just...don't

2015 has been a strange, mean, bland, weird year.

i can't even remember most of the year...at least in specifics. there's large blocks: remember when i was doing music interviews and writing and getting my creative life off the ground again? remember spring and summer shoved full of baseball? remember when i had a roommate? remember the NEVER ENDING football season? and now, here we are. the last days of another calendar.

this year has been and endless march across digital screens of all new ways to be a failure in life. aside from the million lists of "you've been using (insert every. single. item. in your house) wrong!" there's also all the people- celebrities, you tube stars, writers, seemingly everyone letting me know i'm not even loving myself right. if i hate the body i'm in, SHAME ON ME. self love! self acceptance! fat is beautiful! accept all bodies the way they are! don't change a thing!

if i want to change and be healthy it's a traitorous act- why can't you just love and accept yourself as you are? learn to love the person in the mirror! don't give into society's standards of thin is beautiful! fat trader! you're *supposed* to love all your lumps and bumps and "curves" (trust, there's no "curve" here, just...blobs).

if i want to stay the same then i know i'm not being my most healthy self. and i know how "simple" it would be to just do all those nine billion 5 minute a day workouts to have perfect abs and perfect calves and perfect butt shape and perfect obama arms. IT'S JUST FIVE MINUTES. and HOW HARD is it to eat right? what do you mean you don't have an endless bank account to buy all these super trendy super organic miracle foods (that you have no idea to cook and even if you did and the child in your house wouldn't touch, so you'd have to cook two meals every night)? just sell a kidney go to whole foods! (where would i sell a kidney? and where is there even a whole foods??).

shamed if you do, shamed if you don't. 

this has also been a banner year for depression. i didn't have any particular inclination to meet other parents at all the sports things. i'm lousy at best at maintaining friendships. at worst...well...that's about where i am right now. there's nothing quite like spending christmas evening in a bar being invited to random hotel to smoke pot and watch porn by a stranger (true story) to remind you how completely and totally alone you've made yourself. still, better than sitting at home in the total silence realizing that not one person, friend, or family offered an invitation and, because you're completely terrible at being a human, you didn't reach out to anyone to ask. if there's one thing that stuck from all the lessons my mum drilled into me, it's that you NEVER, ever, under any circumstances, invite yourself over to someone else's house. that is the epitome of rude and presumptuous.

and i know, trust me, i KNOW: if you don't like your story, CHANGE IT!

oh, just change it!

OF COURSE.

just change it!

tired of being alone at the holiday? open your home to other lonely people! start an "island of misfits" tradition and have people over for games and drinks and...wait...oh yeah.  done that for the last 5 years and the only person that took me up on it is the now ex-roommate. 

well, just get out there and make some new friend! like...in the evenings...when you're too broke to even get a $2 pbr...and the kid freaks out and starts to destruct if you're not home every night...and bars aren't the best places to make friends...

join a gym! meet people AND get healthy at the same time! oh. yeah. except that crazy huge sign up fee and the monthly fees, and, again, the being away from home causing the spawn to destruct...so take the spawn! oh...extra fees...wait...

holy peter. this isn't that hard woman. just...volunteer somewhere! you know you have evenings and weekends totally free. when you're not running errands. or trying to keep things together at home. or when you're not crippled with social anxiety and depression. oh, and remember not to get too involved and attached when you do volunteer...remember how badly that's ended the last...every...time you've tried.

there's a reason the most remembered phrase from my dad is "you can't save the world kid." oh the countless times i've been screwed over or screwed myself over trying to help people.

what do you like to do? read? well, that's not very social. but how about a book club? a reading? a writers circle? the local book stores post readings and signings and book clubs. JUST TRY ONE (which i will, this saturday).

just keep swimming. just keep looking. just keep trying. just keep surviving. just keep going.

just. keep. going.

i think one of the best but hardest things has been seeing the youngest kiddo transition into jr high and battle the same things that i battled then (and still battle now).

do you remember how mean and scary lunch was if you didn't have a group you belonged to? how fitting in was *THE* most important thing? and i never did. i didn't fit at all. and i so desperately don't want that for my kid. i don't want him eating alone at a table. i don't want him wandering the hallway battlefields with no allies. we got into baseball...but none of those kids are in his school. we did football...a few of the kids are in his school but they don't have any classes or lunch together. and so i give in and let him get the trendy "jogger" sweats even though they are just ridiculous overpriced sweats with designs on them (no they aren't mom, look how much cooler they are). i make sure he has extra stuff in his locker- gum, mints, a few extra dollars for a drink from the vending machine. small tokens he can offer as olive branches. i tried like hell to get him to keep a few tampons in his locker to be a girl ally...that didn't go over so well. if only he knew...

we keep working on stepping outside the "cool" kids and talking to other kids that are maybe sitting alone feeling like they don't fit in anywhere. there's more to talk about than sports. talk about a netflix show or movie you like. a book you read. a comic that you like. your dog. your skateboard. or, just LISTEN. find out what other kids like, what they're interested in. and he's trying. and i know how hard it is, but i REALLY, REALLY don't want him to be like me. this socially awkward loner that spends the holidays cleaning the grooves of the coffee table with a chlorox wipe and a toothpick (again, true story).

he sees me at home, sees me frustrated and angry and sad and doesn't understand what it is. how can i explain depression to him without scaring him or putting undue burden on him? how can i explain that i want him to learn to be better than me? i want him to have friends. i want him to work hard for things. i want him to not be entitled. i want him to have better experiences and memories. i don't want him to learn depression. i don't want him to lean isolation and loneliness. i don't want him to spend his whole life looking for something that isn't there.

i feel like aside from all the sports that's what 2015 has been for me. isolation and failure and social awkwardness. and i don't want that for him. hell, i don't want that for me any more. i just...don't.

the great debate

i am not a naturally social person. i do not enjoy big crowds. i have a hard time attending concerts in large venues. sporting events are tolerable because i am able to yell loud obnoxious things (most of the time) and ignore the crowd around me. i like my bars small and limited on space. i prefer coffee with a specific friend vs a house party with everyone i've ever been introduced to (or worse, a bunch of strangers at someone else's party). i like working in my office because it's just my guys in and out all day with very, VERY few customers ever stopping by.

i prefer to spend my evenings at home reading a book or watching tv series on netflix, even if they're terrible (looking at you private practice).

BUT. 

i know that hiding inside away from humanity isn't healthy. and i won't meet anyone on my couch. and i need adult interaction that doesn't involve kid sports or work topics.

i know i need to go out. but IT'S SO HARD to go.

here's what last night was like in my brain:

3:30, work: you should go out tonight. you have money in the bank for once. go out. have a drink. today calls for a celebration of sorts. things turned out ok (for now) with the teenager, so go, have a drink, let go of some of the stress. you can go home, make dinner for the kiddo, then go out and have a drink or two. solid plan. you can do this.

