Did you ever notice that the more you push some people the harder they resist? This is Mr. Magoo. I sat in the pool viewing area watching him cry. Cry, because he suffers from Aquaphobia, also known as Hydrophobia. Tough love. Swimming is about safety. Hubby and I both agreed that the boys had to learn it. But like this? How much good is it doing?
After 30 minutes of watching his swallow water, pretend he’s drowning and crying, Hubby finally agreed to go and get him. I mean what is the point. Why make him hate it more?
He was a great little swimmer. He loved the water. Now he is terrified. He’s regressed to the point of not knowing how to swim. We push, he pushes us back.
Before even leaving the house he was crying. He even locked himself in the bathroom. We started of by telling him that if he didn’t swim he’d lose all of his electronics as a consequence. That didn’t work. Then the more he cried and ristsed the angrier I got. I didn’t have time for his silly games and self-pity. I had a birthday party to prepare for (I should be doing that now.) So I told him the one thing that I knew would get his attention, “If you don’t go swimming today, we won’t EVER buy you a piano.” He stood there looking at me, then nodded his head to say okay. He was fine with that. My little boy was willing to trade in his dream; that’s how scared he was.
In the past I think I would have yelled. Accused him of trying to ruin the day for me. I know I would have called him names. ‘You baby.’ ‘Stupid kid, get over it.’ But today I could see past his water eyes straight to his heart. He needed love and reassurance. He needed my approval. So, I held him in my arms. I started by telling him that he needed to learn to swim. I asked how he would feel if all his friends knew and he didn’t? I asked how he would feel if down the road he was the oldest kid in the class? I didn’t get much in the way of answers. I wasn’t expecting too. I wanted him to think about it.
In the car he was still crying. I told him he just needs to believe in himself. I told him that it’s okay to be scared, but that I would never put him into something unsafe. So there we are, both of us crying in the hallway. Mr. Magoo because of his fear and me because I can feel is pain. I told him that the best way to combat a fear is head on. Kick it in the butt and show it how’s boss. He told me he couldn’t. He told me there were to many. I asked him to share some of the others. He simply shrugged his shoulders. I cried a few more tears:
“I’m afraid most of the time too, sometimes I’m scared and I don’t even know why. I’m scared of hurting people I love; I’m scared of failing, doing something wrong; I’m scared that if I succeed at something people will expect more out of me than I can give; but my biggest fear is being alone, disappointing people so they leave.” Mr. Magoo is staring at me, crying a bit less. “Do you have any of those fears?”
“All of them and more,” he sighed.
Wow!! It really is my worst fear. He is becoming me. But why is that so bad? I have a great life. I appreciate things that much more because I had to work hard to get them. But does that make up for the guilt, the anger and the pain? I don’t know. I would like to say yes, but I really can’t be sure.
“Oh sweaty! You’re not alone. I’ll always be here for you. You and I are a lot alike you know. A lot alike.”
And the rest of the ride was done in silence. What else would I say?
I wasn’t sure that it was a good idea to still go. In fact, last night I even commented that maybe we were pushing to hard. Maybe we should just let it go. He’d learn in good time. I could start taking him to the pool myself. Years ago I taught swimming. Just help get his confidence back. Schedule the time as we would any other lessons, no excuses not to go. Together we would combat our fears.
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Friday, September 29, 2006
I think you would be proud…
I know I am.
To begin with, Mr. Magoo says that his brain has come back. He hopes it will stick around. Thank you to everyone who helped look for it. I think it returned the minute he realized that he didn’t have to bring any work home. After talking to his morning teacher, I learnt that Mr. Magoo was having a really hard time completing an assignment in class. He was the furthest behind. She didn’t think that any of the other kids were aware of that though.
