Monthly Archives: August 2014

Because I Drive With My Ears, Apparently

Godalmighty, am I exhausted. Thing 3 had a doctor’s appointment today far far away (about 70 miles) and of course things got a little hairy.

I was driving, which is not my strong suit (haven’t actually figured out what is), and she would.not.stop.talking.

Thing 3: So when I meet Katy Perry for the first time….

Me, thinking: The first time? The fuck. This kid.

Me: Sophie, can you please be quiet for a minute, Mommy is trying to drive.

Her: When I meet her I want to have a pen and paper so I can get her autograph and also…

Me: Sophia. I’m lost. Please just wait a minute.

Her: Katy Perry is my favorite singer and I HAVE TO HAVE A PEN!

Me: Child. Stop talking.


Her: *sniffles* You know you don’t have to use your ears to drive, right?

Me: ….

She wailed for like 10 minutes straight. I drove in circles, cursing under my breath. My GPS went from saying we were 11 minutes away to an hour and 34 minutes. It was tense.

It was actually nothing like this.

It was actually nothing like this.

She finally stopped crying and started right back up with Katy Perry this and Katy Damn Perry that and I just let her because I finally knew where I was. We made it to the appointment with time to spare. This worked out well because being the excellent parent we all know me to be, I put her in white shorts and then gave her Cheetos. So we had some time to try to remedy that disaster, but there was just no fixing it. She had orange hand prints all over her little self.

We also had time to talk about Mommy not being that good in traffic and how sometimes I just need quiet time so I can think, and she understood and it was sweet until she said that she was going to have to tell Daddy that I called another driver an idiot. Then she skipped away. I’m just glad I had the sense to say “idiot” instead of what I was thinking.



Things are not going well here in the land of the lost.

I realize that I’ve been sick so much in the last few weeks that I’ve missed or thrown up my medication more than I’ve taken it so I’m basically free balling here and that doesn’t work well for me.

I keep trying to tell myself to just hang on until I’m back mostly on level and that Depression Lies and that my kids need their mom. But I keep asking myself what is the point to a life where you are always sick, either mentally or physically or both?

I’m so tired of being sick.

I’m so tired of being sad.

This is a pathetic post and I’m done with it.

Here’s some information about PTSD. The bolded parts are from WebMD.


Post-traumatic stress disorder can be crippling. Many people think that PTSD is limited to people who have been in war or lived through some horrific act of violence. Those people can and do suffer from PTSD, but they are not the only ones.

I was diagnosed with PTSD when I was 14. Twenty years ago. And I’m still dealing with it today.

From WebMD:

Posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) … is a serious condition that can develop after a person has experienced or witnessed a traumatic or terrifying event ….

…PTSD is a lasting consequence of traumatic ordeals that cause intense fear, helplessness, or horror…

…Most people who experience a traumatic event will have reactions that may include shock, anger, nervousness, fear, and even guilt. These reactions are common; and for most people, they go away over time. For a person with PTSD, however, these feelings continue and even increase, becoming so strong that they keep the person from living a normal life.

Symptoms of PTSD often are grouped into three main categories, including:

Reliving: People with PTSD repeatedly relive the ordeal through thoughts and memories of the trauma. These may include flashbacks, hallucinations, and nightmares. They also may feel great distress when certain things remind them of the trauma…

Avoiding: The person may avoid people, places, thoughts, or situations that may remind him or her of the trauma…

Increased arousal: These include excessive emotions; problems relating to others, including feeling or showing affection; difficulty falling or staying asleep; irritability; outbursts of anger; difficulty concentrating; and being “jumpy” or easily startled. The person may also suffer physical symptoms, such as increased blood pressure and heart rate, rapid breathing, muscle tension, nausea, and diarrhea.


A problem I have with PTSD is that I feel guilty that it is still a problem. I feel like I should be “over it” by now and sometimes feel like my friends and family feel that way too. Feeling guilty for being sick doesn’t help, and in fact only adds to my anxiety and depression. I don’t know how to “fix” myself. I don’t know how to be better. I would not choose a life of pain and fear if I had the choice. I did not choose to have fibromyalgia, chronic debilitating migraines, chronic pain syndrome, or the Alpha-gal allergy anymore than I chose to have depression, anxiety, and PTSD. These are all things that I fight through every single day. And it is a fight. Right now, it’s a fight that I feel like I’m losing.

