I’ve been caught red handed. But not 💯 percent sure. And here I thought I was so stealth. Under my alternate Twitter account, I get to be me. Not that I’m not genuine here because I wear my heart on my sleeve & gush my very being. But there, where no one knows me, I’m not afraid to share thoughts that might not otherwise make the light of day. And this is with a cohort of people who have something so deeply in common with me, that they get it. The club no one else wants to be in.
I know I’m overthinking and what would’ve had to be done to find me isn’t easy. I’m not the sun or worth the time so the family tells me they think I’m still anonymous. So much is starting to make sense though & I label myself the bad actor.
I’m going to keep pressing on. Hope there is truth to it’s not over until it’s over. As I re-read everything there is much pain in my writing. Brutal, honest, and at times overreacting. Maybe that could perhaps bring sympathy or empathy. As long as I’m not pitied, I’ll take what I get.
Theresa Irmina Andrisek McBee Jasek 9/1/32 – 1/25/98. Today would have been her 90th birthday. Happy birthday to the only momma I ever knew. My feature image is the tattoo she’d likely be upset by …. or not. I’d like to think she would have made an exception somehow knowing my sweet baby girl drew the heart (and has a tattoo of her own). Times change & maybe her strict interpretation of the catechism would have changed too.
I’m not quite ready to full on release the hounds but I couldn’t let this milestone go by without a mention. Over the coming days, I may or may not expand upon my story. I’ve been teasing about doing this for months. I’m pacing myself because I don’t want this to turn into a bash the dead person narrative. She was flawed but then again everyone is flawed; all of us are imperfectly human. I live in a glass house, not going to throw any stones. And I want to stress things weren’t all bad, in fact, there was usually much more good. Revisionist history or not, my life has been & continues to be extraordinary. I don’t need a wellness check. I promise.
This has to be my favorite quote from the 1948 film The Naked City. “There are eight million stories in the naked city. This has been one of them.” I feel like I have 8 million stories all by myself. A tangled bowl of spaghetti which is very hard to follow. But then that wouldn’t be any different from my typical posts here. WordPress is definitely the place to tell my tale. People here have always been very supportive.
May is mental health awareness month. Accordingly my company is posting one message a day on its Intranet. I admire that they are trying to do something. Truly I do. And not to be a brat but…
In today’s story of gentlemen wrote of his daughter mental health diagnosis. I will not elaborate and/or minimize her struggles. My initial thought was we need more of this, people willing to speak up. As I started to reply my comments twisted and took a different theme. A not so nice one. A bit of ire underneath what would’ve been well wishes. Not for the gentleman and his daughter but for the system. I made it about ME. And God help me I hate that about myself. So I canceled my comment before it went large.
This is what I almost wrote… Thank you <insert name> for being vulnerable to share your family’s story. I’m glad you found help for your daughter. For every one person that speaks up, hundreds more are suffering in silence. The stigma/fear/shame are real. The social services are lacking. We are fortunate to have FMLA and a job that allows us to concentrate on what’s most important. Many do not.
I could’ve gone on and on and on with my diatribe. I could wallow about our experience with Lulu who at the tender age of 16 suffered with suicidal ideation. How she used to cut herself. How she binge ate her way to oblivion to get through the stress of college. Who is now skinny as a rail having mastered her fate. Who still struggles daily with self doubt and worse yet in those struggles, shows a fierce determination and strength beyond her years.
I could go on and on about the broken system. Elaborate with intimate detail what we went through to find help. To be turned away. To be further harmed. Hell, we went through fresh hell. But I haven’t the energy. And I’m not sure it’s productive. I firmly believe one should come with a solution not a complaint. In other words, whining about a broken system doesn’t fix said system. With that I’m FIN. For now. Until the next dust up.
… well now that I grabbed your attention, turn back fast or you’ll be sorely disappointed. The treat is for me getting some ferocious thoughts out of my head. This post will likely make no sense. There could be a snippet or two of clarity in the fog but basically this is me like a cotton headed ninny muggin. Truth be told the movie Elf annoys the ever loving crap out of me but then I did cry at the end. Sap that I am.
