Sparks and Butterflies

As an aside before I come to the topic on my mind… Mom got out of the hospital… and went right back in. That’s all I’m going to say because I’m rather pissed at some people involved in her care, and I just don’t want to get into it right now.

But – what I wanted to ask about.

OK. Most of my readers know I’m a “Christian.” I use the quotes because I’ve come to have some rather eclectic ideas. But that’s not the point. My question is this… Why are atheists now denouncing, taking down, or attempting to take down expressions of faith (examples include nativity scenes during this season)? If Jewish folks set up their menorahs, it does not bother me, and I don’t believe in their faith. When I see Muslim folks doing their prayers, it does not bother me, and I don’t believe in their faith. When I see expressions of other faiths, it does not bother me. I guess what the problem is, for me – if you don’t believe, why do you care?

This is an honest question on my part. Can anyone shed some light? It used to be mainly “You can’t do that in a government building!” But they’ve expanded past that example. So, my honest question is, if you don’t believe, why do you care so much? I only know one atheist, and I don’t believe she’s a reader, so I may not get an answer. We’ll see.

Have I mentioned I’m in therapy? I’m sure I have. Yesterday was therapy day.

I talked about a situation at work. I had made a mistake. I had assumed something, because that was convenient, and with some other things outside of my control, let to an error. I was a writhing mass of anxiety. I don’t make mistakes at work. So I brought it up at therapy. Any kind of “badness” or conflict creates this massive anxiety in me.

After we talked in therapy, we figured out together why. I don’t want to be “in trouble,” or yelled at, or anger thrown at me. I’m a grown woman. It seems that I’m fine when it comes to conflict involving my kids’ care (Hello, mama bear!) but me? Not so much. So we kept going back further and further. While I do come from an abuse situation, it feels like it stems from my very first memory.

I was living in New Jersey with Jeannette (my biological mother, for those who don’t know my story) and my “step-father.” Quotes – because I don’t know if they were ever actually married. In our apartment, I was coloring in a book on the kitchen floor. I went “outside the lines,” and colored on the floor accidentally. When my step-father questioned me, I lied and said it wasn’t me. He picked me up, and took me, my crayons, and my coloring books, put us all in the bathtub and turned on the shower (cold not hot). At the time, I had a terrible fear of the shower, so I was always given baths. The result? Coloring outside the lines, literally and figuratively, practically gives me hives. I didn’t take a shower for years. Probably not until I was about 14. And I hate hate hate making a mistake and/or getting in trouble. It eats at my stomach.

So… We talked about how despite the fact that I’m really good at my job, I’m still a human being, and human beings aren’t perfect. That’s life, and life is messy.

Sometimes I hate being a human. Humans hurt.

Yeah. That title is a little dumb. Kind of like saying the sky can be blue… Water can be wet. Ya think?

So, where the hell have I been? Right here. I work from 5am to 5pm with some breaks for things like picking up the kids. Work is rather demanding at the moment, and I’m still trying to get my feet under me. I’m learning to not make my clients’ emergencies my own personal emotional emergencies, if that makes sense. But? We need the money.

In addition, my mother needs much more care. So, that’s thrown in there, and I had to drop a few clients for that reason. I just couldn’t keep up.

And to the “friends” on Facebook who I don’t know who are friends simply to be game neighbors (ie, I don’t know them)? Your comments of “Where are you, I sent you stuff?” Unappreciated. It’s a game. I can’t play right now. Deal.

Then? Joseph had another 5150. For those not in the “know” – that’s the famed 72 hour Psych hold in the hospital. I simply don’t want to get into the details at the moment, as we’re still in the midst of the mental and physical cleanup and logistics. Suffice it to say though, it was nowhere near the nightmare it was last time. That… was the worst week of my life (and I’ve had a hard life).  So – that’s positive – it wasn’t anything like that. Short story, we spent 30 hours under guard. Joseph was under guard, not me, but we weren’t exactly going to leave him there. And finally one… ONE… social worker LISTENED to us. The first one after 4 shifts, and no doctor seen. She saw something in us that no one else who just wanted their papers off their desk saw. And she made the personal decision to advocate for us. Other that Joseph’s current personal team, she’s the first who I felt cared. Really cared. I hope she never loses that. Joseph is home because we convinced them to break the hold. Let me say that again, because it might be foreign to those familiar with 5150s. We convinced them to break the hold.

Minor miracles. Sometimes I think those are the only reason I’m still alive.

