Hold Tight by Dave Dee, Dosy, Beaky, Mick & Tich (from Death Proof)
Only You by Josh Radin (from Henry Poole is Here & City of Angels)
Take it from Me by The Weepies (from The Cake Eaters)
The Love You Save by Joe Tex (from Death Proof)
And my absolute fav, Down in Mexico, which I could (and have) listen to over and over and over and.....RAWR.
I got up off the couch, and I got light-headed. Tunnel-vision set in, combined with some stars. Vision was restored, but there was this tightness in my throat, like I had just watched a sappy chick flick. It didn't go away.
It's hard to really describe the span of feelings, symptoms, emotions. They all seemed to meld together, into one big feeling of "Oh, no, not again" and then "Please, no." :
The tightness in my throat spread up to my jaw and out through my shoulders. My ears rang. I continued to see spots. I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth, and my mouth went dry. My legs went numb and there was this awful, breathless, time-stopping moment of intense terror before my chest started to pound wildly, violently.
My body moved to the rhythm of my heart. thump thump thump thump thump
There was no break in the beating, no stopping the rush of the blood in my veins. I felt my pulse in my ankles, my wrists, my temples, my stomach, on my collarbone, in between my thighs. It didn't stop.
My hands and stomach started to sweat. I was clammy, hot, uncomfortable, and nauseous. I couldn't swallow or talk. I bit my lip until it broke. And bled. I didn't care.
My friends didn't know what to do with me. I told them to take me home. One friend put me on the front of his bicycle and pedaled me the 15 or so blocks home. During the ride, I lost all feeling in my legs, but felt pins & needles in my feet.
I walked in the house, letting the screen door slam behind me.
She was in the kitchen, making lunch. She put her hand to my chest, touched my wrist, felt my forehead. Her answer:
"Your blood sugar? Or hormones?"
She made me a tuna fish sandwich. I remember choking it down, feeling it stick in my throat, lying docile in my chest. I wanted to puke, but my mouth would not water. I tried to lie on the couch, but the pressure of my heart beating was too much. I sat instead, and started counting my heart beats.
It was too fast to keep track of.
I blacked out.
My mother was in the backyard, tending to her roses.
That day, I didn't know what the hell I had. It didn't have a name. I didn't know to take my blood pressure, to get an accurate read on my heart rate, to push my face in a sink of ice water. I didn't know that it would keep happening, whenever it wanted, that it wouldn't stop until it was done, or until I was hospitalized.
When it stopped that day, I woke up slumped over on the couch. My entire body ached, like I had just run several miles with no water, or had been beaten up. The sweat was dry on my chest, back, and stomach. My eyes burned, my ears ached, my throat was so dry and itchy.
I stood up, walked upstairs, & read a book until I fell asleep, the sun's rays shining through my blinds, warming my legs.
This happened for years. After about 6 or 7 episodes that summer, my father was concerned. I was tired. I stopped going for daily runs, for fear that it would start up. I 'relaxed' like my mother and father suggested, but it still kept happening.
We went to see my primary care physician. He suggested I see a cardiologist after suddenly hearing "an odd arrhythmia". My father took me to the cardiologist, one of the best in our area, an expert at arrhythmias. I was the only kid in the waiting room, a room filled with elderly or overweight people. I just wanted answers at that point.
EKG, ECG, chest x-rays, 48 hours of recording monitors sticky-taped to my chest, stomach, and back.
In those 48 hours, my heart didn't do it's "thing", as I began to call it. I even attempted to rile it up, piss it off, and make it happen. I furiously blow-dried my hair, I spent time jumping rope, running around the backyard, riding my bike, even masturbating. Nothing.
We returned the recording monitor, only to be told I would have to do it again.
The first couple of months of my freshman year was spent wearing this monitor. I was self-conscious about it at first, but got used to it after awhile, resigned to the fact that this thing was recording my heart's every move. There was one small "episode" (dr.'s & parents' word for this) during that time, lasting less than an hour.
Within a few days of returning the monitor, we were called back to the cardiologist's office. Again, I sat in the fancy waiting room staring at AARP magazines & listening to the wheezing of a guy sitting behind me.
The doctor explained my diagnosis: mitral valve prolapse and a supra ventricular arrhythmia called paroxysmal supra ventricular tachycardia (which occurs due to an 'electrical connection' problem between the atria & ventricles). I was handed brochures, talked to about medications and surgery, and sent on my way with my first of many, many prescriptions.
