just.....happy.  I wish I could say that was all the time, but I've decided to let it be.  Enough over analyzing shit.  :::more of that to follow:::

The Man and I celebrated our 2 year wedding anniversary 6 weeks ago.  We took a few days off work and literally did whatever the fuck we felt like at the moment.  You should try it, it's a fucking blast.  "Hey!  Let's drive 45 minutes into the Pine Barrens for the best blueberry pie ever!"  "OK!"  "Hey! Let's get coffee and go watch it rain at the beach!"  "OK!" Hey let's go to bed and ...." (ok, TMI).  I don't think I'll ever stop being amazed by this man and how much we love and lust after each other.  Yup, still breaking beds......(TMI)

Back to the over analyzing shit I mentioned a couple of paragraphs up.  I was hanging out with my bestie and we were talking about therapy.  We both feel as though we have reached an age where the "why" of our behavior, thinking and feeling is moot.  Sure, we could sit and talk to a therapist, a friend, or lover about it ad nauseum trying to figure out WHY WHY WHY am I like this.....but who the fuck has time for that.  My first yoga teacher (and my inspiration for practicing yoga for 15 years) once told me that there is no reason to delve into the why because it takes you out of the present.  It is absolutely necessary to feel what you are feeling, but sit with it and get on with your life.  Feel the feeling physically, mentally and emotionally then get up and have a coffee (my words not hers).  Essentially, I've psychoanalyzed the shit out of my life and in my 40's feel like "ok, I'm good with that whole deal-e-o."

I am not claiming to be enlightened as fuck or that I'm avoiding any and all feelings / emotions / behaviors, however, I am saying that I've left behind spending hours / days / weeks / months and Hell, even YEARS trying to figure out why I feel/emote/do things.  Fuck it.  I just dance with whatever the fuck is going on and then ..... get up and have a cup of coffee.

The Man even noticed I wasn't lamenting over shit and got me a bracelet at Yule which reads "Zero Fucks Given".  Does this sexy beast know me or what.


While my bestie said she also has come to this realization, I never asked her why..... get it, because "why" can suck a dick. I feel like I stopped because all "why" got me was worry and anxiety which took me out of the present.  I actually feel more at peace when I notice an emotion or behavior that's painful or uncomfortable because I know I can experience it without it taking over my life.  It is not necessary to know why in order to heal and be happy.  This, of course, will not eliminate anger, frustration, sadness, depression, anxiety and all that other happy horseshit, but it will make it easier to heal because instead of spending months to years and thousands of dollars on therapy to find out "why" you feel those things, you actually just feel them and practice ways to feel better and cope in a healthy way.  Finding out the root of an issue (mental or emotional) will not solve the problem.  What does one do after finding out why (if they even do, sometimes we will never know and that's a-fucking-o-kay).....WE FIND WAYS TO HEAL AND GET ON WITH LIFE.  So cut out that asshole middleman "why" and get on with it. 

I challenge you this my wickeds.... I'd like for you to tell "why" to go fuck off.  Try it.  Just for a day.  I'm totally fucking serious people.  Please.  If you like it, keep fucking doing it.  If it makes you have peace, you can send me a pretty thank you card with a Home Goods gift card enclosed.

Your welcome.

Sunday, February 25, 2018

Working Girl

I haven't written a word on here since the Summer of 2017.

I CAN'T STAND when people practically argue over who is more tired or busy......but here I go saying I've been so motherfucking busy that I haven't had a minute to sit the fuck down and get some shit out of my head and on "paper".  Sure, I have free time, but I seriously am spot on with the whole making conscious choices about how to spend my time and honestly, writing got slammed to the back burner.

This post is gonna be a long one, so brew a cup of coffee, tea or pour some vodka and re-lax.

Mmmmmmkay, ya ready?

I started working when I was 12 babysitting because I was poor.  I mean fucking poor.  Like, our car was repossessed in the middle of the night and we lost our house poor.

I worked 2 jobs while going to community college (on the state's dime, with me only paying for my books) and when I graduated I commuted almost 1 hour each way to my job as a paralegal.  I kept working full-time until the year my mother died.  I was 24 years old and had my first official nervous breakdown.  I left my job for about 3 months, and while I returned to work, it was NEVER full time again............until I had no other choice.