I know, I know, I know. I disappeared.

I can’t help it.

Let’s see. Let’s do a recap on everyone.

Joseph: Doing well! He starts 6th grade in the fall at his same special school. That district does Jr. High 6-8, so he’s technically entering Jr. High. Which… I’m not ready for. Neither am I ready for the budding puberty I’m witnessing. Under his psychiatrist’s direction, we’ve also stopped his meds. Except for a couple of days of adjustment, he’s done fine, which is great. I’m waiting for 3 months into the school year, though. That will be the true test as to whether he can stay off the meds. I know of wherefore I speak. He’s currently doing summer school.

Logan: Also doing well! He starts 3rd in fall. They’ll also be bringing in some modifications, as well as an OT observation based on a medical request. Of course, I’ve been asking for 3 years, but hey, better late than never? or something. Anyway, the modifications we requested should help him tremendously academically. The school finally seemed to realize the weightiness of his heart condition, and then promptly freaked the eff out, so now we have to have (yet another) meeting with the district nurse and the PE teacher before the school year starts. Sigh. They act like this has never been an issue before. Um. I’ve put it on all his school forms, he’s had it since birth, and he wears a medic-alert bracelet. Like I said, it’s only taken them 3 years. Seriously, get with the program.

Poe: Also doing well! He’s still working nights. We have hopes that a promotion is in the works, but the truth is that it is months away, and I don’t trust his company as far as I can throw them, so we’ll see.

Me: Doing… Ok. I’ve gained a ton of new clients (good!) but my mother is starting to refuse my help (bad!). I’ve been working on a lot of spiritual stuff (good!) which is leading to confusion (bad!). Still in therapy.

We’re also potentially planning a grandfather/grandson trip, and a camping trip. Maybe. If we can get our act together, and have some extra funds. Truthfully, one day morphs into the next. I feel like right now, we’re all about survival and routines. But we ARE surviving. We’re even seeing some progress on a lot of fronts. But lately it seems like it goes like this:

Wake up really early.

Work.

Wake kids/get ready.

Work.

Housework.

Work.

Dinner and cleanup.

Watch trash TV, because my brain can’t handle anything creative.

Bed.

Get up really early.

So… I haven’t gotten a good rant on in a really long time. And maybe that’s a good thing. I’m trying to live from a place that’s “heart-centered” and trying to not judge anyone for anything. That’s both easy, and incredibly difficult at the same time. But it does have the benefit of peace, which is something I’ve been trying to attain for a long, long time.

**An aside having nothing to do with the topic… I went and got help. My son’s therapist (conflict of interest much?) is seeing me through another service she works with for adults with a spiritual bent. For? $40 a week. Considering I priced therapists at $125-$175 – I’ll take it. So, I’m getting the help I need, and I feel more in control already. Like… I recognized it and am moving forward before things get really bad. This is good. I’m not saying it’s not an ongoing struggle, but I feel as if it can’t go into an uncontrollable spiral because between my husband and therapist, there are people to see when my inner demons are too much to bear. It’s not just me alone. That helps.

OK. It’s my journal, right? Major historic happenings. Osama Bin Laden. Dead. Why am I not elated? Why am I not chanting USA! USA! USA! Because death was involved.

Please don’t get me wrong. I am relieved. One less truly evil man in the world. One less who killed so many. One less who holds so much hate for others. Justice of major proportions for those personally effected by the attacks he perpetuated, and for the country he defamed and scared witless.

But my lack of elation is twofold. I think it’s wrong to celebrate, truly celebrate another human being’s death. I feel it was justified, but we don’t have to revel with joy in the necessity. It feels wrong to me on a very spiritual level. Justice does not equal joy. The other reason? The battle is not over. Where he was one, there are many more. Please don’t let your sense of closure make you think it’s over. No. It’s not. Please don’t let it make you complacent.

Am I wrong? I’m I a horrible American? I hope not. I’m almost ashamed to say, I’m glad he’s dead. Another human being. I’m glad he’s dead. I watch the videos of people leaping to their death, and I’m glad he’s dead. Everything in me that loves Life itself, cringes from that fact. But I am not ecstatic.

Is this depression? This fog I find myself just coming out of? When the day to day “have-tos” seem to be all I can get through?