I just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other until I come from under this black cloud. Eventually I will be in the sun and I will be proud that I made it through again.

If you are struggling too, tell me about it. I probably don’t have the words to help, but I can listen. If you are happy, tell me that too. It will help me see through this dark.

Safety First

Husband: Don’t go outside, there’s a big copperhead on the porch.

Me: I’ve got a big stick.

Him: No wonder the house is such a mess.

Me: ?

Him: That’s a broom.

So there was this giant snake on our porch, and by giant I mean a normal-sized snake, but it was venomous and it crept right up behind the husband. We are a little freaked out, especially since we don’t know where it is now.

Then this morning some shit happened and I ended up having to walk down the dirt road to get home, about a mile or so, and somehow I ended up with a pen in my hand. No idea.

Please disregard my hair.

Please disregard my hair.

But I was a little lot nervous about the snake and of course bears and coyotes and stuff so I was glad I had the pen. Because I’d just write them a polite note and ask them not to kill me, please. Or give them an autograph right in the eyeball. I don’t know. But it made me feel a bit better.

Now I’m home safe and sound and I’ve got the doors locked so the snake can’t get in. Because we all know how well that works.


Back-To-School Again

In honor of another back-to-school day where I feel torn between jubilation and anxiety, I’m reposting what I wrote last year at this time.

“The kids went back to school today. I started freaking out about it Friday and proceeded to organize everything in my house, like it would somehow protect them from bullies, mean teachers, yucky food, and head lice.  If everything was in just the right spot, what could go wrong? (I realize this is nuts.  Thanks.)”

I was sick Thursday and Friday and in the ER Saturday so I didn’t actually start organizing until Sunday.

“I think I did pretty good at hiding my back-to-school and sending-my-baby-to-Pre-K anxiety from the children. I was all hearts and flowers and “It will be SO MUCH FUN! Aren’t you EXCITED?!” But inside I was like “Waaaaa! My babies.””

This year I have a kindergartener, a sixth grader, and a junior.  Oh. My. God.

“I’m not alone in this.  My husband has called me three times this morning, the last time to ask if he “should just go take a peek and see how she’s doing.”  No.  That’s frowned upon.  I know my limits, so I’m just staying away from that school. If any of the three kids even wrinkled a nose at me, I’d have ‘em packed in the car and the homeschool books ordered.”

My husband is generally very calm and he is still calm today, but he is very worried about the bus situation. The bus situation consists of our kids riding the bus. Shut up, it’s a situation.

“I see the pros of school.  Interacting with peers, learning to follow rules, getting along with others, learning how to deal with assholes – these are all things children need to know.  But not every kid is a yellow #2 pencil.  I don’t want my purple-striped, glitter-covered, shiny-polka-dotted, maybe-chewed-a-little-bit pencils sharpened down until they match all the others.”

This. *sigh*


Between Allergies and Tracy, I’m Super Pissed.

I’ve talked before about my miserable meat allergy. Lately it has seemed to be getting better and I started to let my guard down. Last night it attacked in full force, and if I’d thought I could make it to the ER without shitting my pants, I would’ve gone.

We ate dinner at a family restaurant where we’ve eaten tons of times before. I ordered mashed potatoes and gravy. I’m thinking the gravy was the culprit – maybe cooked with sausage or bacon grease. Who knows.

mashed potatoes

Anyway, we weren’t even home yet before my stomach starting cramping horribly. I was squirming all over the seat, holding my poor belly, and yelling at my husband to hurry up.

He very calmly pointed out that he was going as fast as he could and I very irately pointed out that that wasn’t nearly fast enough. I was dying, HELLO?

We made it to my grandma’s house, which is only about a mile from my own, when I couldn’t wait any longer. I told him to pull over and let me out. I ran barefooted into the house and curled up in a ball of misery on her bathroom floor. I’m sure they thought I was crazy.

My mom showed up and I didn’t even care that she barged in on me in the bathroom, because I just knew the pain was going to kill me.

