About two years ago, I decided to write a book based upon a theory I held at the time that every person was completely capable of making every single dream they ever had, or, for that matter, ever would have,come true. This, of course, was well before the primary concern in my life became where I was going and why I was in this hand-basket. I still believe every dream can come true though, namely because I’ve discovered just how much control we have over our experiences here on this earth. And this is good news, except when it’s terrible news.
Its good news when we are positive, and thus, creating a positive experience for ourselves, and for those who are fortunate enough to come into contact with us. Positive begat positive begat positive, the more joyful energy you put out into the world, the more you convince the world that what you’re after is a positive experience. God, and all the other amazing energies and entities that make up this incredible Universe of ours, want us to be happy, therefore, they only give us that which we ask for. Unfortunately, most of us go through life constantly asking the Universe/God for the exact opposite of what we desire; then mumbling about how hard done by we are, and how we never win anything or get anything we want.
Little do we know, we are getting precisely what we’ve asked for…the experience of wanting to win & wanting to have. The winners in this grand old world of ours are the people who decide what they want, and then decide they are going to have what they want regardless of what may stand in their way. They never deviate, they never falter, they never doubt. They simply decide to get what they desire, and then do so. This attitude truly is the secret to a happy journey filled with the most amazing experiences and wonderful adventures a person could hope to have.
I myself lost the plot on this one for a spell; as a direct result of being physically ill, I allowed myself to believe my life would now amount to nothing because of my circumstances. In allowing myself to believe I was nothing, I started behaving as if I were nothing. Unfortunately, the moment I began behaving as nothing, certain people began treating me as nothing; further making me feel I was nothing, so confirmed their belif that I am nothing and round and round we go. And, as much as I’d like to think myself completely and utterly unique, I’ve witnessed a few of those about me clinging desperately to the same downwards spiral; all the while fervently denying their on any type of downward curve at all.
Denial is the vicious circle’s best friend, let’s face it now. The minute we start denying things and making ourselves out to be something we’re not, we’re starting that nasty circle going. People lie to themselves and each other a good portion of the time. Every one of us lies, however the degrees vary. Some of us only lie in the sense that we’ll say “fine” or “good” when asked how we’re doing, even if, in all honesty we’re really feeling pants. Some others still lie because they feel a need to cover up their own inadequacies with falsehoods which present them in, what they consider to be, a better light. Still more do it to hide who they are, preventing those around them from ever knowing the true them, therefore ensuring they can never truly be rejected for who they are, because not one person about them has the foggiest idea who they really are.
And all of these things, all of these various lies, go on around us each and every day without our fully realizing the impact they with inevitably have. Considering we speak to the Universe/God each and every minute of each and every day through our words, thoughts and actions; false thinking, which leads to insincere actions, will inexorably also present the wrong message to the Universe/God. When one stops to think that God does indeed grant all prayers and all wishes, it’s a relatively easy leap to the realization that, through our own actions, we have created our own miseries.
That said, not all things which, at the onset, present themselves as negative things really are. In fact, a good lot of the so called crises that take place in our lives do so in order to create change; something most people have a difficult time manifesting on their own. It is said change begins at the end of your comfort zone, and I have to say, I believe that 100%. In the past two or three weeks, there have been lots of changes taking place in my life, and at first I thought them all very negative. That’s something that I’ve found really evolving and reshaping itself this past two/three weeks; my perceptions of people, places and things.
A few weeks ago, I found myself the target of some vicious rumors, bad assumptions and ill conceived notions. To make matters worse, I soon discovered the source of all the bother was, in fact, two individuals I believed to be my close friends. At first, my emotions knew not what to do with themselves, and began misfiring in every direction all at once. Anger, betrayal, hurt, disgust, rageful, devastated, shattered, aghast, confused, bewildered, and feeling as though I'd missed an important event(s)in my own bloody life!!! In many ways, the whole thing felt like far too much to handle, especially considering where my physical health is at right at the moment.
For what seemed like an eternity, I moped about the house a shattered girl; breaking down and crying so often I feared I would never stop. It was like a damn had burst inside me, made up of all the fears I’ve had to endure health-wise, all the emotional pain of knowing two people I care about were building this horrible gossip together while I was in the city trying to take care of my health. That was one of the worst things, I think, the unwanted visions I got of them laughing at me, talking the piss out of me, and actually intending to hurt me this way. It’s somehow easier to take a blow in life if you a) know precisely what the blow is, and b) if the person delivering the painful blow isn’t doing it with the intent to hurt. This whole situation just seemed like something out of a movie, something the villians on a soap mighht do; but surely not something two people I’ve grown very close to would do to me, right? Right??? RIGHT??!!!
All these emotions grew and grew, and with them, my life began to gets more and more difficult to manage. All I could focus on was getting one of them to tell me what on earth was said that was strong enough to ruin eight and two years, collectively, of friendship? The harder I attempted to find the answer to that question, the harder I felt my friends pulling back; the harder I felt my mates pulling back, the more painful the whole situation got. And then, one day, I called a really good friend of mine who’s known me for a great many years, hoping to get her take on the situation. After hearing everything I had to say, there was a long pause on the line, causing me to utter a tentative “hello?” into the receiver.
“Dee, if these two ladies aren’t willing to tell you what it is that’s made them so angry with you, it’s likely because they aren’t entirely sure themselves. Go back to your CWG studies, and remember to deal with this situation with love, compassion and understanding. Remember the two questions everybody should be asking themselves before doing anything: “Is this who I really am?” and “What would love do now?”
It wasn’t an easy thing to hear, namely because, at the time, I’d felt sorry for myself for so long it was difficult to break the cycle. Secondly, when a person opts to deal with a situation with compassion, understanding and love, I think it’s pretty bloody imperative to have both sides of the story!!! (Which is really my way of saying I want them to do the work here, not me!)And what that attitude tells God/the Universe is that I want to continue feeling betrayed and wronged, and I want them to apologize for talking behind my back at a time when I really needed them the most. Unfortunately, all of those statements are judging statements, and, at the end of the day, judging statements, allegations and anger are only going to craft more of the same. Worse still, as long as I'm waiting on someone else in the sitution to do something to correct things, I'm giving away my power; because now, I'm completely dependant on someone else doing something in order for me to feel happy. How ludicrous is that? No one should ever be willing to give their power away like that, ever!
