So I haven't posted in over two weeks.
Yeesh.
I also haven't really been on the internet in over two weeks.
BIG YEESH.
Email, twitter, and blogs are often what make me feel sane and connected.
(and nope, I don't wanna know if you think that's sad.)
I have missed connecting and reading along with you all.
Where have I been?
It all started with a wedding...
Our good friend's brother was getting married, and because we knew they were on an almost non-existent budget, we offered to do their photos.
It was busy and HOT and stressful, but it was also beautiful and loving and perfect in its own way.
That was June 24th-25th.
I woke up on the 26th with a nasty cold.
I started taking the usual over-the-counter meds, drinking orange juice and sleeping.
and just kept getting worse....
But there was work to do!
I was feverishly trying to work through all the shots from the wedding, edit and put together an album so that I could get it and cds of the raw material to them as quickly as possible...
By the Friday before 4th of July, it was clear that I needed something stronger than Tropicana with a Tussin chaser.
Made an appt. with the doctor, since we now have Medi-Cal.
I go, and it's quickly ascertained that I have a respiratory infection.
But what ELSE do we ascertain?
That I'm PREGNANT.
Mmmmhmmm. Yep. Pregnant.
Well, THAT was unexpected.
I thought that birth control and I had an agreement.
Guess not so much.
I mean, YAAAAAY, a baby, but HOLLLLLY FUCK, my Huz hasn't got a job.
So far our searching hasn't yielded jack nor shit, but we ARE supposed to start getting unemployment next week, so that's a positive....
Of COURSE we want another child, but NOW?
It was a mixed bag of pure joy and utter terror...ha!
My husby was amazing.
Shocked, but happy and supportive. All the things you hope for.
My in-laws have also been amazing.
They are obviously stressed out and worried for us, but they are great.
I am so lucky to have them.
Then this Wednesday, I started cramping/bleeding.
My OB sent me to the ER.
My heart is sinking....
They ran blood work and did an ultrasound.
My pregnancy hormone levels are right where they should be, and they estimated that I was just about 5 weeks, which is really too early to get an accurate US, but there is a concern that the pregnancy is ectopic, because they found a cyst on one of my ovaries, and it needs to be confirmed that it's JUST a cyst-- not an implantation site.
The way I understand it, my hormone levels should be doubling every 2 days over the next couple of weeks, so if it does, that's a great sign, and they will do another US at 7-8 weeks.
If my hormones stagnate or plummet, than the pregnancy is not viable and they will take surgical action from there.
I had my second blood draw on Friday.
I find out the results on Monday.
I'm trying to keep a calm and brave face, but I'm really scared.
Despite our external circumstances, I want this baby so badly.
All of those "obstacles" have been pushed aside.
All that matters now is that this is a healthy, normal pregnancy.
I don't want a 3rd miscarriage or and ectopic pregnancy.
I don't want someone to tell me that my child isn't "viable."
I'm trying to take solace in the fact that from what I've researched, ectopic pregnancies are rare AND, other than Wednesday, there hasn't been anymore cramping or bleeding.
They have me on bed rest until things are figured out.
I just want to celebrate, but I'm so scared.
I don't want my heart to be broken again.
Your support, love, prayers, crossed fingers, etc. would be and are, so appreciated.
I definitely need them that's for sure.
I will update as I know more.
Meanwhile, I'm just trying to hold on to hope.
Much Love.
Showing posts with label Anxiety. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Anxiety. Show all posts
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Ducks in the Water.
It's been a month now of unemployment.
We've emailed/called/facebooked/tweeted everyone we know.
He's on all the job sites.
He signed up with AppleOne.
He's been to 2 job fairs.
We tuned and refined his resume within an inch of its life.
He applies every day.
Still?
NOTHING.
No real leads, and not a damn peep from unemployment.
We keep calling, but we can't even get on the line to leave a message-
it's clear that talking to someone is outta the question.
Our money is gone and bills are due.
We're gonna have to ask my ILs for money.
Which I loathe doing.
How long will we have to keep asking?
How long will they help?
Fuckety fuckness, this blows...
Don't misunderstand, I am so grateful for the help we DO have, but...
I just want to be able to help OURSELVES.
The only real upside to this mess is that the boy and I were approved for Medi-Cal, so I've been able to go back on meds.
They're definitely helping.
I think I may a higher dose still, but we'll see.
As for the rest of my health issues, not much has been resolved.
I did about $300 of preliminary blood work to be told that nothing was wrong.
This doesn't mean that there ISN'T anything wrong, but nothing immediately seen.
It would require more testing.
Uhhh, screw that noise. I'm broke.
Fortunately, the med that I'm on is also prescribed for chronic pain, so YAY for multitasking, I guess....
That's kinda it on our end of the world.
Nothing more that we can really do.
Just gotta sit it out and wait.
Hope.
Sitting Ducks.
That's what I feel like we are.....
If any of my readers out there are millionaires who'd like to bequeath large sums of money to me, please do!
I cannot promise that I will pay it back, nor can I promise Demi Moore-like sexual exploits, but I CAN promise utter gratefulness and freshly baked cookies!
We've emailed/called/facebooked/tweeted everyone we know.
He's on all the job sites.
He signed up with AppleOne.
He's been to 2 job fairs.
We tuned and refined his resume within an inch of its life.
He applies every day.
Still?
NOTHING.
No real leads, and not a damn peep from unemployment.
We keep calling, but we can't even get on the line to leave a message-
it's clear that talking to someone is outta the question.
Our money is gone and bills are due.
We're gonna have to ask my ILs for money.
Which I loathe doing.
How long will we have to keep asking?
How long will they help?
Fuckety fuckness, this blows...
Don't misunderstand, I am so grateful for the help we DO have, but...
I just want to be able to help OURSELVES.
The only real upside to this mess is that the boy and I were approved for Medi-Cal, so I've been able to go back on meds.
They're definitely helping.
I think I may a higher dose still, but we'll see.
As for the rest of my health issues, not much has been resolved.
I did about $300 of preliminary blood work to be told that nothing was wrong.
This doesn't mean that there ISN'T anything wrong, but nothing immediately seen.
It would require more testing.
Uhhh, screw that noise. I'm broke.
Fortunately, the med that I'm on is also prescribed for chronic pain, so YAY for multitasking, I guess....
That's kinda it on our end of the world.
Nothing more that we can really do.
Just gotta sit it out and wait.
Hope.
Sitting Ducks.
That's what I feel like we are.....
If any of my readers out there are millionaires who'd like to bequeath large sums of money to me, please do!
I cannot promise that I will pay it back, nor can I promise Demi Moore-like sexual exploits, but I CAN promise utter gratefulness and freshly baked cookies!
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Square One Again: Familiar, but Not Comforting.
I should be sleeping, but I can't.
My mind is a whirlygig of worries and "what-ifs"
(Say THAT 5 times fast!)
I have my moments where I'm going through the day as though things are fine.
It's almost as if the Husband is just home on a long weekend...
but then I'll remember:
He was laid off. We have no income.
And my chest seizes up-- my eyes start to burn from tears...
What are we gonna do?
Keeps on ringing through my head.
I am paralyzed by fear of what could come, what IS coming if he doesn't find a job within the month.
I am angry and defeated at/by the circumstances.
Ones that we are no strangers to...
Weren't we JUST here?
In the summer of 2007, we were riding high.
New apartment, new engagement, our lives beginning.
Money was tight, yet we were making it...
But just as we got settled, Huz got laid off.
After 4 months of struggling on 1 income, he got a new job.
We could get back on track!
Then my job went out the window.
4 more months of struggling, and I finally found a new job.
It was at a pay cut, but it had potential.
We began to climb out of the hole that was rapidly starting to form...
A week before our wedding, I was laid off.
The economy was tanking--they couldn't afford to keep me...
And let me go two days shy of 90 days, so I didn't even qualify for unemployment.
That was March of 2008.
By July, I still didn't have work.
We were barely limping along.
All we could afford was our rent and utilities.
Everything else went to shit.
We owed all of our billers
Our credit cards were maxed
Our accounts were delinquent
There was no savings to speak of, or money in general.