After throwing up and doing some other disgusting business, the pain kept on. Then I turned bright red from my head to my toes. My skin burned like I was on fire and anywhere I was touched hurt. It was like all my nerve endings were on the outside of my skin. I was freezing, but couldn’t stand for anything to touch me. I was swelling up, but not having trouble breathing. I took Benadryl and prayed and cried and prayed.

You know something bad is happening when you find yourself laying naked on the bathroom floor crying and it’s not even your bathroom.

I comforted myself by telling a story in my head of how heroic I was in overcoming this deadly allergy and the medal I would get once I survived. But then my daydream took a turn for the worse because they gave my medal to someone named Tracy. It was bullshit. It was also my daydream, so I don’t even know how that happened. That bitch Tracy needs to get her own fantasy.

So I guess that kind of gives you an idea of my state of mind during an allergic reaction. I rip all my clothes off and moan and have delusions. Good thing we at least made it to my grandma’s, because doing all that in the restaurant might have been awkward.

Do you have any weird allergies? When you’re really sick, do you make up stories to entertain yourself? Do you know this Tracy?

My Idiot Brother

My little brother is only a year and a half younger than I am, so we were really close growing up. I used to be very bossy but my brother was always extremely mellow and did what I told him, so we got along great.


Notice we're all wearing fake mustaches before it was cool.

Notice we’re all wearing fake mustaches before it was cool.

My brother used to do weird shit like stand in my closet, still as a statue, just waiting to scare the living shit out of me. I would come in and do my thing and then catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye. It never failed. I freaked out every.single.time.

Just like this.

Just like this.

When I was about 13 I was very surprised when my dad sat me down to have a talk about curiosity.

I was very embarrassed when I realized we were talking about sexual curiosity.

I could not understand what had brought this horrible situation on. As it turned out, my dad had found one of his special movies in my VCR. Yes. My little brother borrowed it and played it in MY room on MY VCR BECAUSE HE WAS A SNEAKY LITTLE SNEAK. Of course, my dad did not believe my protestations, so I got to sit through what is still the most uncomfortable conversation I’ve ever had. With my DAD. Who thought I had STOLEN a PORNO.  Jesus. Just thinking about it is making me blush.

oh no you didnt


I didn’t kill him, although I wanted to.

The older we got, the wilder we got. My brother was always just a step ahead of me though. If I skipped school, he got caught for skipping school. If I got drunk, he got really drunk, danced on my car, head butted someone, and gave me a hundred dollars.

Someone's about to get headbutted.

Someone’s about to get headbutted.

Did I mention that we were a little wild?


One time my mom decided that his room needed cleaning while he wasn’t home. I took it upon myself to get everything out of there that I thought she might not like before she started cleaning.

I ran out of the house hauling a giant garbage bag full of shit, in the dark, into the backyard. My intention was to throw the bag in the woods behind our house, where he could then rescue it or let it rot as he saw fit. Unfortunately for both of us, I ran smack into a deer carcass that my dad had hung up earlier that day, totally unbeknownst to me. Straight into it, like I was trying to wear its dead body as a suit. I dropped my brother’s shit and ran as fast as I could back in the house. That’s what I got for trying to save him some grief.

Similar to this, only dead, skinned, and hanging spread eagle from a tree.


As we became adults and started settling down, I started depending on him a lot more. He was my best friend and anytime I was upset or sad (which was a lot) I would go visit him and some of his mellow-nothing-bothers-me-attitude would rub off on me for a while. I could always call him and he’d always be up to talk or hang out or go out or stay in or whatever. I can’t remember a single bit of advice my brother ever gave me, but I can name hundreds of times he’s made me feel better, just by being there. Now he’s grown up and moved away and become a father and a contributing member of society. I have no idea how that happened.

I’m proud of the little shit, but man, do I miss him.


5 Ways to Tweet Yourself Single

I’m over at The Indie Chicks today talking about social media and relationships. Because we all know I give great advice.

And, while you’re there, check them out and don’t forget the campaign that’s going on now. You can donate as little as $10 to keep them on the shelves!

indichick print


I Forgot Things

I was invited to a blog hop and I got nominated for another Liebster award!  Squee!