So, where did that leave me? In a place where I could finally do something about a situation I’ve felt utterly helpless over since it first began. I still haven’t a clue what kicked me mates off like that, nor do I know whether they’re taking a wee break, or plan on just never speaking to me again (which truly would break my heart in wee pieces). I do, however, know that both of these ladies were good friends to me at one time, and that both of them have hearts and minds and emotions just as I do, just as we all do. I also know that at least one of them (and quite likely the other as well) is rather a lonely darling, and as such will tend to do whatever it takes to make friends; as evidenced by her making friends with a lass she had most unsavory words for not a fortnight or two ago.
I also know that whatever’s happened, it’s happened for a reason. I am meant to be precisely where I am at this moment in time, which means, this event with my friends was also meant to happen. Given that, I also know everything will work out fine in the end, as long as I handle the situation with love, understanding and compassion. I could judge them for what I perceive to be ‘wrongs’ against me, but judgment passed is like a sentence passed, you can’t take it back. This has been very difficult for me because, having been bullied in school, I have a huge fear of rejection. To have someone who honestly knows all about me, including my secrets and sins, reject my friendship after this many years is devastating, but it’s not the end of the world.
I have faith that these people are good people. I’ve known one of them for nearly eight years,(the other for nearly three,) and, during that time, anytime there have been problems, we’ve talked it out with one and other. There was one incident where one of them went MIA for a spell, but when she returned she said it was simply a break and nothing I had done. That said, I have faith that we will have an opportunity to talk this out and get things sorted once and for all. These people are not evil people, and I can’t believe they really would do something to hurt me…I don’t want to believe that, and so I refuse too! I believe that everything in this life will work out for the best and better. Until this is sorted, I send white light their way every day the very instant I sense a ‘poor me’ or ‘bad them’ moment pulling me in. They are not bad people, I don’t have bad, nasty people as friends for years and years. They are good people and they are also blunt people, so they will tell me what has gone on, all in good time! Until then, as I say, it’s sending white light and love and focusing on continuing to clean this mess I call a home and continue working with wee one on her modules so she can be back in regular school come fall! While I do all that, traveling to the city once in a while to take care of my health, I just need to focus on the fact that both of these girls are nice, decent, good people who wouldn’t do anything to hurt me; so we will sort this mess out and continue to be friends for each other.
Friends should always be there, through the good, the bad, and the ugly. They never judge, never assume, and never intentionally hurt one and other. Though they will have their differences, their fights, and their times when they just need some space, at the end of the day, their bond will still be too strong for anything to put it asunder. They laugh, cry, talk and share a journey together, showing each other their faults and helping each other correct them in a loving and compassionate way.
I must stop feeling badly for myself, because it is in this that I’ve created a role of victim, and I’m not a bloody victim!! Unfortunately, when you act like something and talk like something, you more than likely have become that something. This is information that causes me to want to retch, but it’s also imperative to my personal growth, and my personal journey. I need to be strong again, in body, in mind, and in spirit. Due to the nature of my health problems, it will be a fight, but I know it will be one well worth it in the end.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Friday, April 13, 2007
Going Crazy in a One Horse Town...
It’s been a different kind of a month, this has. One minute, everything seems to be going perfectly, and the next, I’m sure I’m headed for certain disaster. The only thing remaining steadfast, as always, is my role on this universe as mother. It is also the only thing which, regardless of situation or circumstance, I’ve never for one instant regretted or wished away. My daughter has always been my saving grace; this time is no different.
The kind of month I’ve had is the kind of month that gives a person either strong reason to reflect, or strong urges to run. I’ve had the distinct pleasure of experiencing both extremes…sometimes all within a five-minute period! A good friend of mine keeps telling me that I’m expecting rational behavior from irrational people…however my own mind can’t help but wonder if it isn’t me being the irrational one here. As a woman suffering from low self-esteem, I can’t help but wonder if everything that happens isn’t somehow my fault. Because ultimately, I control the universe, and as such, must take responsibility for the actions of all human beings contained hereon.
My struggle this month has been refocusing my attention on myself and my daughter, which is precisely where it needs to be…and precisely where my mind doesn’t wish to be; all at the same time. Give me time! I CAN solve all the worlds’ problems! God, in His/Her/It’s infinite wisdom, gives us care and control of but one being during our stay here…ourselves. Unfortunately, I seem to be having an intensely difficult time both recognizing, and coping, with this happy little truth.
If things carry on in this vein, I am going to have to have a very firm, abrupt little talk with myself. If I refuse to listen, I’m going to have no other recourse than to force me to do one thousand lines, all of which will say, in big bold letters: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE THOUGHTS OR ACTIONS OF ANYBODY EXCEPT MYSELF. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR…. Et al.
It’s damn hard to remember that, I find, particularly when those about you aren’t acting in the fashion you’d have chosen for them. I do think, however, that we can influence the thoughts and actions of those around us with our own thoughts and actions; which is why it’s so fucking important to remember we ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE THOUGHT AND ACTIONS OF ANYBODY EXCEPT OURSELVES. WE ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR…et al.
When I forget this and try to involve myself in the thoughts and actions of others, I tend not to monitor my own with anything like the care and attention I should. Once that happens, it becomes incredibly easy for things to quickly spin out of control. I’ve also relearned the lesson about individuals who feel the need to repeat something again and again to you, more often than not, being guilty of precisely the thing the feel the need to incessantly tell you they could or would, never do.
I’ve allowed myself, over the years, to play a victim role well. Though I believed I had managed to move past that point in my life, it is now crystal clear to me that I had not. The only change I had made was that I stopped dating abusers. Just because I stopped playing the victim for the men in my life, however, doesn’t mean I stopped playing the victim altogether…in fact, despite my own necessary (at the time) denial, it doesn’t mean that AT ALL. In all actuality, the only thing I had changed was whom I played the victim for.