4:30, home: ugh. dishes. fridge is empty. what did i have planned for dinner? i can't remember. oh hey look, couch. the kid is watching a show that doesn't totally annoy me. i'll watch an episode with him and then we'll figure out dinner, then you can go out for a drink.

7:00, home: oh fuck. we really need to figure out dinner. ugh. maybe we'll just drive thru some where and then i can stop and get a bottle of sailor jerry and have a drink at home. cheaper than going to a bar, right? but i won't talk to anyone if i stay home. and i never actually finish a drink if i stay home. but it's thursday night. the bars will be busy. i hate it when the bar is full. and which bar would i go to anyway. this is such a pain. i know i need to go out but it sounds like a lot of work. but having a drink at home won't work either. holy fuck. why is something this simple this hard to decide. wait, still need to figure out dinner first. damn it. this is fucking exhausting. maybe i'll just stay home and go to bed early. no drink at all. BUT YOU NEED TO BE OUT AROUND PEOPLE. you know you're getting depressed. don't let yourself sit home and wallow. FOOD. FIGURE OUT FOOD FIRST ASSHOLE. YOUR KID IS HUNGRY.

7:30, jack in the box drive thru: gross. i don't want to eat this crap. even their salad looks gross. i'll just order something for the kid and then eat left overs at home. or i could go out and eat somewhere. but what even sounds good. everything is getting ready to close. and the bars will be busy. maybe i'm not that hungry. but you need to eat. at least something. you need to put food in your body. order for the kid, we'll figure out the rest later.

7:50, home: oh. my. god. my kid is disgusting. if i have to watch him shove another bit in his mouth and try to wash it down without chewing one more time i'm going to snap. YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF THE HOUSE ASSHOLE. quit snapping over stupid stuff and just go some where. relax. unwind. BUT WHERE DO I GO?? i could go have tacos at that one bar. NO YOU CAN'T you flirted with the bartender and now you can never go there again. BUT THEY HAVE CHEESECAKE. you can't go there, you will look like a stalker idiot. that place is off the list for sure. besides, it's super popular and they'll be packed. MAYBE I CAN JUST DRIVE BY... no. off the list. pick something else. what about that tavern you like? it's super chill and shouldn't be too packed. but they don't have food. popcorn and beer = drunk. you don't want to be a drunk idiot on a thursday night. you have to work tomorrow. what about the bar by browne's addition? they have really good food and you haven't made yourself look like an idiot there yet. but that's so far away. hmm. is there anything up north? not really. just stay home. there's a beer in the fridge. you can have one beer and go to bed early. OH MY GOD THE FOOD SHOVING IN THE FACE. ok. you need to get out of here. HOW ABOUT THIS. just leave the house. your order should be in at the mall, you can pick that up, get a quick manicure, then decide where to get food. just get out of the house. just out. it's a start. we'll sort out the rest later.

8:30, the mall: ok. you did it. you're out of the house. you picked up your order. NOW MAKE SURE YOU WEAR THE CLOTHES YOU BOUGHT YOU DOPE. cute boot socks don't look cute in a drawer. just wear the dress you planned with the boots and the cute socks. you'll be fine. and you got your nails done. see. the outside isn't such a bad place. the mall is nice and quiet. now food. you're starving. you need food. NO, you can't get drive thru and go home. you're out, stay out. ok...well, maybe that bartender isn't working and you can get chips and guac and cheesecake. it will still be busy, maybe just a drive by and see how packed it is. but chips and guac aren't going to fill you up, you need food. REAL FOOD. it's not that late. go to the bar in brownes addition. you like it there. they have good food. you can sit at the bar and blend in. you will be fine, i promise. i know it's out of the way, but you'll be fine. what's an extra mile. it's really not that far. not like driving out to the valley or the south hill. it's still downtown-ish. just go. they have a taco salad there. that sounds good. and they have liquor. sailor jerry is calling your name. and pretzel bites. yes. they have good food and you can blend in there and no one will know you. just drive there. don't worry about driving by the other place. you know it will be busy and you'll just feel awkward even driving by. just go to browne's addition. this isn't that hard. just go. you can park there, parking is free after 7. JUST GO. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY WOMAN, JUST GO THERE ALREADY.

and i went. and it was delightful. and i even chatted with a few people. and the bartender was adorable and she introduced me to sailor jerry and redbull which was delicious. and the thai chicken pizza was great and the pretzels were fucking delicious. and i did it. all the debate and the back and forth and the yelling at myself and trying to talk myself out of it. I DID IT.

and i'll keep pushing myself to do it. i'm sure it will be the same argument to some level each time. but i know it's necessary. there's other walls to stare at besides my own. there's other people to talk to besides myself. there's a whole big world out there. and i'm terrified of it. but not all of it is scary.

it's what i do

well, my child is still a child according to the court in whatcom county.

this is very good news.

assault 4 as a juvenile means a year probation, community service, counseling. assault 2 as an adult would have meant jail time and a permanent record.

so. good news.

i should be relieved. i should be worrying less.

but i'm not.

i'm still terrified. i'm still scared out of my fucking mind every single moment i allow myself to even flitter across the whole situation.

i'm trying to sort out still how it got to this point. i'm trying to sort out who this angry reckless stranger is that replaced my goofy artist. i'm trying to hold onto hope that this isn't that far off from "typical" teenager junk that everyone goes through to some degree and he'll come out of it in a year or two and his dad and i will laugh and drink whiskey and wait for him to have a teenager of his own (in 29 years) to put him through all the same but different trials.

i'm terrified that it isn't over yet.

and i'm terrified of my perspective.

and i'm terrified that no one can see my perspective but me.

they started my son on anti-depressants. i'm sure they work great for some people, but I HATE THEM. i especially hate them when they are prescribed to chemically alter a mind that is already in a state of constant chemical development and change.

i've tried anti-depressants exactly twice in my life. the first time i was put on a birth control that was for mood swings and depression. it took three days before i was literally balled up in a corner, under my kitchen table, SOBBING and ready to end my own life. luckily my own crazy prevented me from making any terrible decisions because the dishes hadn't been done and the bathroom hadn't been cleaned, so there's NO WAY i could take my own life and let someone else clean up my (literal) mess. as i was sobbing and trying to figure out what to do, my doctor called to follow up on the prescription and immediately told me to flush the remaining pills and NEVER take them again.

the second time i was on a prescription for a ten day trial which i kept track of via blog and it wasn't TERRIBLE only because it wasn't ANYTHING. it completely flat lined me. took away ALL emotion. no bad, but also no good. i was in a boring, grey fog of nothing. not a great experience.

i'm much more of the mindset to try everything else before medication. anti-depressants are mainly designed to boost serotonin in the brain. the trick is, the brain only controls/contains 20% of our body's serotonin. 80% comes from (basically) your gut. 80% can be controlled through diet, vitamin supplements, exercise. those all sound MUCH safer than handing out a medication that you have to wean onto, wean off of, and has a HIGH rate of increasing suicide risk in teenagers.