The last few weeks… They’ve been rough. Some from outside actions (both kids ending up with multiple week groundings). Other times because I just can’t hang. Some days all I would do were my work shifts, and make sure the kids were fed, clean, and had their homework done. WHAT I fed them may be up to nutritional interpretation. But the laundry would get backed up, the house wouldn’t be picked up, the dishes were done simply because there weren’t any clean ones left. And I would sleep any chance/excuse/time I could.

I feel like I’m just coming out though. I’m starting to feel better physically, feel better mentally. I actually want to go on a walk today. Which is outside. Where other people may be. So, yeah, I’m coming out of it.

Plus, we went to Disneyland/California Adventure (more on that in a later post) for family celebrating over the weekend, and even though there was a press of people (of course), and my kids were on excitement overload, and I didn’t get to sleep in my own bed, I didn’t lose my shit. That’s another reason I think I’m on the mend.

But, when you don’t have healthcare, and can’t afford doctor visits, much less $150/week for a potential therapist, what do you do? I can’t see a doctor, and can’t afford medication. What do I do? That’s not a rhetorical question, by the way. What do I do? The only thing I know to do is to try to keep relationships (my kids/my husband) a priority, try to keep stability/security for the kids, and let the rest go to hell while I crawl under a rock. I don’t know any other way.

You can kind of see it through the blog. I might not actually write about it, but when I write at all – it’s more and more infrequent as the bout goes on. I’ll be completely honest with you. Today, and my last entry, were only written at all because my advertiser wrote and said, “Um, Hello?” So, yeah. I love writing. Just the act of it, the clicky-clack, of the keyboard is soothing to me, so I should write MORE when I’m depressed. But all I can do is stare at the screen. There’s nothing to write about. Why? Because when I’m in a depression, I’m actively trying not to think. In a depression, thinking too deeply leads to panic attacks, or horrible bouts of making crap up in my head, mourning over it, and then berating myself because it hasn’t even happened. Writing tends to make me think. You see the conundrum.

Ah well. This is my journal. These are my thoughts. This is what’s going on. I’m trying to make my way out. I’m trying. That’s all I can promise right now. I’m trying.

Last night, I had a dream.  That dream finally woke me up around 3am, and I was up after until about 4am.

I’m pissed off about it.

In it, I was attending (and helping) at my ex-fiance’s wedding.  In real life, I was not invited, nor would I have attended his wedding to the chick he cheated on me with.  But there I was, being my helpful self in my dream.  The truth is, my relationship with him is a part of my serious downfall into the rabbit hole in my early twenties.  Part my fault, very largely his fault.  I won’t go into all the details, as there are some portions of it I don’t want to rehash.

I was up rehashing our relationship in my head, basically ranting at him about the 3 things that ruined our relationship, and ruined me for the better part of two years.  We were together for 5 years, and then it took me 2 years to get over and through the fall out.

This all happened about 15 years ago!  I thought I was over it.  I think I am.  But I really hate when memories come back to haunt you and bite you in the ass at the same time.  It’s over.  It’s done.  I’m in a healthy, stable, loving marriage.  I would just like to tell the past to stay the hell in the past and let me live my life.

For the last two years, I’ve basically ignored myself.  Some of it was on purpose.  For example, I’d struggled with weight loss and body image issues for so long, that I purposefully ignored them.  No attempting weight loss.  No struggling with clothes, fashion, etc.  Does it fit, and the colors go together?  Fine.  No dieting.  Everything else got ignored too.  I didn’t shave my legs unless it was date night (wink).  I didn’t get my nails done.  Cut my own hair, when the frizzies took control.  Makeup was a big deal.  I ignored myself in other ways too.  I became sort of robotic in getting through the day.  It’s been a survival mechanism of sorts.  I know I’ve been in depression on and off.  But there was no money for drugs, no money for doctors.  Anything in those terms had to be put towards the kids.  It’s not a good thing.  It just is.

This year is somehow different.  I’m ready to change my life.  But I didn’t come to some sort of decision.  Not really.  It just happened.  Something has changed.  I’m ready to tackle my weight.  I’m ready to tackle becoming more healthy.  I’m ready to tackle girly things.  Regardless of how trivial, it does matter.  But I’m making changes.  I’m analyzing things that don’t work, or obstacles that trap me.