At age 12, I was put on a beta-blocker. And it worked for awhile.
At age 13, I ended up in the emergency room when I had another "episode". I had read the brochures, familiarized myself with my options, and took my medicine as I was told upon feeling the first symptom. After 45 minutes of the pain, my father took me to the emergency room on a school night.
The nurse poked me several times in my hand before getting a vein. Chest x-rays, EKG, ultrasound. Sounds of surprise from the doctor and nurse upon seeing my heart rate reach & surpass 200 beats per minute. Medication, puking, sweating, saline drip, another EKG, observation for a couple of hours, my father blowing up rubber gloves & drawing silly faces on them, the fear in his eyes......
I went home and slept hard.
Rinse & repeat. Year after year. I was put on every beta blocker known to man. I had episodes while rollerblading in a park with a friend, while driving to the movies, while out on a date, while showering, while running. It even woke me up one night.
Finally, the very last option worked for almost 2 years.
Almost 2 years with no "episode", no "my heart's doing it's thing", no ER visits in the middle of the night.
I started to breathe easy.
The other night we finished Made of Honor (sweet & omg, McDreamy) & he turned on IFC (my hubby, not McDreamy. Although...wow, now that would be a kick-ass life, wouldn't it? RAWR.).
Death Proof was on, and we were both spellbound. Not only is Rosario Dawson such a turn-on in this movie, but so is Vanessa Ferlito (Man of the House, Madea goes to Jail, Julie & Julia). It is just brilliant, in all it's gruesomeness (is soooo a word). The end made me feel so empowered as a woman, like holy shit, I could totally kick-ass!!
If you haven't seen this movie, what the hell are you waiting for? I just don't even want to tell you anything about it other than it is HOTT. Oh, and there's blood. That is all. Oh, and awesome music. That is all (no, really).
I leave you with one of the best parts of the movie, and if it doesn't turn you on, you are just un-turn-on-able.
If you are still interested in participating in the "When Pills Aren't Enough" Sessions, I have extended the due date! Just get me your post by Sunday, August 30th, with instructions about whether you want your post linked back to your blog! We will do the posting of the rants on Tuesday, September 1st. Email me at dlwinkler(at)msn(dot)com if you have any questions!! Now, get to ranting!!
We had our little home visit with the dog adoption agency on Sunday. That was interesting. I have one simple word for the lady that asked us questions: annoying. She immediately tried to persuade us away from one of the dogs we are interested in. She said things completely opposite from this dog's foster mother, whom we met on Saturday, when we met the dog. She was rather annoying. She even went so far as to say "I don't want you to get a dog that will draw your attention & energy away from your young daughter". I wanted to deck her right there. Really? Because we didn't think this through before we filled out the application. OH, and I'm so dumb-ass-looking that I don't have the slightest clue how to multi-task, and take care of 2 dogs, a kid, my house, my job, school, & every other fucking thing. Sheesh.
Anyway, we should be hearing something this week, and should be scheduling separate visits with 3 dogs, 2 of which we have not met yet. Fingers crossed.
My girl really wanted to do my hair Sunday, and I really wanted to take a nap, so I sorta gave in. I played 'school' and 'house' with her, and fell asleep face down on her carpet so she could 'do my hair'. The outcome?
And that's only one side of my head. What you don't see is about 7000 other clips & bows, and two pigtails on either side of my head, just above my ears. I even drove over to my mom's house like that.
I didn't need them, and I was actually looking for something for someone else, when these caught my eye: (Please ignore the Redbox DVD in the background, & the 7000000 pieces of dog hair on the passenger seat of my Jeep-I am a photo-genius, I swear)
So I IM'ed them to Chris because we send pictures of things to each other approximately 12 times a day. She wanted some. So I went back and bought her a pair. Shipping them today.
And, because I love blogging, being of service to others (but not of service to my husband, according to him! snort), and VENTING w/ no consequences, I came up with The 'When pills aren't enough' Sessions.
First, I got my BusyBodyBook! I am so excited about this, and can I just tell you that I will be spending large amounts of time filling this sucker up tomorrow, instead of working? Yeah, I haz dork.
What sold me about this calender/planner is all of the space to put your appointments, and 5 columns to separate each category. For instance, I will have a column for school-related appointments and assignments, one for things related to my girl, one for things related to work, one for personal stuff like hair appts or massages (hahahahahaha-like THAT will happen any time soon!), & one for...hell, I don't know yet, but you get my point.
