domestification of a rabbid squirrel

i have a date tonight.

well, maybe anyway. we already rearranged tuesday to wednesday, then had to rearrange wednesday to thursday.

par for the course.

BUT. any time i have a date, there's this stubborn, resilient, inextinguishable stupid little flame of hope that resides somewhere among the cobwebs in the "relationship" part of my brain that says "...but what if this one works out?"

then the rest of my brain laughs and laughs and makes a few snide comments, replays some of the more spectacular blooper reels from the various train-wrecks over the years and we go back to being our normal, bitter, hopeless, non-romantic self.

but.

that stupid fucking little flame is fucking stubborn and stay around, no matter what.

and once in a while when i'm bored, the oxygen whistling through my ears fans the flame and it gets a little bigger and starts to do shadow puppet shows.

but it doesn't know how the story goes.

so the puppet shows are confusing at best.

i'm holding out for a call from tarantino for the option on some of them...

but in those sad little puppet shows, there's a struggle to figure out what the fuck domestification would really look like.

it starts out really basic: where the fuck would a significant other keep their clothes? my drawers and closet are full.

would they want to bring their own furniture into my house? FUCK NO. i like all my shit. there's no room for a barcalounger here chandler.

how would getting ready for work in the mornings go? i have a very dialed in routine. DON'T MESS WITH MY ROUTINE.

and what about getting ready for bed at night? do i have to actually let them see me without make up?

what about the nights when i have insomnia and binge watch netflix in bed? will i have to do that on the couch? will they sleep on the couch?

who get the last glass of milk? who has to run to the store on a saturday morning when you realize you're out of coffee?

i almost talk myself out of even going on a date because if one ever does go well, THEN WHAT? ugh. would i have to wash boy underwear in the laundry? the kid does his own now. boy laundry is gross.

THESE ARE IMPORTANT ISSUES.

i'm used to my space being my space. i tolerate the kid mess because i'm genetically responsible for it. it still annoys me though. HOW HARD IS IT TO NOT STICK YOUR SOCKS IN THE COUCH CUSHIONS?

what if i want to read a book and they want to do something? what if i want to do something and they think it's lame. WHAT IF THEY PUT KETCHUP ON THEIR EGGS??

ugh.

is it too late to cancel? again?

should i stay or should i go

i used to have a gypsy soul.

i used to not necessarily look forward to moving, but i did enjoy the process of settling into a new place; decorating, making it mine, making all my odd bits and pieces fit into as many different configurations as possible. like a never ending tetris of furniture and stuff: level up: two bedroom apartment: complete. next challenge: three bedroom house. three bedroom house: complete: back to a two bedroom apartment with no dining room: GO!

on and on it went. 13 moves in 13 years. i had boxes labeled in storage that listed exactly what went in each one. at one point i packed and moved a 2 bedroom townhouse while 3 months pregnant in less than 8 hours. BAM. bonus points (well, with help, so maybe not ALL the bonus points.)

i've lost my gypsy soul. i've become lazy or scared or both.

considering different prospects right now is terrifying and exhausting instead of challenging and energizing. as much as i hate/love my house, the thought of leaving it makes my gut twist more than i would expect. i sat in my kitchen the other night contemplating what moving would mean and with a clear view of floors that need repair, walls that are crooked, mouse traps set because 115 year old rock foundations are a neon invitation to the dirty bastards, knowing the carpet upstairs needs replaced because dog, thinking that eventually the roof will need redone, how much work the yard needs, how badly the whole garage needs to burn to the ground and start over...even with the never ending home owners list running through my head, IT'S MINE. warts and all, i can do whatever i want and answer to only me.

aside from the physical logistics of more crap than any two people need, there's STUFF. there's kid sports and friends. there's favorite bars and music venues. i don't go out much, but when i do i know my safe places. I DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO FIND NEW ONES. there's familiar restaurants, stores that i know exactly how to find what i need. i don't have a close circle of people, but i do have fringe people that let me hover. i don't want to have to find new hovering people.

and i KNOW. a new city, a new place would be new people, new sports, new school for the kid, away from these assholes i have to fight with constantly. different city would have different music. different beer. i would get to know the stores, i would get to know the restaurants.there would be new and different opportunities. new things to explore and see.