Instead of allowing boyfriends to play the “come here, come here….ah ah ah…get away, get away” game, I started letting certain friends do it. I selected them carefully, or rather we selected each other. The only ones getting away with the behavior were the ones prone to outbursts, capable, and willing, to employ the silent treatment, and happy to have me spend lots money I couldn’t afford on gifts for them or their family while they forget my birthday, and other important occasions.
In these relationships, I made my own choices. My arms were not twisted to buy gifts, or accept unacceptable behaviors. It was a choice I made, and, like all bad choices, it came around to bite me right in the ass. This is partly because all dynamics of this sort must come to an end, and partly because, while I spent all my time thinking about other people, and what I thought they really ought to be doing, I forgot to properly monitor myself. Given that I do suffer from a disassociative disorder, monitoring my own actions/words/ thoughts is VERY, VERY, I CAN’T STRESS THIS ENOUGH, VERY IMPORTANT!!
When I fail to properly monitor myself, people start to see that disorder in different ways, none of them especially endearing, I assure you. One way is the victim mentality I can develop, which can cause those around me to subconsciously develop the perp mentality. Another is, because I will forget I’ve said certain things, and will be switching inside myself enough for me to be putting different points of view from what I’ve said ten minutes ago in front of people. Individuals not familiar with, or understanding about, my disorder are naturally going to have the most difficult time dealing with the symptoms thereof. To be fair, I haven’t told certain friends about the disorder, namely because I got the feeling certain ones were talking behind my back to their friends, and it unsettled me. I got confirmation that this was, in fact, the case not that long ago. As with all things, I blame myself. Befriend a gossip with a taste for libations, and expect a crash of some sort to happen, particularly if the right person to gossip with happens along.
I’d love to be angry about that particular situation, but I can’t be. The situation and the players therein, happened as a result of the individuals involved choosing to believe something they themselves made up as opposed to hearing the truth. Am I to be furious that they won’t listen to what I have to say, let alone grab the balls to tell precisely what it is they have their knickers in such a knot about? Not so much. I asked what had them so riled, was given a run about answer full of assumption, asked again, and received no answer whatsoever. I take this to mean the individuals involved are not in the place to hear me at the moment, and that’s their God given right. Just as it is mine to ignore them.
Hopefully, one day soon, we can sort this matter, and get back to the business of being friends, though only one of them would really be welcome, and then only because, having known this person so long, I know they really do have a kind heart and aren’t like this. I also know I’ve helped them to become the way they now are with me by playing the victim. It is time to change things in the friendship, yes, but I’d just as soon not lose it altogether. That said, only time and, hopefully, conversation will tell.
It’s an interesting thing, losing people you love in your life. Made even more interesting by the fact my health has reached a level where pain and pain control both aids me into a sort of interested nonchalance about the whole issue. The kind of attitude you might expect from an onlooker to the situation, oddly enough. I think it’s to do, also, with the fact I’ve been too hurt before, and thus, this here is nothing short of what was expected.
Hopefully, the time spent working on myself and caring for my family will help this matter also. I firmly believe working on one thing at a time, and slugging it out so you’re tired in a good way at the end of the day is all it takes to work out most situations. I don’t know for sure if it will work this one out as well, but I can only work on what’s in front of me, and the rest has to wait.
I believe I have a lot of work to do on myself. Hopefully, by the time things are sorted with my best mate, I’ll be on a lot firmer ground personally and professionally. It’s needed, I think, for the friendship to continue along productive lines. I can not spend time in the “oh yah? Well, you didn’t call me for two months and then, after letting me worry myself sick for all that time; you come back with “oh, I was taking a break, nothing personal mate! And you should have heard what your new best friend there said about you then!! Oh and after getting up in my face for forgetting your b-day one-year, you forget mine when I’m in ailing health…. Thanks loads!” Because, at the end of the day, both of us had our reasons for doing whatever it is we did, or we wouldn’t have done it. By the time things are sorted with my best mate, I need this kind of petty tallying to be in the past, and firmly so. I also need the junior high gossip to end. None of it is productive to growth, or productive to spiritual and emotional health. We don’t feel good when we hurt people; it’s just human nature to feel that way. So, it stands to reason that one way of feeling really good is to be kind, compassionate and caring to all you meet. That’s what I want for this friendship.
Whether or not such a thing is possible remains to be seen. I’ll keep you posted, though, Internet!
Loads of love,
Dee Janey
The kind of month I’ve had is the kind of month that gives a person either strong reason to reflect, or strong urges to run. I’ve had the distinct pleasure of experiencing both extremes…sometimes all within a five-minute period! A good friend of mine keeps telling me that I’m expecting rational behavior from irrational people…however my own mind can’t help but wonder if it isn’t me being the irrational one here. As a woman suffering from low self-esteem, I can’t help but wonder if everything that happens isn’t somehow my fault. Because ultimately, I control the universe, and as such, must take responsibility for the actions of all human beings contained hereon.
My struggle this month has been refocusing my attention on myself and my daughter, which is precisely where it needs to be…and precisely where my mind doesn’t wish to be; all at the same time. Give me time! I CAN solve all the worlds’ problems! God, in His/Her/It’s infinite wisdom, gives us care and control of but one being during our stay here…ourselves. Unfortunately, I seem to be having an intensely difficult time both recognizing, and coping, with this happy little truth.
If things carry on in this vein, I am going to have to have a very firm, abrupt little talk with myself. If I refuse to listen, I’m going to have no other recourse than to force me to do one thousand lines, all of which will say, in big bold letters: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE THOUGHTS OR ACTIONS OF ANYBODY EXCEPT MYSELF. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR…. Et al.
It’s damn hard to remember that, I find, particularly when those about you aren’t acting in the fashion you’d have chosen for them. I do think, however, that we can influence the thoughts and actions of those around us with our own thoughts and actions; which is why it’s so fucking important to remember we ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE THOUGHT AND ACTIONS OF ANYBODY EXCEPT OURSELVES. WE ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR…et al.