but, as usual, mom doesn't know what she's talking about. a pill is easier. it takes less effort and planning. instead of vitamin D and B and meditation, yoga, better food, just pop a pill (and risk an already emotionally unwell teenager becoming more unwell).

a teenager that was asking way too may questions about my brother who ended his life way too soon. a teenager that "felt like he's the same" as uncle steve. a teenager that has always taken the easy way out (no matter how hard i tried to make him work for things). a teenager that has proven he isn't making sound decisions right now.

i am scared to death that he won't take any of this seriously. i'm SO GRATEFUL that he doesn't have a permanent record, but i'm scared that he may think he got away with it. i'm scared that he doesn't understand the impact and repercussions of probation. i'm scared he'll think of counseling and a requirement and not a tool to help. i'm hopeful that community service will teach him something. i'm scared that he doesn't understand the side effects and possible influence of medication. i'm scared he'll only take them until he feels better and ignore that stopping can be so dangerous if not done the right way. i'm terrified that he'll feel worse and not talk to anyone and make the most horrible, life ending choice an angry teenager can make.

i'm terrified that i can't help him. i'm frustrated he won't listen to me. i'm heartbroken that he stopped talking to me and i can't tell him that i've been there and done that.

so i just worry. and try not to think about it. but that's all i think about. i'm a mom. it's what i do.

left of center

something is off. do you know that feeling? where you feel like things just aren't right, but you can't pinpoint WHAT it is to fix it?

i was doing really well for a while. daily vitamins. cooking at home. reading, writing. keeping up on the house. doing daily thankfulness/gratitude exercises.

then the power went out in a big storm. i feel like it hit my personal surge protector and things are just off kilter now.

i started dreaming again. 2 or three very vivid dreams every night. i haven't had a memorable dream in a LONG time. now i can barely sleep because they wake me up and as soon as i go back to sleep a new one starts.

i'm restless and stir crazy with no direction or grounding point. i'm just. off.

maybe it's the stress of everything with the oldest kiddo. i am so angry and frustrated and worried and gut sick and scared and worst of all, completely in the dark. information comes in at a trickle, i have no idea what is happening, i have no input on anything going on. i'm still banished to terrible mom punishment island and there's only coconut phones here.

i can't focus on anything at work. projects at home have come to a standstill again. i'm reclusive, withdrawn, hard core hermit mode.

i'm sure meditation would help but i just can't get there. i can sit on the couch and stare at netflix for a solid 12 hours (happy thanksgiving) but i can't sit up straight and meditate.

winter is always a hard time for me. i don't do well in the dark and cold. i'm do not have a ski bunny constitution. i'm more of a heated blanket, fireplace, book and booze constitution.

i'm still trying. i bought some adult coloring books to zone out on and managed to get a few chores done this weekend. i met up with an old friend last night for drinks and managed to work up the nerve to ask a guy out. i cooked dinner two nights in a row and even remembered the left overs for work.

tomorrow is court day for the angry teenager. they decide how/what they're going to charge him with (if anything). i don't know what to think of it. i have no idea what to expect, whichever way the chips falls. i don't know if it will be a stress relief or a start of a whole new tangle of string to unravel.

but for now i feel like a bad mash up of mary poppins and forrest gump. the winds are changing and i'm this damn feather wandering around caught in the cross currents and half of me wants to believe positive change is coming and part of me thinks que sera sera, and half of me is craving chocolates now and half of me still thinks peas and carrots is one of the worst frozen vegetable medley's of all time.

maybe i just need to bulk order cocktail parasols for my hot chocolate and pretend i'm on a tropical beach.

just like me

I HOPE YOU HAVE A KID JUST LIKE YOU.

anyone else besides me hear that growing up?

i know i wasn't an easy child. there's probably a million and twelve reasons why i was the way i was but i think, for me, it mostly boiled down to never belonging- didn't belong at home, didn't belong to a group of friends, was LOUSY at sports (softball, volleyball, swimming). i wasn't hard core enough for the theater group and wasn't interested in science or math clubs. and, of course, the only thing i REALLY wanted, was to fit in.

it didn't help that i had a mom that didn't know what to do with me or how to talk to me. my first period was me sitting in the bathroom reading the instructions in the tampon box because you just don't talk about things like that. my sex ed talk was...ooops. too late. time to make an obgyn appointment.

my mom started sticking me in counseling somewhere around jr high because i guess it was easier to (have insurance) pay someone to talk to me than try to do it herself.

i HATED counselors. there was the one i refused to talk to because he wore a red plaid shirt and tucked his jeans into his cowboy boots (seriously- you want me to talk about stuff with THAT guy?). there was the SUPER religious lady that didn't talk to me but had me fill out worksheets and packets. there was the gal i *thought* was good until years later when i realized she didn't even know who i was or remember even the most basic things about me (like how i had a baby at 17 and ended up working with her, TRAVELLING TOGETHER, talking to teens about teen pregnancy, and she didn't remember me. awesome.)

my least favorite though was our church youth pastor. he's the one that decided i needed to "...confess my sins (pregnancy) before the whole youth group so they heard it from me instead of the gossip in the school hallways." GREAT. let me admit to getting knocked up to a group of kids who already don't like me. NOT SCARRING AT ALL.

i think my favorite interaction with him was when he asked me: "What do you plan on being when you grow up?" in all my teenage glory i stubbornly answered: "I'M NOT GOING TO GROW UP..." and while he laughed at me, i FINISHED my thought: "...BECAUSE IF GROWING UP MEANS BEING LIKE YOU AND MAKING FUN OF KIDS AND NOT HELPING THEM I WANT NO PART IN IT." and he quickly stopped laughing and shortly thereafter quit "counseling" me and quit being a youth pastor and moved to Iowa and became a computer technician (true story).

i know i wasn't an easy kid. i got kicked out of high school for 30 days my freshman year for "having a weapon on campus." i had been threatened multiple times, IN FRONT OF TEACHERS (thanks alice gintz), in front of other students and had tried telling my parents, but no one listened, and i wasn't going down without a fight. NOT A GREAT DECISION, but what else do you do when people are threatening to kill you every. single. day? the "weapon" was my brother's pocket knife- maybe a 1.5" blade that i had NO IDEA what to do with, just seemed like something was better than nothing. as a result of my spectacular decision, i was shoved into MORE counseling, missed a month of school, was STILL bullied when i got back, and had the additional fun of being called "slash" for the next 3 years.

my junior and senior year i tried out for cheer leading because, according to my brother, "...theater is so LAME. why don't you try doing something less embarrassing?"

well, as small towns go: cheerleaders date football players, and when you date a football player OF COURSE you have sex, and then 9 months later you wonder if freezing your ass off in a skirt that was way too short for three months was worth it because now you're even MORE embarrassing as the little sister that got knocked up.