Our lease was up on the 1st of August and they were jacking our rent up.
We frantically tried to find another place to live, but didn't meet any of the income/credit requirements.
(in CA most buildings mandate that you pass a credit check and make at least 3xs your rent amount to qualify for tenancy)
None of our friends were in a position to help us, so we did the one thing, the LAST thing we wanted to do:
Called my husband's parents and begged.
It was as demoralizing as you might expect...
They, rightfully, felt like we (as married adults) should figure it out ourselves and said no.
But when it became clear that it was their house or our 2003 Jetta, they consented.
So we packed up our apartment into a storage unit, gave away our dog (who we ADORED) and drove over to their house.
(On the way, we rear-ended someone. I should have known then that we were in for a difficult road)
We thought it was going to be a couple months...
As I talked about several times here in these "pages," it's been almost 3 years.
A much harder and less fruitful 3 years than I think anyone expected, but there was positivity and SOME progress.
We were finally at a point were there were no more collectors calling, no more delinquencies.
There still wasn't any savings (thanks to medical bills and needing a new car, OH, and having a child), but there were a few bucks in the bank and our bills were getting paid in full and on time.
Still had a shitload of debt and I had no idea when we'd be able to have our own place; worrying about money constantly, but I could always say:
At LEAST the bills are getting paid.
We are providing for our son.
Now We can't say that.
I paid what I could for this month--still trying to figure out the rest...
There will be nothing left for next month.
As I said in my previous post, because of my in-laws, O will not go hungry, and we will have a roof, but what about everything else?
I know this is going to drive us deeper into debt--how much deeper?
What about our credit? (Which was finally cleaned up)
What about our CAR?
Am I going to have to default on my student loans?
How long will it take us to rebound from this, when we haven't even fully recovered from the last time?
We want to move forward.
We want to be optimistic.
We're wishing for that miracle...
But looking at our peers and the economy around us, we know we have to be frank with ourselves.
We're trying to be proactive.
We've got resumes flying and we're following up on every lead that crosses our path...
We're doing everything we can, but we know that's not enough.
It's taking a toll on us. On every level.
We will weather it, I hope, but how beat up will we be coming out on the other side?
I'm not sure I want to know...
Thank you to everyone who has commented/emailed/tweeted/texted/called us.
Thank you for your support, encouragement, prayers and hope for us.
Thank you for keeping your eyes peeled and ears open.
Thank you for listening.
We really appreciate it.
We need it.
My mind is a whirlygig of worries and "what-ifs"
(Say THAT 5 times fast!)
I have my moments where I'm going through the day as though things are fine.
It's almost as if the Husband is just home on a long weekend...
but then I'll remember:
He was laid off. We have no income.
And my chest seizes up-- my eyes start to burn from tears...
What are we gonna do?
Keeps on ringing through my head.
I am paralyzed by fear of what could come, what IS coming if he doesn't find a job within the month.
I am angry and defeated at/by the circumstances.
Ones that we are no strangers to...
Weren't we JUST here?
In the summer of 2007, we were riding high.
New apartment, new engagement, our lives beginning.
Money was tight, yet we were making it...
But just as we got settled, Huz got laid off.
After 4 months of struggling on 1 income, he got a new job.
We could get back on track!
Then my job went out the window.
4 more months of struggling, and I finally found a new job.
It was at a pay cut, but it had potential.
We began to climb out of the hole that was rapidly starting to form...
A week before our wedding, I was laid off.
The economy was tanking--they couldn't afford to keep me...
And let me go two days shy of 90 days, so I didn't even qualify for unemployment.
That was March of 2008.
By July, I still didn't have work.
We were barely limping along.
All we could afford was our rent and utilities.
Everything else went to shit.
We owed all of our billers
Our credit cards were maxed
Our accounts were delinquent
There was no savings to speak of, or money in general.
Our lease was up on the 1st of August and they were jacking our rent up.
We frantically tried to find another place to live, but didn't meet any of the income/credit requirements.
(in CA most buildings mandate that you pass a credit check and make at least 3xs your rent amount to qualify for tenancy)
None of our friends were in a position to help us, so we did the one thing, the LAST thing we wanted to do:
Called my husband's parents and begged.
It was as demoralizing as you might expect...
They, rightfully, felt like we (as married adults) should figure it out ourselves and said no.
But when it became clear that it was their house or our 2003 Jetta, they consented.
So we packed up our apartment into a storage unit, gave away our dog (who we ADORED) and drove over to their house.
(On the way, we rear-ended someone. I should have known then that we were in for a difficult road)
We thought it was going to be a couple months...
As I talked about several times here in these "pages," it's been almost 3 years.
A much harder and less fruitful 3 years than I think anyone expected, but there was positivity and SOME progress.
We were finally at a point were there were no more collectors calling, no more delinquencies.
There still wasn't any savings (thanks to medical bills and needing a new car, OH, and having a child), but there were a few bucks in the bank and our bills were getting paid in full and on time.
Still had a shitload of debt and I had no idea when we'd be able to have our own place; worrying about money constantly, but I could always say:
At LEAST the bills are getting paid.
We are providing for our son.
Now We can't say that.
I paid what I could for this month--still trying to figure out the rest...
There will be nothing left for next month.
As I said in my previous post, because of my in-laws, O will not go hungry, and we will have a roof, but what about everything else?
I know this is going to drive us deeper into debt--how much deeper?
What about our credit? (Which was finally cleaned up)
What about our CAR?
Am I going to have to default on my student loans?
How long will it take us to rebound from this, when we haven't even fully recovered from the last time?
We want to move forward.
We want to be optimistic.
We're wishing for that miracle...
But looking at our peers and the economy around us, we know we have to be frank with ourselves.
We're trying to be proactive.
We've got resumes flying and we're following up on every lead that crosses our path...
We're doing everything we can, but we know that's not enough.
It's taking a toll on us. On every level.
We will weather it, I hope, but how beat up will we be coming out on the other side?
I'm not sure I want to know...
Thank you to everyone who has commented/emailed/tweeted/texted/called us.
Thank you for your support, encouragement, prayers and hope for us.
Thank you for keeping your eyes peeled and ears open.
Thank you for listening.
We really appreciate it.
We need it.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
I am a Survivor who is still trying to Survive.
May is Mental Health Month.
Mental Health Issues are often treated like dirty secrets.
Something that happens to "others."
People turn the other way.
"Mental Health" does not apply to them. They are not affected.
It affects us all.
Directly or Indirectly.
Daily.
Sometimes? Hourly.
I am a Woman
I am a Wife
I am a Mother
I am a Sister
I am a Daughter
I am a Friend
I am a Human Being
I am someone you know.
My Name is Jayne.
I am the face of Depression. Of Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Of PTSD.
I am a survivor of Physical/Emotional/Sexual Abuse.
Of Rape.
Of Miscarriages.
Of Chronic Illness.
I work everyday to keep on surviving.
Link up with Band Back Together today and share your Story.
Show your support.
Do not be ashamed--do not hide. Do not turn away.
We need to lift up those in need and make EVERYONE AWARE.
Mental Health Issues are often treated like dirty secrets.
Something that happens to "others."
People turn the other way.
"Mental Health" does not apply to them. They are not affected.
It affects us all.
Directly or Indirectly.
Daily.
Sometimes? Hourly.
I am a Woman
I am a Wife
I am a Mother
I am a Sister
I am a Daughter
I am a Friend
I am a Human Being
I am someone you know.
My Name is Jayne.
I am the face of Depression. Of Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Of PTSD.
I am a survivor of Physical/Emotional/Sexual Abuse.
Of Rape.
Of Miscarriages.
Of Chronic Illness.
I work everyday to keep on surviving.
Link up with Band Back Together today and share your Story.
Show your support.
Do not be ashamed--do not hide. Do not turn away.
We need to lift up those in need and make EVERYONE AWARE.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Inside Outed
My first instinct is to hide.
[I only let it out at night.]
Put a smile on my face and find something to do.
The busy will give me something to hide behind.
It will give me a purpose that will allow me to ignore the ebbing emotions that keep threatening to come out.
I will not give in, I will not let it fuck me up.....I will not let it fuck my family up
A familiar refrain.
