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.  

All Roads Lead To Emotional Wellness

On the outside, I’m the proverbial optimist.  On the inside, I’m the proverbial pessimist. Or one might say I’m a proverbial wolf in sheep’s clothing. Fake! Faux! Not genuine!

I’m going through some sH!t.  A rough patch of my own making.  In an effort to heal, I’ve started morning meditation.  I also somewhat compulsively make my bed. Every. Single. Day.  I twitch if I don’t.  Simple really. Win the morning, win the day!

Some may sneer. I agree! Hocus Pocus psycho babble BS.  Well, I don’t agree to that!   Instead,  I acknowledge that my methods are not one size fits all.  Yet I’ve got to try something, anything since the coping mechanisms I’ve been using no longer work for me. 

Fly, be free. Free from anxiety.

The above pic was taken Easter weekend 2017.  This morning as I gazed at the image, I repeated and protect us from all anxiety as we wait in joyful hope for the coming of our Savior! Over and over and over again until the calm came and the worries floated away. 

As always, more to come. 

I’m Trying to Be All Tech Saavy

Today I posted an introduction to a new category.  For some reason, the post that was to follow immediately after the introduction is not showing up where I thought it would. And I guess, … no, I know … that I solved the mystery.  I started the post on 4/19/17, right after the appointment.  There the words sat, getting dusty until today when I decided to create this new little home for these nuggets of therapy gold.  I posted quite a few things after 4/19/17 which caused this entry to be placed ahead of some that were more recent.

Here is that Entry reposted to move up the line in chronological order.  The words are raw to me yet still I am compelled to share.  I am really going out there on a limb without saying too much.  At least I hope not too much.  Speaking in semi innuendo.  This is read-between the lines code speak.

Not that long ago someone said my words would come back to punish me.  Yes punish was what she said.  Something along the lines about whether I cared what people thought about me?  And was I just seeking attention?  I do not think she is alone in her beliefs and her caring to tell me this has made me all the more reluctant to share anything else.  Consequences.  I had not stopped to think about the consequences.   Yet here I am, consequences be damned.  Well sort of, or maybe, or not really.  You’ll understand IF you read the entry.

As always, more to come.

Will I be ready when the other shoe drops?

Motherhood a pain you never forget. Or is that childbirth, a pain you always forget? 

Some say in order to experience pure joy you first have to experience pure sorrow.  That’s me recently with my mood swing roller coaster of emotions.   I’m running the gamut between the two.  

On a constant loop in my brain, I have a list of things I worry about.  Exclusively, my worries relate to my kid.  Billy Bob asked me yesterday:  Why do you do that? Why do you always assume the worst? Can’t you give it a chance to work out? Without the unnecessary freak out? And he’s got a point. Dammit I hate it when he’s right. Which is most of the time.

At the moment, the sun is out and things are better. Last night was one of the worst nights of my life. I didn’t realize how the anniversary of the painful event would affect me but it has affected me immensely.  And I realize there are still things that need to be done so we can move forward. And I’m overwhelmed with what’s out there. And I don’t have time for this pity party. 

So I stepped away to eat lunch. And I’m sitting here in tears.  They are absolutely flowing. And it’s OK because the rest of the Riverwalk crew are other places today.  No one to ask me “hey are you OK?” Because I think if asked I would fall to the floor. 

Why does love have to hurt so much? Because that’s what this is. Love for my kid. And I feel the need to defend and protect her.  I vascillate between love and anger with good measure of guilt piled on. 

She’s trying very hard.  As I see her trying, I’m rocked to my core.  Who the hell else cares about how hard she tries or how well intended she is except me or her dad?  Who else would love my child to the depths that I do?

You see I know HOPE.  She can be a fickle bitch.  And LIFE well she’s not fair.  I’m helplessly standing by waiting for the other shoe to drop. Will I be ready? Or will I fold?

Thank goodness my appointment is tomorrow. I think next time I’m going to schedule two weeks out not a month.   Had it not been for the outlet of these past few writings, I might’ve ended up in hospital psychiatric ward. 

I get down on my knees and pray.  Thank you music.  The classic Who. 

As always more to come. 

Ugh!

First I was working on my desktop Sunday.  Some things are just easier by mobile app so Second I was moving between the two. Clearly user error is a problem on both platforms.  I accidentally cut off a chuck of The Moral to the Story.   I had a PS to highlight two music videos and call out three other blogs.  

Ugh!   When I get home I’m going to try and recover the final.  Ugh! I likely won’t get all my edits.  Oh well.  Small potatoes. 

As always, more to come. 

Pins and Needles

Raising children is not for the faint of heart.  I feel like a complete and utter failure right now.  And this is really something small. The proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. I’m not sure why I decided to dig in my heels on this one. But I did.  

Now she’s 175 miles away and angry.  Not picking up the phone.  The last time she was this angry, the event from the painful anniversary occurred.  

I’m spinning out of control myself.  I can’t fix this.  I’m sick with worry wanting to change.  To start over.  To go all the way back to the day she was born.  To be better this time so painful events do not happen.  

There’s a bright light.  I’m giving my child to a higher power.  In His name I pray, help and keep safe my baby girl.  

As always more to come.