Okay, so here’s the deal. I am not my mother. Nope, she is she and I am me. I do not have to repeat her path. Genetics might tell me otherwise but genetics are also a wildcard. Example, one has a 1 in 4 chance to inherit whatever trait. Predisposition is not a guarantee. Only 25% likely, or 10% or 80%. Wildcard you see! I need to remember that! I’ve been in the insurance game my whole life. We deal in probabilities and statistics. What is the likelihood of X occurring and all that jazz.
The most comforting response came from Twitter where despite what one may think is not all that bad when you pick what you follow. I am out there anonymous baring my soul. A kind stranger wrote in reply to my angst: In your specific case, I would say that your mother’s experiences are separated from yours by time and experience. They aren’t a given. Was all it took one stranger to change my mind?
Well no. He corroborates what I know to be true. Years of patterns and statistics. Could this mean I escaped? Maybe? But what about my Lulu? I have subtly hinted at her issues, which are all resolved in this moment, yet always ready to rear their ugly heads again one day. Samesie for her right? Not a given. We can fight, fight, fight against biology. You rat bastard!!!!! Even if the effort is futile.
Okay, enough steam was let loose. I’m better. For now. Might pop off again later. Feels good folks to finally let the dam break and the chips fall where they may. RIP momma, you did the best you could.
Made ya look :). Nothing to see here. Move along. Haha!
Storytime: Childhood Memory.
Wait! What? I can hear you. The disbelief is obvious and audible. Captain Duh! Or is it reverse? Duh! Captain Obvious.
I have this memory as a kid of crying … faking crying at the tops of my lungs to get mom’s attention. I’d wake up with in the middle of the night unable to go back to sleep. I’d start with a whimper then increase in volume. If mom didn’t appear at my door, I’d crawl out of bed and walk down the hall to stand at my parent’s bedroom door – faux wailing.
I really have no idea why … why I woke up and why I wanted my mommy but didn’t want to be seen as a baby. Sometimes I remember thinking hard as if willing her to read my mind and come to my room without me crying. The telepathy never worked. The blubbering always did. Mom would take me back to my room and rub my back until I eventually fell back asleep. That part is a pleasant memory. Back rubs are the best!! I eventually grew out of this behavior. Thankfully.
Now that I have your attention with the word confessions, you must be expecting something juicy. I have not fully released the hounds in a while because of my new handy dandy positive mindset. That I fake on the regular because I am truly more like Eeyore or Ziggy – grab an umbrella :). #cultureshift. In this case, the shift is toward accountability.
A plethora of wildly anxiety inducing thoughts are swirling in my brain. How’s that for a sentence full of nothing but innuendo? All under the guise of being politically correct, I have stopped with the shenanigan of airing my dirty laundry aka my personal opinion. Why? Well because as B often tells me “Nobody cares Jill” . The shrinks of the world say to tell someone “nobody cares” is no bueno. BUT they don’t know me and B. I actually feel BETTER when he says ““Nobody cares Jill”. Allows me to laugh off my worry.
Plus he doesn’t mean it in a bad way either. He simply looks askew at all social media. How’s that for using an adverb properly? I am going to become a logophile. Thanks Melanie!! Your #SoCS post is sticking with me.
Continuing … B is not necessarily adverse to the Internet (he LOVES playing solitaire on a non-interactive app). How’s that for the opposite of oxymoron? But the likes of FB, Twitter, Instagram are in his humble opinion a complete waste of his time. Which leads me to the confession.
Info overload has made me a wreck and this political season may end me. The hate we are witnessing in the social sphere is too much to bear. On all sides. Left, Right, and All Directions. I feel that the veil has been lifted from my eyes. True colors are showing. I don’t like what I see in most cases. Judge much? Why yes, yes I do. We ALL do!
Anyway, that felt good. To get “things” off my chest. Now to walk it off to save myself from myself.
I need to check my motives. Yeah buddy. I’ve been playing the passive aggressive game instead of just walking away. But dang if I was going to be run off by a control freak. This town is only big enough for one head honcho and that’s moi. Ya see? Scram. Get outta here…
I told you this was brambly. Now I’ve got to go. Our virtual conference took away from the work week and I am off tomorrow. Putting in the time now. See ya on the flip side. Ten/4 good buddy.
I have been having quite the week. I laugh to power through but there are times that laughter does not work. Like now. I think I have gone off the deep end.