My second package is actually something that isn't for me, but I was super-excited anyway! My sweet NY friend Peggy has launched a new site, featuring her super-softy, perfectly cuddly, and very functional baby blankets! It's the perfect swaddle blanket! And look at the cute fabric!!
Please go check out her site, Li'l Foot Designs.
Not only does she do awesome work, but the fabric is soft & sweet and the price is perfect! Also? She's totally having a giveaway right now, and you could win your very own swaddle blanket!
THEN! If that wasn't enough for one day, a fairly new reader to my blog sent me a button for my "When pills aren't enough" Sessions! How sweet is she?!
On several occasions over the past few weeks, I have read or heard people complaining that they can't be absolutely and completely honest on their blogs, for a variety of reasons. Maybe your mom reads your blog. Or your grandmother. Or you have co-workers or clients who have found your blog. Maybe your spouse doesn't like you telling "strangers" about the concerns you may have in your marriage. Whatever it may be, I'm pretty sure at some point you have been afraid to post something. And who can blame you? Who wants your grandmother to know you are testing & reviewing a dildo? Who wants your co-worker or boss to read about how stabby you get in the office?
Whatever it is, it would be nice to rant, bitch, complain, vent, get it out already, without the negative consequences. It would be great to get some feedback from other smart people out there, without worrying about losing readers (or your job).
Thus, The "When pills aren't enough" Sessions! (As in, "I took a pill to calm my ass down, but I'm still stressing/pissed/panicking." And I can't take credit for the name; Holly is fabulous with stuff like that.)
Basically, this is how it works:
- You send me an email (at dlwinkler (at)msn (dot)com) telling me you want to participate. Go ahead and give me the link to your blog as well. Let me know if there is anything you do not want posted on your blog.
- Then you send me your post. It can be about ANYTHING. Nothing is off-limits here.
- I will send your post to another participating blogger to be posted on their blog next Friday, August 28th. We will all post the guest posts that day.
- If you wish to have an under-the-radar, sneeky pen name for your post, go right ahead. Just put it in the email. If you want your blog to be linked on your post, let me know.
- Here's the great part: It's a round-robin sorta thing, so if your guest post goes on Participant #1's blog, Participant #1's guest post will not go on your blog, but on Participant #2's blog. That way, no one that normally reads your blog (like your mother or your nosy secretary) will be able to find your guest post!
Am I fabulously smart or what? (Don't everyone answer that all at once).
So! Pretty please email me if you are interested in participating! I will need your guest post by Wednesday night, August 26th.
Now I just need to decide what I'm going to write about first!
My first attempt at being STRONG and ASSERTIVE and FORWARD with a guy was horribly successful. I actually grabbed a guy's ass (in his tight Wranglers) and told him I liked it.
Within a few weeks, we were together non-stop.
Within a month, we were a couple.
I asserted myself with the wrong person. I asserted myself with a dangerous, careless asshole, who had no idea about the history I carried within myself.
I asserted myself with a person who cheated on me, berated me, humiliated me, hurt me, hit me.
I made the wrong decision.
It didn't last."
(You can find this excerpt in the entire post, here)
He was 2 years younger than me. He was cute, sorta. Lanky, blonde, blue eyed, bad-boy type. Catholic. By the time I learned that he had some issues with drugs and alcohol, it was too late: my heartstrings were all tangled in his fists. One of the first days we hung out after school, he was drunk. It didn't really bother me, it was just a bit disconcerting. We went to the house of a friend of his, and there were lots of people I didn't know, younger than me, and all fucked up. I realized I was with the "wrong crowd", but I didn't care.
He got so loaded that day, and he drove me home. He passed out at the wheel & drove into a ditch. I had to climb out of the passenger window, walk around & push him out of the driver's seat, and get us out of the ditch.
I was supposed to pick my brother up from school. I didn't make it. He walked home.
He snored as I drove to his house, with the tires & steering column shaking violently. He didn't wake up when I pulled into his driveway. I left him there, got my car, and went home.
He called that night, acting as though nothing happened. I went along with it.
He was with me a few hours after I found out my parents had split up. He took me out to get drunk. On a school night. I vaguely remember throwing beer bottles at speed limit signs as he drove around the "backroads" between my house and his.