I reorganize and schedule.
I try to see all the good in my life and hang on to that.
I try to keep on keepin' on so that I look "normal."
Hiding undercover as a happy person.
I WILL MAKE THE BEST OF IT, damn it!
But there is always something that tips the scale in Depression's favor....and I am made.
Every single time.
By Tuesday's post, I could feel myself losing the stranglehold.
The thought of the ER bill was hanging over me like a sentence, and I just couldn't shake an overwhelming sense of hopelessness....
Wednesday afternoon, my husband left work early so that he could take me to my appointment with the gastro-specialist.
I knew going in, that it would probably not be a very productive visit.
[Which was hard to swallow given that the Huz was losing out on 2 hours of pay and the visit was $200 up front.]
After filling out paperwork and talking to his physician's assistant for 15 minutes, it was clear that they felt that nothing discernible was wrong with me.
When the doctor actually came in, I was basically making my way out the door.
He offered to re-run previous tests, but felt that based on the scans and blood work from the ER that I was perfectly fine:
Maybe I just needed to start taking an over-the-counter antacid.....
I almost lost it right there in his office.
Thankfully, I salvaged some dignity and was able to pay my $200 and leave with out sobbing.
While I don't want to be sick, knowing that we will have to pay ER fees that will basically put us back another 3-5 years debt-wise doesn't make me want to celebrate my supposed healthiness.
But, as I kept telling myself in the car:
I knew this was going to happen.
I hadn't wanted to go to the ER in the first place.
Something was wrong with me, yes, but it was not wrong enough.
A lifetime without stable health care (or any at all) teaches you these things.
But my husband worries... and my guilt over making him worry or possibly being irresponsible about my health, forces my hand and forced me into an ER....
Finally back home, I could feel my panic and anger rising.
How the fuck were we going to pay for this?
And secondarily, I still feel like shit and it is pretty clear that THAT isn't really anybody's problem but mine.
By bedtime, I was crying, and I could feel it flooding my whole body.
The fear
the worry
the stress
the pain
the exhaustion
but most of all,
the helplessness.
Forever stuck in a cycle of a rock and a hard place.
Surrounded by well-meaning people who say things like:
It could be worse!
Someday it will turn around!
Just keep on doing the best you can and you'll see how good life can be!
You have so much to be grateful for!
(Yes, I do. But gratefulness does not take away chronic pain or clinical depression)
You'll figure it out!
And usually?
Those people don't have a fucking clue as to what your going through, and have never really been in a situation even remotely close to yours.
Not that it's their fault, nor would I wish it upon them, but I do wish that they could recognize that they have no idea what it's like and keep their reality-deflecting platitudes to themselves.
I have said it BEFORE and I will say it AGAIN:
Sometimes life is an unfair shitfest.
Respect those moments and let us grieve them, please.
By 3am, I had awoken in a cold sweat and started crying.
The crying pretty much continued until about 2pm Thursday afternoon.
Not my finest moment, and the FIRST time I have ever let that happen in front of my son....
But I just couldn't pull myself back together.
I am a fucking mess.
My hubs, rightfully alarmed,demanded I call my doctor and schedule an appointment all the blood work the Doc wants me to have done before he'll put me back on meds and to do further blood tests to hopefully wrap up our (and now his) suspicions of Fibromyalgia.
And I did.
I don't know how we're going to pay for it ($200 per office visit + whatever the lab work costs, not to mention the meds), on top of everything else, but I've got to do something.
My depression is not the sum total of all of my health issues, but letting it run wild isn't doing anyone any good.
I've been too stubborn for too long, trying to control it, HIDE it, by myself.
And if Fibromyalgia is indeed an issue, maybe I can finally get some answers and solutions to the chronic pain.
I promised myself I would get all of this done at the 1st of the year, and now we're into May, so I guess I need to get on it.....
It's just so terrifying to know that while you may need it, you haven't got the resources for it.
Sigh.
Everything is about money.
We don't have enough to get me (or us) the help I (we) need, but make "too much" to qualify for help.
People like me with pre-existing conditions can no longer be denied for health insurance, but the type of insurance I qualify for is astronomical and won't cover my basic health needs anyway.
To know that every step you try to take forward to make yourself feel better, only pushes your family back five steps, and down further into the mire of debt.
It's crushing.
Especially when you live in such an affluent area, as we happen to, and you constantly watch people take so much for granted.
Dismissing you and your "problems" because they don't want to have to actually be confronted with how hard life can be and lucky they really are.
I have to remind myself of how lucky we are all the time.
So I spend most of my time trying to hide.
Trying to stay busy.
And crying in the bathroom at 3 am, so I won't disturb anyone.
No way to live, and I'm trying to claw my way out, but it's tough...
So far, I am on a losing streak.
Please send me all the good vibes, chants, prayers, luck, you can.
I hate to ask, but I need all the help I can get.
Because at this moment, I am drowning.
Even in the day time.
[I only let it out at night.]
Put a smile on my face and find something to do.
The busy will give me something to hide behind.
It will give me a purpose that will allow me to ignore the ebbing emotions that keep threatening to come out.
I will not give in, I will not let it fuck me up.....I will not let it fuck my family up
A familiar refrain.
I reorganize and schedule.
I try to see all the good in my life and hang on to that.
I try to keep on keepin' on so that I look "normal."
Hiding undercover as a happy person.
I WILL MAKE THE BEST OF IT, damn it!
But there is always something that tips the scale in Depression's favor....and I am made.
Every single time.
By Tuesday's post, I could feel myself losing the stranglehold.
The thought of the ER bill was hanging over me like a sentence, and I just couldn't shake an overwhelming sense of hopelessness....
Wednesday afternoon, my husband left work early so that he could take me to my appointment with the gastro-specialist.
I knew going in, that it would probably not be a very productive visit.
[Which was hard to swallow given that the Huz was losing out on 2 hours of pay and the visit was $200 up front.]
After filling out paperwork and talking to his physician's assistant for 15 minutes, it was clear that they felt that nothing discernible was wrong with me.
When the doctor actually came in, I was basically making my way out the door.
He offered to re-run previous tests, but felt that based on the scans and blood work from the ER that I was perfectly fine:
Maybe I just needed to start taking an over-the-counter antacid.....
I almost lost it right there in his office.
Thankfully, I salvaged some dignity and was able to pay my $200 and leave with out sobbing.
While I don't want to be sick, knowing that we will have to pay ER fees that will basically put us back another 3-5 years debt-wise doesn't make me want to celebrate my supposed healthiness.
But, as I kept telling myself in the car:
I knew this was going to happen.
I hadn't wanted to go to the ER in the first place.
Something was wrong with me, yes, but it was not wrong enough.
A lifetime without stable health care (or any at all) teaches you these things.
But my husband worries... and my guilt over making him worry or possibly being irresponsible about my health, forces my hand and forced me into an ER....
Finally back home, I could feel my panic and anger rising.
How the fuck were we going to pay for this?
And secondarily, I still feel like shit and it is pretty clear that THAT isn't really anybody's problem but mine.
By bedtime, I was crying, and I could feel it flooding my whole body.
The fear
the worry
the stress
the pain
the exhaustion
but most of all,
the helplessness.
Forever stuck in a cycle of a rock and a hard place.
Surrounded by well-meaning people who say things like:
It could be worse!
Someday it will turn around!
Just keep on doing the best you can and you'll see how good life can be!
You have so much to be grateful for!
(Yes, I do. But gratefulness does not take away chronic pain or clinical depression)
You'll figure it out!
And usually?
Those people don't have a fucking clue as to what your going through, and have never really been in a situation even remotely close to yours.
Not that it's their fault, nor would I wish it upon them, but I do wish that they could recognize that they have no idea what it's like and keep their reality-deflecting platitudes to themselves.
I have said it BEFORE and I will say it AGAIN:
Sometimes life is an unfair shitfest.
Respect those moments and let us grieve them, please.
By 3am, I had awoken in a cold sweat and started crying.
The crying pretty much continued until about 2pm Thursday afternoon.
Not my finest moment, and the FIRST time I have ever let that happen in front of my son....
But I just couldn't pull myself back together.