The thing is, that doesn’t matter to Mr.Magoo. In his mind, everyone knows. In his mind he’s not good enough. So you see, if half his brain in missing the he has an accuse for not trying. He has an excuse for getting things wrong or being behind. Not that he should need one. Because he’s so far behind, and he thinks that the others know it, he’s worried about them laughing at him. This is wear the missing brain at recess comes in.
(Side note: Me, I was in some ways opposite as I child. The more that someone told me that I couldn’t do something, the harder I pushed myself to prove them wrong. The more time and energy I invested to the point of exhaustion. Hence, I am now a perfectionist.)
I told Mr. Magoo that I had an idea to help with his worries. I told him that at night before bed we should get rid of them. He should lay down and close his eyes. He should put each worry or things that’s brothering him in a big bubble or balloon. As the bubbles/balloons float away, he should pop them all. Then the worries will be gone forever. Hi little answer almost made me cry,
“No mine. My worries would just sink back down and my brain would soak them all up again.”
Poor little guy. I’ll keep working with his. We’re going to try creating a picture book. He’s going to draw the pictures and dictate the story for me to write. It will be about his personal battles.
On another note, I caught myself telling another lie today. Again, not a big one, but a lie non-the-less. I was supposed to email a few people directions to my house for my mom’s party tomorrow night, and I completely forgot. I’ve been so busy with my assignment, cleaning the house, blogging, decorating, shopping for supplies…that I guess like Mr. Magoo half my brain went for a walk.
On the way to school It suddenly hit me that I needed to email them. Problem being that I wasn’t sure they would check their work email from home. I called my mom and left a message about how I was having computer problems this morning and that’s why I couldn’t send them. Well, I was having Blogger problems and the internet kept losing signal every ten/fifteen minutes for a bit, so not a total lie. (But still a lie.)
When I got home there was a message from mom saying she emailed them earlier today, when someone commented that they still hadn’t heard from me. She was wondering why. I heard a bit of disappointment in her voice. I mean this is her party, she shouldn’t have to do it. She said my message made total sense, computer problems.
Knowing that was a bit disappointed, I was like “Yeah it was really weird. I just couldn’t seem to do anything. No internet or email.” She understood. Even mentioned how bad that sucks. Mom was still proud of me; she didn’t think I slacked on my responsibilities.
This is it, this is why I tell these little lies. I don’t want to let people down. I don’t want people to think I am a failure in anyway. I am no different than poor Mr. Magoo who figures if he acts like a fool it’s ok for people to laugh at him. He’s doing it to protect himself. Just as my lies protect the incompetence and inadequacies that I feel within.
Think about one of the anonymous comments left on my entry Liar or Fortune Teller, I started to actually feel really crappy. She’s my mom. She loved me. She won’t suddenly leave me because I’m human and forgot to do something. There it is…the fear of abandonment and rejection. So real in the world of BPD. I think that BPDs suffer from Autophobia.
So I paced around the house for a bit. The mind is a powerful thing. I control it…I won’t let it control me. I picked up the phone and tried to call my mom back. No answer. Had she left already? I waited a bit and tried again…no answer. I needed to tell her I made a mistake. I needed her to know that I lied. I had to do it now. I had to get it out before it disappeared into the file system. The place where I put every thing else I want to forget.
I opened up Outlook. There in my inbox was an email with the other address I was supposed to send the direction too. She’d emailed on Wednesday. I never got it. Well, today I did. It was a sign. I typed up the following email:
Hey, I have a small confession to make. I wasn't have computer problems today, I plain out forgot until I was walking to pick up Mr. Magoo this afternoon. I've been so busy trying to do my assignment, get launder done, clean the house, decorate the house...and I guess like Mr. Magoo my brain went on holiday. I think my momentary lack in judgement, when I lied, was because I didn't want you to think I was stupid or be mad at me. I guess we now know were Mr. Magoo gets it from. :)
I am sorry. I am even more sorry that you've had to do so much for your own party. I'm not sure where my mind has been these days.