I won't blame him for the amount of alcohol I drank that year. I probably would have done it anyway. But it was an unhappy drunk, an unhappy time, and honestly, he made me happy, for a brief period. When I wasn't happy, it was too late (the whole heartstrings thing).
He walked me to class, took me out on the weekends, hung out with me at my house during the week. He took me to pick my brother up from school when my car was in the shop. We hung out with his friends; very rarely mine. I met some people through him that were normal, sane, not part of the "wrong crowd", and I'm thankful for those people; they ended up getting me through the bullshit he put me through later.
My parents hated him. My mother told him he was an asshole, and my dad pretty much ignored him. I continued to spend every waking hour with him, and spent many nights sleeping on the floor next to his bed, avoiding home.
He was the person who convinced me to use drugs for the first time. I'll never forget it.
I started lying to my father about where I was staying, whose house I was sleeping over at, just so I could party with him and his friends. I relished his attention, and I liked the ease with which all of his friends just seemed so superficial and easy-going. No heartaches, no stress, no separated parents, no responsibilities.
I arrived at a party one night after work. Most everyone was wasted by the time I arrived. One of his older brother's friends started picking on me, trying to draw me out, I guess. Instead of defending me, my boyfriend joined in. Within minutes, this older guy had pinned me up against the wall in the garage, cussing and spitting in my face. I was scared, but kneed him in the crotch. When he let go, my boyfriend and his brother took over, "playfully" grabbing me & threatening me. When they both slammed me so hard that I saw stars, I think my boyfriend woke up and told his brother to back off.
I had handmarked-bruises on both arms and shoulders for the next week. I avoided his calls.
He apologized; I went back to him.
Rinse and repeat. Alcohol. Anger. Sarcasm. One night of a threat with a gun & being pinned against his car, and I was done. Done, done.
I avoided his calls. I berated myself for getting involved with him in the first place, for being assertive towards him, of all people. Why not the guy I had a crush on since 5th grade, that I never told? Why not the nice football player who let me sit with him at lunch, who I had meaningful, intelligent conversations with in English? Why not any motherfucker other than this guy?
We went camping in the deserts of Carlsbad, New Mexico over Spring Break. My father actually let me go. It was a whole group of us, along with the father of his best friend. There were a couple of people in the group that I really enjoyed being around, that I felt safe with. Yes, I went.
The first night, he slept with my then-best friend, a girl in his grade. They shared the same birthday. We all shared a tent together. Everyone was drunk, on drugs (except me). I barely drank. I climbed into the tent, tired and dirty. He was on top of her. She saw me, pushed him off, and said my name.
I slept in a friend's truck that night. She banged on the window, but I wouldn't look at her, wouldn't unlock the door.
The rest of the trip was a blur. Alcohol, shooting guns in a dried-up riverbed, people falling into campfires, someone flipping the 4-wheeler with both of us on it-the breath being knocked out of me, both of them trying to make it up to me.
I got angry & yelled at him while we were climbing into some caves. He pushed me down.
Somehow, I went to prom with him. It was a disaster. By then, my friends were gone, pretty much. The sweet one that had helped me assert myself-she had left school by then to have her baby. I was so lonely. I continued to hang out with all of them. He convinced me to leave prom after dinner. No dancing, no visiting with friends, no nothing. I wasted the time on my hair, the money on my dress, the love in my heart for this.
The hotel that was supposedly "all taken care of" fell apart. We ended up at one of his friends' houses, where his childhood friend (a girl) proceeded to try to pick a physical fight with me. He walked away, going to the bathroom to drop some acid. He passed out on a bed, but not before he called his childhood friend into the room, pulling on his belt buckle. I drove home.
The week after prom, random people started telling me about the girls he was talking to when I wasn't on campus. His own sister told me he was sleeping with one of her friends. My then-best friend called me to apologize about Spring Break, and begged to "make it up to me".
The night of graduation, she showed up at the ceremony with him. I have pictures of the three of us standing there together, and now I look into my young face and am dumbfounded that I allowed myself to be treated so badly.
I went to Project Graduation, and she "made it up to me" by going with me. By the time that was over, he was drunk & passed out in his own vomit in a friend's backyard. I stuck a note in his pocket, telling him it was over.
I avoided his calls. I got tested for STDs.