i was not an easy child.

well, fast forward 17 years and i have a child just. like. me.

on counseling: "real men deal with their own issues and don't need help." it's no plaid shirt and cowboy boots, but maybe he's not as fashion sensitive as i am. although, coming from his pre-teen self, that is a little more along the lines of my spectacular "i'm not going to grow up" (which i still, to this day, stand by).

on first periods: he didn't talk to me about his either. wait...what? he DID talk to me about his first crush, his first kiss, and we used to be able to talk about everything. that's changed in the last few years though.

on making spectacular life altering decisions at 17: well. his decision won't result in poopy diapers, but it sure a full load of shit to deal with.

i have a bit more respect for my mom dealing with me through my teen years now. well, maybe not dealing with me, but for not kicking me out of the house or making things worse when i was challenging. to this day she's still more of an avoider than a dealer. i'm more of a dealer than an avoider. generational changes and whatnot. i put her through grief. there's no question about it. but she helped advocate for me to be able to finish high school, she helped with daycare while i went to the community college, and let me live at home the first 9 months until i was able to get my first apartment.

i have more respect for my son's paternal grandparents now. they watched their son, a junior, end up in a not great situation and stood by him as he struggled a little longer than i did to sort things out. they were patient and supportive of me while he took his time settling into responsibility and to this day are..well..some of the most amazing, big hearted, least judgmental people i know.

and while watching my son struggle to find his way and make hard decisions and make a mess of things is KILLING ME, i can look and see that people before me have made it through difficult teenagers. i can't fix this for him. i can't make it all go away. i made my decisions and had to figure shit out real quick. he'll have to do the same.

i was not an easy child. he comes by it rightly.

but i made it through. and he'll make it through. he is just like me after all. we don't give up easily. 

statistical nightmare

i am a very shallow person.

i care a great deal what people think of me and what labels people attach not only to me, but my kids, our family, our life.

i spend an insane amount of time and money crafting what i want to be perceived as. i work really hard to not look sloppy or lazy when i go to work, the store, sports practices, parent teacher meetings. i work hard to have a nice house- mostly clean, nice furniture, decorated in my quirky personal taste but still pleasant for anyone who visits. i work hard to have a nice life.

and my kids.

good. heavens. there is no limit to what i would do for my kids. i have gone toe to toe with teachers, principals, coaches making sure my kids aren't labeled or treated differently. i've battled my own kids to make sure they know how to behave, how to be polite. i've all but drug them into the shower to make sure they aren't the smelly kid in class. i put extra effort into snack days to make sure we have the "good" snacks. i made sure they had nice clothes (not name brand, but nice, none the less). i've made sure they were able to participate in sports, have friends over. i've sat through so. many. conferences and open houses and band concerts. i've volunteered in the classroom and on field trips. i want my kids to be smart and successful and decent contributing members of society.

i feel like i have, and will forever be battling the stigma and statistics of being a teen mom. i made it a point to go to college with a baby on my hip because he deserved a mom that could provide a good life. i fought so hard to get off public assistance (daycare and food stamps) after college and again after my divorce (housing assistance and food stamps (again)). i fought to leave an abusive marriage because i didn't want that life or example for my kids. i have worked so hard to not be the failure and drain on society that is expected from someone who "had a baby while still a baby."

and yet here i am, 17 years into it, becoming a grim statistic.and it's killing me on so many different levels.

last monday my son was arrested.

my 17 year old kid spent a night in juvy for assaulting his dad. he will appear before a judge in a few weeks and there is the possibility that they will charge him with assault 2 as an adult due to his age (he would probably be 18 by the time it went to a jury) and the severity of the assault. that's a felony.

that's his adult life on the line. that's every college application, every job application. that's strike one on the three strike law.

he's a junior in high school, opting into running start for now. he still has a full year left before he graduates. what would it look like to have a felony before you graduate? how would it impact his education? he is SMART. incredibly smart. he could have any career he wants. but not with a felony on his record.

he is SO ANGRY and mean. he has been for years. that's why he doesn't live with me any more. he has refused help, counseling, reason. he has wallowed in his anger for years letting it get stronger and increasingly mean and violent. he brags about threatening and intimidating kids at school. he thinks vandalism is funny. he took a few swings at me in the past, and now not only took a swing at but connected with his dad resulting in serious injury.

everything i've worked so hard for feels like it's slipping away. and it sounds selfish and petty, but I DON'T WANT TO BE THE TEEN MOM OF A FELON. i don't want us to become another statistic: a single mom with a kid that's "in the system." i don't want to be a failure. i don't want him to be a failure.

i don't know how to help him. he's finally agreed to counseling. whether to avoid jail or to actually get help remains to be seen. i hope, with everything i have, it's to get help and resolve his anger and remove the violence and urge to settle things with his fists. he HAS to learn that he can't act this way. he can't start swinging in a bar. he can't start swinging at a boss. he REALLY can NEVER start swinging at a girlfriend or spouse.

and here's where it gets SUPER shallow and petty:

i don't want to feel like trash but that's all i feel like right now. i feel like i should be living in stained, faded, holey "pink" sweats, a smoke saturated worn out oversized hoodie, stained and worn out uggs (knock off brand of course), living in a trailer park in a trailer that has buckets strategically placed on rainy days, where keeping the lights on or groceries in the cupboard is an either or, not a both. i should be driving a car that you have to start with a screwdriver, have a snot nosed baby stuck in a playpen crying all day long while i finish smoking pack 22 of american spirits while i watch soap operas and yell at husband number 17  to quit scratching his belly button and get a damn job already. AND I KNOW THAT'S SUPER JUDGMENTAL AND STEREOTYPICAL AND MEAN.

i had a date scheduled for last monday before all this happened. i got the call monday night as i was getting ready and decided that since there was nothing i could do across the state, i may as well go ahead with the date. i was on the phone with my brother discussing appearances and charges and what all the legal jibberish means as i sat in the mcdonalds parking lot waiting to go in and meet the poor date guy. i probably should have cancelled, but i didn't want to be a flake. so in i went, and tried to take a quick moment to pull myself together. didn't work so well. i ended up telling poor date guy: "...give me just a second, trying to get in the right head space, didn't want to cancel on you, but just found out my son has been arrested."

GREAT START TO A DATE.

awesome. not only a chick with kids, but a chick with kids IN JAIL. gee, why haven't i heard from him again?

I KNOW. I SHOULD BE MORE WORRIED ABOUT MY KID THAN MY DATING LIFE. I FULLY ADMIT TO BEING A HORRIBLE PERSON.

of course, when it rains, it pours, at the same time all this is happening, the small child decides it's time to test boundaries too. he made a stupid comment in wood shop class, a girl went home and repeated it to her dad, dad went to the superintendent of the school district and wanted to press sexual harassment charges against my son (incident went something like this: they're making wooden c02 cars to race: girl: i know what you're going to use the c02 hole for. my kid: we know what you're going to use your dildo car for."). so my son gets 2 days in-school-intervention and has to change his whole school schedule so he won't have any more classes with the girl. he just got done with a week of lunch detention for being caught in the middle of a fight (that he was trying to break up). he's also failing science.

so one kid in jail, one kid in school detention of one form or another.