When I forget this and try to involve myself in the thoughts and actions of others, I tend not to monitor my own with anything like the care and attention I should. Once that happens, it becomes incredibly easy for things to quickly spin out of control. I’ve also relearned the lesson about individuals who feel the need to repeat something again and again to you, more often than not, being guilty of precisely the thing the feel the need to incessantly tell you they could or would, never do.
I’ve allowed myself, over the years, to play a victim role well. Though I believed I had managed to move past that point in my life, it is now crystal clear to me that I had not. The only change I had made was that I stopped dating abusers. Just because I stopped playing the victim for the men in my life, however, doesn’t mean I stopped playing the victim altogether…in fact, despite my own necessary (at the time) denial, it doesn’t mean that AT ALL. In all actuality, the only thing I had changed was whom I played the victim for.
Instead of allowing boyfriends to play the “come here, come here….ah ah ah…get away, get away” game, I started letting certain friends do it. I selected them carefully, or rather we selected each other. The only ones getting away with the behavior were the ones prone to outbursts, capable, and willing, to employ the silent treatment, and happy to have me spend lots money I couldn’t afford on gifts for them or their family while they forget my birthday, and other important occasions.
In these relationships, I made my own choices. My arms were not twisted to buy gifts, or accept unacceptable behaviors. It was a choice I made, and, like all bad choices, it came around to bite me right in the ass. This is partly because all dynamics of this sort must come to an end, and partly because, while I spent all my time thinking about other people, and what I thought they really ought to be doing, I forgot to properly monitor myself. Given that I do suffer from a disassociative disorder, monitoring my own actions/words/ thoughts is VERY, VERY, I CAN’T STRESS THIS ENOUGH, VERY IMPORTANT!!
When I fail to properly monitor myself, people start to see that disorder in different ways, none of them especially endearing, I assure you. One way is the victim mentality I can develop, which can cause those around me to subconsciously develop the perp mentality. Another is, because I will forget I’ve said certain things, and will be switching inside myself enough for me to be putting different points of view from what I’ve said ten minutes ago in front of people. Individuals not familiar with, or understanding about, my disorder are naturally going to have the most difficult time dealing with the symptoms thereof. To be fair, I haven’t told certain friends about the disorder, namely because I got the feeling certain ones were talking behind my back to their friends, and it unsettled me. I got confirmation that this was, in fact, the case not that long ago. As with all things, I blame myself. Befriend a gossip with a taste for libations, and expect a crash of some sort to happen, particularly if the right person to gossip with happens along.
I’d love to be angry about that particular situation, but I can’t be. The situation and the players therein, happened as a result of the individuals involved choosing to believe something they themselves made up as opposed to hearing the truth. Am I to be furious that they won’t listen to what I have to say, let alone grab the balls to tell precisely what it is they have their knickers in such a knot about? Not so much. I asked what had them so riled, was given a run about answer full of assumption, asked again, and received no answer whatsoever. I take this to mean the individuals involved are not in the place to hear me at the moment, and that’s their God given right. Just as it is mine to ignore them.
Hopefully, one day soon, we can sort this matter, and get back to the business of being friends, though only one of them would really be welcome, and then only because, having known this person so long, I know they really do have a kind heart and aren’t like this. I also know I’ve helped them to become the way they now are with me by playing the victim. It is time to change things in the friendship, yes, but I’d just as soon not lose it altogether. That said, only time and, hopefully, conversation will tell.
It’s an interesting thing, losing people you love in your life. Made even more interesting by the fact my health has reached a level where pain and pain control both aids me into a sort of interested nonchalance about the whole issue. The kind of attitude you might expect from an onlooker to the situation, oddly enough. I think it’s to do, also, with the fact I’ve been too hurt before, and thus, this here is nothing short of what was expected.
Hopefully, the time spent working on myself and caring for my family will help this matter also. I firmly believe working on one thing at a time, and slugging it out so you’re tired in a good way at the end of the day is all it takes to work out most situations. I don’t know for sure if it will work this one out as well, but I can only work on what’s in front of me, and the rest has to wait.
I believe I have a lot of work to do on myself. Hopefully, by the time things are sorted with my best mate, I’ll be on a lot firmer ground personally and professionally. It’s needed, I think, for the friendship to continue along productive lines. I can not spend time in the “oh yah? Well, you didn’t call me for two months and then, after letting me worry myself sick for all that time; you come back with “oh, I was taking a break, nothing personal mate! And you should have heard what your new best friend there said about you then!! Oh and after getting up in my face for forgetting your b-day one-year, you forget mine when I’m in ailing health…. Thanks loads!” Because, at the end of the day, both of us had our reasons for doing whatever it is we did, or we wouldn’t have done it. By the time things are sorted with my best mate, I need this kind of petty tallying to be in the past, and firmly so. I also need the junior high gossip to end. None of it is productive to growth, or productive to spiritual and emotional health. We don’t feel good when we hurt people; it’s just human nature to feel that way. So, it stands to reason that one way of feeling really good is to be kind, compassionate and caring to all you meet. That’s what I want for this friendship.
Whether or not such a thing is possible remains to be seen. I’ll keep you posted, though, Internet!
Loads of love,
Dee Janey
Thursday, March 22, 2007
The Horned Teenage Beast Approacheth
I haven’t written anything here for a long time. It’s funny how sometimes certain things in our lives get dropped when we are experiencing stress. For myself, when stress hits, I tend to forget I own a vacuum or duster, quietly waiting to see how long it takes before the entire house is consumed by laundry. Through this rigorous and studious research, I have discovered it takes precisely three weeks before our carpet dons a colorful and happy coat compiled entirely of wee little socks, knickers, along with various other items of dirty clothing.
Children seem to know when their mothers are residing on the edge of a cliff, and make it their business to push them off that cliff onto the jagged dirty little socks below. This past month, I think my daughter has managed to get her behind into bed and to sleep at a decent hour precisely one time. I’d like to be optimistic and assure you that the one time she did head to bed at a decent hour; she did as a show of love for her rather shattered mother. The truth of the matter, however, remains that Puddin’ fell into bed exhausted that night as a direct result of being up for the entirety of the night prior.