In 2013 I began my first full-time job since 2000.  I quit my part time work when I got pregnant.  Being a stay at home mother was always hard, not because I missed working out of the house, but because motherhood never has come easy and/or naturally to me.  During those years I still struggled as an undiagnosed unmedicated mother with Bipolar.  It was a real struggle in every sense you can fathom.

In 2013 I kicked Dumbass out and went back to work full-time.

In 2014 I had my third nervous breakdown (the second was after I gave birth).  I quit my job and had no intention of working again until the boy graduates high school in 2021.  My plan was to live on my child support and alimony.

Then in 2014 (about 6 weeks after my breakdown), this sexy motherfucker pulled up in my driveway in a sexy loud growling car, smelling like the Earth with a voice as deep as the sea and blew me away. Just moments after pulling away from our "hello again after not seeing you in 12 years" hug, I took a deep breath, felt the vibration of the growling car and listening to his deep voice speak to me and literally was so overwhelmed (in the best way) that I couldn't open my eyes.  Within a month we were exclusive, just 6 months later we were living together then 1 year later married.  He is the best thing that has ever happened to me and just when I think I couldn't love or lust after him anymore he does or says something and makes my heart and or nether regions melt. 

I'm a lucky bitch.

Since Alimony stops when you remarry I was forced to go back to work.  The year of 2016 consisted of 3 jobs.  I was fired from 2 and the 3rd lasted until I quit........2 days ago.

Back to the first paragraph.  TIME.  After 14 months working full-time I finally .... like for serious.... admitted out loud what I had feared for many months.  I literally can't work full-time.  Like for realz.  It legit makes me crazy.  I look around at all these women with husbands, kids, homes and friends and wonder HOW IN THE ACTUAL FUCK DO YOU BITCHES DO THIS SHIT.  I felt like I was neglecting myself, my husband, my son, my friendships, and my home.  I mean like wicked neglect to the point I was bitching about all of the shit to all of the people. If you read my last post you'll see I lost my shit the Summer of 2017.  My answer to that was in August I asked my boss to cut my hours back and she literally gave me more work.

I talked to her again in October and it was a no go.  I struggled through the holidays and then something began coming unraveled and I could feel the thread thinning and recognized the early signs of a full on breakdown.

I have been talking to The Man all the while and he has been telling me to get another job.  Honestly, the thought of interviewing and searching was horrifying to me after the year of 3 jobs.  Then I began getting physically sick.  A week long migraine (I haven't had those since Dumbass mind fucked me in my divorce) and my asthma so bad I've had a cough intermittently for almost a year.

I spruced up my resume the weekend of 2/10 and on 2/15 I got a phone call from a business I had interviewed with in June 2016.  They had  kept my resume that long.  I literally had my shit together and an interview before I even began a job search. How could I not schedule an interview?  That would be messhugah.

I went, I was a fucking hit (The business owner is a car guy and NASCAR fan, yes, I used that to my advantage) and was offered the job on 2/21.  I obviously accepted it.  The best part?  IT'S PART-TIME and I get an entire weekday off.  The hours are literally exactly what I had been praying for.

A "good person" would have walked into their current job and given 2 weeks notice.  I decided fuck. that. bitch. and literally went in, handed in my keys and quit.  I told her I'm not healthy and I'm taking a sabbatical (I know.....liar liar about the  sabbatical)   She got furious and told me in so many words I was full of shit and was quitting because of a co-worker.

I grabbed my shit, said my goodbyes and was out of there. 

I'm hoping my cough will subside being out of that filthy office.  Before you worrying mommas ask, I am being treated by the top Pulmonologist at the biggest hospital around these parts and it is subsiding, but not completely gone.