It ended badly. I was a sobbing mess. I begged, pleaded, ranted, screamed. I was so angry at him, for cheating on me, for making me look like a fool, for dragging me down a road I didn't want to go down. I didn't recognize myself anymore. I wanted him gone, but I cried when he told me he was done with me.
I didn't return his last phone call.
- Thank you, as always, for all of your kind words last week. I appreciate them. I freak the fuck out sometimes. And seriously, life is scary sometimes. But you guys rock, and you really ground me, or at least get me closer to the ground. :)
- The elliptical machine is now in my dining room, on dollies. It's getting closer to my bedroom. I may weight 450 lbs by the time it makes it there, with all of this stress-eating I've been doing, but, whatever.
- This is my only week off of school. Until the 2nd week of December. My plans? Walk the dog every day, take Friday off to take my kid to the water park, & hopefully get a massage. Oh, and finish reading The Time Traveler's Wife.
- We had a serious scare in our house yesterday. My husband calls me while I leave the house for 20 minutes to go buy some fruit & the Sims' Creator game for our Wii. Apparently, my girl told him she ate something white off of the chair, and it "tasted yucky". My hubby's taking strong drugs for his back, and was worried that medicine had been left out. I know I didn't leave it out; I know it's sitting on the counter in the lovely child-proof container that she hasn't figured out. So I go home, thinking of everything we have eaten today....crumbs from the poptart? Dried yogurt? WTF? She shows me a spot on the chair, where I had just recently been napping. A white smudge. *ding ding ding* I lift my arm up, and point to my deodorant. I ask her "Did it look like this?". She peers at my armpit, sniffs it, and says "Yeah, your deodorant tastes like crap". Nice. My kid ate a deodorant dingleberry. Seriously, only MY KID.
- Good news: My hubby was awarded a job that he bid on last week! Squee! It isn't one of the huge ones we are hoping for, but it's a VAST IMPROVEMENT from yesterday, YA KNOW? I'm bouncing in my seat just thinking about it.
- My kid peed in the field by our house yesterday. It never freakin' fails: we get somewhere, and she has to pee. "Mommy, I gotta go pottyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" while putting her hand between her knees, and hopping all over the place. Shoot me. We joke that she has a checklist for every damn restaurant bathroom in the Metroplex, because I swear we visit every one every time, at least once. Anyway, it was hot out, we had literally just walked down the road & stepped onto the grass, & I didn't want to walk back. (lazy) So, I let her use my arm as a booty seat, and she peed under a tree. Right as a car drove by. Mother of the Year Award, right here please.
- I'm pretty sure grades come out this week. But my school's website is being a bitchy bitch, and I can't log on. Sigh.
- My sister came over to borrow a dress for a wedding she is going to. What is wrong w/ this picture when my 12 year old sister looks so much better in a dress than me?? Sigh.
- My crackberry has gone through 2 batteries in the last week. And it's still not even charged halfway, despite being on the charger pretty much 24 hours a day over the weekend. Guess who has to go replace her crackberry again?
- Dreamt about babies and dogs all weekend.
- Played Sim Creator for the Wii last night, when my hubby would relinquish control of the one controller that didn't have dead batteries. That thing is craziness. It didn't help that my financial advisor was a damn Madam, and she sure didn't know a lot about building cities. That game is a time suck, seriously. Avoid it at all costs.
- Got some awesome posts lined up, if I do say so myself. Just need the damn energy to type them. What the hell is wrong with me?
- Also, I officially hate turkey bacon. No longer wasting my time w/ it. I've tried microwaving, pan frying, and putting in the oven. It comes out looking and tasting like crap (but not like deoderant).
- And........that's all I got.
He doesn't like being out of control, or needing to ask for help. But I have to say I am proud of him. For the most part, he was okay with my doing everything for him, he was sweet, and we got into a little groove yesterday, and I felt like I could do this if I had to, ya know? But then he started telling me he was going to drive his ass to work today and move the elliptical machine into the house and maybe a handjob would make him feel better?, and then I was just done with him.
Because of said hubby- injury, I didn't go to Shauna's book-signing last night, and it made me sad.
And then I discovered that a large portion of my paperwork from my internship was on the zip drive that no longer works, and I was supposed to email it to my prof by today, so now I'm having to re-do some of it, and that does not make me happy at all.