I know that it’s not much. I know that it doesn’t make what I did right, but it is a start. A step in the right direction. A new element of self-awareness.
To begin with, Mr. Magoo says that his brain has come back. He hopes it will stick around. Thank you to everyone who helped look for it. I think it returned the minute he realized that he didn’t have to bring any work home. After talking to his morning teacher, I learnt that Mr. Magoo was having a really hard time completing an assignment in class. He was the furthest behind. She didn’t think that any of the other kids were aware of that though.
The thing is, that doesn’t matter to Mr.Magoo. In his mind, everyone knows. In his mind he’s not good enough. So you see, if half his brain in missing the he has an accuse for not trying. He has an excuse for getting things wrong or being behind. Not that he should need one. Because he’s so far behind, and he thinks that the others know it, he’s worried about them laughing at him. This is wear the missing brain at recess comes in.
(Side note: Me, I was in some ways opposite as I child. The more that someone told me that I couldn’t do something, the harder I pushed myself to prove them wrong. The more time and energy I invested to the point of exhaustion. Hence, I am now a perfectionist.)
I told Mr. Magoo that I had an idea to help with his worries. I told him that at night before bed we should get rid of them. He should lay down and close his eyes. He should put each worry or things that’s brothering him in a big bubble or balloon. As the bubbles/balloons float away, he should pop them all. Then the worries will be gone forever. Hi little answer almost made me cry,
“No mine. My worries would just sink back down and my brain would soak them all up again.”
Poor little guy. I’ll keep working with his. We’re going to try creating a picture book. He’s going to draw the pictures and dictate the story for me to write. It will be about his personal battles.
On another note, I caught myself telling another lie today. Again, not a big one, but a lie non-the-less. I was supposed to email a few people directions to my house for my mom’s party tomorrow night, and I completely forgot. I’ve been so busy with my assignment, cleaning the house, blogging, decorating, shopping for supplies…that I guess like Mr. Magoo half my brain went for a walk.
On the way to school It suddenly hit me that I needed to email them. Problem being that I wasn’t sure they would check their work email from home. I called my mom and left a message about how I was having computer problems this morning and that’s why I couldn’t send them. Well, I was having Blogger problems and the internet kept losing signal every ten/fifteen minutes for a bit, so not a total lie. (But still a lie.)
When I got home there was a message from mom saying she emailed them earlier today, when someone commented that they still hadn’t heard from me. She was wondering why. I heard a bit of disappointment in her voice. I mean this is her party, she shouldn’t have to do it. She said my message made total sense, computer problems.
Knowing that was a bit disappointed, I was like “Yeah it was really weird. I just couldn’t seem to do anything. No internet or email.” She understood. Even mentioned how bad that sucks. Mom was still proud of me; she didn’t think I slacked on my responsibilities.
This is it, this is why I tell these little lies. I don’t want to let people down. I don’t want people to think I am a failure in anyway. I am no different than poor Mr. Magoo who figures if he acts like a fool it’s ok for people to laugh at him. He’s doing it to protect himself. Just as my lies protect the incompetence and inadequacies that I feel within.
Think about one of the anonymous comments left on my entry Liar or Fortune Teller, I started to actually feel really crappy. She’s my mom. She loved me. She won’t suddenly leave me because I’m human and forgot to do something. There it is…the fear of abandonment and rejection. So real in the world of BPD. I think that BPDs suffer from Autophobia.
So I paced around the house for a bit. The mind is a powerful thing. I control it…I won’t let it control me. I picked up the phone and tried to call my mom back. No answer. Had she left already? I waited a bit and tried again…no answer. I needed to tell her I made a mistake. I needed her to know that I lied. I had to do it now. I had to get it out before it disappeared into the file system. The place where I put every thing else I want to forget.
