Kicked In The Proverbial Nuts

I put this short note (with 40 plus pictures) on FB exactly three years ago today ~ 8/10/14

We are baaack after squeezing in some last minute summer fun to kick off Shark Week!

We took a three day weekend to the coast. Lulu was about to start her junior year of high school. All was still right with the world 🌎.  This was Before … before the terrible awful happened.  We’re approaching an anniversary I’d rather not face.  

Lately, I’ve been looking at a lot of pictures. Before pictures. Pictures where you really don’t see a difference except in hindsight. Pictures that I think If I look hard enough I will find my answers. I know after the fact that behind the smiles there was a lot going on. Truth and still waters run deep. 

It’s painful. Looking at these pictures. And thinking how did I miss the signs? We’re there any? There must’ve been. Why didn’t I see? I am putting myself through anguish trying to figure out the answer.  An answer to what if?  What if … fill in the blank.  A hole so deep, it can’t be filled. 

My rational mind knows that there is no answer. I can say a million times: I would have, I could have, I should have.  But the sad fact is I didn’t. I also didn’t act alone.  

Yet because I blame myself, I feel alone.  It’s taken me a long time to be able to ask for help. I’m finally doing that now. I can’t keep carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders without collapsing.  I desperately want a second chance to make better decisions.

Though now I’m told “you did the best that you could. And that’s all anyone can do. To expect more of yourself is unrealistic and unfair. People make the best choices they can with the knowledge they have at a time”. I’m supposed to be able to forgive myself. But how can I?

Regrets I have a few. But unlike ole blue eyes, I’m not belting out I did it my way. 

My way sucked.  

Yet right now … at this moment … I am happy. I feel a little guilty for being happy. But I am. 

I also have a glimmer of Hope that fickle fucking bitch.

It’s not over yet. It can’t be over yet. I do get a second chance to make better choices. And these choices are future facing. 

I can’t go back … we can’t go back and who would want to go back?  

Hell for all I know if we had a “do-over” things could of turned out even worse. You know the butterfly effect or space time continuum or whatever the hell else.  I can’t control anyone but myself. If I have to watch my loved ones crash and burn so be it.

And there is goodness.  Like today.  The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and it was another day in paradise.

As always, more to come.

Three Weeks

Time has a way

Of making one feel

That all is unreal 

I’m dreading the day

Impending doom

Is coming soon

In my mind

Time has a way 

Lame attempt at poetry to kick the blues to the curb but it’s not working.  You see I thought we had all this time.  And we did at first.  But it is gone.  Plans changed.  Forcefully. Repurposed.  Dreams dashed.  Holding on to what used to be or denial or both?   

I know in my heart of hearts there is never a good time.  Sometimes the band aid just has to be ripped off while the chips fall where they may. 
I’m not as sad as her first semester but I’m still wishing for more time before she leaves me again.  I’m still wishing she’d change her mind and stay.  She’s determined even knowing what she knows. What she won’t say out loud.  

I’m praying things will go well.  No reason to assume they won’t. Still I worry.  So I pray 🙏

As always, more to come. 

The Dream Police

They live inside in my head ~ Cheap Trick

A few weeks ago a fellow blogger asked his readership 

Do you remember your dreams?

I wish I could remember who he was in order to pingback and credit but I only commented instead of Like so I cannot find his original post.  If he happens to see this then shout out as I would love to recognize you.  

My answer was “Ever since I started airing my subconscious through blogging, I quit dreaming.  If I do dream, I don’t remember”

Then yesterday Lulu got the all clear.  Her doctor said she’d see her in a year for routine annual checkup.  Of course if something feels off she shouldn’t wait and should to go back right away.  But basically she’s ok to proceed with life as she knew it. 

I remember life as she knew it.  I don’t want to go back there.  I want her to move forward.  All of a sudden I’m panicking.  She’ll be leaving us again. 

I really had no idea how much I was repressing my worry.  Sure, I let a few things slip out.  Don’t laugh.   Ok laugh.  I let everything hang out.  This is me cycling:

Blab, blab, blab – feel better!

Rinse and repeat 😳

And the undercurrent of worry was always there.   After her appointment I felt sweet relief.  I also could not come up with a coherent thought to blog our good news. 

Last night, I put all my devices away. 

I even took my glasses off so I could not see to read.  

I was forced to just sit in my feelings until I went to bed. 