I’m still working on quitting smoking using a step down method I created for myself.  It’s working.  It’s very slow, but that’s on purpose.  I’m down to 14 a day instead of more than 20.  Doesn’t sound like much, but that’s more than 2 packs less a week.  And I’ve not given up.  As for weight loss, I can’t afford to do anything structured, I’ve found.  So – I took a look at my diet, and figured out what stopped me and fixed it.  I never eat breakfast, snacks, and rarely eat lunch.  So, I’m eating a meal bar in the morning ,because I get up so early, making food is seriously gross to me, so I can grab it and eat it while working without thinking.  Snacks, are timed, and are either snack bars, or an easily enclosed fruit (like a banana), and another meal bar for lunch.  I cut out the obstacle of not really having time to stop, but still ingesting nutrients, which is necessary.  Dinner is the same as it always is.  I’m not worrying about it, just watching my portions.  I hate drinking water, so I’m using Crystal Lite, and that’s palatable to me.  That gets the fluids in me I need, but not as much soda.  As for exercise, I tried the Couch to 5K, and realized I REALLY REALLY hate running.  So…  3 days a week I do the shred, or just the gazelle in front of the TV.  I figured out the timing to get around other obstacles in my head.  This is good.  So, I’m moving.

If I can come up with the money, which I think I worked out, I’ll be doing something utterly ridiculous soon.  I need to get out of the house.  I need to interact with others – much as I kind of hate people.  So, I’m taking a tap dancing course.  It’s something I can do, I’m actually pretty damn good at it, and don’t feel like a poseur, like I would if I were taking something like hip-hop.  I seriously coveted the grownups high heeled tap shoes as a child in tap, and now I get to wear them   I feel so silly telling you about it, because it brings to mind sequins, tulle, recitals, and parents in the audience with their trusty camera ::shudder::.  But guess what?  I’m doing it anyway.  It’s fun!  When I told Poe, the look on his face was classic.  He was stuck there, laughter alternating with supportive, right there warring on his face.

You know what I did last weekend?  While watching Netflix, I polished my nails.  They don’t look half bad, and make me feel sexy.  I shaved my legs.  I have no idea why.  I just did.

I’ve been researching and studying spiritual matters important to me – not what I was told to study, or what others deem important.

After these small incremental changes, I realized something.  I hate to quote Justin Timberlake, but I’m totally bringing the sexy back.  And?  It has nothing to do with my husband.  Now, there are fringe benefits that go with it, surely, but I realized that what’s really happening, is I’m reclaiming me.  I’m reclaiming my womanhood.  I’m doing things slowly but surely that make me feel sexy, confident, and attractive inside and out.  I’m learning about myself – what makes me tick, and how to make these changes work with me instead of against me.  Somewhere along the line, “it just doesn’t matter,” stopped creeping in my head.  Life is just so short.  This is still the case.  Whereas before, that made me feel defeated, and as if what I was doing didn’t matter, who cares?  Why take the time or the energy?  Now, it’s as if that very fact is prodding me on.

I’m finding Michele again.  I didn’t even realize I’d lost her.  This year is somehow different.

I really hesitate to write this out.  More people from my personal life read here than ever before.  As a result, the place for me to dredge my thoughts has been censored.  Diluted.  I’m at the point of total writer’s block.  Don’t get too personal…  Your business contacts might find you (dude, I’ve been writing online since ’95.  It’s out there.)  Don’t get too controversial.  Don’t get too bitchy.  Don’t talk too much about religion.  Don’t talk about other people.

I’m done.  I can’t do it anymore.  I’m reclaiming this place.  It’s my journal.  It’s my journey.  I need it.  I do it publicly, because I don’t have many friends.  I need the community so I don’t hole up completely.  It’s personal.  Dirty.  Challenging.  Ugly.  My thoughts.  I have to get them out, and this is the only place I know how to do it.

I’ve been dealing with some crap from my past life.  You know – BK?  Before kids.  Before marriage.  It’s not like rehab, where I have to make amends.  I wasn’t hurtful to others, except maybe my parents.  That situation is something I’ll deal with later.  But it’s crappy things that I did or happened to me that were hurtful to me.  I’m a crossing guard, which doesn’t have anything to do with anything, except that I am not allowed to multitask.  I am a great multitasker.  So I have to sit there for long periods of time, just watching for people.  Thoughts keep creeping up into my head about something that happened to me a long time ago.  I finally had a dream about it last night, so I guess I have to get it out.  Maybe by writing it all out I can purge it?  At least for now?  I don’t know.

I’m closing comments on this post.  Those have the need to talk to me about it know how to get a hold of me.  I’m changing names so it’s not google-able.  The rest is below the fold.

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