I opened up Outlook. There in my inbox was an email with the other address I was supposed to send the direction too. She’d emailed on Wednesday. I never got it. Well, today I did. It was a sign. I typed up the following email:
Hey, I have a small confession to make. I wasn't have computer problems today, I plain out forgot until I was walking to pick up Mr. Magoo this afternoon. I've been so busy trying to do my assignment, get launder done, clean the house, decorate the house...and I guess like Mr. Magoo my brain went on holiday. I think my momentary lack in judgement, when I lied, was because I didn't want you to think I was stupid or be mad at me. I guess we now know were Mr. Magoo gets it from. :)
I am sorry. I am even more sorry that you've had to do so much for your own party. I'm not sure where my mind has been these days.
I know that it’s not much. I know that it doesn’t make what I did right, but it is a start. A step in the right direction. A new element of self-awareness.
Five Ingredient Friday – Macaroni gone Mexican
I will stick with simple foods. I guess because it’s what I know best, plus they don’t take long to cook. One less thing for me to worry about fitting in is always a bonus in my books.
Ingredients
Kraft Macaroni and Cheese
Kraft Tex Mex shredded cheese mix
Salsa
Meat (I’ve used caned Tune or fried ground beef)
Sour Cream for topping (I use light plain yogurt. When it is on hot food, it tastes just like sour cream and it’s better for you.)
How to make it
Cook the macaroni according to the directions on the box.
Add the Tex Mex cheese (mix it in until melted)
Take off burner and add Salsa (mix well)
Add meat
Serve and top with extra cheese and sour cream
Enjoy.
Note: Depending on how hot you like your food, a can of chopped green chili adds a bit of punch.
Ingredients
Kraft Macaroni and Cheese
Kraft Tex Mex shredded cheese mix
Salsa
Meat (I’ve used caned Tune or fried ground beef)
Sour Cream for topping (I use light plain yogurt. When it is on hot food, it tastes just like sour cream and it’s better for you.)
How to make it
Cook the macaroni according to the directions on the box.
Add the Tex Mex cheese (mix it in until melted)
Take off burner and add Salsa (mix well)
Add meat
Serve and top with extra cheese and sour cream
Enjoy.
Note: Depending on how hot you like your food, a can of chopped green chili adds a bit of punch.
Brought to you by Overwhelmed with Joy.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
It never hurts to have a little heart
Congratulations to Doodles! Only 37 minutes ago we got the call. The big news.
He did it. Did what? He made an interlock team in hockey. He kept praying for it. Hoping for it. Wishing for it. Dreaming about it. Now…He did it.
I’m so proud of him.
Congratulations my little boy. I kept hoping that all your hard work would pay off, that somebody would see your hunger and your passion. Doing your best paid off and you’ve made it little guy. Keep it up and you might just be an NHL Goalie one day.
It’s better to dream big than to never dream at all.
He did it. Did what? He made an interlock team in hockey. He kept praying for it. Hoping for it. Wishing for it. Dreaming about it. Now…He did it.
I’m so proud of him.
Congratulations my little boy. I kept hoping that all your hard work would pay off, that somebody would see your hunger and your passion. Doing your best paid off and you’ve made it little guy. Keep it up and you might just be an NHL Goalie one day.
It’s better to dream big than to never dream at all.
Mr. Magoo is missing his brain...Reward if Found
I promise, this entry does have a point. It’s like some movies…you have to get past the beginning before there seems to be any relevant connection.
I was talking with another mom on the walk home from school today; my boys were walking ahead of me. I can see them from across the road. Then I notice something odd. I apologize to the other mom and tell her that I have to leave now. There is Mr. Magoo standing with his legs apart, pants open, by the tree on the boulevard in front of our house. He was about to take a pee. Right there. In the front yard. He is seven for crying out load. Shouldn’t he know better? I have to be honest though, part of me couldn’t help but laugh. I mean when you have to go, you have to go. Sometimes I wish that it was as easy for girls as it is for boys.
I asked him what made him think that he could pee in front of the house on the tree.
“I had to go. Dogs do it.”