SUPER SUCCESSFUL PARENTING MOMENT. frame that fucking snapshot and put it on the fridge.

i am not a bad mom. i am not a bad person. i don't want either of my kids to be delinquents. or felons. or failures. we have some hard days ahead. there will be parent teacher meetings and court appearances and hard decisions and consequences all around. but, in the mean time, please don't think poorly of me. please don't label me the single teen mom statistic. please don't judge us too harshly.

lesbian for a night

so. i went out to the bar last thursday to see a band (well the bass player in a band).

i went alone, but ended up meeting some other people that were friends of the band and we all ended up at a table together. one of the gals was well toasted before the music even started and was...well...lets just say there's a stereotype about drunk white girls in the club for a reason.

at some point during the evening she happened to draw the attention of a guy across the dance floor who honed in on her inebriated state and decided it was a prime time to hit on her. i left to go to the bathroom and when i came back the guy was still hitting on her and one of the other people in the group leaned across the table and whispered: "we told him you're her girlfriend."

awesome. lesbian for a night.

now. i have a few problems with this.

#1: JUST SAY NO. if you don't like the guy hitting on you, tell him to fuck off. if he's persistent, find a bouncer or a bartender, or the other people at your table to back you up. just because someone, guy, girl, whomever starts hitting on you doesn't mean you have to put up with it.

#2: guy instantly piped up with the: "prove it" line when i sat down. my reply was the same as it would be gay or straight (or, as i happen to be, bi): I DON'T HAVE TO PROVE ANYTHING TO YOU. i'm sorry if you got your tiny little dick hurt by her not being interested, but that doesn't mean i have to put on a show for you to "prove" anything. I said this, not quietly, to the guy and he just stared at me. so i said it again, LOUDER: I DON'T EXPECT YOU TO MAKE OUT WITH A CHICK TO PROVE YOU'RE STRAIGHT, I DON'T HAVE TO PUT ON A FUCKING SHOW TO DEFEND MY SEXUALITY TO YOU." (may have been just a bit more colorful than this, but you get the idea). 

THIS IS AN ISSUE. guys think it's cool to get a free girl on girl show, or worse, that they deserve a girl on girl show to sooth their bruised small dick ego. NO. YOU DON'T DESERVE ANYTHING. she should have been able to say no without having to feel like she needed an excuse. i'm not going to play along with her excuse, but even if i was, making out with some random chick at a bar doesn't PROVE anything.

guy persisted even more, dropping the "well, you would be interested if you knew i killed people for a living." line. WAS THAT A THREAT? or meant to impress me? or just you attempting one more time to save your tiny dick from being totally crushed by my lack of fucks given about whether you approve of me or not?

me: oh, you do? where do you work?

asshole: department of defense.

now. i'm not a rocket surgeon, but i'm pretty sure if you work for department of defense "killing people" you shouldn't be drunkenly talking about it in a bar. MAYBE THAT'S JUST ME.

either way, i showed him my badge and he quickly exited stage left.

drunk girl went back to being drunk, and people across the table laughed at both how blunt i was with him and how quickly he left. after things calmed down a bit, i asked one of them: "so. does it make a difference that i actually AM bi?" they didn't particularly have an answer besides shock, but i wasn't asked to "be a lesbian" again the rest of the evening.

overall, it's just...THIS IS INSULTING TO ME. i'm not an out and open and all over the place bi-sexual. i have never marched for gay rights, i don't attend political rallies of any type. i've been to pride a few years running but more as a volunteer/ally than as a bi-sexual woman. this is actually as open and public as i've been about being bi. (surprise to those of you who may not have known). but, i DO know people that have FOUGHT for their rights. that were on the front lines for marriage equality. people that still have to hide their sexuality, people that still face risk and discrimination.

THE FACT THAT THIS IS STILL A BAR JOKE/TRICK IS INSULTING. you think it's ok to play gay for a few minutes? no, it isn't. it isn't ok to make light of something people still struggle daily with to make someone go away. conversely, it isn't ok to to use pretend gay to draw more attention (the "look, i'm gay, make me straight for a night" challenge). IT ISN'T OK IN ANY WAY.

there's also the whole assuming i would go along with it factor...presumptuous much?

it may not seem like a big issue in the overall scheme of things. it isn't the first time i've been asked to be someones girlfriend to make a guy go away. it also isn't the first time the guy asked me to "prove it" and i know it probably won't be the last.

it's just...it sucks. and it's wrong. and that's all i have to say about that.

careful what you wish for

**EDITORS NOTE: found this post from a year ago that was never published. still relevant (if a little outdated), so hitting the publish now.**

I’m not sure how i ended up at 35, where all the years went or how they went so fast. It almost feels like I’m stuck in tv sitcom time- you know how EVERYTHING happens in a season and you realize it supposedly covered only a year of time.

Like Grey’s Anatomy (I know, a million years late, but catching up now on Netflix) you’re three seasons in and you realize it’s been ONE YEAR in their lives.

Well, like that but in reverse. Or something.

TIME GOES FAST YA’LL.

A while ago I learned a different way to phrase the "Where do you see yourself in 5 years" question; ask instead “what do you want more of in the future and how do you get there.”

Well. Funny thing is, be careful what you wish for. And be careful how you word things.

I wanted my house to be more calm and peaceful. Well, it is, but at a HUGE cost with one of my kids moving across the state.

I wanted to experience a healthy relationship. I have my version of a health relationship- someone that I care deeply about that cares about me. he just also happens to be very in love with his wife. (go ahead and judge, it can’t be any worse than the things I’ve already said to myself).

I wanted a good stable career in a job I love. I have that, but I’m also remembering all the things you miss by working all the time- weekends spent catching up from the week, kiddo missing sports/activities because you can’t leave work early all the time to play taxi. Rushing home from work to make it to a meeting and realizing you only get 1 hour of awake time with your kiddo before you’re onto another day.

It’s funny when you read the fine print on some of those things you want. Like the pork-barrel spending attached to legislature.

Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.

Trick is now to learn to better phrase things. Really think through all angles and dial in what it is I really want before going after it.

jack-o-lantern smile

perhaps it's fitting that this week is halloween because i feel like a jack-o-lantern: hollow on the inside, missing most of my (metaphorical) teeth and waiting to either be forgotten and rot away or be smashed to bits by someone who either thinks its fun to destroy things or doesn't even really put any thought into what they're doing.

it's been a helluva few months.

this year started off with so much promise- writing, publishing, goals, THINGS. but life is what it is, time flies past before you even notice, and in the blink of an eye the universe has dumped you in a back alley at midnight, battered and bruised just waiting for the dawn of another year to start again fresh.