Okay, I can hear you …
Well not really because this is virtual yet real as opposed to fake rambling. I imagine you’re thinking what’s new?!?! She’s neurotic. I am and I own it.
Okay to I have these physical symptoms that have become impossible to ignore. I had a tele-med appointment on 8/17 and on 8/18 I had labs and now I sit waiting. Scared to find out what the eating habits of the home bound have done to me. Weigh-wise I am good, maintaining but I have known forever that you can be a thin unwell person.
The Sunday before my Monday appointment I was surfing the net and taking surveys. I got two calls this week to follow-up on my responses with offers to assess my health. Despite having my doctor’s appointment, I thought what the hell why not????
The first place was something called Wellness Hormone Center WHC. For the low, low price of $3,000, I get labs, B12 injections, and hormone pellets injected into my backside. The crazy part is I am actually considering this insanity. Because I hurt and I am tired of hurting. And taking pain meds would put me on the path to addiction. Of that I am certain.
The second place was called the Pinnacle. They are a research group trying to diagnose fatty liver. This place does something like a sonogram and labs. If I do not have fatty liver, they cut me loose but if I do, then they try different treatments on me. Uh ya, wait! Why? Cuz I know … that you know … that I know … that I am not going to consent to treatment by these quacks. Are they “real” as opposed to fake doctors????
B keeps asking me what kind of places these are and am I sure? I have no idea to either. My guess is they are pseudo scientists trying to help people OR they are con men and women. And I am always unsure. All of this scares the bejesus out of me but like I said I am tired of hurting.
I’m fairly certain I will not participate in the I pay 3K for hormone and B12 injections. I’m too much of a cheapskate. Re: fatty liver, does me no good to find out I have a fatty liver. Ignorance is bliss. I won’t take the treatments anyway even if I qualify. I can’t un-ring the bell as they say.
I’ll report back if I take a leap of faith right off the ever loving bridge.
This post is my 2nd Sunday reflections. Look at me, building habits. Speaking of habits, Lulu and I finished three weeks of walking every morning. We planned to skip Sundays but have done that only once so far. Tomorrow she has a tele-med appointment and I asked her if she wanted to skip. She said, “nope, lets go 30 minutes earlier”. Well look at that would ya? Folks you’ve no idea what a huge stride that is … pun intended.
I started taking my hand weights and pretend to get tired so she will take them from me. Sneaky I know but desperate times call for desperate measures as they say. This wellness routine of ours is very small but a step in the right direction. That pun was intended too :).
At her appointment she is going to ask about weaning from her anti-depressant. Something I have wanted for a while and something she just doesn’t know. Originally the doctor (who was quite the quack btw) said she would be able to stop after she got settled in college. And lookie here, she graduates on 8/8/20. Ultimately if she continues on, we will support her. My guilt for getting her in the cycle when she was under 18 be damned. We’d much rather have her obese and alive than thin and dead. Of course obese could lead to early demise. Heavy decisions for someone so young.
Alrighty, enough second guessing. Now is the time to recap.
Last Sunday was all about Jack or John during #SLS. This challenge hosted by Jim Adams is the best bringing the tunes. You should play along or at least look here and take a listen.
On Monday I wrote a Haiku and Shared My World. Work was a gazillion times better because I decided to eff it. I can only control what I can control. I laughed much more this week and I let the pressure go. Up up and away. Like a beautiful balloon. Hurling expletives as she rose :). The she is me. I am the balloon. 🙂
Tuesday was all about property taxes. Which reminds me, I need to get my evidence together. Wednesday was #1linerWeds. while on Thursday and Friday, I looked back …
On Thursday I also learned that a co-worker tested positive for COVID. He got it from his roommate’s sister who works at a Walmart. She brought it to church and he picked it up there. He is what they call a community spread. After time in the hospital, he is convalescing at home. Expected to make a full recovery. Thank goodness. Still when I see people out and about without masks, I just wanna punch them. Hard. In the face.
Saturday was the capstone. Twofer!! First, #SoCS in da house. Where ya never know what you’re gonna get … until you do. We had ZZ words this week. Second, mobile happy hour … like an ice cream truck for adults. Proof!!!
J-Dubs Grin and Bear It 