Billy Bob’s alarm goes off at 5 AM each workday and my alarm does not go off until 6.  Alarm is on my side of the bed.  Uh duh! I control time and space 🚀.  😂

This morning when I turned off the 5 AM alarm, I fell back into a very deep sleep and I had a dream.  A weird dream.  

Red altar server robes and coffins.  A woman refusing to participate saying incense and holy water were sacrilege.  Telling me I’m going to hell.  I’ve served Mass for a few funerals in my day and incense and holy water are part of the service. 

In the dream, I’m trying to explain the ritual when the sprinkling of holy water becomes a deluge.  Water is rushing and we’re being soaked as the priest now throws water on us.  I feel like I’m drowning. 

Then I hear an escalating beep! beep! beep!

My alarm blasts! As I come to, my pillow is wet!   … from my own drooling.  I haven’t slept that good since before we had kids. 

I’m hoping to rinse and repeat.  I want to sleep like that every night for the rest of my life.  Sans any weird dreams.  

As always more to come. 

This has to stop

I picked up two new books.  One is a jaunty spoof on Hollywood and tabloid reporting.  The other a true story on death and dying.  I start reading the jaunty spoof first because after Luckiest Girl Alive, I needed something more uplifting.

Well, … I cannot get interested in the spoof.  Reads farcical (if that’s even a word???).  I have already jumped to the ending and read that … a bad habit that I quit doing years ago … skipping to end and reading the final paragraphs first … anyone else do that?

Anyway just blah 😦

So I start on the true story.  I am hooked.  Emotionally connected.  Crying like a baby.  So much so I had to take a break and purge these feelings.  Because all the while, things are a train wreck around here.

We tried to have a good day.  Really we did.  The three amigos – Billy, Lulu and I ate breakfast then headed to Home Depot (there’s a boat load of home maintenance going on around here).  Shower leaking with first attempt at DIY by da man, two new ceiling fans for den, moving one of the old fans into our room, new kitchen sink!

So we would not be in his way, Lulu and I dropped Big B off at home with the goods, then headed back out for pedis.  Milk and honey with 30 minute massages.  Heavenly!!

Followed by return to Bed, Bath and Beyond since Amazon had better deal on my coffee mug tree. Then over to Barnes and Nobles to use our coupons for bookmarks and fairy tales.

We had lunch at the Cheesecake Factory and even used valet parking. Tre chic.  I was content and grateful.  Blessed to be able to do this when so many go without.  Some days I have to pinch myself.

Next stops Sherman Williams (final three gallons of paint so B can finally finish up the exterior as if all the interior work is not enough for one day), CVS (for RX because we are a Big pharma’s dream.  Sidebar, that topic could become a rant onto its’ own and maybe it will one day) and library to get the death and dying book which had been on hold.

All the while there is an undercurrent of doom and gloom.  Almost time to make the dorm payment but wondering do we hold off in case she can’t go back?  She does not have the all clear and might be easy to say “it’s nothing until it’s something” but truth is we do not know.

All this waiting sucks.  There is a cloud of doubt weighing heavy on our minds. Well, my mind anyway.  I carry the weight alone.  I am fine most of the time but in quiet moments, fear makes an attack.  But I keep my big mouth shut.  Well, except for when I don’t … which is far too often … and except for here, of course.

What’s the worst that could happen?  The tests reveal the need for another surgery (I stop short of thinking it’s cancer.  That was ruled out!!!!).  She has endured far worse things.  I have to remember she is strong.

What’s the worst that could happen?  The surgery causes her to drop out or maybe just delay her education.  She has endured far worse things.  I have to remember she is strong.

What’s the worst that could happen? This has to stop!  

I am making stuff up.  Going through all my worst case scenarios.  Maybe ALL of this is a blessing in disguise.  This! whatever this? turns out to be.  I am going to quit now while we’re ahead.

As always, more to come.

More Funny Math

Way back on Friday May 26, 2017, the cyst we call Clive was excised from the abdomen of one Lulu the Greatest.  Now, six weeks and three days post surgery, all appears to be well.  In fact tomorrow, Lulu hopes to get the all clear from her fantastic doctor KC along with release to drive and all that fun stuff.

Being homebound is the opposite of fun.  There were days I was afraid to leave her.  I had no idea what I would come home to find swinging from the chandelier.  No joke!  Real and reality bites! I am not ashamed to admit to what we go through.  Too many suffer alone.  She was sad y’all. She was way more than sad.  Removal of the cyst was not a magic silver bullet to cure all that ails her.  Somehow we’d hoped Clive was the reason.  Something to cling to as rationale.  We did get a few miracles and we aren’t complaining one bit.  Extremely thankful and blessed. BUT … you get the drift.

