Category Archives: random bullshit

October 15, 2014

And This is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

By Steph

I’m really, really, incredibly clumsy. I have tried and tried to tell my family that it is a syndrome and not something I can control. They insist on mocking me nonetheless. My goal in life is to own a blowtorch for jewelry making purposes but I persist on this path of self destruction and humiliation and I can tell that it is just never going to happen. If it did, I would probably burn my own face off.

break2

 

This past week alone I have amazed myself and those around me with my gracelessness.

First I was in Walmart, where bad things always seem to happen, just minding my own business, when I saw a clearance sticker. I am a sucker for a good deal. The items on sale were syrups used in making those crushed ice drinks. My daughter had gotten an icee machine for Christmas last year and we’d let her use it about none times since then, because it’s loud and messy and generally a pain in the ass. But. The syrup was on sale. And I thought, she’ll be delighted to finally get to make an icee with flavoring since the one I let her make was just ice with Koolaid poured over the top. I know, I really outdid myself there. Anyway, they had grape and cherry and whatever flavor blue is. I reached in for a red one and KABLAM knocked over about half the display. They really weren’t stacked well, if you ask me. SPLAT! Purple sticky disgusting syrup EVERYWHERE. Now, because I used to work at Walmart about a million years ago, I remembered from their indoctrination tapes that if Jose stole something you should report him, unions are a no-no, and if there’s a spill you have to stand guard over it so no one is injured. So I stood there. And stood there. And stood there. Finally one of those tiny old ladies who surely shouldn’t be working any more wandered by and I corralled her to stand guard while I went to get someone who could actually carry a mop. It was a damned mess, all caused by yours truly.

Next on my list of things to destroy was my brand new tablet. I’ve been moaning for years because my kids have ipods and ipads and galaxy whatevers and I have none. My dad finally took pity on me and surprised me with a Surface tablet. I was so excited. Yesterday I ordered a fancy case for it, because I know myself well. I’d only had it about two weeks and was just finally figuring out how to work it when disaster struck. By ‘disaster’ I mean me. I don’t even know how it happened. One minute I was holding it, reading Motherhood May Cause Drowsiness, and the next it was facedown on the concrete floor. I hoped that all was not lost, but sure enough, that fragile bitch was all cracked up.

These are not the only times that my clumsiness syndrome has caused me to injure myself or break something. Oh, no. There was the time that I dropped something while making pancakes and accidentally stuck my forehead to the pancake griddle. And the time I attempted to jump over a hedge while wearing platform wedges and a fancy dress. That didn’t end well, let me tell you. I once fell down my front steps in the rain while carrying my middle child. He was a baby at the time and somehow I protected him but cracked my tailbone. I’ve broken more toes than I care to count, and I broke my wrists so many times as a child that the hospital started taking me back alone to make sure I wasn’t getting beat up at home. No, sorry, I’m just a goddamn accident waiting to happen.

My mother-in-law knows I collect green glass and she used to give me glassware in that shade, but I would break them one at a time until they were all gone. Now she buys me plastic glasses in a pretty green and I still manage to break those too.

I used to smoke and my friends would always walk on the side of me that did not have the cigarette because I was really bad about burning people, and I have a scar on each finger from burning myself with cigarettes. I guess in light of all this I should be glad about my husband’s “No Fire” policy, but I really feel like he is stifling my creativity.

Are you accident prone? Do you want things even though they might be bad for your health? Do you think a blowtorch is an unreasonable request? We have insurance.

 

39 Comments   |  tags: , , , , | posted in Just Being Awesome, random bullshit, total chaos

October 5, 2014

The Spoon Theory

By Steph

my spoons

Warning: This is not a funny post. It is about chronic illness. I’d really like you to read it. I promise I’ll attempt to be funny next time. I’ve been dealing with a lot of health issues this past week and I’ve felt very helpless and misunderstood. I want you all to know that I am not asking you to feel sorry for me. I don’t want anyone to pity me. I just wish everyone could understand what life is like with chronic illness and the Spoon Theory, I think, is one of the better ways to describe it.

The Spoon Theory basically says that with chronic illness, you start the day with a certain number of spoons, when a healthy person would start each day with an unlimited amount.

Pretend you wake up and you have 12 spoons.

It costs you a spoon just to get out of bed because your entire body is one giant ache and you never feel like you got any sleep. Next you have to walk down the hallway and wake up the boys and get the daughter’s clothes for school. This costs a spoon because this early in the morning you have the most intense pain and sometimes can barely walk. You have to use one hand to uncurl the other hand because they don’t want to work yet. You can hardly lift the coffee pot to pour coffee. You think about asking your husband for help and then feel guilty because he is going to work and you are not. It costs you a spoon to get yourself mentally under control and continue getting the kids ready to go to school. If you made lunches the night before that’s good, but if you were too tired then you have to do it now and that will cost you a spoon because of all the bending and walking and you are still in a lot of pain.