But I’m terrible at these things and I forgot to hit send on the email about the hop – I know, right? And the questions for both the hop and the award seem really hard right now. So I’m gonna make up my own questions and nominate EVERYONE I KNOW.  Yes. If you are reading this, I have just nominated you for the Liebster award, you little awesome thing you.  Here are the questions:

1. I have a headache. I’m skipping this question.

2. Who do you miss right now? My dad. I just texted with him and I wish he was here. My grandpa, who passed away last year. My brother, who just moved farther away from me.

3. Who do you wish was in school right now?  Haha. Couple more weeks then blessed SILENCE for HOURS EVERY SINGLE DAY!

4. What’s your favorite video game?  All the God of War games and Balder’s Gate.  I might’ve spelled that wrong, but I have a headache.

5. What’s your most used excuse? I have a headache. Except don’t use that for sex because sex actually helps relieve headaches and I probably shouldn’t get into the how and why but I will tell you it has to do with blood flow. To your lady parts.

So, I’m calling that good! Thanks to Cassandra at The Next Delusion for inviting me to the hop, Jeff and Jill of Jeff and Jill Went Up the Hill for adding me to the hop after my email failure, and Tempest Rose of Nonsense and Shenanigans for the nomination.


Shit My Family Says, Part 4

IMG_3921They are nuts, but they’re my nuts.


Me: *referring to Thing 2* He’s like an accident waiting to happen.

Thing 1: Him? No, he’s an accident that already happened.

Thing 3: So can I live with you forever, even when I’m a grownup?

Me: Erm, yeah, I guess so.

Thing 3: Good. And even when I have kids?

Me: Sure.

Thing 3:  Okay. And can I make my babies here?


Thing 3:  Why did you close your eyes?

Husband: Sorry for being a pain in the ass.

Me: It’s okay.

Him: You always say okay. You never say, “You’re not a pain.”

Me: Yeah. Cause it’s okay.

Thing 2, having a nosebleed: I don’t think it’s healthy for this much blood to be coming out of my face.

Me: I don’t think it’s healthy for any blood to be coming out of your face.

And here are some things I found written in my notebook, in my handwriting. Weird.


2. This shit is reasonable.

3. I know that this feeling of dread that is SMOTHERING me is completely unreasonable.

4. I appreciate that, sociopath.

5. Do you mean hard to love?

6. You don’t want sperm on your laptop.

What’s the silliest thing you’ve heard lately? Is your family as crazy as mine? Do you write yourself notes and then not remember what you were talking about?


That Time My Kid Fell Out a Window

When Thing 2 was about 4 years old I made the mistake of putting his bed beneath a window.

A friend of mine was visiting along with her daughter, and we had left the kids inside while we went to look at my flowers. There were two older kids in charge, and the windows were open so we’d hear any screaming. Seemed legit.

I had a bench in the garden that faced the house. We could see the kids playing through the window. We could hear them laughing and talking. We could see Thing 2 press his face against the screen. That’s when we both leapt up and yelled NO!

It was too late. Down he went, ass over teakettle. Luckily, the window was only about four feet off the ground and the ground was soft dirt covered in leaves. So he was more scared than hurt. So was his mother.

When I was about 20 I got hit head on by a little old lady without a driver’s license. It was a similar feeling of seeing in slow motion this horrible thing and being unable to stop it.

Raising kids I feel like that a lot. Not to that extent, but just a vague sort of constant worry. What if, what if, what if? Then they go and do some normal everyday thing and break bones doing it. If you are reading this, children, yes I am referring to breaking bones while walking and while swinging on the monkey bars. Neither of those things did I ever worry about. I also never imagined my child would throw himself out of a window.

We all know that worry is pointless and bad for our health. But it is so hard to stop. My mom worried about us kids all the time, I’m sure. But I bet she never worried that my brother would break his nose by running into a 2 x 4. So worrying really is pointless. Our kids are never going to catch leprosy or whatever weird shit we’re stressing over. They’re going to do something stupid and fall out a window.

Have you ever seen something about to happen and been unable to stop it? Do you worry as much as I do? Do your kids do stupid shit?

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