I am a fucking mess.
My hubs, rightfully alarmed,demanded I call my doctor and schedule an appointment all the blood work the Doc wants me to have done before he'll put me back on meds and to do further blood tests to hopefully wrap up our (and now his) suspicions of Fibromyalgia.
And I did.
I don't know how we're going to pay for it ($200 per office visit + whatever the lab work costs, not to mention the meds), on top of everything else, but I've got to do something.
My depression is not the sum total of all of my health issues, but letting it run wild isn't doing anyone any good.
I've been too stubborn for too long, trying to control it, HIDE it, by myself.
And if Fibromyalgia is indeed an issue, maybe I can finally get some answers and solutions to the chronic pain.
I promised myself I would get all of this done at the 1st of the year, and now we're into May, so I guess I need to get on it.....
It's just so terrifying to know that while you may need it, you haven't got the resources for it.
Sigh.
Everything is about money.
We don't have enough to get me (or us) the help I (we) need, but make "too much" to qualify for help.
People like me with pre-existing conditions can no longer be denied for health insurance, but the type of insurance I qualify for is astronomical and won't cover my basic health needs anyway.
To know that every step you try to take forward to make yourself feel better, only pushes your family back five steps, and down further into the mire of debt.
It's crushing.
Especially when you live in such an affluent area, as we happen to, and you constantly watch people take so much for granted.
Dismissing you and your "problems" because they don't want to have to actually be confronted with how hard life can be and lucky they really are.
I have to remind myself of how lucky we are all the time.
So I spend most of my time trying to hide.
Trying to stay busy.
And crying in the bathroom at 3 am, so I won't disturb anyone.
No way to live, and I'm trying to claw my way out, but it's tough...
So far, I am on a losing streak.
Please send me all the good vibes, chants, prayers, luck, you can.
I hate to ask, but I need all the help I can get.
Because at this moment, I am drowning.
Even in the day time.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Money MATTERS.
There's lots of sayings about money.
It's the root of all evil...
It can't buy Love...
It apparently doesn't grow on trees...
A penny of it saved is a penny of it earned...
It's ONLY $$... (the person who says that usually HAS it, I've found)
It AND be short AND late...
Etc.
We are a culture of money.
It makes our world go 'round, or stop, depending...
I think about money all of the time.
I go to bed thinking about it, I wake up thinking about it.
My husband and I argue about it all the time.
I worry about how money will affect our future, my son's future.
I worry about the toll it might take on my marriage.
Worry Worry Worry!
We try to be smart and responsible. We try to make good choices. We try to keep pushing forward.
I watch for sales, clip coupons, I use any customer savings card I can get my hands on, shop Craig's List, gladly accept hand-me-downs, and I always try to plan ahead. Frugality is a way of life!
Even so-
Sometimes we spend a little too much.
Not like Hookers-and-Blow too much, but eating out (of the Del Taco not the Morton's Steakhouse variety) when we shouldn't or buying gifts on special occasions when we should have just gotten each other a card... We know that we should be more stringent, but it's difficult to say:
NO all. the. time.
Sure, every little bit helps, but when you're chipping away at a mountain range, sometimes you just want that "little bit" to be a bit more fun.
Sigh.
But fun doesn't pay the bills.
I'm really frustrated because I feel like my whole life is wrapped up in money.
Based on a biweekly, full 80 hrs of pay--by the time we are done paying our our bills, rent (which is a tiny amount, so if we paid real rent we'd be screwed), necessities for O, and gas? We are left with $300 for the month. That's not including savings or groceries.
It's amazing how how fast $300 bucks for a family of 3 depletes.
G-d Help us if there's an emergency or a sick day....
Husband is trying to find a second job. It's been a frustrating and fruitless process thus far, and he loses the will to even look sometimes.
That is understandable, but we have GOT to HUSTLE.
Becaaaaaaauuuuuuuse-
We have decided once and for all, (after going over every scenario) that I will not be going back to work.
Given the financial quandary we are in, you might think we're ridiculous but given my health, and the cost of daycare-my gong to work does not make financial sense. When I was laid off, I did not leave behind a career, I left an hourly wage. A wage by the way, that was less than my spouse's, even though I had a degree...
On top of full-time day care (and a new wardrobe as I haven't worked in 3 years), we would also end up probably doubling our gas costs as my husband would have to be my transportation...This would pretty much cancel out any money I might be able to earn.
So we asked ourselves: What was the benefit? Neither one of us want O in daycare, and the last thing we need is for me to run myself further into the ground.
And in an much-needed epiphany, I stopped feeling guilty and realized:
I have a job. I am a mother. I take good care of my son, and as wife, I take good care of my husband. I keep our lives and our money in order (as best as I possibly can).
It's a hard, 24/7 kind of position.
Unfortunately, the hourly rate is hugs and kisses.
I love it.
However, Hugs and Kisses, much like Fun, doesn't fatten our bank account.
Husband needs to find a night job.
In the meantime,
I've been looking for at-home work, but I'm fairly certain I'd have better luck finding a Unicorn.
I don't know anyone who works from home that didn't transition to that from a 9-5 position.
I've tried selling Avon/Mary Kay/PartyLite, etc. and it was just not successful. I didn't make any money and neither did my friends...
In my experience, both in my own ventures and those of friends--to make money in those arenas it's important to have the money to invest in a good inventory, so there's product on hand, it's important to have a car so you can get back and forth to your clients, parties, and the like, and finally? It's important to have a place of your own from which to run said business.
I'm 0 for 3 at the moment.
Now, it doesn't help that I'm not the world's best salesperson. I won't push someone into something they can't use or can't afford. I will be the one to tell them where they can find a product that works just-as-good and costs less over at the local Target of Walgreen's. Oops.
[Please don't think I'm dissing any salesladies out there. I'm not. If you make a living selling your wares, go on w/yo bad self! I'm just saying that I DIDN'T/can't]
I'm thinking that maybe there isn't a Pink Cadillac in my future...not that I could drive it anyway. Ha!
What do we do? I DO NOT know.
BUT, I'm praying daily for a miracle.
I know that we are so much better off than a LOT of families. I fully realize that. And I am THANKFUL.
But in terms of our life? Our goals? Our needs?
I'm frustrated. Scared. Cornered.
I grew up poor. We didn't live on the streets, but we got welfare and food stamps. Moved from apartment to apartment, motel to motel. Basic necessities weren't always so basic. We didn't own anything, and everything was always unstable. There were times when things were good, or easier, but it never lasted.
You never knew when the bottom was going to drop out.
You were made to feel guilty for needing anything, for wanting anything.
I hated living that way. I swore that I would NEVER end up that way and that my children would NEVER know what that felt like. I swore that my marriage would not be filled with fights and endless struggling over the Almighty Dollar, but I see signs of that beginning despite all my efforts to avoid it.
What is it that they say about "the best-laid plans?"
...Sigh.
It's the root of all evil...
It can't buy Love...
It apparently doesn't grow on trees...
A penny of it saved is a penny of it earned...
It's ONLY $$... (the person who says that usually HAS it, I've found)
It AND be short AND late...
Etc.
We are a culture of money.
It makes our world go 'round, or stop, depending...
I think about money all of the time.
I go to bed thinking about it, I wake up thinking about it.
My husband and I argue about it all the time.
I worry about how money will affect our future, my son's future.
I worry about the toll it might take on my marriage.
Worry Worry Worry!
Will we ever be able to move out of my IL's?
Will we ever be able to relocate out of CA?
Will we ever have a savings?
Will we ever be debt free?
Will we ever be able to buy a home?
Will we ever be able to have another baby?
Will we be able to send said children to college?
Will my husband ever be able to finish college?
Will we ever be able to just fucking breathe a little bit?
We try to be smart and responsible. We try to make good choices. We try to keep pushing forward.
I watch for sales, clip coupons, I use any customer savings card I can get my hands on, shop Craig's List, gladly accept hand-me-downs, and I always try to plan ahead. Frugality is a way of life!
Even so-
Sometimes we spend a little too much.
Not like Hookers-and-Blow too much, but eating out (of the Del Taco not the Morton's Steakhouse variety) when we shouldn't or buying gifts on special occasions when we should have just gotten each other a card... We know that we should be more stringent, but it's difficult to say:
NO all. the. time.