And then we realized our TV won't turn on. Actually, we realized this on Wednesday, but that's not the point. The point is that I was hoping it would just miraculously fix itself while we were at the hospital. But it didn't. It won't turn on. Yet the light is on, so I know it has power going to it. What the hell? So, unless we get someone out to look at it TODAY, we will all be sitting on my bed watching TV tonight and Sunday night. Lovely. I don't like sleeping on crumbs, because TV and food go hand-in-hand in my house.
And then my Daisy's eye infection didn't miraculously fix itself. So we are going to the vet today. Seriously, she is the most.expensive.dog.ever. And while I'm on the subject of canines, I found out last night that we should be getting a phone call SOON, for a home visit, which is the next step in this adopting-a-boxer process. As I folded laundry last night, it occurred to me, that by this time next month, I could have another dog in my house. And it sorta freaked me out a bit. Not that I don't want another dog (because I really, really do), but because....well, maybe it would really really make me realize that my Kooter dog won't ever be back. Sigh. After 7 months, I still feel awful when I think of him, so filled with guilt & loneliness.
And then I rented my textbooks for this semester, and the total was 450 bucks. Seriously? Jeez.
And then I got on the scale last night. Am I a glutton, or what? Apparently I am, according to the scale. I just stood there and said 'fuck' a few times. I'm seriously considering using my elliptical machine in it's current location (in the garage) in spite of our 100 degree days around here. More sweat=more calories burned, right? RIGHT?
And then I realized that my time off from school ends on the 24th. Seriously? This has been the shortest summer ever.
And then I looked at my not-updated resume and did a few searches for jobs, and I wanted to cry. Just thinking about how I'm going to work all of this out makes me get all panicky & frazzled. Lovely.
And I'm not even going to mention (more than I already did on Twitter) the incident involving a wet fart & my favorite undies.
And then I realized it's Friday and squeee! Not that I have a thing planned, other than caring for my hubby & going batshit crazy from my 4 year old's non-stop bossiness, but whew, the weekend just sounds lovely in theory, doesn't it?
So, tell me what you have going on, so I can SERIOUSLY stop thinking about my shit.
I've got some good changes going on, that I want to share:
1.I'm starting my 2nd year of grad school in 2 weeks. Am excited, but give me a few weeks, and I'll be a ball of nerves again. Am getting worried about how this all is gonna work out (see below), and worry that I won't get this done in the 3 years alloted to me.
2.We bought an elliptical machine, and I am SO getting my ass on it for an hour, 5 days a week, for the next 30 days, and I'm going to keep track of my measurements. I will post later this week, maybe. Hmmmm. Of course, we will have to figure out how to get the damn thing in the house, since hubby hurt his back trying to do it himself.
3.We are in the process of adopting a dog. My Daisy can't go on this way for much longer. She is so very down and lonely, and also? We miss having 2 dogs in our lives too. My girl still cries for my Kooter dog, and I still ache for him at random times (like when I watch sad movies and bust out crying-he always consoled me). I will most definitely be one of those ladies when I get older-the one with 7 dogs-and I will be in absolute bliss. The adoption process is pretty annoying; I think it might be a tad easier to adopt a baby, but we are going through the motions, and I hope, hope, *HOPE* to have good news soon. A couple of you have seen the pictures of the specific doggie we are gunning for. I am trying to keep that information off of here until it's official, for the simple fact that I feel like I will jinx myself if I tell you his name and let you see his sweet face. But for now, let me just say that when I read his profile, I started to choke up, and his eyes made me think of my Kooter dog, and I just knew he was the one I wanted to bring home. So. We will see.
4.This last one, I'm flipping out a little bit. I mean, seriously. My stress level has gone up about 5000% percent, and I've thought a lot about whether I really want to post about it or not. Not because I don't want to share with you, but because I'm feeling a little superstitious and I really don't want to jinx anything, or upset anyone.
We all know the economy is batshit crazy right now. My hubby owns his own company, and it's in the construction industry. Things have slowed down. He's laid people off. We've downsized as much as we can, and he is considering moving the office/shop to another cheaper building. The stress of waiting for the phone to ring, with someone on the other end telling him he was awarded another job...it's brutal. The waiting really is the worst part, isn't it?