Hum, simple answer…Only I didn’t realize that he was dog.
Mr. Magoo has been acting a bit odd lately. I can’t place it. I wish that I could put my finger on it…I just know that something is off. Hubby would likely tell me that I am reading too much into things. That I am seeing signs that aren't signs at all. But what Hubby doesn't realize, is that I've been there. I was Mr. Magoo. I have to trust my mothering intuition. It's all I've got. Besides, I'd rather be wrong than miss something all together.
A few days ago, or maybe it was late last week (time seems to run together now that I am not working), we were working on homework. He was struggling a bit. School doesn’t come easy for him. Boy can I ever relate to that. Anyway, I asked him to put his thinking cap on. His reply was this,
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“My brain went on vacation.”
How do you not laugh at that? I asked him to please call his brain. Ask it to come back so we could get the work done. He smiled and gave me a little nod. We started working again. He was really unfocused. Fair enough. He’s seven. He doesn’t want to be doing homework, but we needed to get it done.
“So, is you brain back?”
“Yup.” Slight pause. “Well, half of it is. The other half is on a really long walk.”
So there I am, totally laughing. I mean how cute of an answer is that. I even wrote it down so I’d also remember it. You know one of those things that I can share with him when he’s older. (I shared it with Hubby, with my Kindred Spirit and his teacher. I mean it was so cute and so very creative.) We put the homework away. Sometimes it’s just better to take a break.
The thing is, while I thought it was cute, he keeps bringing it up. The first few times, I thought he was doing it to get a laugh out of me again…but as he’s been saying it more and more I’ve been watching the body language and listening closely to the tone.
Tonight we were talking at the dinner table and he said it again. Half his brain was on vacation. Apparently in Mexico. I asked him if he needed help getting it back. To which he responded that it wasn’t ready yet. I of course probed some more. Trying to figure out when and why his brain left. It turns out that he didn’t like having to bring work home. It makes him feel like he is lazy in class when he really does try his hardest. So, he thought that it’s just easier for his brain to be away than to really try.
Did I mention he is only seven? Such complex thoughts. I suggested that maybe he bring his brain home from vacation. He could use all his brain, do his best, be as smart as dad, Doodles and I know he is and maybe save some of the time it takes to do any homework that might have to come home. He smiled.
“That might work.”
I sighed with relief.
“The only thing is, it might have to go for a walk at recesses.”
Apparently we weren’t done. There was more bothering him. “Why is that?”
“So people laugh at me because I want them to.”
I wonder why we are back to that? We haven’t been there in a long time. Maybe it’s just part of the back to school adjustment still. Mr. Magoo trying to find his place. He’s been doing so much better with me at home. I don’t want him to slip. But something is up. He’s been very clinging. He’s been very rude. He’s somehow off balance. Does that make sense?
I figure tomorrow I’ll just check with his teachers to see if maybe something happened in class. I doubt that it was any one thing, but you never know. My little boy. So special. Such a great imagination.
He has asked for your help. He’d like to me to tell you that his brain is officially missing and there is a reward if found. Now, I don’t know what that reward would be…but if I were to guess I would say it is the satisfaction of knowing that you helped a little boy find himself again.
I was talking with another mom on the walk home from school today; my boys were walking ahead of me. I can see them from across the road. Then I notice something odd. I apologize to the other mom and tell her that I have to leave now. There is Mr. Magoo standing with his legs apart, pants open, by the tree on the boulevard in front of our house. He was about to take a pee. Right there. In the front yard. He is seven for crying out load. Shouldn’t he know better? I have to be honest though, part of me couldn’t help but laugh. I mean when you have to go, you have to go. Sometimes I wish that it was as easy for girls as it is for boys.
I asked him what made him think that he could pee in front of the house on the tree.
“I had to go. Dogs do it.”
Hum, simple answer…Only I didn’t realize that he was dog.