Sure, every little bit helps, but when you're chipping away at a mountain range, sometimes you just want that "little bit" to be a bit more fun.
Sigh.
But fun doesn't pay the bills.
I'm really frustrated because I feel like my whole life is wrapped up in money.
Can we afford this?
No we can't do that-Go there-Buy this-Save what?
If we drive to see this person, it will take this much gas...
We have x amount of days to make y amount of dollars last...
If this happens then we'll be set back x amount...
Maybe we can start saving more money after ________
It'll be this many months/weeks/years 'til _____________________is paid off
and so on. Always down to the wire, down to the penny. There's never any wiggle room.
Based on a biweekly, full 80 hrs of pay--by the time we are done paying our our bills, rent (which is a tiny amount, so if we paid real rent we'd be screwed), necessities for O, and gas? We are left with $300 for the month. That's not including savings or groceries.
It's amazing how how fast $300 bucks for a family of 3 depletes.
G-d Help us if there's an emergency or a sick day....
Husband is trying to find a second job. It's been a frustrating and fruitless process thus far, and he loses the will to even look sometimes.
That is understandable, but we have GOT to HUSTLE.
Becaaaaaaauuuuuuuse-
We have decided once and for all, (after going over every scenario) that I will not be going back to work.
Given the financial quandary we are in, you might think we're ridiculous but given my health, and the cost of daycare-my gong to work does not make financial sense. When I was laid off, I did not leave behind a career, I left an hourly wage. A wage by the way, that was less than my spouse's, even though I had a degree...
On top of full-time day care (and a new wardrobe as I haven't worked in 3 years), we would also end up probably doubling our gas costs as my husband would have to be my transportation...This would pretty much cancel out any money I might be able to earn.
So we asked ourselves: What was the benefit? Neither one of us want O in daycare, and the last thing we need is for me to run myself further into the ground.
And in an much-needed epiphany, I stopped feeling guilty and realized:
I have a job. I am a mother. I take good care of my son, and as wife, I take good care of my husband. I keep our lives and our money in order (as best as I possibly can).
It's a hard, 24/7 kind of position.
Unfortunately, the hourly rate is hugs and kisses.
I love it.
However, Hugs and Kisses, much like Fun, doesn't fatten our bank account.
Husband needs to find a night job.
In the meantime,
I've been looking for at-home work, but I'm fairly certain I'd have better luck finding a Unicorn.
I don't know anyone who works from home that didn't transition to that from a 9-5 position.
I've tried selling Avon/Mary Kay/PartyLite, etc. and it was just not successful. I didn't make any money and neither did my friends...
In my experience, both in my own ventures and those of friends--to make money in those arenas it's important to have the money to invest in a good inventory, so there's product on hand, it's important to have a car so you can get back and forth to your clients, parties, and the like, and finally? It's important to have a place of your own from which to run said business.
I'm 0 for 3 at the moment.
Now, it doesn't help that I'm not the world's best salesperson. I won't push someone into something they can't use or can't afford. I will be the one to tell them where they can find a product that works just-as-good and costs less over at the local Target of Walgreen's. Oops.
[Please don't think I'm dissing any salesladies out there. I'm not. If you make a living selling your wares, go on w/yo bad self! I'm just saying that I DIDN'T/can't]
I'm thinking that maybe there isn't a Pink Cadillac in my future...not that I could drive it anyway. Ha!
What do we do? I DO NOT know.
BUT, I'm praying daily for a miracle.
I know that we are so much better off than a LOT of families. I fully realize that. And I am THANKFUL.
But in terms of our life? Our goals? Our needs?
I'm frustrated. Scared. Cornered.
I grew up poor. We didn't live on the streets, but we got welfare and food stamps. Moved from apartment to apartment, motel to motel. Basic necessities weren't always so basic. We didn't own anything, and everything was always unstable. There were times when things were good, or easier, but it never lasted.
You never knew when the bottom was going to drop out.
You were made to feel guilty for needing anything, for wanting anything.
I hated living that way. I swore that I would NEVER end up that way and that my children would NEVER know what that felt like. I swore that my marriage would not be filled with fights and endless struggling over the Almighty Dollar, but I see signs of that beginning despite all my efforts to avoid it.
What is it that they say about "the best-laid plans?"
...Sigh.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Quarantine has been Breached...
There are times that I feel emotionally compromised.
[More like most of the time, but I like to carry on as as though I'm all stable and Maslow-y.]
Now is definitely one of those times. There's a shitload of factors contributing to my current state, both immediate and historical, but I find myself incapable of forming those factors into coherency right now.
[an attempt from an earlier post]
I hate this shit. It makes me feel lost and and weak and out-of-control, and as a HUGE control-freak, this is more that a teensy issue.
It makes me feel whiny and trivial.
I carry a lot of of sadness and grief within me. A lot of pain. I've been through a lot of horrific shit.
I've been decried as liar, and and pretty much all of my history has been denied, but it's the truth. A whole lotta ugly, ugly, complicated truth.
As true as it may be, I feel like a cliche. A ridiculous, Lifetime-Movie-variety whelpish, sad-girl.
Gross.
But I am a sad girl. A deeply fucking sad girl/woman/human. And frankly, I lose the capacity to handle it properly on certain days.
It PAINS me to admit that. And if we're honest with ourselves? It pains most people to hear it. They don't want sorrow and pain and scars that won't close.
They want healing and positivity and triumph and smiles.
You and me both, world. As such?
I acknowledge it occasionally, and sometimes put my self-awareness hat on, and of COURSE I went to therapy (I mean, obviously) for it, but for the most part?
I just try to keep that shit in quarantine, away from the rest of my metal processes and emotions....
Because it scares the fuck out of me. It's never-ending. It has a profundity that even I can't fathom, and intensity that I cannot control.
Yep, I know what you are thinking: "Gosh, it sounds like you may have depression!" I do! The clinical kind, even! Fun!
In order to compensate for the sads, I tend to turn to anger. Mostly at myself for not being able to cope, sometimes-more often than I ever wanted- at my husband for being terrified/powerless at the depth of it all, and at the "world" I live in for not often giving the struggle any real validity.
Anger is less daunting for me. I'm familiar with anger- it's strangely comforting because at least I've had practice at it...mostly with in being hurled and spit in my direction, but you get the gist...anger and I are on a first name basis.
I can control it. [Right?]
It doesn't run away with my sanity as sadness is so prone to do. I am not to well-versed in sadness. Not in any healthy way. Sadness was not allowed in the environment that I grew up in.
It was mocked and the cause for wrath. No one had the right or reason to be sad except for my Mother. Her sadness was the only genuine and respected sadness. She was the only one whose sadness was warranted and needed to be cared for.
[That was pretty much the Gold Standard for all of her emotions, btw.]
The rest of the world was selfish, putting on, grasping for attention, or being overly dramatic.
Sadness cost too damned much, so I learned "not" to be. Anger was safer. It was easier. I could internalize that shit and externalize a scowl with the best of 'em....it took me a long time to learn it, but once I did, Oh, boy! Did I have the world fooled!
Pssshhh.
Look at me! I'm together! I am a rock. No one is going to break me again! Fuck being sad! Sadness is for quitters! I am beyond my childhood, my abuses, my scars, my traumas, my brain chemistry [Hello?]. I am so completely above that now! I am now well-rounded because I know that!
Oh, Depression, you have such the sardonic sense of humor.....
Therapy, Medication, Religion, Education, True Love, Motherhood--Nothing has cured it. All, at one time or another have eased it, some continually, some superficially, some earnestly, but nothing has wholly absorbed it.
I know that it will never be. That it will ebb and flow through my life forever.
In the stillness of 2am, on more nights than I care to count, I fear that someday I will be flooded and completely taken over by it.
Not in a suicidal way (though I'd be a liar if I said it didn't bring me dangerously close to the dizzying edge more than once in my youth), because suicide is selfish bullshit that leaves your friends/family holding your bag of pain and confusion while trying to deal with their OWN, [so put the phone down] but in that way that depression works best-
APATHY.