I.seriously.yearned.to.cause.someone.bodily.harm.
My little one is also fast approaching that horrible phase of life commonly referred to as ‘teenage-hood’. I prefer to think of it as ‘the decade in which my sweet little daughter was replaced by Zulu, Queen of the Evil Dwarf People.’ This afternoon, I suggested that, considering I didn’t feel sticking to one’s computer chair by the force of one’s own stench was normal, little one might do well to perform that radical act we mere mortals refer to as ‘bathing.’ No sooner had the suggestion escaped my lips than my daughter’s head began to spin around and the demon within ventured out long enough to say: “There will be no bathing for the Lord of Darkness, you mortal fool….wahahahahaha!!” When I did finally wrestle her into the tub, I swear the water sizzled.
Dung beetles have an interesting habit. When their children reach teenage-hood, the beetle’s parents quietly dig a large hole in the ground, shove their young into said hole, bury them, and then promptly forget about them until they have reached adulthood. This, my friends, is where the insect world teaches us human beings a thing or two. Imagine never having to endure the teenage years again!! The streets void of green hair, Mohawks, and adolescent speak. Words such as “sick”, “off the hook”, and “my Holmes,” reverting back to meaning “unwell”, “a coat that has fallen” and “more than one residence.” Parents would no longer be forced into hours of argument in order to retain the use of the home phones they both own and pay for.
The freedom!! The freed up time!! The lack of annoyance and stress!! Oh Sweet Jesus, YES!!
IF the option was really open to us, though, how many of us would actually take it? I know I wouldn’t…for two reasons. The first being that I would miss my little grump ball far too much whilst she ran in her pen underground, and secondly, children kept underground cannot be bitched about or at…and really, doesn’t that sort of suck all the fun out of having them in the first place???
Children seem to know when their mothers are residing on the edge of a cliff, and make it their business to push them off that cliff onto the jagged dirty little socks below. This past month, I think my daughter has managed to get her behind into bed and to sleep at a decent hour precisely one time. I’d like to be optimistic and assure you that the one time she did head to bed at a decent hour; she did as a show of love for her rather shattered mother. The truth of the matter, however, remains that Puddin’ fell into bed exhausted that night as a direct result of being up for the entirety of the night prior.
I.seriously.yearned.to.cause.someone.bodily.harm.
My little one is also fast approaching that horrible phase of life commonly referred to as ‘teenage-hood’. I prefer to think of it as ‘the decade in which my sweet little daughter was replaced by Zulu, Queen of the Evil Dwarf People.’ This afternoon, I suggested that, considering I didn’t feel sticking to one’s computer chair by the force of one’s own stench was normal, little one might do well to perform that radical act we mere mortals refer to as ‘bathing.’ No sooner had the suggestion escaped my lips than my daughter’s head began to spin around and the demon within ventured out long enough to say: “There will be no bathing for the Lord of Darkness, you mortal fool….wahahahahaha!!” When I did finally wrestle her into the tub, I swear the water sizzled.
Dung beetles have an interesting habit. When their children reach teenage-hood, the beetle’s parents quietly dig a large hole in the ground, shove their young into said hole, bury them, and then promptly forget about them until they have reached adulthood. This, my friends, is where the insect world teaches us human beings a thing or two. Imagine never having to endure the teenage years again!! The streets void of green hair, Mohawks, and adolescent speak. Words such as “sick”, “off the hook”, and “my Holmes,” reverting back to meaning “unwell”, “a coat that has fallen” and “more than one residence.” Parents would no longer be forced into hours of argument in order to retain the use of the home phones they both own and pay for.
The freedom!! The freed up time!! The lack of annoyance and stress!! Oh Sweet Jesus, YES!!
IF the option was really open to us, though, how many of us would actually take it? I know I wouldn’t…for two reasons. The first being that I would miss my little grump ball far too much whilst she ran in her pen underground, and secondly, children kept underground cannot be bitched about or at…and really, doesn’t that sort of suck all the fun out of having them in the first place???
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Post #7 of 30, If we forget tomorrow existed, which I aim to do...
I’ve decided that considering I felt so rubbish yesterday, I honestly believed that I had posted when I, in fact, hadn’t, yesterday didn’t actually exist, as such. That said I am not guilty of not posting yesterday, because yesterday never happened because the world stops when I am not feeling up to coping with it. In keeping with the honor system of Namblopomo, however, I do have to now content myself with being an honorary member as opposed to a contestant, as such; which sucks, because I was doing so well up until now!! Why the hell do stomach flu’s only take place when other, more important things are going on?
As an honorary member, I will still continue to update this blog on a daily basis, however, any day I do not update this blog is now considered a “non-day”, as opposed to being considered “the day I blew it”.
Today has been a rough day, to say the least. Things went slowly most of the day, which is to say, I spent most of the day feverish and in bed. Unfortunately, things took rather an icky and eventful turn during dinner. We had cold deli salads in an effort to avoid unnecessarily upsetting anyone’s tummy. Apparently, my tummy fails to follow this most important digestive etiquette, because I found myself racing to the toilet halfway through the meal. Guess what? Once I got there, GOOD NEWS, the toilet is plugged up; which means that everything I just deposited in the toilet cascaded down the bowl and swirled delicately about my toes in a sea of toilet water. Even BETTER NEWS, I am a single parent, so guess who cleans up the throw up soup an inch thick on the bathroom floor? If you said ME, you’re getting too good for this game and I can no longer fool you.
I finally managed to clean it all up, and in my sick and delusional state, then saw the remaining vomit in the toilet and couldn’t help but think “someone ought to flush that, really…” which I then did. This, of course, made for round two of the throw up soup/ lake on the upstairs bathroom floor very nicely. I have now spent the last two hours cleaning this off of my bathroom floor…and I’m still posting!! Don’t you folks think you could forgive me yesterday in light of this? Because I really think you should…really.
Anyhow, I’m now dehydrated and weak, so I’m off to the bed to lay down and moan for many minutes and several seconds. Thank you, that is all.