Mr. Magoo has been acting a bit odd lately. I can’t place it. I wish that I could put my finger on it…I just know that something is off. Hubby would likely tell me that I am reading too much into things. That I am seeing signs that aren't signs at all. But what Hubby doesn't realize, is that I've been there. I was Mr. Magoo. I have to trust my mothering intuition. It's all I've got. Besides, I'd rather be wrong than miss something all together.
A few days ago, or maybe it was late last week (time seems to run together now that I am not working), we were working on homework. He was struggling a bit. School doesn’t come easy for him. Boy can I ever relate to that. Anyway, I asked him to put his thinking cap on. His reply was this,
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“My brain went on vacation.”
How do you not laugh at that? I asked him to please call his brain. Ask it to come back so we could get the work done. He smiled and gave me a little nod. We started working again. He was really unfocused. Fair enough. He’s seven. He doesn’t want to be doing homework, but we needed to get it done.
“So, is you brain back?”
“Yup.” Slight pause. “Well, half of it is. The other half is on a really long walk.”
So there I am, totally laughing. I mean how cute of an answer is that. I even wrote it down so I’d also remember it. You know one of those things that I can share with him when he’s older. (I shared it with Hubby, with my Kindred Spirit and his teacher. I mean it was so cute and so very creative.) We put the homework away. Sometimes it’s just better to take a break.
The thing is, while I thought it was cute, he keeps bringing it up. The first few times, I thought he was doing it to get a laugh out of me again…but as he’s been saying it more and more I’ve been watching the body language and listening closely to the tone.
Tonight we were talking at the dinner table and he said it again. Half his brain was on vacation. Apparently in Mexico. I asked him if he needed help getting it back. To which he responded that it wasn’t ready yet. I of course probed some more. Trying to figure out when and why his brain left. It turns out that he didn’t like having to bring work home. It makes him feel like he is lazy in class when he really does try his hardest. So, he thought that it’s just easier for his brain to be away than to really try.
Did I mention he is only seven? Such complex thoughts. I suggested that maybe he bring his brain home from vacation. He could use all his brain, do his best, be as smart as dad, Doodles and I know he is and maybe save some of the time it takes to do any homework that might have to come home. He smiled.
“That might work.”
I sighed with relief.
“The only thing is, it might have to go for a walk at recesses.”
Apparently we weren’t done. There was more bothering him. “Why is that?”
“So people laugh at me because I want them to.”
I wonder why we are back to that? We haven’t been there in a long time. Maybe it’s just part of the back to school adjustment still. Mr. Magoo trying to find his place. He’s been doing so much better with me at home. I don’t want him to slip. But something is up. He’s been very clinging. He’s been very rude. He’s somehow off balance. Does that make sense?
I figure tomorrow I’ll just check with his teachers to see if maybe something happened in class. I doubt that it was any one thing, but you never know. My little boy. So special. Such a great imagination.
He has asked for your help. He’d like to me to tell you that his brain is officially missing and there is a reward if found. Now, I don’t know what that reward would be…but if I were to guess I would say it is the satisfaction of knowing that you helped a little boy find himself again.
Thursday Thirteen - Edition #4 ~ Mommy is sick, but she still loves you
That is what my boys have grown up with. That is all my boys have ever known. We’ve never tried to hide it. We’ve never tried to make excuses for it. We’ve never lied about it. My boys know that sometimes mommy gets stuck in happy, sad or mad. My boys know that sometime mommy yells for no reason. My boys know that sometimes mommy’s mouth, mind and heart aren’t working together. But my boys also know that they are my number one priority. Most importantly, my boys know that I love them.
Dear Little Doodles,
There are so many reasons why I love you. There are so many things I wish that I could say, but I can’t always find the words.
Thirteen Things that I love about you Doodles.
(Added at 2:31 - I fixed the link to his post at the bottom. Sorry. Blogger has been giving me problems all morning. Right now it won't let me add my comments waiting to be moderated.)