When it's done drowning you in sorrow, it just takes everything else. You don't care-no, it's not that you don't care, or won't care, it's that you can't care. It takes away your ability to feel anything but the hollowness of nothing. I have been there for brief (and some not so brief) periods of my life, and it is not pretty.
Being a mother has made depression all the more terrifying for me. I don't want it to affect my son, and I fight like hell to shield him from it, but it would be naive of me to think that I can keep it from touching him at all. It frustrates me as a wife because I am a caretaker, and all I want to do is be the pillar of strength and comfort in my husband's life, and that role is robbed from me during bouts...
That makes me feel like a failure. Which is all part of the tapes running in my head, and the powerful hold of depression in the first fucking place, which I know from a logical pov, but it feels true emotionally.
Failure.
Such an insidious word. It carries so much power. It is personified as the Boogey Man in my closet, under my bed.
And tonight?
Well tonight, it is all I can see.
Depression is a cunning bastard.
Nighttime is when he sidles up the closest. Strokes my fears and breathes the past into my present.
Some nights we dance more than others, but he's always on my card*...
but will not forgive
Rage builds slowly, toward a crescendo in Hate.
(The Chorus Begins)
Anger croons about the smallest of injustices
waltzing with the skeletons in your closet
They sway, taunting, down a macabre lane of memories
fleshing out your demons, giving substance to their grip-
so begins their deceitful dance
Watch, as the dead whirl around the floor…
1 and,
2 and,
3 and,
4.
Mistrust is rhythmic, lulling you into a fury
and as you accept a spectral invitation to the ball,
you forget that the dead can dance Forever…
1 and,
2 and,
3 and,
4.
Listen, as the band keeps playing the same
old
familiar
song.
*For those of you who have never been ravaged by a depressive disorder, here's a tidbit to note:
Depressed people are always depressed. Always. It's just a question of to what degree.
I've spent many of my years with it turned up to ELEVEN.
Because as I intro'd with:
I am emotionally compromised the fuck up.
[More like most of the time, but I like to carry on as as though I'm all stable and Maslow-y.]
Now is definitely one of those times. There's a shitload of factors contributing to my current state, both immediate and historical, but I find myself incapable of forming those factors into coherency right now.
[an attempt from an earlier post]
I hate this shit. It makes me feel lost and and weak and out-of-control, and as a HUGE control-freak, this is more that a teensy issue.
It makes me feel whiny and trivial.
I carry a lot of of sadness and grief within me. A lot of pain. I've been through a lot of horrific shit.
I've been decried as liar, and and pretty much all of my history has been denied, but it's the truth. A whole lotta ugly, ugly, complicated truth.
As true as it may be, I feel like a cliche. A ridiculous, Lifetime-Movie-variety whelpish, sad-girl.
Gross.
But I am a sad girl. A deeply fucking sad girl/woman/human. And frankly, I lose the capacity to handle it properly on certain days.
It PAINS me to admit that. And if we're honest with ourselves? It pains most people to hear it. They don't want sorrow and pain and scars that won't close.
They want healing and positivity and triumph and smiles.
You and me both, world. As such?
I acknowledge it occasionally, and sometimes put my self-awareness hat on, and of COURSE I went to therapy (I mean, obviously) for it, but for the most part?
I just try to keep that shit in quarantine, away from the rest of my metal processes and emotions....
Because it scares the fuck out of me. It's never-ending. It has a profundity that even I can't fathom, and intensity that I cannot control.
Yep, I know what you are thinking: "Gosh, it sounds like you may have depression!" I do! The clinical kind, even! Fun!
In order to compensate for the sads, I tend to turn to anger. Mostly at myself for not being able to cope, sometimes-more often than I ever wanted- at my husband for being terrified/powerless at the depth of it all, and at the "world" I live in for not often giving the struggle any real validity.
Anger is less daunting for me. I'm familiar with anger- it's strangely comforting because at least I've had practice at it...mostly with in being hurled and spit in my direction, but you get the gist...anger and I are on a first name basis.
I can control it. [Right?]
It doesn't run away with my sanity as sadness is so prone to do. I am not to well-versed in sadness. Not in any healthy way. Sadness was not allowed in the environment that I grew up in.
It was mocked and the cause for wrath. No one had the right or reason to be sad except for my Mother. Her sadness was the only genuine and respected sadness. She was the only one whose sadness was warranted and needed to be cared for.
[That was pretty much the Gold Standard for all of her emotions, btw.]
The rest of the world was selfish, putting on, grasping for attention, or being overly dramatic.
Sadness cost too damned much, so I learned "not" to be. Anger was safer. It was easier. I could internalize that shit and externalize a scowl with the best of 'em....it took me a long time to learn it, but once I did, Oh, boy! Did I have the world fooled!
Pssshhh.
Look at me! I'm together! I am a rock. No one is going to break me again! Fuck being sad! Sadness is for quitters! I am beyond my childhood, my abuses, my scars, my traumas, my brain chemistry [Hello?]. I am so completely above that now! I am now well-rounded because I know that!
Oh, Depression, you have such the sardonic sense of humor.....
Therapy, Medication, Religion, Education, True Love, Motherhood--Nothing has cured it. All, at one time or another have eased it, some continually, some superficially, some earnestly, but nothing has wholly absorbed it.
I know that it will never be. That it will ebb and flow through my life forever.
In the stillness of 2am, on more nights than I care to count, I fear that someday I will be flooded and completely taken over by it.
Not in a suicidal way (though I'd be a liar if I said it didn't bring me dangerously close to the dizzying edge more than once in my youth), because suicide is selfish bullshit that leaves your friends/family holding your bag of pain and confusion while trying to deal with their OWN, [so put the phone down] but in that way that depression works best-
APATHY.
When it's done drowning you in sorrow, it just takes everything else. You don't care-no, it's not that you don't care, or won't care, it's that you can't care. It takes away your ability to feel anything but the hollowness of nothing. I have been there for brief (and some not so brief) periods of my life, and it is not pretty.
Being a mother has made depression all the more terrifying for me. I don't want it to affect my son, and I fight like hell to shield him from it, but it would be naive of me to think that I can keep it from touching him at all. It frustrates me as a wife because I am a caretaker, and all I want to do is be the pillar of strength and comfort in my husband's life, and that role is robbed from me during bouts...
That makes me feel like a failure. Which is all part of the tapes running in my head, and the powerful hold of depression in the first fucking place, which I know from a logical pov, but it feels true emotionally.
Failure.
Such an insidious word. It carries so much power. It is personified as the Boogey Man in my closet, under my bed.
And tonight?
Well tonight, it is all I can see.
Depression is a cunning bastard.
Nighttime is when he sidles up the closest. Strokes my fears and breathes the past into my present.
Some nights we dance more than others, but he's always on my card*...
Haunting the Dancehall
In a symphony of things you cannot changebut will not forgive
Rage builds slowly, toward a crescendo in Hate.
(The Chorus Begins)
Anger croons about the smallest of injustices
waltzing with the skeletons in your closet
They sway, taunting, down a macabre lane of memories
fleshing out your demons, giving substance to their grip-
so begins their deceitful dance
Watch, as the dead whirl around the floor…
1 and,
2 and,
3 and,
4.
Mistrust is rhythmic, lulling you into a fury
and as you accept a spectral invitation to the ball,
you forget that the dead can dance Forever…
1 and,
2 and,
3 and,
4.
Listen, as the band keeps playing the same
old
familiar
song.
*For those of you who have never been ravaged by a depressive disorder, here's a tidbit to note:
Depressed people are always depressed. Always. It's just a question of to what degree.
I've spent many of my years with it turned up to ELEVEN.
Because as I intro'd with:
I am emotionally compromised the fuck up.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Just when I think I can't stands no mo', my Husband puts on a "Sexy Bee" Costume.
Oh, yeah.
It was something to behold, my friends....
So here's how it all went down:
We went shopping today for O's bday party (which is going to be a Halloween-themed bash, and we're encouraging all guests to get their costume on!) to take our minds off the current shitstorm we find ourselves in, and we picked up all KINDS of CUTE in terms of decor items and we also snapped up the makings of our costumes.