I had originally decided to tell my new employer I couldn't start until 3/12 because I had to give notice, then I was going to take those 2 weeks and Spring Clean then do not a motherfucking thing.  Well, he called me yesterday asking how it went when I gave notice because if it went badly he would like me to start sooner as the person I'm replacing is only staying to train me and apparently she's getting impatient.  I'm going to call him on Monday afternoon and tell him I can start in a week.  I'm going to use this week to buy some work clothes.  The only good thing about that shitty job was the fact that I wore yoga pants and concert shirts while saying "fuck" as loud and as often as I liked. I know that sounds like a rockin' gig, but if that's all the good you have to say about your job, you  need to re-evaluate your shit.  I'm also going to Spring clean my house and spend a few play-dates with The French Connection.  Excited isn't a big enough word.  I'll have time after work to relax before preparing dinner and The Boy won't have so much time alone after school.  I am tickled motherfucking pink people!

Of course, this is me so I had to dig real deep to find something negative.  I focused on the fact that  I am obviously going to be making less money (16 hours a week less) even though my hourly rate is increased it still doesn't even out.  I was very worried about how The Man would feel about me not contributing as an equal anymore.  As you can only imagine, the fact that I even brought it up was "ridiculous" and he told me "I just want you to be happy and healthy, we're good with  money, let's take care of you."  He's also looking forward to me getting home before him because before I went back to work and was home waiting for him.......he had quite the welcome.

Again, I'm a lucky friggin bitch.

Sunday, August 6, 2017

A Simple Life

The pull to write is palpable.....but what to write about.  For the first time in as long as I can remember, I am o.k. with all of it.  What the fuck does that mean?  Well, I usually have some kind of drama (whether it be solely in my mind or in reality) in one aspect of my life i.e. motherhood, work, relationships, health (mental and/or physical).  Yet as I sit here next to my snoring husband in our bed I feel peace.

This Spring/Summer has been a whirlwind, but as usual, I'm still standing.  The difference is right now I feel as though I'm standing in Mountain Pose (of COURSE I'm making a yoga reference) as opposed to standing while hanging on to a strap on a runaway train.

So wasssgoinon ovah here?  I celebrated my first wedding anniversary on Beltane in typical "us" fashion.  We did what we like.....we loved (then again, then again, and again for the hell of it) and ate cake in bed and walked on the boardwalk and it was simple quiet (we're actually loud assholes, so not quiet in the literal sense) and full of the Fairy love.

Days later The Boy turned 14.  Four fucking teen.  It was Dumbasses' birthday year so I didn't have him and had a meltdown. Typical me.  Growing pains for him and me (nope, not complaining or lamenting, just stating the facts), yet as I sit here, I feel ok knowing that love is abundant and he knows above everything else that he will always have that here.  Due to my full-time work schedule, I asked Dumbass if he could take The Boy during the week as well as every other weekend, just for the Summer.  Yes, that means I have little time with him, but his Summer has been spent hanging out with his friends and spending lots of time outside.  If I continued our year round custody, during his weekdays here he would be locked in a house alone for 8 hours.  I just couldn't do it. I decided to sacrifice my time from him so he can have a nice Summer.  So I miss him. I cry then I call him and he tells me "I know you don't want to do this, but you have to work and it's ok mom.  It's just a few weeks, everything is fine and I know you love me."  He has matured years in the past few months and makes my heart swell with love.  He is shedding some of that shyness and has settled in nicely (as nicely as a teenager can) as a bit of a mini-me with his quit wit, sarcasm and sense of humor.  He's a brain and a half but I can finally feel and see that emotion that I've known was there but he had such a hard time letting out.  One day all of us were in the car heading to the movies and for some fucking reason I decided it was the perfect time to question him about every fucking aspect of his teenage life by shooting questions at him like a goddam machine gun.  His response was very out of character but perfect.  He threw his arms in the air and yelled "why are you grilling me about all of this! I told you the answers and you keep asking me in a different way! Can't we just go to the moves and have a good time!  This is why we can't have nice things!" While saying all of this his arms were flailing around and he had thrown his head back.  I slowly turned back around, faced forward watching the cars ahead (don't worry, The Man was driving all while giving me the hairy eyeball and in his mind probably telling me to shut the fuck up and leave him the hell alone).  About 2 minutes of complete silence and then from the backseat I heard my son's voice but the words could have come out of my mouth, "Ummmmmmmmmmm yeeeeaaaahhhh, sorry about that whole scene." He is my bubbulah.