The kids and husband leave for the day and you are left with 8 spoons. The house is a mess. Do you have to go anywhere today? If you do, you can’t do anything else because driving and running errands or just running around town will take all the rest of your spoons. All of them. You will be in so much pain and so exhausted by the time you get home that you will be unable to do anything else.

This day, let’s say you get to stay home. So you do the dishes and maybe start a load of laundry. Take away a spoon. You need to think about your depression and do something positive so you will color or write in your journal or meditate or do yoga. This costs at least one spoon, depending on what you decide to do.

Remember, you haven’t showered, gotten dressed, or even brushed your teeth yet. You get dressed and brush your teeth and you are tired, so tired. It costs a spoon.

You’ve got 5 spoons left and it isn’t even noon. The house is still a mess. If you really, really clean it, it will cost all of your spoons for today and probably some of tomorrow’s. You need to eat but you are so nauseous that you can’t, plus you hate to waste a spoon just to feed yourself. You decide to watch t.v. for a while and rest. You think about taking a nap, but you can’t because you are too anxious and feel like you can’t breathe. It costs a spoon to get your anxiety under control.

You have 4 spoons left. The house is still a mess. You still have to figure out something for dinner or maybe your husband will bring something home. You better have him bring something home, because you will have to use at least 3 spoons to check the kids’ backpacks, sign papers, help with homework, and generally be present as a mother when they get home. You won’t be able to make dinner, and since you’re still nauseous, won’t be able to eat it either. It is 7 pm and you’ve only got one spoon, but your daughter still needs a bath and you didn’t even shower today. You still have to pack lunches and make the coffee for in the morning and your husband hasn’t gotten any of your attention. You feel like a failure as a wife and a homemaker and a mother. You feel so sorry for your family because you don’t have enough spoons to do everything you want to do for them. The stress leads to a migraine. You are down for two days, crying and throwing up and maybe going to the emergency room. This takes all of the spoons for those two days, and possibly some from the third day because you are exhausted after such a bad migraine.

So that’s basically the spoon theory, and basically my life. I didn’t mention allergic reactions, and I think I actually spend more spoons on managing my health and depression, but you get the idea.

It takes all my spoons just to get through a day doing the bare minimum. If I want to take the kids somewhere fun, that’s all my spoons. If I want to go out to eat with a friend, I have to realize that I will not be able to do something else. If I have a doctor’s appointment in the afternoon, I better lay down all morning.

I have a really hard time dealing with my health. It makes me incredibly sad to not be able to do the things I want to do. I hate having to plan my day around what I feel physically and mentally capable of. I hate that I don’t have enough spoons. I hate that by looking at me, you can’t see how hard I fight every day. I hate thinking that people think I am hateful or lazy because I don’t do things and I cancel plans all the time. I hate that I have to budget my energy and my time.

The Spoon Theory was written by Christine Miserandino at www.butyoudontlooksick.com. You can check it out at http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/

Does The Spoon Theory apply to you? If so, what things do you do to stay positive, knowing that you’ll be counting spoons for the rest of your life? Do you find that you judge yourself more harshly than anyone else does? I know I do. Don’t you love my nail polish?

**EDITED TO ADD: I love each and every one of you. I swear I feel stronger with every kind comment and it really means so much to me that you take the time to send me your thoughts. I might cry, guys. You are all my favorite.

59 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , | posted in random bullshit, thoughts, your health is your wealth and this is why I'm poor

September 30, 2014

Housekeeping Resignation, Effective Immediately

By Steph

This week has been really painful. I mean literally painful.

It all started when I was washing the dishes the other night. I was being very industrious and getting a lot of crap washed, instead of just throwing all the dishes away like I wanted to. So, yes, I was proud.

That may have been what did it. I was too prideful in all my homemaking glory. My head was simply to full of warm fuzzy self-love that I never even saw the knife coming. Seriously, I never saw it until it had already stabbed me.

That’s right folks. A dirty, nasty, MEAN knife jumped out of my sink and into my foot.

I’ve never been so glad to own 18-year-old cutlery.

I know. It's hard to believe I can still walk.

I know. It’s hard to believe I can still walk.

Even though I had just been viciously assaulted, I carried on. I kept on keeping on. I did my dishes anyway. I showed that knife what was up.

The very next day I sat down to pay some bills. This is a dreaded chore and it took great fortitude and courage to even attempt it.

Once again, my pride blinded me to the dangers I could be facing. I didn’t expect to be attacked ON THE FACE by an envelope, but it happened. Do I blame all envelopes? No. Every envelope is different. This one was an asshole, but that doesn’t mean I have to forsake all envelopes for all time.