As an honorary member, I will still continue to update this blog on a daily basis, however, any day I do not update this blog is now considered a “non-day”, as opposed to being considered “the day I blew it”.
Today has been a rough day, to say the least. Things went slowly most of the day, which is to say, I spent most of the day feverish and in bed. Unfortunately, things took rather an icky and eventful turn during dinner. We had cold deli salads in an effort to avoid unnecessarily upsetting anyone’s tummy. Apparently, my tummy fails to follow this most important digestive etiquette, because I found myself racing to the toilet halfway through the meal. Guess what? Once I got there, GOOD NEWS, the toilet is plugged up; which means that everything I just deposited in the toilet cascaded down the bowl and swirled delicately about my toes in a sea of toilet water. Even BETTER NEWS, I am a single parent, so guess who cleans up the throw up soup an inch thick on the bathroom floor? If you said ME, you’re getting too good for this game and I can no longer fool you.
I finally managed to clean it all up, and in my sick and delusional state, then saw the remaining vomit in the toilet and couldn’t help but think “someone ought to flush that, really…” which I then did. This, of course, made for round two of the throw up soup/ lake on the upstairs bathroom floor very nicely. I have now spent the last two hours cleaning this off of my bathroom floor…and I’m still posting!! Don’t you folks think you could forgive me yesterday in light of this? Because I really think you should…really.
Anyhow, I’m now dehydrated and weak, so I’m off to the bed to lay down and moan for many minutes and several seconds. Thank you, that is all.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Post #5 of 30, AKA~Still Dreaming, only more concretely so...
Post #5 of 30, AKA: Still Wrestling Incredibly Strong Invisible Bugs
Its 9:30pm, and this is the first I’ve even so much as thought of doing my duty for the month, and spitting out a post of some kind. Frankly, it’s hard as hell to keep posting at the moment. My adorable little one has seen fit to do her part as a member of this loving family, and share her virus. I think it’s hitting me so hard because my immune system is already comprised, what with my medical problems. Whatever it is, it sucks ass.
For the past couple of days, I’ve been throwing up, pooping out everything my bowels ever had a hard time extracting, and walking like a damn drunk due to an inexplicable complete and total loss of my equilibrium. Right now, I feel as though I’m going to lie down and die any moment now. Not to mention the fact I’ve puked up everything I’ve put into my mouth, including medication. How in the hell am I supposed to keep Gravel down if I’m throwing up every five seconds? Fortunately for me, the good people at Gravol thought about this little nugget too, and as a result of their innovative thinking, we now have Ginger Gravol in “Soft Chewable Lozenges”.
I hate being sick. It’s one of those things that I don’t suppose anyone really loves, but I hate it more than anyone else. (I know that because I asked everyone… in the entire world …and they all said I definitely hated being sick more than any of them, so I have proof!!) Because I hate being sick so much that I hid from it all weekend by lounging about in a pair of satin pajama’s, reading things on the computer and sleeping. (Which reminds me: I highly recommend wearing satin pajama’s when you are sick, particularly if you happen to be afflicted with a stomach virus, as the satin slides off the bed smoothly and easily; making it possible to vault out of bed and shoot into the bathroom at speeds you never would have believed possible Despite the obvious disadvantage of being on crutches, I was still able to shoot out of bed and sort of pole vault into the latrine, which I would have thought fabulous if I wasn’t swallowing vomit as quickly as I could as I pole vaulted along in an effort to keep the carpet’s clean…)
The little one seems to be feeling far better, mind you, which makes life a little easier. She magically developed a wee tummy ache and nausea early this evening upon realizing it was, indeed, Sunday night, with a fresh school week commencing bright and early tomorrow morning. Though I suppose I could have offered her Gravol for her troubles, oddly enough, telling her that unless she burst into a giant ball of orange flame, she was damn well going to school tomorrow seemed to work just as well. Puddin’ is currently doing acrobatics on the floor beside me, which is making the entire house shake as though we’re experiencing an earthquake. I often wonder if the neighbors believe I throw her body about when she has these little bursts of energy and leaps about like this… (Though I confess, there are times I want desperately to throw her about when she’s leaping around… it’s enough to drive a saint to distraction!)
I have to admit; lately I’ve been feeling incredibly old. I suppose this is likely a product of having so many medical problems I can easily keep up with the old ladies when they talk about their aches and pains. I’ll be honest and tell you that despite what it looks like, this was never one of my long term goals for life. I know I’m good at being a gimp…hell, I’d even go so far as to say “expert”, but the time has come to discover what else I can do to make use of my many talents.
I’ve actually been giving a lot of thought as to what stage I’m at in my life, and how I would alter that picture if I could. I firmly believe that type of self analysis is important, primarily because, as nutty as it might sound, I completely believe we have the power within us to make virtually all of our dreams come true. More than likely, when you read that, you’re going to ask yourself why it is, if we can make virtually all of our dreams come true, more of us aren’t out there doing just that. The answer is really quite simple; because making dreams come true takes an awful lot of hard work.
I remember when I was about fifteen; I lost a whole bunch of weight. Up until that time, I weighed roughly 180lbs, which at my 5’1” or whatever, made me look as though I was sporting an ass on both the front and back sides of my body. I did this by working out each and every night, watching what I ate, and walking wherever I went; in other words, it was a lot of hard work. About six months afterwards, I happened to be at a church event with my parents, and a lady I used to know when I was grossly overweight approached me and inquired into how I’d managed to lose the weight When I answered her with “working out every night and really watching what I eat”, she seemed disheartened. Why? Because she was looking for an easy answer, something that would achieve the result she desired without requiring any effort or commitment on her part.
I think this is really a rather sad reflection upon our society. Most things in life can now be created in five minutes or less with the use of technology. Nothing really takes great commitment anymore, and because of this, we tend to believe that everything in life should come easily, when that simply can’t, and shouldn’t, be the case. More than that, life can easily become something of a merry-go-round for some folks. They wake up, go to work, make barely enough for their family to survive, and go home. Because their life is so hand to mouth, they don’t dare take steps to change things fearing that they will lose it all if they do.