Work got pretty fucking rocky there for a bit, but it's settled down and I'm actually confident and after 9 months am doing such a good job I was chosen to train a new employee in a specific job duty because I'm the bestest at it.  I know I'm only a bookkeeper and not a rocket science, but I'm still proud that I finally caught on and got my work mojo back.

After The Boy graduated 8th grade on The Summer Solstice it was like a switch went off in my fragile little mind.  All of a sudden, without discussing shit with my psychiatrist, I decided to play Dr. Fairy Princess and go off 1 of my 3 medications for Bipolar.  I weaned for 5 days.  Yup, that's like the blink of a fucking eye if you're not familiar.  That quickness started a hypomania phase which then convinced me to start weaning off ANOTHER medication.  That's where shit got real.  I tornadoed into a mixed state.  What does that mean?  It's a state of mania and depression.  Let me break that down for ya.  I was manic and depressed (depression manifests in ruminating thoughts for me).  I became volatile, combatative, paranoid, violent and began having suicidal idealizations.  I didn't want to kill myself, but my brain was so fast and furious I was exhausted and the fantasy of relieving that pain (and ridding the burdon of my disease from my family) was the only solution.  If you don't understand that it's a.o.k. because I don't wish a mixed state on anyone.  Suicidal idealization can happen if you're happier than a pig in shit because it has nothing to do with "real life", it's the chemicals in your brain gone completely batshit.  After a 3 hour meltdown/breakdown/falling apart at the seams, my husband made me call my doctor.  She offered to take me out of work for a week to begin recovery and adjust my medication but I just couldn't do that.  So I worked then came home to recover.  Sounds weird, but I fucking did it.

After that (it occurred the beginning of July), my brain slowly healed and my medications were back to normal.  I am now safely weaned off the medication I only will need in cases of urgency.  During my last Pysch appointment she suggested I get bloodwork for my thyroid.  She felt that this episode was caused by a physical problem, not solely my Bipolar.  I went for the bloodwork and I guess the medication I've taken for 14 years isn't strong enough anymore because motherfucker my thyroid levels are way off.  I'll go to my regular doctor on Thursday so she can adjust them.  I'm relieved that for once it's a physical that caused my mental.

Through all of this, as usual, The Man has been my rock.  He has such raw love for me that at times I'm overwhelmed with emotion to the point of tears.  I can't imagine my life without him yet I still wonder why on earth he would love such a mess.  I asked him why he loves me when everyone else I've known has told me I'm "too much" to handle and need to calm down/quiet down/settle down.  He looked me in the eyes and said "I love that you're wild and loud and cackle when you laugh.  I love everything about you, especially the parts of you that no one else understands."  Then he said "I just don't know why you would love an asshole like me".  For the record, he's not an asshole, but he has also been cast away from friends and family throughout his life and been told he's "too much".  We get each other and it's fucking amazing.

I've just written 3 months worth of life in a blog post while sitting topless in bed next to my loudly snoring husband.  Off topic here, but if you don't sleep naked you have no idea what you're missing.  So many mental and physical benefits.  Get over your shit, take your fucking clothes off and give it a week.  You'll never go back.

My cramps from my endometriosis have subsided and the fabulous Percocet I took for them are working just beautifully.  Also, this post is probably a side-effect of the Percocet.  That shit makes me chatty as hell.

I'm gonna sign off, snuggle up next to my husband.  A happy simple life.  It's funny to type that because I'm anything but simple but blissfully happy.

Saturday, January 14, 2017

2016 The Mindfuck

So everyone everywhere in all of the ever loving world has declared 2016 the year that should be burned to a crisp.  The obvious elephant in the room is ....he who shall be unnamed because every time his name is said a Socialist gets an ulcer....will be running this country and Goddess only knows how long it will be before the country/world blows the fuck up.  We can only pray for a fucking impeachment or know like he called for the rednecks to shoot Hillary....somethin like that.