Of late we have figured out her hormones were completely jacked with a capital J.  Or fucked with a captial K. I mean F.  Hormone induced depression is likely the culprit for some of the post op doldrums. At a minimum the hormonal rollercoaster was icing on the cake.  Please do not take my word for it though.  I am not a doctor (I just play one on TV or by trolling Web MD) ba dum tss

She is settling into a new normal.  Hoping this new normal has an upside.   Thankfully I was able to work from home on the really super bad days and thankfully my ISP cooperated.  T’was just like this inanimate object knew better than to dick around with me.  Though the real question is this … is the Internet inanimate?  I know AT&T DSL is not a living being.  My Google example is car = inanimate and dog = animate.  The Internet is really more like a car.  Though the Internet is creepy and capable of knowing things.  Oh well hell, who has time for this sH*t?  Not I … said the fly.  Though this week I do cuz I am on vacay!!!!!!! ba dum tss

Funny that I was über organized and accomplished at work during my time at home.  Apparently hyper focus is one of my many coping mechanisms.  Nothing changed with me being at home yet for some reason just knowing someone was near was enough to calm irrational fears.  That and the one day a week face-to-face lifeline known only as HIM.

And now at paragraph six, we arrive at More Funny Math.  But I am too tired to elaborate.  In short, all the medical bills are rolling in for Lulu.  We saved a boatload if you believe the Explanation of Benefits (EoB).  I do not.  Someone, somewhere is making out like a bandit.

As always, more to come.

 

No More Secrets

I feel a novella coming on … well maybe not.  I hear tell 500 words or less is the average attention span.  I will try and keep to that.  Let the games begin!

Good morning world; what a glorious day!  Saturday June 23^rd, 2017 in the year of our Lord.

I’ve been thinking about stuff … lots of stuff.

Everyone knows that mi familia has been through some stuff.

To compensate, I remind myself with daily affirmations that our stuff is not bad … in the big scheme of things.  Our stuff is minor in comparison what others are going through as I rattle off atrocities hitting the headline news.  But … and it’s a BIG but … we can’t keep diminishing our feelings and sweeping things under the rug.

Stuff should NOT be bottled up and locked tightly away.

Heaven forbid we share our stuff because no one … and I mean no one REALLY (as opposed to falsely) wants to know about THAT!

Well a Pandora’s Box of stuff is about to fling open!

In fact, I could even make a new category!!!  Oh how I love new categories.  Bringing me such Glee or if my creativity doesn’t spark, these love notes will definitely be categorized as J-Dub’s Confessions.

More matter the category, the following is an example of the stigma one must overcome when sharing our stuff.

Friend across the aisle “I think it is terrible what was written about that poor woman, don’t you?”

Me: “My brother was an alcoholic; I wished I had said something back in the day.  Too late for him, but maybe the daughter’s words will save someone else.”

Friend across the aisle “well yes, talk about it but … you know, keep the discussion in the family”

Me: “Secrets and shame are harmful.  To me, WHY THE HELL NOT?!!!! ”

Far too many people would rather be ostriches burying their heads in the sand.  Who knows why? Maybe they think “if I don’t talk about it, it will go away” or … motives are countless.  The short of it is this, I have lost friends who could not deal with me talking about my stuff.  I am older now and I couldn’t care less what anyone thinks of me but for the next generation or anyone not in the same head space being denied an outlet is devastating. Speak people … SHOUT from the rooftops if you have to.  We are here; we will listen.  You are not alone.

As always, more to come.

My Heart ❤️

Things have been rocky.

One step forward, two steps back.

Criticize myself always.

Attempt to start over again daily.

I am oh so tired.

My bones ache.

I’m pondering while my heart breaks.

Words can’t describe the love I feel.

I see her trying her best to heal.

Her honest attempts in an unfair life.

Playing the hand she’s been dealt.

Covered in strife.

She continues to strive.

She continues to survive.

From The Mouth Of Babes

… Or almost 29 year old son-shines

Me: $@@!!$$&@@&@$$$&&

Pony: Mom for stuff like this … where what she tells you really doesn’t matter, just believe her.  Don’t poke around trying to prove your suspicions.  You’ll be happier. Trust me. 

I know in my heart of hearts he is right.  This most recent doubt was the Texas mug from Starbucks.  She claimed a gift, I’m sure she bought it, with money she really doesn’t have.  Big scheme how makes no difference. My mind spins.  If she lies about something little then she’s got a secret life and she’s in a house of cards, liar about all. 