So in two days time I suffered a poked foot and a paper cut lip, all in the name of housekeeping. I feel like these events were portentous, and far be it for me to ignore the symbolism. I will no longer be participating in such ill-advised activities. I will take into consideration all the hazards inherent in clothes washing, bathroom cleaning, vacuuming, and, heaven forbid, floor mopping. These things are clearly too fraught with danger for me to attempt.

I am no daredevil to be putting my safety in jeopardy like that.

39 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , | posted in Just Being Awesome, random bullshit, total chaos

September 26, 2014

Things That Keep Me Up At Night

By Steph

So, I guess we’ve established that I worry too much. I decided to start keeping track of the many things that cause me anxiety each day, because I found myself worrying — legit, worrying — over some super silly shit today.

The first random thing that caused my blood pressure to rise was a commercial for Grey’s Anatomy, probably. I don’t really know; it showed doctors dancing in the operating room.

source: greysanatomy.wikia.com

source: greysanatomy.wikia.com

That shit is not cool. This made me think of all the times I have put my life into a surgeon’s hands and how I don’t really know those people and what if they are having a shitty day? What if in the middle of surgery they decide to take a dance break for fuck’s sake? What if the doctor just found out that his wife is leaving him for their pool boy and he’s real torn up about it and he SLIPS? What if the doctor has a crush on the nurse and he’s making goo-goo eyes across my almost dead body and he accidently takes out my *sternum?

The weird thing is, I’m not having surgery, I have not HAD surgery, and I do not plan to HAVE surgery. So I guess I really don’t need to be stressing about this.

The next thing that really got me was brought on by who the hell knows what, because it’s only September and Jesus Christ tax time is well into my future. You guessed it. I spent probably 30 minutes of my life today trying to decide if I was capable of doing our taxes again myself or if I needed to hire someone to do them, but if I did, what if they messed up and we end up owing the IRS tons of money, or WORSE, what if I do them myself and I mess up and we end up owing the IRS tons of money and….right, it’s only September. I don’t need to even think about this again for at least four, possibly seven months.

Clearly, what I need to be worried about is my anti-anxiety medication because I don’t think that shit is working.

*Fancy medical term meaning chest bone.

Do you worry over the ridiculous? Am I the only one who obsesses over shit that probably will never happen but possibly, could maybe, in a million years, accidentally somehow affect my life?  

45 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in random bullshit, thoughts, total chaos

September 24, 2014

Relaxation Gone Wrong

By Steph

Recently I took some classes on relaxation. Because apparently I am so uptight that I need someone to literally teach me how to unwind.

Some of them were ridiculous and some seemed to have some merit, but my favorite one featured a guided meditation soundtrack.

A smooth and mellow voice urged me to relax my neck and shoulders, relax my back, relax, relax, relax, all while soothing music played in the background.

The room was quiet as everyone slid into a trance-like state of relaxation and meditation. There were about 15 of us, each with our eyes closed, following the directions which were almost whispered to us.

I could feel myself floating off, almost lifting up off my beanbag, I was so boneless. It was working. I was limp and weightless.

Then the disembodied voice ruined it all by saying, “Now, I want you to relax your genital area. Just let go.”

EXCUSE ME? Insert squealing tires and screeching brakes.

No one else seemed to notice, but I think at least half of them were asleep.

How on earth…why would you want…I’m sorry. Whatever my genitals are doing is none of your business, lady. I had visions of everyone pissing themselves because of this horrible suggestion. It just totally ruined the mood for me.

After class, I tried asking (between giggles) if anyone else had heard that command, but no one had. So now I am wondering if she even said it to begin with. But if she didn’t…what the fuck did she say? What sounds like genital area? How (and for fuck’s sake why) did I hear genitals if she didn’t say it?

This reminds me of a time when I was in a really loud bar and a friend told me that she had cheese in her pants. I was horrified, drunk, and could not understand why the girl was smuggling cheese into a bar, especially since we had already eaten. It was days before I learned that she was bemoaning the cheese ON her pants, not the cheese IN her pants. *shakes head*

Do you think the meditation lady was tryin’ to get all up in my private business? Do you think this class would work better for me if I wasn’t a 12-year-old boy? Has a soothing voice ever offered you terrible advice? What the ever loving fuck sounds like genital area and is located below the stomach but above the legs?

****EDITED TO ADD: THIS IS REALLY A THING! I AM NOT CRAZY. Or, at least, not having auditory hallucinations. http://alternativeculture.com/spirit/chakras.htm Apparently, your butthole is a chakra. Or something like that.

41 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , | posted in Just Being Awesome, random bullshit, your health is your wealth and this is why I'm poor