"if i can just make it through a few more months..."

then what? the mark of a new year doesn't signal a magic want to hit the refresh button. another few months are simply another few months leading to another few months.

i don't mean this to sound like a depressing spiral of time into nothingness. it's actually, twistedly, my attempt to remind myself that there is no magical restart button and i need to get my shit together NOW and quit waiting for...whatever. there is no sparkle glitter rainbow day on the calendar that makes adulting suddenly easy and manageable. there is no jackpot day that you land on that suddenly makes all your bills go away and your bank account never empty.

i'm not sure what adulting looks like right now besides barely managing to keep food in the house (really, grocery shopping is such a pain in the ass ordeal) and binge watching horrible shows on netflix (how the fuck did bones make it past the first season??)

i have a very limited social circle. i have a hard time spending money in bars to drink with strangers i have zero desire to interact with. i'm tired of going to events alone as talking to or mingling with strangers is just awkward at best, traumatizing (for them) at worst. i've survived several sports seasons now interacting with other parents only as necessary/required.

i'm heading into winter, aka depression season, felling the most damaged and alone as i have in a LONG time.

oddly though, i also feel fine. i've been (mostly) remembering to take my vitamins including a TON of vitamin D, i've been doing things for myself, allowing impulse buys as the budget allows, i'm doing ok. i'm just doing it alone.

a few months back i had someone ask if he could move in for a bit while he sorted things out after a break up. we were (i thought) good friends, knew each other well enough, and i had extra space, so why not? it quickly went downhill VERY fast for several reasons. i'm not used to living with anyone besides my kids. i've never had to have a roommate. for the very short time i was married he worked nights and i worked days and we barely saw each other. i knew it would be an adjustment, but i didn't know it would be so destructive and toxic. end of the day it turns out that i am...how did it go...uncommunicative, unwelcoming, and my house is unlivable/disgustingly dirty all the time. the overall experience ended up being costly- lost one of the very few people i counted as a friend and damaged a friendship with another who got caught in the crossfire of being my sounding board/his employee.

around the same time, the magazine i had been working for back at the beginning of the year contacted me again and asked me to write a few more pieces for them (apparently writers who work for free aren't as abundant as they thought). they wanted a few album/EP reviews. second verse, same as the first. last time they stopped asking me to contribute after i pushed back on a band they wanted to run as a cover story that i felt gave a horrible interview and took the whole process a bit too flippantly (including a separate on-air interview). this time around i apparently didn't make it known well enough that the reviews were my opinion, and came across as too harsh and negative in the reviews. my final assignment was for an artist interview that i was not comfortable doing as i knew it would end up almost exactly like the last interview. instead of wasting my time and the artists time and continue fighting a losing battle over my pieces, i instead tendered my resignation at the magazine. it was the only writing i had done in a while and the loss was not insignificant.

finally, the last few weeks have been a mess of doctors appointments and tests and major levels of panic. know how doctors warn women about breast cancer ALL THE TIME? and don't forget breast cancers ugly cousin, inflammatory breast cancer! so when i noticed itching, lactating, overnight increase in cup size, and general overall pain...cue panic. and doctors tests. and sleepless nights wondering who was going to take care of my kid if i had to be down any time at all. and stress about how i would afford medical bills when i can barely afford medical co-pays. and even a particularly depressing call to my mother to ask for family history since no one talks about ANYTHING. after blood work, a mammogram, and an ultrasound i was sent home with a resounding YOU'RE FINE but no actual answers aside from that. so yay, no cancer, but what the fuck?

none of these events are particularly traumatic. they're concerning. they're disheartening. they're panic inducing. they're hard. they messed with my self esteem, self image, sense of security and talent/ability. made me question myself at core levels. they've kicked me in the teeth and tipped my maslow's scale in all different directions and caused a general upheaval, but not a destructive hurricane.

but when you add them together they get bigger. and when they're in this giant lump and i'm staring at it, alone, with no one to talk to or help me pick it apart...it becomes hurricane potential.

my brain is this great and powerful beast. i'm smart. i can carry on intelligent conversations. i can remember details and facts with high accuracy. i can figure out problems and come up with solutions.

but: this beast never sleeps. it never turns off. it runs the same problems through over, and over and over again like a one of those fucking asshole DVD's that plays the start menu and the same crappy song on a continuous loop without ever shutting off but unlike the DVD there's not even a power button or an eject button to make all the noise go away (or even change to a different DVD). i think and rethink and dissect and analyze and review and consider and play out a million different options and endings. i retrace my steps and my processes looking for errors and way to improve or not fuck up again.

and when you're in that loop without a sounding board. when you're stuck with no one to talk to. when you just have your own never ending thoughts running full speed, all the time...it's lonely. and exhausting. it's destructive if you let it be, which, when you're exhausted happens all too easily. it's a bone weary exhaustion. there's no amount of sleep that can fix it because this stupid brain remembers exactly where it left off. you recharge or feel good for a few minutes but then it just all slips away and you don't even know what happened. i can leave work in a great mood, plenty of energy, but in my 15 minute drive home i think about grocery shopping, football practice, scraping together dinner after football practice without causing bed time to be too late, a call from the school, the chore chart that the kid has been ignoring, oh shit, school pictures are this week, i shouldn't have splurged on the manicure when school pictures are happening, oh fuck, did we remember to take the redbox movies back? oh wait, we didn't get red box movies, that was a few weeks ago. OH FUCK- did we take the ones back from a few weeks ago? i shouldn't be watching movies anyway. i should be reading books or writing. but my writing is shit anyway, so why bother writing at all? damn it, it's monday, i have a therapy appointment this afternoon and just missed the exit. why the fuck can i never remember where i'm going or when i have to be there? what am i even going to talk about at therapy this week? why am i even going to therapy if i don't know what i'm going to talk about? i'm probably just going to end up crying again over nothing and go home with a headache. i mean YEAH, it helps. and she helps me figure out what i need to talk about, but it's really just wasting her time. i'm sure there's people that need the appointment more than me. but, it's not like i would be doing anything at home anyway. might as well go. the next episode of greys anatomy can wait. i've already seen them all anyway. since i don't have a life. not like i have any pressing social engagements on my calendar...EVER. how lame are you that you NEVER have anything on your calendar besides kids doctors appointments and sports events? maybe if you weren't such a socially maladjusted freak you'd be able to make and keep a friend and then you would have somewhere to go and your therapist wouldn't be the one stuck listening to you all the time. that's right. the only person that listens to you is one you have to PAY to do it. maybe i should talk about that this week...

and so by the time i pull into my garage, in just 15 minutes, my energy is gone, my mood is crap, i just want to go to bed and stay there forever and ignore everyone and everything, but there's really nothing and no one to ignore which is even MORE depressing.