Making dreams come true is something like losing weight, in that it takes time, commitment and effort, but I do believe it’s entirely possible. That said it’s high time I put my money where my mouth is, so to speak. I’m going to be taking a good, hard look at that analysis I’m working on, and forcing it into three separate columns: a)things I like about my life today b)things I don’t like about my life today c)if I could wave a magic wand, what would I change about my life today? One of the easiest things for me to isolate when I look at that list is the single parenting thing. I don’t want to be alone anymore; however I’m terrified of bringing the wrong person into my baby’s life. On the other hand, I miss sex so much it hurts, and there are days where I would really love for someone to ask me how my day ways, or compliment me on a meal I cooked them.
Clearly, the thing I would change is my single-ness, and if I could wave a magic wand, I would manufacture a sensitive, loving, compassionate and sexy man who would hold me when I cried, help me when my body hurts, make love so well it would damn near heal me, and be the father little one has always wanted. So, the million dollar question is, how the hell do I get from here, Single Town: Population: me, to there Happily Married Town, Population: fantasy me and fantasy husband? There’s a whole lot of thinking that’s going to have to go into this one, so I’m going to off and get that done. I’ll post what I’ve come up with tomorrow. In the meantime, “Internet”, I’d be interested in hearing your thoughts on how to meet nice men, and how to ensure that I’m the type of woman that will attract the really nice men, instead of the men who are only nice until they manage to get into your pants and wallet...
Its 9:30pm, and this is the first I’ve even so much as thought of doing my duty for the month, and spitting out a post of some kind. Frankly, it’s hard as hell to keep posting at the moment. My adorable little one has seen fit to do her part as a member of this loving family, and share her virus. I think it’s hitting me so hard because my immune system is already comprised, what with my medical problems. Whatever it is, it sucks ass.
For the past couple of days, I’ve been throwing up, pooping out everything my bowels ever had a hard time extracting, and walking like a damn drunk due to an inexplicable complete and total loss of my equilibrium. Right now, I feel as though I’m going to lie down and die any moment now. Not to mention the fact I’ve puked up everything I’ve put into my mouth, including medication. How in the hell am I supposed to keep Gravel down if I’m throwing up every five seconds? Fortunately for me, the good people at Gravol thought about this little nugget too, and as a result of their innovative thinking, we now have Ginger Gravol in “Soft Chewable Lozenges”.
I hate being sick. It’s one of those things that I don’t suppose anyone really loves, but I hate it more than anyone else. (I know that because I asked everyone… in the entire world …and they all said I definitely hated being sick more than any of them, so I have proof!!) Because I hate being sick so much that I hid from it all weekend by lounging about in a pair of satin pajama’s, reading things on the computer and sleeping. (Which reminds me: I highly recommend wearing satin pajama’s when you are sick, particularly if you happen to be afflicted with a stomach virus, as the satin slides off the bed smoothly and easily; making it possible to vault out of bed and shoot into the bathroom at speeds you never would have believed possible Despite the obvious disadvantage of being on crutches, I was still able to shoot out of bed and sort of pole vault into the latrine, which I would have thought fabulous if I wasn’t swallowing vomit as quickly as I could as I pole vaulted along in an effort to keep the carpet’s clean…)
The little one seems to be feeling far better, mind you, which makes life a little easier. She magically developed a wee tummy ache and nausea early this evening upon realizing it was, indeed, Sunday night, with a fresh school week commencing bright and early tomorrow morning. Though I suppose I could have offered her Gravol for her troubles, oddly enough, telling her that unless she burst into a giant ball of orange flame, she was damn well going to school tomorrow seemed to work just as well. Puddin’ is currently doing acrobatics on the floor beside me, which is making the entire house shake as though we’re experiencing an earthquake. I often wonder if the neighbors believe I throw her body about when she has these little bursts of energy and leaps about like this… (Though I confess, there are times I want desperately to throw her about when she’s leaping around… it’s enough to drive a saint to distraction!)
I have to admit; lately I’ve been feeling incredibly old. I suppose this is likely a product of having so many medical problems I can easily keep up with the old ladies when they talk about their aches and pains. I’ll be honest and tell you that despite what it looks like, this was never one of my long term goals for life. I know I’m good at being a gimp…hell, I’d even go so far as to say “expert”, but the time has come to discover what else I can do to make use of my many talents.
I’ve actually been giving a lot of thought as to what stage I’m at in my life, and how I would alter that picture if I could. I firmly believe that type of self analysis is important, primarily because, as nutty as it might sound, I completely believe we have the power within us to make virtually all of our dreams come true. More than likely, when you read that, you’re going to ask yourself why it is, if we can make virtually all of our dreams come true, more of us aren’t out there doing just that. The answer is really quite simple; because making dreams come true takes an awful lot of hard work.
I remember when I was about fifteen; I lost a whole bunch of weight. Up until that time, I weighed roughly 180lbs, which at my 5’1” or whatever, made me look as though I was sporting an ass on both the front and back sides of my body. I did this by working out each and every night, watching what I ate, and walking wherever I went; in other words, it was a lot of hard work. About six months afterwards, I happened to be at a church event with my parents, and a lady I used to know when I was grossly overweight approached me and inquired into how I’d managed to lose the weight When I answered her with “working out every night and really watching what I eat”, she seemed disheartened. Why? Because she was looking for an easy answer, something that would achieve the result she desired without requiring any effort or commitment on her part.
I think this is really a rather sad reflection upon our society. Most things in life can now be created in five minutes or less with the use of technology. Nothing really takes great commitment anymore, and because of this, we tend to believe that everything in life should come easily, when that simply can’t, and shouldn’t, be the case. More than that, life can easily become something of a merry-go-round for some folks. They wake up, go to work, make barely enough for their family to survive, and go home. Because their life is so hand to mouth, they don’t dare take steps to change things fearing that they will lose it all if they do.