Dear Little Doodles,
There are so many reasons why I love you. There are so many things I wish that I could say, but I can’t always find the words.
Thirteen Things that I love about you Doodles.
(Added at 2:31 - I fixed the link to his post at the bottom. Sorry. Blogger has been giving me problems all morning. Right now it won't let me add my comments waiting to be moderated.)
- I love that he is so serious. (But in a good way. He seeks knowledge. He looks for answers. He believes in himself.)
- I love that he his so passionate about hockey. (He told me that he was born to be an NHL goalie)
- I love that he enjoys reading so much.
- I love that he sits with me in bed sometimes and brushes my hair.
- I love that he is so compassionate.
- I love that he doesn't care what people think of him. (He won the who is the craziest person contest at school - he ate ladybugs and stuff.)
- I love that he puts up with his little brother even when he doesn't want to.
- I love that he can get along with people of all ages.
- I love that he watches Y&R with me.
- I love that he enjoys school. (Math, Gym and Science are his favourites.)
- I love that he is eager to learn about almost everything. He never gives up.
- I love that when he is focused or really concentrating he sticks his tongue out.
- I love that even at eight he still twirls his hair when he is tiered.
So many things to love. I am truly blessed. Please help to show Doodles what a special little guy he is, but leaving him a comment on
his entry. I know that it doesn’t really say much, but he had so much fun writing it and he looks forward to reading the comments.
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I truly am Overwhelmed with Joy
If you look at my daily reads, you’ll see one called Overwhelmed with Joy. The writer invites you into her home and takes you through her day. Her writing style is very warming and you always leave with a smile. There are lot of lessons to learn in life.Overwhelmed with Joyhas a positive outlook on all of them, even when she is seeking advice. I also like to see what she is cooking for dinner, reading, or watching on TV. I mean what better way to find out what is good than by getting a reference from someone else.
I quickly came across her Five Ingredient Friday. I was hocked. This is an excellent way to get meal ideas, especially for non-cookers like me. I encourage all of you to check it out. I also think that Overwhelmed should consider collecting the recipes for a cookbook. I’m sure many bloggers would be interested in it.
Outside of her blog. She has been somewhat of a blogging mentor for me. Offering advice and feedback through not only comments on my blog but also via emails. I’ve definitely found myself a new friend.
I am thrilled to say that she has chose to highlight my blog this week as part of her Blog of the Week. Wow!!! It means so much to me. Thank you so much Overwhelmed. I truly am grateful.
I hope you will stop by her sight to see my interview and to thank her for helping to reduce the stigma of mental illness.
I quickly came across her Five Ingredient Friday. I was hocked. This is an excellent way to get meal ideas, especially for non-cookers like me. I encourage all of you to check it out. I also think that Overwhelmed should consider collecting the recipes for a cookbook. I’m sure many bloggers would be interested in it.
Outside of her blog. She has been somewhat of a blogging mentor for me. Offering advice and feedback through not only comments on my blog but also via emails. I’ve definitely found myself a new friend.
I am thrilled to say that she has chose to highlight my blog this week as part of her Blog of the Week. Wow!!! It means so much to me. Thank you so much Overwhelmed. I truly am grateful.
I hope you will stop by her sight to see my interview and to thank her for helping to reduce the stigma of mental illness.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Liar or Fortune Teller
I think I like to lie, well not lie, but stretch the truth. Not even that I like to lie, I just sort of do it. I don’t even know if I’m aware of it half the time. It comes naturally just like the many masks that I wear. Part of the pretending I suppose. Part of wanting something other than what it.
I’m just not very good at saying no. Not that that makes it okay to lie; it’s just that telling that little white lie seems easier. Am I making any sense?