We decided that no matter what was going on financially, it was important for us as a family to make sure that O's big day was special, and celebrated with panache!
BUT, All on the Cheeeeeap.
That took some creativity, as these things usually do-
Using Blind Melon as inspiration; I decided I would dress up as a Bee.
It seemed like a bright, cheerful (I thought it'd be a nice change of pace for me, Eh?) thing to be, and seemed like a relatively easy get-up to cobble together.
I was all set to go except for the keyest of my Bee ensemble-the wings and antennae, aka "deelyboppers" according to the Hubs...
This just would NOT do!
No way I wanted to be mistaken for some sort of Drag-Charlie Brown.
(Although...interesting idea....)
So we set off on a search for my missing links...
We thought this was going to be a cheap and easy mission and we were soon proved wrong.
Nothing, nowhere, No HOW, unless we wanted to spend a ridiculous amount.
We'd just about given up, when we spotted a Bee costume in CVS (of ALL places?!) on a mega clearance rack and decided to give it a looksie...
It came with a dress, tights, arm warmers, wings, and of COURSE, deelyboppers. Plus?
Uber-Cheap!
Two problems though:
1. It was a "Flirty Bee" [Read: SLUTTASTIC and totally innapropos for my son's 1st bday party]
2. It was made for a delicately-boned Malaysian boy
But Husband had a stroke of ::Genius::
We'd buy the costume and cannibalize it for parts!
Sweet!
So home we went, VICTORIOUS.
As we got home though, I started to feel that old familiar surge of panic....
"We spent too much"
"We should return everything"
"That was irresponsible"
And so forth.
I'm trying to keep this all to myself, and fighting the urge to start crying over the absurdity of our lives at the moment when as if on cue-
I look up to see my husband shimmying himself into the "SexBee" outfit.
Complete with wings, and you guessed it, DEELYBOPPERS.
I.peed.my.pants.
No joke. I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe.
(I still can't believe he shoved himself into it...you could hear ripping as he moved...)
IT.WAS.GLORIOUS.
Tragically, he would not allow photographic evidence of any kind.
So just work the image out for yourself:
This Dude:
Parading around in this little number:
(Remember honey, you can find anything on the webnets)
Mmmmmmhmmm.
And whatever picture you've got crafted in your mind?
Can't even TOUCH the real deal.
Maaaaan. I love my Husband.
I don't know how I'd make it without him....(and O, obviously.)...
It was something to behold, my friends....
So here's how it all went down:
We went shopping today for O's bday party (which is going to be a Halloween-themed bash, and we're encouraging all guests to get their costume on!) to take our minds off the current shitstorm we find ourselves in, and we picked up all KINDS of CUTE in terms of decor items and we also snapped up the makings of our costumes.
We decided that no matter what was going on financially, it was important for us as a family to make sure that O's big day was special, and celebrated with panache!
BUT, All on the Cheeeeeap.
That took some creativity, as these things usually do-
Using Blind Melon as inspiration; I decided I would dress up as a Bee.
It seemed like a bright, cheerful (I thought it'd be a nice change of pace for me, Eh?) thing to be, and seemed like a relatively easy get-up to cobble together.
I was all set to go except for the keyest of my Bee ensemble-the wings and antennae, aka "deelyboppers" according to the Hubs...
This just would NOT do!
No way I wanted to be mistaken for some sort of Drag-Charlie Brown.
(Although...interesting idea....)
So we set off on a search for my missing links...
We thought this was going to be a cheap and easy mission and we were soon proved wrong.
Nothing, nowhere, No HOW, unless we wanted to spend a ridiculous amount.
We'd just about given up, when we spotted a Bee costume in CVS (of ALL places?!) on a mega clearance rack and decided to give it a looksie...
It came with a dress, tights, arm warmers, wings, and of COURSE, deelyboppers. Plus?
Uber-Cheap!
Two problems though:
1. It was a "Flirty Bee" [Read: SLUTTASTIC and totally innapropos for my son's 1st bday party]
2. It was made for a delicately-boned Malaysian boy
But Husband had a stroke of ::Genius::
We'd buy the costume and cannibalize it for parts!
Sweet!
So home we went, VICTORIOUS.
As we got home though, I started to feel that old familiar surge of panic....
"We spent too much"
"We should return everything"
"That was irresponsible"
And so forth.
I'm trying to keep this all to myself, and fighting the urge to start crying over the absurdity of our lives at the moment when as if on cue-
I look up to see my husband shimmying himself into the "SexBee" outfit.
Complete with wings, and you guessed it, DEELYBOPPERS.
I.peed.my.pants.
No joke. I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe.
(I still can't believe he shoved himself into it...you could hear ripping as he moved...)
IT.WAS.GLORIOUS.
Tragically, he would not allow photographic evidence of any kind.
So just work the image out for yourself:
This Dude:
Parading around in this little number:
(Remember honey, you can find anything on the webnets)
Mmmmmmhmmm.
And whatever picture you've got crafted in your mind?
Can't even TOUCH the real deal.
Maaaaan. I love my Husband.
I don't know how I'd make it without him....(and O, obviously.)...
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Can I JUST sleep please?
Can we cut it out with all the dreams? I mean, CMON.
I have nightmares a LOT. I always have, and I'm assuming that I always will.
The monstery, horror-movie type ones I can handle (unless they involve Owen), it's the emotional, flash-backs-to-childhood ones that I can't deal with.
They are exhausting and frankly, they fuck my whole day up.
Where is all of this coming from? My mother. As USUAL.
I posted about it while I was pregnant, and now that Owen is actually here, and I'm ACTUALLY parenting him, it's opening up old wounds in new and painful ways.
Hooray for processing.
I took the post off of my blog a few months back, because I was afraid to eventually share it with Owen, and, I didn't want to deal with the backlash that would occur if my mother ever got wind of it.
Lately though, I've been thinking about that post, and the things that I still need to say.
I wrote that post as a reminder to myself, (as a warning, even) and as a love note to my son.
I have spent so many years denying and hiding because it was the easier thing to do. It was easier thing for the people in my life.
There are still plenty of people in my life who wish that I would just "let it go" or "put it behind me."
I understand why they want that. My history is painful and scary. People don't want to believe that things like that really do go on.
We hear about it on the news, or see it on Oprah, but no one wants to really "know" that it happened to someone they love.
People want to believe that you can move past it, forget it. Shake it off like a bad dream.
You can't. It lives with you, and in you, for the rest of your life. You just learn to cope and grow and survive with it.
{I do not want to wallow in it or become embittered, but I refuse to act like it never happened, or like I am completely healed, and good-as-new.}
I want my son to know who I am, and I want him to understand what it means for me to be a good mother to him.
So I'm putting it back up.
That post is an important part of my journey as a parent.
It was not meant to dehumanize my mother.
I know that she loves me, but she is very unhealthy and wounded herself. I don't think she can even connect with how out of control it all became.
That is not always enough, but I have to make peace with it somehow.
This post (and future ones) was about being truthful with myself, and the things I need to deal with in order to be the person and mother I need to be for my family.
I have nightmares a LOT. I always have, and I'm assuming that I always will.
The monstery, horror-movie type ones I can handle (unless they involve Owen), it's the emotional, flash-backs-to-childhood ones that I can't deal with.
They are exhausting and frankly, they fuck my whole day up.
Where is all of this coming from? My mother. As USUAL.
I posted about it while I was pregnant, and now that Owen is actually here, and I'm ACTUALLY parenting him, it's opening up old wounds in new and painful ways.
Hooray for processing.
I took the post off of my blog a few months back, because I was afraid to eventually share it with Owen, and, I didn't want to deal with the backlash that would occur if my mother ever got wind of it.
Lately though, I've been thinking about that post, and the things that I still need to say.
I wrote that post as a reminder to myself, (as a warning, even) and as a love note to my son.
I have spent so many years denying and hiding because it was the easier thing to do. It was easier thing for the people in my life.
There are still plenty of people in my life who wish that I would just "let it go" or "put it behind me."
I understand why they want that. My history is painful and scary. People don't want to believe that things like that really do go on.