Me: it’s not about the cup.  Her actions are indicative of more disturbing behavior.  

Pony:  mom really sometimes a cup is just a cup.  Let it go.

He’s such a good kid.  He makes me smile.  I give credit to my dad.  He was such a huge influence on Pony as a child.  Poor Lulu was stuck with only me.  The guilt can really suck!  Letting go! Always letting go.  

My new mantra: IT IS NOT GOOD, IT IS NOT BAD.  IT IS AS IT SHOULD BE!!!!!

As always, more to come.

What Does More in My Own Backyard And SNL Girlie Men Have To Do With May Mental Health Awareness Month?

This post falls under confessions.  I feel I have failed and I want a do over.  Since that is not possible, I am going to start from now and go fucking forward.  Ya!  I said it!  This is why I saved all my F words :).  To use now when I blog.  I am pissed as sH!t and I am not going to take it anymore!!!

No wait!  I am not really pissed.  I am pumped up.  Hans & Franz style pumped up!! Kevin Nealon and Dana Carvey girlie men “pump YOU up”.    Go back and check out the link.  Go ahead.  I’ll wait :).

Done?  Okay, moving right along.  I will save my “not going to take it anymore” for something more worthy of that ire.  This is not a rant.  This is an “I’m damn tired of feeling low and blaming everyone else for my life choices” kind of post.  This is a “you can’t go back and dwelling on the past is getting you nowhere” kind of post. This is a “quit being jealous of others for you know not what their lives are like behind the Facebook/Fauxbook mask” kind of post.

It all started when Laura M. posted the following to Facebook:

The South Salado Creek Greenway / Covington Park / Comanche Park to South Side Lions Park ( Pecan Valley Park) Never would have thought – “back in the day” the City would have made this possible! It’s Really Nice!

The city has revitalized these parks and they are now open for business.  There are trails, fishing, etc…  It got me thinking that over the summer, I must take advantage of what is in my own backyard.

Now the confession part … as a mother one of my failures was letting my kids lead a sedentary life style.  Not so much with Pony who played baseball and was a ball of energy, riding his bike all over the place.  He was never really one to sit still.  However, 9.5 years later when Lulu came along, I was tired.  We almost signed her up for soccer once but Billy talked her out of it.  She played a single year of softball.  From ages 3-8 she attended dance classes.

A typical weekend was to sit and watch TV.  Check!  Eat fast food drive through garbage. Check! Become activity adverse. Check!  And I was queen of excuses too.  In all fairness, I was more than likely clinically depressed.  And since May is mental health awareness month, I am airing my laundry.  Notice I did NOT say dirty laundry.  Simple laundry that needs some open air drying.  Silence = stigma!  And I am done with keeping my mouth shut.  Judge me if you will mo-fos.  But I am over it.  I am proud to have persevered through the mind fuck of mental illness.

Let’s not talk about pre-existing conditions here other than to say I guess I have one.  That topic is for another post.  For now, let’s aim the spotlight on mental health to show NO ONE is immume.  Everyone knows someone who has been affected.  The statistics are staggering.  Just check out myloudbipolarwhispers blog for daily stats posted throughout the month of May.

I realize this post has taken on a rant like quality despite my best intentions.  Therefore, I will bring us around to a more positive end.  I am pumped up.  I have HOPE (Hope is a fickle bitch) but she is still a friend.  After a really bad night,  I needed to clear my mind and open my soul.  Billy Bob took me on a walk to help me along.  We went to the new Salado Creek Greenway starting at (our old stomping grounds) aka Southside Lions Park.  I am even more tired than I was yesterday but I am a good tired.  I am back to center.  Namaste.

As always, more to come.

When Will I Learn?

I need to think before I speak and quit when I’m ahead. Less is more people!  Less is mutha fucking more!

Yet… I feel an excuse coming on … am I really so powerful that I’m the cause of someone else’s reaction? No!   Mom’s a brat, she said something she shouldn’t have without thinking.  What else is new?!?   

I’ve apologized.  And received a diatribe in return. Biting my tongue, I think Get over it.  If I can own my shit then maybe she can own hers.  And maybe the SO does not use this incident as reason to explain lack of affection.  

I need to be more like Billy Bob.  “It’s over”. “Nothing you can do to change it so quit thinking about it”. He moves on faster than anyone with know.   

Ugh!  As always more to come.