BUT I'M COMFORTABLE HERE.

and i'm really, REALLY fighting with the core issue: am i going to let a few assholes chase me away? i feel like it would be giving up. it's not terrible ALL THE TIME. it's just particularly terrible when it is. but do i just let them win? do i just let them keep being assholes and not stand up for myself and defend all the shit they rail against?

i'm only bi. i'm passable. i have kids. i can blend. obviously. since they run their mouths. it's not like i'm trapped in a closet completely denying who i am or having to hide everything about my life away from this desk. so, SO many people have had to endure much worse. how many people in the military had to live their whole career in fear of being found out? how many people in every day jobs had to go along with jokes and rants because no one could find out. i'm not in danger. they wouldn't hurt me if i flat out said I'M BI AND WHEN YOU SAY YOU WOULD NEVER LET A GAY PERSON AROUND YOUR FAMILY, YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT ME ASSHOLE. AND GUESS WHO TALKED TO YOUR WIFE AT THE CHRISTMAS PARTY ALREADY? I ALREADY GOT BY BI COOTIES ON HER. HA HA HA. JUST A MATTER OF TIME NOW. i'm not a professional athlete that would lose millions in contracts or promotions. i'm not a public figure that could lose an acting career or appearances. i'm just a secretary, sitting at a desk, with a few assholes that like to rant every now and again. am i really going to let that disrupt my whole life?

am i so scared of change that i'm making excuses and convincing myself i can stick it out? i mean- I LIKE MY JOB. i'm good at it. i have my routine down. i'm comfortable. i have my groove. i have my schedule set, i can take time off when i need for kid appointments. i have retirement, insurance. my tattoos are ok here. i can change my hair and no one even notices. i KNOW the stupidity i'm surrounded by. another place could have a whole new unknown, worse breed of stupidity.

bucket kicking is happening. i just don't know what i'd do if i actually found a bucket with something in it.

basic theory of invisibility

i'm invisible. or rather i have the power of invisibility- the power to make people completely forget i exist in general, or at least forget that i can hear, have needs, or possess basic human feelings.  

one or two things can be overlooked. after the evidence starts to pile up it becomes harder to ignore. when people insult you RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU, but not directly at you, you can no longer pretend it's not an issue.

a mother not noticing that you need glasses until a teacher intervenes.
not being taught to shave your legs until your brother is so embarrassed he begs for someone to teach you.
not getting your first bra until (again) a teacher brings it to parental attention. (keeping in mind that 3rd-6th grade were all male teacher. bless them for the awkward they had to endure).

those things can be dismissed as markers of a crappy childhood. 

being intentionally passed over for promotions.
batting 0.000 on ALL dating sites.
not having plans for the 152nd friday in a row.

you start to wonder but chalk it up to lack of a social network or not marketing yourself in the "right" way.

a co-worker sitting in your office, less than 2 feet away complaining about "...single moms with two kids that file their taxes and get more money back than they ever put in and are working the system and ruining it for everyone else."

or

"...i would never let someone that was gay into my house. can you imagine having them around my kids or my wife? not even the cable guy. i would just say i changed my mind and don't want the service any more."

those are a little harder to ignore. those are fucking impossible to ignore. those are directly indirect shots. either they're that wrapped up in their own hate and prejudices that they honestly have NO CLUE what they're saying applies to someone RIGHT NEXT TO THEM, or they don't care, and i am invisible to them in that moment.


so. how should i use my powers of invisibility??

because of, or hand in hand with invisibility comes, for me at least, the painful lack of social skills. what's the point of going out when you're invisible? when the only person in the bar that talks to you is the bartender, isn't it better to save money and drink a beer at home on your own couch? when you go to a packed concert hall and don't talk to a single person...when you have people lean over your or push you out of the way to talk to the person right next to you...when you sit alone in a restaurant and the waiter keeps passing by your table...when you run all your weekend errands and don't see one person you know.

being invisible is lonely. you crave social interaction. conversations that require words more than one syllable. topics that make you think and challenge and debate. you want more than the 2 minutes of coffee shop drive through fluff. you need more than the latest update on what new fad is happening in jr. high. you NEED to be seen and heard and to exist for a small space.

