Tag Archives: calm down

One Day


It’s amazing how quickly things can turn around. How, in the blink of an eye, hope can turn into despair. Things to do become things to be survived. I’m tired of being on this ride that always seems to end in tears.

I woke up this morning in fairly minimal pain. I enjoyed my coffee, and laughed, and thought about how much better I felt today than I had this past week.

One thing. One tiny, insignificant little thing. And now here I am, trying not to cry, trying not to curl up and hide under the covers, trying not to give up.

I can hear one part of me saying, “No, don’t do it. It’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe. IT WILL BE FINE, GODDAMMIT, JUST STOP. Just. Stop.”

But there’s the other, louder part, chanting, “You fucked up. You ARE a fuck up. You are FUCKED up. You didn’t do this, you should’ve done that, why don’t you ever do ANYTHING right, why even try when you know it’s pointless, remember when this happened and this and this and this and this….”

It feels like there are two people inside of me, both fighting for supremacy. But the ugly part is stronger and it always claws its way to the top and laughs at the small, flickering, almost-blown-out flame of the other. Sometimes I think the part that hurts allows the part that hopes to exist, to creep into the sun, just so it can crush it over and over again.

I want to reach back in time and grab the smile I wore this morning and hold it tight so it can’t get away.

No, you know what? I’m not even asking to be happy. I just want to be okay. Can I have just this ONE DAY without the never-ending litany of pain on repeat in my head? JUST THIS ONE DAY.

Please. I just need this one day.

Relaxation Gone Wrong

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.

Because Good Decisions Are My Specialty

Well, the new perspective lasted for about two days.  Friday I was feeling especially useless, so of course I got into some things I shouldn’t have, and now I feel like microwaved death.

Things I Accomplished on Friday, otherwise known as Didn’t I Used to be Smarter Than This?

  • Drank 3 cups of coffee and topped it off with an extra-strength 5-hour energy drink.  I was shaking so badly that when my neighbor came over, she used an app on her phone to check my heart rate.  Also, I accused her of taking pictures of my feet without asking.  I was just a little wound up.  I’m not sure she’ll ever come back.


Bing Images

Bing Images


  • Attempted to weed around my rose bush.  Forgot that roses have thorns.  (Of course I know that every rose has its thorn.  Just like every night has its dawn.)


  • Took a bath to calm down and meditate, but took a non-fiction medical textbook and highlighter with me.  Did not bathe, meditate, or relax, but did drop blue highlighter in bath water.  A blue tint is not a good look for me.




  • Cleaned off the porch and picked up the yard.  This was only stupid because I had plans Saturday and I was supposed to be taking it easy.  Husband:  I thought I specifically told you not to do that.  Me:  See what happens?


  • Husband called and asked me a question.  I responded with, “What day is it?”  He said, “Friday, why?”  Me: “I have no idea.   But thanks.”  From now on, I’m just going to answer all questions with “what day is it” because it confuses people while making me briefly sound as if I have a plan and/or know the answer to their question.


  • Told my oldest child that he could dye his hair black and build a meth lab in his room.  These people around here are always giving me a hard time, and one of the things they say is that I “stifle their creativity.”  This is usually said after I’ve vetoed the purchase of a mobile waffle wagon or asked someone to stop singing and playing guitar at 3 am.  So when he said he was going to build a lab in his room (thank you, Walter White) I said, “Well, you do need to make some money.”  I maybe should’ve just asked what day it was.  Thing 3:  You really need to work on your parenting skills.  Maybe take a class…something.


Since I obviously know all about making good decisions, parenting, and general success at life, this week I am going to:

  1. Attempt to finish a blog post that I’ve been putting off and off and off.  (Yes, Aussa, that one.)
  2. Write the 17 articles that I should have started working on last week.
  3.  Attend one parent teacher conference.
  4.  Try to survive a field trip to a drive-through safari with approximately 20 children under five years old.

I also intend to:

  1. Shower at least three times twice.  (No need to go overboard here.)
  2. Wear clothes that match when I leave the house.
  3. Pet my cat and hopefully a kangaroo.
  4. Drink more water and zero energy drinks.
  5. Sit on my porch.
  6. Color.

I’m all about attainable goals these days and, I hate to brag, but I’m pretty sure I can do at least 3 of those things.




Can you have dementia at 33?

This morning I had to go to town, which always sucks, and I had to talk to not only my son’s doctor but also my therapist, who is amazingly insightful and very, very good at what she does.  This is a recipe for disaster.  I’ve threatened to fire the woman numerous times because she is that good.  Anyway, I went, I did what I was supposed to do, yay me.

On the way home, I was hurting really bad (because I didn’t take my meds this morning because I was driving my kid *pats self on back*) so I dug out my medicine and tried to swallow and then realized I did not have a drink.  So I choked on the nasty little pill, and then started thinking that my esophagus must not be normal sized, and I was going to stop breathing, and wasn’t it ironic that I was going to die in a car accident while choking on a pill that is supposed to make me feel better.

This is the kind of crazy we’re dealing with here, people.  I eventually found an extra-strength 5-hour energy drink in my purse and drank that so I wouldn’t choke to death.  Then my purse fell off the seat, exposing the full bottle of water I had just gotten in town less than five minutes before this whole debacle.

Now I am alive, which is good, not too worried about my esophagus, which is also good, but quite a bit wound up, which could be either good or bad.  I think we should all probably be thankful that my husband still refuses to let me have a blow torch.

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