Anywho, that's just part of the shitshow going on.  We all know about the environment barely holding on, the water crisis, every fucking awesome celebrity/musician dying (Carrie Fisher was a personal hero for me), the racism/sexism/homophobia slowly becoming socially acceptable and pretty soon I'm gonna have to start listening for the footsteps coming up my walkway to drag me out and burn me at the stake.  So yeah, I get it, the world as we know it is going to hell in a hand basket....but as Jerry Garcia says "at least I'm enjoyin the ride".

Personally, 2016 was a weirdo fucking year for me.  It was either high or low, not much in between. 

High:  I got engaged to a man who walks beside me when I need it, in front of me when I need it and even behind me when I need it.  Kinda like this scene from Sex and the City I've ALWAYS loved.

I used to wish we had gotten together when he divorced and my marriage was falling apart in 2002 but then I wouldn't have had my son. The Universe decided to make us suffer with other fuckers for another 12 years before bring us back into each others lives.  So long story short, here we are now and I can honestly say I couldn't ask for a better man.  He is not Pagan but let me run wild planning our Handfasting and lovingly jumped in (and over the broom) with all of his heart because that's what I have, all of his heart.

Low: The death of my father-in-law.  He died just 6 weeks before the Handfasting and it was a long illness lasting over 6 years.  I never met him when he was well and only hear stories from The Man and my sister-in-law.  I wish I could have known him then.  I did get the honor of being with him for his last week on this Earth.  I even fed him when he couldn't feed himself.  I felt more bonded with him than I did with my own father, who died over a decade ago.  During my father's last days I actually told him to go fuck himself.  The planning of the funeral with The Man, who had just lost his mom 15 months earlier, and the actual ceremony (ever been to a military/fireman funeral?  christonthecross there wasn't a dry eye in the joint) was exhausting because while The Man was in deep mourning we were still preparing for the Handfasting.  It was like his parents were there.

Low/High: The Boy and I had massive growing pains.  He's now a teenager and there was a time this year when I thought I had completely lost him to his manipulative father.  By the end of the year, he came back my way and now it's better than it was and I've let go of the "fantasies" we all have when our children are littles of how they will be and how our relationships will be as they grow.  I never thought I would have a son exactly like his father, I just assumed he would be a spitfire like me and be a rough and tumble boy.  Nope.  He's a computer geek, quiet, shy and socially awkward thang that I don't know what to do with. I struggled for a good year about what to do when I finally gave up and decided to "do nothing" and just love him the way he is. My active response has been to teach him independence because I know I am the only one who will do that.  So yes, it was low then high and I'm sure will continue to be a roller coaster but this past year that roller coaster had me puking in the garbage can at the exit.

Low: I was fired from 2 jobs in 4 months.  That's a real kick in the old ass.  Try interviewing for a new job after that shitshow.  I felt like a fucking loser and wondered if I would ever be able to financially support myself.

High: I got a job I've been working at for 2 months and don't think I'm gonna be fired!  It's a lot of work, I get paid much less than what I'm worth, work more hours than I'd like but the people......holy fuck the people.  Where do I begin?  It's the most diverse place I've ever worked, all ages, sexes, races, religions and levels of fuckary.  The best example I have of my office:  Our office party started at 1pm and the vodka was on the table at 1:01pm.  Everyone (except me and the recovering alcoholic) was ripped while we played Cards Against Humanity.  I'll wait while you click on it and just read the description.  Also, everyone there knows I'm Pagan and have Bipolar.  I've never been able to be so open, and everyone else is just as open.  Seriously, it's hard work, but the people make it worth it.

So here's the point of this rambling post, this year has had its fill of some good shit, some awful shit, some bad shit and some awesome shit.  I think my little black heart that used to be a pessimist has crossed to the other side and become an optimist.  What?  Yeah, I know.  On a global level, we all agree 2016 sucked a bag of dicks and 2017 is going to eat balls if shit doesn't change, but in my little bubble I feel like I've learned a big fucking lesson.  I became stronger from the adversity (cumulatively dude, not just from this year) and my heart has softened so much from the love.  I've learned so many amazing lessons from so many people and am probably the only person who isn't giving 2016 the middle finger.  I refuse to focus on the bad shit and put the good shit in a corner.  Fuck that noise, the good shit drop kicked the bad shit right in the balls.