Making dreams come true is something like losing weight, in that it takes time, commitment and effort, but I do believe it’s entirely possible. That said it’s high time I put my money where my mouth is, so to speak. I’m going to be taking a good, hard look at that analysis I’m working on, and forcing it into three separate columns: a)things I like about my life today b)things I don’t like about my life today c)if I could wave a magic wand, what would I change about my life today? One of the easiest things for me to isolate when I look at that list is the single parenting thing. I don’t want to be alone anymore; however I’m terrified of bringing the wrong person into my baby’s life. On the other hand, I miss sex so much it hurts, and there are days where I would really love for someone to ask me how my day ways, or compliment me on a meal I cooked them.
Clearly, the thing I would change is my single-ness, and if I could wave a magic wand, I would manufacture a sensitive, loving, compassionate and sexy man who would hold me when I cried, help me when my body hurts, make love so well it would damn near heal me, and be the father little one has always wanted. So, the million dollar question is, how the hell do I get from here, Single Town: Population: me, to there Happily Married Town, Population: fantasy me and fantasy husband? There’s a whole lot of thinking that’s going to have to go into this one, so I’m going to off and get that done. I’ll post what I’ve come up with tomorrow. In the meantime, “Internet”, I’d be interested in hearing your thoughts on how to meet nice men, and how to ensure that I’m the type of woman that will attract the really nice men, instead of the men who are only nice until they manage to get into your pants and wallet...
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Post 4 of 30, AKA: I'm SIIIIICK!!
I have my daughter’s flu bug. I feel like shit, and all I want to do is sleep. This, of course, is what inevitably happens when I do stupid things like signing up to update my blog everyday for a month. Meh.
Friday, November 03, 2006
Post Three of Thirty, AKA: What Dreams May Come?
When I was fifteen years old, I was kicked out of the house and left to bounce around through a total of 26 foster homes. The unstable nature of my life left me skittish, especially given I had no control over whether I was going to stay or go in any one given place. My inability to put down physical roots led me to manufacture emotional ones via my dreams and fantasies. I created myself an imaginary boyfriend who would hold me close on those nights when the dark closed in around me and threatened to pull me in. He was extremely athletic, compassionate, gentle and intelligent. When I didn’t know how to deal with the adult situations my lifestyle demanded, despite my young age, he was always able to lead me in the right direction. Most importantly, no matter what I did, or how I did it, my imaginary boyfriend never gave up on me, never stopped loving me, and seemed to think I was the most beautiful girl he’d ever laid eyes on.
Looking back on it now, I doubt very much if I would be here today if it weren’t for him. That may seem high praise to give to a product of my imagination, but I fear it’s very true. When you’re fifteen years old, have been kicked out of the house, and are now finding that no foster home will keep you more than a couple of months, you can start to feel like the most unloved person on the planet. My imaginary boyfriend prevented that feeling of being unwanted from becoming a primary focus, and it’s possible that in so doing, he actually also saved my life. That’s a formidable feat for a figment of my imagination to accomplish, and I believe it’s also a strong testament to the true power of our dreams.
When we’re children, we believe anything is possible. Ask any little one what they are going to be when they grow up, and you’ll get answers like “famous singer”, “movie star”, and “astronaut.” If you venture into your average University class, however, a place where each and every individual in attendance is supposedly there to pursue their ultimate career goal, you’ll find the answers are far less ambitious. Things like “I’m just tying to get through my internship”, or “If I can manage to turn this paper in on time, I’ll be so sleep deprived, I won’t be able to go into work until late into the 23rd century,” are far more likely to be offered as answers to your question. Why? Because we are taught to kill dreams with “realism”, and in so doing, we forget we ever possessed the ability to really dream in the first place.
I know for myself, I’ve allowed circumstances to convince me some of my most sacred dreams would never be. The truth is, however, that nothing is impossible until you believe it to be impossible. Providing I’m still willing to believe I can make my dreams a reality, the possibility exists that I can absolutely do just that. In order to prove to myself that this theory of mine does hold true, I’m going to spend the next year plus achieving every dream I can make happen. At the end of the year plus, I will pull together a list of all the dreams I made into a reality as my own personal proof that any dream you believe truly is yours to achieve.
And yes, I know it sounds sappy. Sometimes, I need to be sappy. Get over it. Or I’ll come over to your house and beat you up with my dream list.
Looking back on it now, I doubt very much if I would be here today if it weren’t for him. That may seem high praise to give to a product of my imagination, but I fear it’s very true. When you’re fifteen years old, have been kicked out of the house, and are now finding that no foster home will keep you more than a couple of months, you can start to feel like the most unloved person on the planet. My imaginary boyfriend prevented that feeling of being unwanted from becoming a primary focus, and it’s possible that in so doing, he actually also saved my life. That’s a formidable feat for a figment of my imagination to accomplish, and I believe it’s also a strong testament to the true power of our dreams.
When we’re children, we believe anything is possible. Ask any little one what they are going to be when they grow up, and you’ll get answers like “famous singer”, “movie star”, and “astronaut.” If you venture into your average University class, however, a place where each and every individual in attendance is supposedly there to pursue their ultimate career goal, you’ll find the answers are far less ambitious. Things like “I’m just tying to get through my internship”, or “If I can manage to turn this paper in on time, I’ll be so sleep deprived, I won’t be able to go into work until late into the 23rd century,” are far more likely to be offered as answers to your question. Why? Because we are taught to kill dreams with “realism”, and in so doing, we forget we ever possessed the ability to really dream in the first place.
I know for myself, I’ve allowed circumstances to convince me some of my most sacred dreams would never be. The truth is, however, that nothing is impossible until you believe it to be impossible. Providing I’m still willing to believe I can make my dreams a reality, the possibility exists that I can absolutely do just that. In order to prove to myself that this theory of mine does hold true, I’m going to spend the next year plus achieving every dream I can make happen. At the end of the year plus, I will pull together a list of all the dreams I made into a reality as my own personal proof that any dream you believe truly is yours to achieve.
And yes, I know it sounds sappy. Sometimes, I need to be sappy. Get over it. Or I’ll come over to your house and beat you up with my dream list.
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