We hear about it on the news, or see it on Oprah, but no one wants to really "know" that it happened to someone they love.
People want to believe that you can move past it, forget it. Shake it off like a bad dream.
You can't. It lives with you, and in you, for the rest of your life. You just learn to cope and grow and survive with it.
{I do not want to wallow in it or become embittered, but I refuse to act like it never happened, or like I am completely healed, and good-as-new.}
I want my son to know who I am, and I want him to understand what it means for me to be a good mother to him.
So I'm putting it back up.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
I just woke up from a nightmare about my mother. I have one about her every few months, but it's amped up to several in the last month or so...
I guess I didn't realize how heavily she'd been weighing on my mind lately.
I'm terrified of becoming my mother. Yes, I've had plenty of therapy-I even have a BA is Clinical Psyc for good measure, but that doesn't always abate my fears.
This phrase, in particular, haunts me:
"Everyone eventually becomes their parents, even though they always swore it would never happen."
If that's true, then I'm fucked.
My mom was an unwed, uneducated, teen mother.
(not that those things mean you will automatically suck at motherhood, but in her case, I don't think it helped.)
She was (and still is, in a lot of ways)very immature and selfish.
She made really poor choices, particularly in husbands.
But more than all of that (and maybe b/c of that), she was incredibly violent and cruel.
She beat the ever-lovin'-snot out of me on a daily basis (give or take a day here and there).
My first real memory of my mother is that of fear.
I do not remember a time in my childhood or adolescence, that she didn't scare (or beat) the living shit out of me.
It took me a long time to realize that abuse wasn't normal. That other children were not legitimately afraid of their parents beating them to death.
[If you spill juice on the carpet, you're gonna get kicked in the stomach, right?]
I was midway into my 20's before I could really even talk about some of it.
At the same time, everybody loved my mom. She was funny and charming. A great cook, a wonderful hostess, a dear friend. A devoted mother. I loved my mom. I saw glimpses of the person that she projected to the outside world, and clung to that.
To this day, my mother will not admit to, or apologize for the things that she has done.
Because to her, they didn't happen. She was not that person.
She was the mother that got a teacher fired for discriminating against me.
She was the mother that held my hand before surgeries.
She was the mother that cried tears of pride when I graduated from college.
And she was that mother.
Unfortunately for us both, she was also and more often) the mother that blackened my eye and stabbed me with scissors.
This is why I live in terror of seeing her face in the mirror.
I doubt she started out her pregnancy thinking:
"I'm going to make my daughter's life a living hell."
No, I don't imagine she thought that at all, but yet, it happened.
I absolutely do not fear that I will hit my child. What I am afraid of though, is being too harsh. Of being cruel in moments of anger or stress....
because it's not really the physical assaults that scarred me, as much as it was the emotional ones.
My mom was vicious. She said things to me that you probably shouldn't say to another human being, let alone a child, YOUR child.
She was critical, threatening and mocking. Everything that I said or did was wrong AND stupid. She went out of her way to remind me that I was wholly unwanted, and should be grateful that I was allowed to live.
Yet, ten years after the last round, she sees it as: Being "hard' on me for my own good.
And so it is, and always has been, with my mother. She is who she is, and sees the past the way she wants to.
So where does that leave me?
I am not unwed, uneducated, or a teenager.
I do not have a junkie for a spouse.
Nor do I have a criminal record. Or a drug problem.
I have never, EVER laid a hand on any child I have ever cared for.
BUT,
I have a temper. I have a tendency to have a sharp tongue. I'm a type A personality, and am a self-admitted control-freak. I yell when I'm angry....
All traits that I share with, hell, that probably came from, my mother.
And as luck would have it, I have been through about every type of abuse you can think of. From her, from her 2nd husband, and from people I trusted...
So, as I sit here pregnant with my first child, I can't help but wonder:
IS history doomed to repeat itself?
No, it's not. Not if I can help it.
There is a lifetime of things that I wish I didn't remember, but if it aides me in never taking my child for granted, or becoming disconnected from the gift and responsibility that motherhood is, than I'll take the nightmares every day of the week.
No child should be reared on fear.
If it is the last thing I do, my child will feel and know what it is to be loved and safe in the arms of his/her parents.
Posted by JayneSees at 1:58 AM
I guess I didn't realize how heavily she'd been weighing on my mind lately.
I'm terrified of becoming my mother. Yes, I've had plenty of therapy-I even have a BA is Clinical Psyc for good measure, but that doesn't always abate my fears.
This phrase, in particular, haunts me:
"Everyone eventually becomes their parents, even though they always swore it would never happen."
If that's true, then I'm fucked.
My mom was an unwed, uneducated, teen mother.
(not that those things mean you will automatically suck at motherhood, but in her case, I don't think it helped.)
She was (and still is, in a lot of ways)very immature and selfish.
She made really poor choices, particularly in husbands.
But more than all of that (and maybe b/c of that), she was incredibly violent and cruel.
She beat the ever-lovin'-snot out of me on a daily basis (give or take a day here and there).
My first real memory of my mother is that of fear.
I do not remember a time in my childhood or adolescence, that she didn't scare (or beat) the living shit out of me.
It took me a long time to realize that abuse wasn't normal. That other children were not legitimately afraid of their parents beating them to death.
[If you spill juice on the carpet, you're gonna get kicked in the stomach, right?]
I was midway into my 20's before I could really even talk about some of it.
At the same time, everybody loved my mom. She was funny and charming. A great cook, a wonderful hostess, a dear friend. A devoted mother. I loved my mom. I saw glimpses of the person that she projected to the outside world, and clung to that.
To this day, my mother will not admit to, or apologize for the things that she has done.
Because to her, they didn't happen. She was not that person.
She was the mother that got a teacher fired for discriminating against me.
She was the mother that held my hand before surgeries.
She was the mother that cried tears of pride when I graduated from college.
And she was that mother.
Unfortunately for us both, she was also and more often) the mother that blackened my eye and stabbed me with scissors.
This is why I live in terror of seeing her face in the mirror.
I doubt she started out her pregnancy thinking:
"I'm going to make my daughter's life a living hell."
No, I don't imagine she thought that at all, but yet, it happened.
I absolutely do not fear that I will hit my child. What I am afraid of though, is being too harsh. Of being cruel in moments of anger or stress....
because it's not really the physical assaults that scarred me, as much as it was the emotional ones.
My mom was vicious. She said things to me that you probably shouldn't say to another human being, let alone a child, YOUR child.
She was critical, threatening and mocking. Everything that I said or did was wrong AND stupid. She went out of her way to remind me that I was wholly unwanted, and should be grateful that I was allowed to live.
Yet, ten years after the last round, she sees it as: Being "hard' on me for my own good.
And so it is, and always has been, with my mother. She is who she is, and sees the past the way she wants to.
So where does that leave me?
I am not unwed, uneducated, or a teenager.
I do not have a junkie for a spouse.
Nor do I have a criminal record. Or a drug problem.
I have never, EVER laid a hand on any child I have ever cared for.
BUT,
I have a temper. I have a tendency to have a sharp tongue. I'm a type A personality, and am a self-admitted control-freak. I yell when I'm angry....
All traits that I share with, hell, that probably came from, my mother.
And as luck would have it, I have been through about every type of abuse you can think of. From her, from her 2nd husband, and from people I trusted...
So, as I sit here pregnant with my first child, I can't help but wonder:
IS history doomed to repeat itself?
No, it's not. Not if I can help it.
There is a lifetime of things that I wish I didn't remember, but if it aides me in never taking my child for granted, or becoming disconnected from the gift and responsibility that motherhood is, than I'll take the nightmares every day of the week.
No child should be reared on fear.
If it is the last thing I do, my child will feel and know what it is to be loved and safe in the arms of his/her parents.
Posted by JayneSees at 1:58 AM
That post is an important part of my journey as a parent.
It was not meant to dehumanize my mother.
I know that she loves me, but she is very unhealthy and wounded herself. I don't think she can even connect with how out of control it all became.
That is not always enough, but I have to make peace with it somehow.
This post (and future ones) was about being truthful with myself, and the things I need to deal with in order to be the person and mother I need to be for my family.
"Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it."
--George Santayana--
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