Anyway, I'm not sure how much worse it's gonna get. But at this very moment, it is bad enough that I am looking for another job, one that will HOPEFULLY provide benefits, and give us some stable income. Not sure how this is going to impact my school schedule, or my 2nd internship that I should be doing in the Spring, or my time with my girl, or my time to see friends, or my time to read, write, blog....I have no f-ing idea what is going to happen right now, and for once, I am really nervous. I think part of the panic is because the media really gives us both ends of the spectrum in terms of the economy (it's 'gonna get worse' or 'it's hit the up-turn'), and normally I try to ignore the back and forth shit that the media feeds us...I try not to feed into the hysteria, but I gotta be honest, interwebs, I am freaking the fuck out over here.
My hubby has put in 4 and a half years of hard-ass work...long ass hours, nights where he didn't come home at all...my girl spent a ton of fucking time without her Daddy, because he was busting his ass to make this work. I spent a large portion of my pregnancy alone, in the middle of 23 fucking acres. I spent a large portion of my girl's newborn months alone, because he was busting his ass. And he has been so damn successful; I am incredibly proud of him. He is such a hard worker, he is so amazingly smart when it comes to being successful. And although all the time away from us has sucked, it was worth it. Which is why I am freaking the fuck out right now. I don't want all that to be wasted. I don't want him to have to compromise his work, his ethic, his success, to make ends meet. Also? I see the stress in his face, and I hate it for him. I worry about him so much....I wake up in the middle of the night to find him wide awake. My husband, the one that falls asleep anywhere, even behind the wheel. I'm trying to be easy going, happy go lucky, laid back, for his sake, but omg, people, I'm freaking out. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a mirror and I think "Holy shit-I don't look like someone who has her shit together right now". And I guess I don't.
My final fear associated with all of this, and really at the bottom of the list, is my depression. I haven't yet talked about that here, not really. But it runs in my family, and quite simply, I've been struggling on and off with it since I gave birth 4 years ago. I find myself being irritated, short-fused, annoyed, tired, achy, hopeless, etc. more often lately, and I don't know if it is all just associated with the stress of my life right now, or if it's the depression creeping back in. Sorta hard to sort out. Plus, I'm so tired, who even has the patience or energy to TRY to sort it out?!
I'm in deep over here. I don't like to write woe-is-me posts. I don't like to whine or complain when I know things could be much much worse. I don't like people to think I'm looking for sympathy. I also don't know how to end posts like this, so...yeah.
I see you everywhere by Julia Glass
Dear I-know -what- you -did -that- drunken -night- several- years -ago:
We aren't really that close. In fact, I haven't talked to you on the phone in a good two years, nor have we hung out or even seen one another. You have a child now, that just turned one, that I've never met. You've seen my girl twice, and she's 4. So, are we really friends? Probably not.
That being said, we had some good times together. Remember the time I drove home tipsy from the bar and backed into that parked car? How about the time we went drinking downtown, and some girl passed out, fell, and cracked her head on the steps of a club, and I bent over to help her, and you called me a 'heroooooo'? What about all the times I had to basically carry you to your car, over served, and we giggled the whole way home? How about the time we made out?
Did I just say that out loud?
Oh, yes, YES I DID.
See, here's my issue: I saw your Facebook page. I saw the funny ha-ha jokes about girls who make out with other girls, about lesbians, your comments about how disgusting that is....
Yeah, you want to forget that night happened, don't you? As I recall, the next day, hungover and pale, you came over to 'talk' with me, saying you didn't know what came over you, that it would never happen again, that you were hammered. But it did. More than once.
That's totally fine. I don't see what the big deal is anyway.
But to totally act like it's disgusting and 'gross in a gross way'? Seriously?
Out of all of it, I think I can't be your friend because you aren't honest with yourself OR others.
The girl you kissed
Dear Sweet woman who has gone through an awful loss-
I met you online, via blogging, just like I have so many other wonderful women. Your story moved me. Your past saddened me, but out of the wreckage, it seemed, had come this wonderfully strong woman who was doing her best at being a good mother. We commented on one another's posts, emailed back and forth, and at some point, exchanged phone numbers. You had no problem giving me your cell phone number.
We never talked on the phone, although I'm not sure why.
I sent you a birthday card. You had no problem giving me your home address.
You found out you were pregnant, and I 'squeeeeeee'-ed about it constantly. I started thinking about the sweet little things I would buy on Etsy for your sweet baby, although I knew I probably wouldn't meet you or your children for awhile, since you live a couple of states away.
You found out your child would not live long once out of your womb, and I was heart stricken. I emailed you, commented on your painful posts, prayed, prayed, prayed. You shared a lot on your blog about this pregnancy, about your pain, your worry, your anger. You shared a lot. You had tons of new followers, people who had heard about you, and were now following your story.