therein lies the theory of the comfort of strangers- you're more open to talking about ANYTHING with a complete stranger because IF you ever see them again, it will be so far removed they (probably) won't remember anything. also, it's your ONE chance to connect, so you want to fucking JAM PACK that small window with as much of locked up stuff that once the flood gates are open there's no going back. so you over share. all the things that socially normal people know not to let out. all the awkward and inappropriate topics, stories, happening. you become THAT person. the one people tolerate because maybe there's a good story in it. you become the weird person which, well, true, but just a small part of the tip of the iceberg. but you almost don't care, because at least for a moment, someone saw and heard you (but you do care, because no one WANTS to be the weird person).

there's also the awkward problem of never knowing when to make an exit. if you're smart enough you set a timer for a parking meter and actually care about not getting a ticket. some of us aren't that smart. or don't care. or are willing to take the ticket for just a few more minutes of being out of the house and around people. you get so excited for the rare outing, the glimmer of humanity that you become the last man standing. you stay until the bitter end. it's never great. it's always a giant bucket of awkward. but it's your small portal. your moment of non-invisibility. your blink of existence. and you desperately don't want it to end. so you're stuck in the worst catch 22- extend the awkward or extend the invisible?

there are perks to invisibility. every super power has to have the good with it somewhere. when you're invisible you get to see the real side of people much faster. they let their guard down because they forget you're there or don't care. you hear their real thoughts and opinions. you hear their real words, not the gloss they usually spin. when you do have a conversation- a REAL one, not an awkward overshare moment, it's much deeper and more real than most conversations. you broach topics that normally wouldn't come up. the comfort of strangers works both ways.

but you go through life as a shadow of existence. you're a passing flash of an image, easily forgotten and frequently overlooked. you want to be in the light, but it seems to be either a blinding spotlight or a half burnt out night light. neither is optimal. there must be a balance somewhere in between, but i'll be damned if i've found it in my 35 years.

the bonus to being mostly invisible is the ability to develop a harder shell. not impenetrable, but much stronger, much more efficient for letting things roll off of. i know comments aren't directly about me, because they don't see me. i know they're not purposefully leaving me out, they just forgot i was there. the number of fucks given about any particular thing drops well below the national average because what does it matter anyway? but as all swords do, this has a second edge. i've developed a much stronger sense of bitch. i've learned to push people away and reject them before they reject me. you can't fire me, i quit logic. i'd rather be the heartless bitch than the weird weakling. i know i can't ever ask for help because that proves that single mothers are failures. we are a drain on the system. we are screwing it up for everyone else. i'll do what i can myself and leave the rest before i dare ask for help.

i'll stay alone in the darkest corner before i reach out and burden others. no one wants that. no one deserves that. you didn't see anyone else willingly jumping into the swamp of sadness for a fucking spa day. no one wants the depressing, pessimistic crap. fuck. i don't even want it. so i'm sure as fuck not going to spread the anti-joy. debbie downer parties alone because not every party needs a pooper.

so i stay home. alone. depressed, defeated, invisible. its so fucking exhausting working up the effort to go out when you know it will be a bucket full of awkward. but i try. there's inappropriate conversations and awkward attempts at humanity. there's a few fun-house horror show interactions. vague attempts to step out. but mostly there's invisibility.

have you ever tried to find an invisible person in the dark?

dating transparency

you know when you read someone's online social media, work, whatever profile and it breaks your bullshit meter?

especially in the online dating world, it's all about projecting the right image, selecting the right moments for the hilight reel, putting your best face forward and pushing all your positive attributes to the forefront so by the time they notice your neurosis the other person is hopelessly hooked and willing to over look flaws that may have otherwise been deal-breakers.

make sure you have the right words, make sure you have appropriate friendly but not too friendly but comfortable/casual but perfectly polished "i woke up this way" pictures, make sure you list the cool trendy habits and hobbies that you never actually do but thought about maybe trying once. make sure you list all the popular TV shows and top selling books in your "favorites" list.

make sure, make sure, make sure...

and make sure you pack your hip waders to get through the unfiltered shit if you ever get to an actual date.