and so i'm just here. in this limbo of i feel fine but i know things aren't exactly fine. and i just feel hollow and empty and alone. and some days it's overwhelming and profound. and other days i don't even notice it and i'm glad to be able to read for hours on end without a single interruption. and at some point it would be nice to try to make friends again. and at some point it would be nice to write without feeling wrong. and at some point it would be nice to have something to look forward to.

but i'll keep smiling. i'll keep going to work. i'll keep making polite talk at football practice. i'll keep grocery shopping and i'll keep making dinner. i'll keep going on. and maybe, eventually, it won't seem so empty any more. maybe, eventually it will be fun again and there will be things to do and people to do them with. but, for now, this is the way it is. it's not optimal, but it's ok. and that's ok.

well, fuck

*warning: medical junk to follow*

a while ago my right breast started itching. so i bought good old fashioned nursing cream and dismissed the issue (even though it didn't go away no matter how much cream i used).

last week while applying the cream i noticed that it seemed like i was lactating again. even through i haven't breast fed in twelve years. well. that's disconcerting.

around the same time i noticed my right breast. like. ALL THE TIME. spilling out of bras. hurting all the time. bumping against my arm whenever i moved. YUP. it's grown about a cup size in the last few weeks. GREAT.

so last friday i called in and made a doctors appointment for today. went in to the obgyn and she poked a bit and asked a few questions and sent me on my way to schedule a mammogram and some blood work.

i know the internet is a TERRIBLE place for medical stuff. knowing this, and having a LARGE grain of salt ready, i googled anyway. bad idea.

so. there's all that bullshit. whatever.

here's my response to all that bullshit:
YOU'RE A FUCKING IDIOT. why are you wasting your time and the doctors time and all the co-pay money? THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU. THERE NEVER IS. you have pain and you have issues and they go away if you ignore them long enough. i mean, look at your ankle. yeah, it hurt to walk on, and yeah, it was swollen and tender for 6 months, but now you barely notice it. and when you did go to the doctor they what, charged you $90 to tell you there was nothing wrong. SO WHY ARE YOU DOING IT AGAIN YOU FUCKING IDIOT? there's nothing wrong with you. so what if you boob hurts a little. and is lactating. and growing. GET OVER IT.

*but what if this time...*

ARE YOU FUCKING RETARDED AND DEAF? THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU. cancel the other appointments. don't bother with the mammogram. don't bother with the blood work. pay me (which is myself, i get it) the $100 instead and follow one simple prescriptions: *headdesk* as needed until you quit acting like an idiot.


let's just stop and consider that for a minute. whether or not there's something wrong with me, my instinctual response to self sooth and reassure myself IS TO INSULT MYSELF. instead of being like, it's ok, that's why doctors exist, to check things. i'm like: DESTROY, MAIM, CAUSE MORE PAIN AND TERROR.

score.

thanks self.

then comes the real fun part: this voice is just rattling around my head with no out. i don't have family to talk it over with. i don't have a significant other to cry on when shit goes sideways. i don't have a christina or a meredith to call. i don't have a person. i'm a cold, uncommunicative, unwelcoming bitch who can't keep friends. i shut out people on good days and cut them from my life completely when things get hard. no big shocker there- look how friendly i am to myself; no one else would want to tolerate that. add in the fact that i am hyper aware of how many people other people have and how rude it is to intrude on their per-scheduled time and interactions. i'm not just going to call someone up out of the blue and dump a load of shit of them when they have a life and other things going on.

so then it just rattles around in my head, these negative, mean voices both simultaneously trying to convince me that i'm dying and that i'm an idiot for thinking i'm dying. so then i find myself at 3:40 on a monday afternoon barely keeping my shit together at work with a fucking INSANE migraine venting to a blog on the internet.

GOOD TIMES.

so. maybe there's something wrong with me. more likely there isn't. i mean physically.

obviously there's a fuck ton wrong with me mentally.

anyway. that's monday.

Out of Doors

"...you're such a fucking pussy. you're too busy sucking your boyfriends dick to fight like a man."


is that sentence a bit shocking? it was to me, and i don't shock easily.

that sentences wasn't hurled at or by me. that sentence, in all it's ignorant, homophobic glory, was an insult hurled at my 12 year old son last night after he walked away from a group of kids that had surrounded him and sprayed him all over with silly string.

this all happened at a youth group meeting.

mere feet away from the "adults in charge" (most barely legal adults).

NO ONE DID A DAMN THING.

i got a call at work from a child in TEARS. he had left the church and walked home and called me.

this isn't the first time.

this isn't the second time.

this is TWO YEARS of bullying from the same kid.

i'm out of doors to knock on. i don't know what cage to rattle any more.

TWO YEARS of escalating bullying and not a damn thing has worked.

you may remember a rant a while ago about the school teaching my son "safe words" to use to get help when the bullying happened.

you may remember rants about me calling the school staff, the superintendent, the city police.

TWO YEARS. multiple school district complaint forms filed with the school superintendent. it spread from school to campus kids- a local college mentoring program my son participates in on thursdays on the college campus. it spread to the city park and involved SCRAPS (the local animal control) and a harassment report with the city police. it spread to a church youth group and ANOTHER harassment report with the city police.

my son doesn't want to go to school. i've told him to stay away from the park near our house. fortunately, the college mentor program realized what was happening and dis-invited the student doing the bullying so my son still has ONE safe place to go. but for fucks sake, even a church isn't sanctuary for him at this point.

the school principal is "working on it." the key phrase he kept saying this morning in his office as he leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed.

i *just* found out there's a city police officer assigned to the school as a safety/resource officer. why wasn't i informed of that two years ago?

i've had to teach my son to just take it. all the insults, the pushing, losing friends, being the narc because he did the right thing and told me. remember "...snitches get stitches..." from last school year?

he can't fight back or he gets in trouble. he can't verbally defend himself or they consider that bullying as well.

so he just has to listen to it and tell me about it in tears later.

he has to listen to "you're such a fag," "go suck your boyfriends dick," "no wonder your dad left," and a myriad of other juvenile insults. i don't know if he's gay. he doesn't know if he's gay. we've talked about it. he's questioning.

IT DOESN'T MATTER. 

the officer last night was the first one to get that. the first question from the reports has always been "...does the bullying bother him because he's gay?"

NO YOU FUCKING IMBECILES.

THE BULLYING BOTHERS HIM BECAUSE HE DOESN'T LIKE BEING BULLIED.

the officer last night was actually thrown off my me answering the question before he asked it.

me: "...and no, i don't know if he's gay or not. He's 12."
officer: "I wasn't going to even ask that. Why would that be an issue?"
me: "Well, it's the first thing everyone else has asked."
officer: "Doesn't matter if he is or isn't This shouldn't be happening."