I prayed nightly for a woman I didn't know. I prayed for peace for your family, for a miracle for your unborn child. When I couldn't sleep, I thought about your and your family.
You included me in your personal emails to your friends and family; you emailed me. I thought this meant you considered me a friend? I am not sure how else I could have shown you that I could be a friend, an IRL friend, not just someone online, faceless and hidden.
The night before you were to give birth, you sent another email out to all of your friends and family, and again included me.
The day you were to give birth, I woke up early to pray. I called a very close friend of mine, and asked him to pray for you and your family. I went to class, but was distracted, wondering about you, if you were okay, if your baby had been born. You said you may update your blog the day of the birth, so I checked a couple of times throughout the day. I prayed.
That night, feeling worried for you, I hit "reply all" to your family & friends email, two short sentences asking if anyone had heard from you, if you were okay; I was worried. I did not ask about the baby. I didn't not ask for details. I was simply worried about you; how were you holding up?
Two people replied rather quickly, telling me more than I asked for. I thanked them both for letting me know that you were as okay as you could possibly be in this situation.
A few days later, you texted me, telling me you were upset with me for contacting your friends and family. I apologized, although, I must admit, I was confused. You were angry, obviously, angry that I had 'intruded'. You felt that I was forcing you to talk about something you weren't ready to talk about-the birth. I explained that I was sincerely just worried about my friend, YOU, and had not even asked about the baby. I wasn't your friend for the sake of the drama. I was your friend because that's what I do.
Later that day, you posted, and I commented. Immediately, you emailed me, asking me to stay away from your blog, to not comment any longer, that you are a private person and didn't feel comfortable with my intrusion, although you "knew" I was just trying to be nice.
Can I say that it really hurt my feelings? Can I say that I sat there in front of my laptop for awhile, typing reply after reply that I deleted? Can I say that I emailed your email to a couple of very close friends, asking them for feedback? Was I overbearing, inappropriate, intruding?
I chalked it up to your grief. I felt that it wasn't really fair to me for you to do this, but I totally understood that you were going through something no one should have to go through. I prayed about it, I found patience in spite of my hurt feelings.
I gave you your space. I never replied to your email.
I continued to pray for you.
My feelings stopped being hurt after awhile.
I went to your blog a couple of weeks ago, because I had dreamt of you. You were on my mind. So I went to your blog. I won't bother to tell you what I read; it doesn't even matter anymore.
But what upset me was this: you made mention of deciding that there were people you didn't want in your life. And I had a feeling you might mean me, since it's been several months since we've had any contact. And?
It pissed me right off.
I'm still pissed. I take offense to you honestly feeling that I was intruding by trying to see if you were okay. I take offense that you say you are a private person, that you felt uncomfortable with my concern. How can you honestly say that to me? Do I look dumb? Do I look like someone who will fall for that bullshit line? You have a blog; you can't possibly be that private. You shared intimate feelings and experiences on your blog; not to a few readers, but to several dozen. You included me in your private emails to your family and friends, yet told me more than once that you didn't even know me; that I didn't even know you. And even after you told me you wanted space, you obviously continued to share your very private story online.
Honestly, I am happy that you have such good readership; it means that there are many who are praying for you, hoping good things for you.But I just don't get it. I just don't get the real reasoning behind being rude and hurtful towards me, and basically shutting me out.
At this point, I see that my time as a friend to you is over. That maybe I was only needed to pray for you during that time; there will be nothing else. And I'm fine with that; I really am.
But I simply want you to know, that if you truly believe that we didn't know one another, than you can be pretty confident in thinking that I treat my friends better than I treat my acquaintances. Because, by your line of thinking, we weren't friends, merely online acquaintances. And look how much time and effort and tears I put into you, this acquaintance.
I mean no harm to anyone that I meet and I am fiercely loyal to my friends, whether they are IRL or only online. I am sorry you thought I wasn't a friend; I guess I was mistaken. However, I am not sorry that I tried to be your friend, although I learned a valuable lesson in this, and am now only putting my heart, my time, my loyalty in friendships where the feeling is obviously mutual.
Good luck to you. May you find peace in your life.
Someone who could have been a friend
Night Minds by Missy Higgins
One Sweet Love by Sara Bareilles