i don't do well on dating sites. mostly because i'm a completely shallow bitch who rejects people for the most basic things- dead animals in their profile pictures, posting pictures of their kids on the site where millions of strangers can see them, one too many up the nose shots, pictures of your super cool babe magnet vehicle, bad hair cuts, poor hygiene that you can smell through the screen. i also instantly reject people who can't figure out how to spell the word "u" in it's full and proper form, who don't know the difference between their, they're, there, you're, your. i block users who send me "ur sexy" emails or lead off with questions about sex. i have very low tolerance for bullshit. i have ZERO knowledge of or tolerance for "strategic dating" and the proper number of days before you call or text, how to lure men in, how to effectively use ultimatums (there is no way to do this, btw), what the different wardrobes should be for evening dates vs coffee dates or after work drinks vs. weekend drinks.

bottom line: my wardrobe is limited, my personality is strong and my patience is short. i would rather get all the bullshit out and on the table at the very beginning than waste both our time on something that isn't a match. on to the next option after a five minute coffee meet up rather than 4 months of slowly realizing this isn't your jam.

and i know. there's the theory of slowly letting someone get used to you, something that may have seemed like a deal breaker may end up being endearing. maybe mute your personality for a while and slowly let the real you out.

WHICH BASICALLY MEANS YOU DON'T LIKE YOURSELF ENOUGH TO TRUST THAT SOMEONE ELSE WOULD.

it's inherently telling yourself that you're flawed and broken and not worthy of someone that will accept you, just as you are. if you have to hide pieces of yourself or "trick" someone into loving you or let them slowly decide they can tolerate you? that doesn't sound like very much fun to me.

i don't have any dating profiles up right now because, well, the dating pool needs a fuck ton of chlorine. and penicillin. and maybe a few AA meetings. and half of them need to worry more about checking in with their parole officer than checking their tinder matches. the other half are too busy at the gym GTLing to arrange time to meet up. it's a disheartening, dirty, diluted dating world out there.

BUT.

we all know me. at some point i'll venture back out into the online match making corral of shame. but next time i think i'm done worrying about being proper. this last go round my "about me" section consisted of the following: "tattooed, degreed, opinionated" short, basic, to the point.

i think for the next go round i'm going totally, unabashedly, brutally transparent.

here's to #bfhunt2016

 

this chick: single

for a very long time. take from that what you will.

short temper, high expectations.

tattooed, degreed, opionated.

i snore, don't eat anything purple and won't eat meat on the bone. i hate doing dishes but don't mind doing laundry. my house is a constant state of managed chaos- there's stacks of papers in various locations but i know what's in each one and they are all important, otherwise they wouldn't be sitting out. my house is tidy but never white glove inspection clean. i often forget (or don't want to) grocery shop, but when i do i'm a good cook. i'm not good at sharing a bed because i've had it to myself forever. i like to watch tv when i fall asleep, put the toilet paper on so it goes over the top and squeeze the toothpaste from the bottom. i have two teenagers which means i have zero patience and yell more than i should. i curse like a sailor on leave but also know there's a time and a place when it's not appropriate. i like my steaks medium well, I KNOW IT'S RUINING IT. SHUT UP. i'm not a wine snob, but know what i like or don't. i have a terrible habit of pouring myself a beer at home and not finishing it. i have favorite movies that i'll watch over and over again. same with books. i don't have any family, so honestly don't care about holidays and am terrible about birthdays and anniversaries. i'm painfully introverted but can hold my own at social gatherings. if my budget is in a friendly mood i'm up for a beer or a concert or an outing. if my budget sucks, i'm up for a movie on the couch and a little ceasars pizza. i'm not healthy- little ceasars tipped that card. i have a home gym that i never use, but the intention is there. i'm not a yoga nut, i could give a rats ass about rock climbing, going on a hike sounds like something a murderer wants to do so disposing of the body is easier. i would love to go to the beach or on a reasonable (two day maximum) camping trip. i have a short fuse and a fierce temper but a quick recovery time. i expect patience and forgiveness but am terrible about returning the favor (it's a flaw. i'm working on it). i have an itchy trigger finger and am pessimistic by nature when it comes to matters of love and life. i am fiercely loyal, brutally honest, painfully direct. i don't have time or patience for sugar coating.

i believe in marriage equality, women's rights and believe public assistance programs, while flawed, are vital. i firmly believe that sweeping judgements based on religion, skin color, ethnicity, geography are the lowest point of ignorance and stupidity.

there's my nutshell, ball of wax and soap box all in one.

now. kindly invite me out for some form of fried food or kindly fuck the hell off.

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.