FINALLY. someone gets it.

but now what? i have two case report numbers. i have multiple harassment complaints. i've talked to everyone i can think of. i've started down the path to see if there's any legal help i can get.

BUT MY KID IS STILL SCARED TO GO TO SCHOOL.

so what? what door do i knock on? what cage do i rattle? how can i get more than one police officer to take this serious? 

i'm at a loss. i'm frustrated. i'm sad. i'm angry. i'm insulted. i'm so incredibly hurt for my kid. i'm having flash backs to when i was in school. i know EXACTLY what he's feeling. i know EXACTLY what it's like to be the target and have no one listen or help. i know what it's like to be standing right next to an adult and have them walk away when something happens.

I DON'T WANT THAT FOR MY KID.

i'm going to keep fighting. i don't know what i'm fighting for or against or which direction i'm pointed, but i'm not giving up.

HOW?

i don’t love myself.

i know that’s odd to see in real words these days with the THOUSANDS of self love, body positive, acceptance articles floating all over.

i have good days when i don’t loathe myself as much. but for the most part all i hear in my head is a negative soundtrack that is a BITCH to turn off/drown out/ignore/get over.

i’ve tried for YEARS. i have people that love me the way i am. i have a partner that accepts my body as it is and has never once said anything bad about the way i look- quite the opposite actually.

but it’s still there. all those voices drilled in early on. all the years of school kids making fun of my glasses (when you have coke bottle glasses even with the “ultra thin” lenses it’s an issue). i had more than a few bad hair days due to my moms insistence of buying the cheapest by-the-gallon shampoo/conditioner (anyone else remember apple pectin shampoo?) and only the cheapest beauty products in our home (looking at you L.A. Style and aquanet). We had ONE curling iron, if you can call it that- an ancient curl/brush/feather all in one combo. My mom owned exactly one tube of mascara and one basic beige eye shadow and used jergens lotion for EVERYTHING (my acne prone skin cringes at the thought).

when i was young i was fortunately unaware of the bulk of people making fun of me. i lived in a world of books and didn’t particularly get along with 3D characters. i didn’t know until years later that my brother had to beg my mom to teach me to shave my legs because the kids on swim team were making fun of me. i didn’t realize until well after high school that the guy who asked me to tutor him did so because he thought that maybe being seen with him would get other people to leave me alone.

i know it’s been an absurd amount of years ago, but i still hear my moms voice in my head every time i try on a red shirt telling me how much it makes my blotchy skin and acne stand out. Guess how many red shirts I own? even though i have NO IDEA what it means, i still hear her voice in my head telling me i have a “shelf butt” and have to be careful what i wear. i hear her, after my second kiddo, telling me how nice i look and how well i take care of myself for “someone my size.” there was a lady at my mom’s church that i adored. she was GORGEOUS and always looked amazingly put together (plus she would sing occasionally and had the most beautiful voice i had ever heard). i remember my mom saying how lovely she looked and how impressive it was she looked that way for being a dairy farmer’s wife. WHAT? the kicker is, i think my mom honestly thought she was saying something nice. it never occurred to her that quantifying things by saying “for your size” or “for a farmer’s wife” were HUGELY insulting.

i still hear the girls in high school making fun of me for wearing too much blue eyeshadow (before i even owned ANY make up. pale/translucent skin is a bitch). i remember the horror of leaving foundation marks on people i hugged before learning about blending/setting your makeup. i remember my dads second wife not very politely pointing out that i was wearing the wrong color foundation and hadn’t learned how to avoid “make up mask” yet.

as a bonus, i have an older brother who was horrified by everything i did in high school (and still doesn’t get me now). he HATED that i was in drama, thought i only had weird friends, didn’t like that i wasn’t athletic or in sports (even though i did try volleyball and softball in jr high to very, very little success). now he still laments every tattoo on my skin and makes all sorts of off comments about my hair color. he’s glad that i’m finally “back to a natural color of hair” even though i’ve reminded him anything that comes with a formula and has to be mixed/applied every 8 weeks isn’t quite “natural”.

for a VERY short time i had a husband that HATED me. all my clothes were trashy and not fit to be seen out in public. i was a mortifying embarrassment to him if i left the house without make up. i was destroying his public image when we went grocery shopping because i carried my purse on my shoulder versus putting it in the cart.

I know ALL the things i just lamented about are total bullshit. they’re other peoples issues projected on me. it’s my mom’s own body issues and lack of knowledge. it’s my brother’s own security and image issues. it’s my ex-husbands way of controlling and abusing. NONE OF IT WAS ME.

i did the best i could with what i had. i still do. i still make sure my clothes are the right size and i’m not trying to fit 10 pounds of butter in a 5 pound tub. i can *occasionally* leave the house without make-up but it’s a conscious effort. i spend ungodly amounts of money getting my hair cut and colored. i LOATHE myself for not spending MORE time getting ready in the morning. i *should* (worst word in the english language) get up every morning and curl/style my hair. i *should* spend more time and effort trying to get rid of the acne that still plagues me. i *should* spend more time shopping and finding clothes that aren’t tee-shirts and jeans. i *should* shave my legs and wear dresses more often. i *should* a million things. those *should* statements are why i only own one hooded sweatshirt now (they look sloppy. you *should* have more pride in yourself).

all i see in the mirror is a vain but still hideous monster. i hate how much i look like my brother without make up on. i hate that my hair does this half frizz half curl half straight all a mess if i don’t spend hours on it with products and potions and power tools. i HATE the way my body looks, but i hate even more the thought of people seeing me sweating and with frizzy hair and without make up more. no, seriously, who has the time to work out when it takes 20 minutes before hand to remove your makeup, make sure you’re properly fitted into clothes that aren’t too offensive, revealing, and properly lock down all the wobbly bits, WORK OUT (complete with boob sweat and frizzy hair horror) and then repair all the damage done so you’re presentable to the world again? i will never, EVER understand how people work out on their lunch hour.

i guess this is all the really long, pathetic way of saying HOW DO YOU QUIT BEING SO VAIN? how do you not worry about your blotchy/acne skin when you’re wearing a red shirt (or just in general)? how do you work out without worrying about looking like the creature from the black lagoon? how do you go to the grocery store in the morning without being in full war paint? how do you turn off the negative track in your head? how do you *REALLY* believe the positive things people say about you? how do you love yourself? like, really, truly, honestly, not afraid to stand in front of the mirror naked, love yourself? i really, 100% don’t get it. i read the self love articles. i talk to friends that have a great body image. and all i can think is “...yeah, but…”

i’m confident in other things; that bolsters the “fake it til you make it” portion of the vanity. i know i can hold a decent conversation. i have a passable sense of humor (even if not always entirely appropriate). i can sling sentences together fairly well. i’m damn good at my job. i have a fucking amazing house (finally). i have good kids and an adorable bastard dog that distract people fairly well. i love the people around me exactly the way they are, but HOW DO I DO THAT FOR MYSELF?