On Monday the school called to see if I could do lunch time supervision. I told them I already had a meeting. Truth was that I just didn’t want to do. I signed up to do it occasionally not all the time. I mean I’m already doing tomorrow, and I did a day last week. Then later that morning I started to feel sick, in fact I ended up with a slight fever. Was I being punished for my little white lie? How hard would it have been to say, “sorry not today.” I mean did I even have to give a reason. It shouldn’t matter why.
On Tuesday the school called again to see if I could do lunch time supervision. I’d already told my Kindred Spirit that we would spend the day together, but I’m sure she wouldn’t have minded if I only spent half a day. So, what did I tell the school? You guessed it, sorry I have a meeting. Why? Why do I do this? Is it because I don’t want to let people down? Is it to help me feel busy? Maybe I want them to think that I am important.
Tuesday evening I was supposed to go to an event. I am the Past Chair of a volunteer board. I’ve never felt like I belong on the committee. I’ve never felt like part of the group. It’s really brought me down. Anyway, I haven’t felt like going. More so lately because I am no longer working full time, so there doesn’t seem to be fit. I sent out an email saying that Hubby was going to be home late, and given the fact that I had to leave early anyway to attend my school meeting, there was no longer any point in me going. Well, Hubby did in fact end up coming home a bit later than normal, so it wasn’t a total lie. Maybe I actually saw into the future. I was letting them know in advance so they weren’t stuck waiting for me to help with set-up. That was a good thing, wasn’t it? Funny how the mind will try to rationalize things that we know are wrong.
But why should I have to go? I know that I am the Past Chair, but we all have lives outside of the committee. The problem is that I didn’t even go to the last executive meeting. I was using the time to get my assignment done. Important, yes. But could I have taken a couple of hours to go to the meeting – yes. Only why?
Why should I go when I don’t believe that I have anything to offer the group? None of them take me very seriously. They have the plan set out and my vision is so different from their vision. See - me against them - Black and White. No Gray!!! But this is a volunteer commitment and I hate it, so what is the point. Why should I bring myself down?
In the past the meetings have always been unorganized and lacked focus. Yes, even when I chaired. I never felt like I had the control to begin with. Things that we discuss seem to be pushed out the window, and it is more about dollars than it is about attracting the right people to the events. Even holding the right events for that matter. It felt like a bit of a waste of time. I’ve drafted welcome member letters, sponsorship ideas and more…none of it used. We discussed having an informal meeting at my house this summer to encourage volunteers to join the board. We all agreed that they should get to know the group before joining the committee. So anyone who emailed expressing interest in volunteering, I replied that we were having a meeting, likely in August. No meeting and we now have a new person on our board. What about the two people I’d recruited? Now I feel silly. The current Chair has assured me that she will follow-up with them, but that’s not really the point. Sorry, I’m getting mad just thinking about it. But mad over what? Because things didn’t go my way?
To make matters worse, I now have some bitterness. Every year there is an executive meeting out of town. In the past it has been the Past Chair and the Chair who’ve gone. The Past Chair is there to talk about the past year and the Chair is there to talk about the coming year. If a third person is allowed, it may be the Vice-chair, the Treasurer or someone else depending on the focus of the meeting.
This year as part of the conference they are also having the 15th anniversary party. I was really looking forward to going. There are some fabulous women. Plus, outside of my role as Chair, I sat on some phone conferences to help plan the anniversary party and edited a few documents. I wanted to see how it all come together. I think that national should have extended me an invitation as a thank you for volunteering on that committee as well. I think they should have extended that offer to all the committee volunteers. Isn’t that just part of being professional? Mind you, don’t get me started on professionalism. Even national doesn’t meet deadlines or follow through on what is promised.
Maybe that is part of it. The lack of work ethic. The lack of understanding and professionalism. I mean come on people. Is it that hard to get it together? 110%, that is what we’re supposed to give. Ok, so that’s not a realistic expectation of everyone, part of my problem I know.
I just thought it would be nice to debrief my year as the Chair. At the last meeting, which remember I chose not to attend, it was decided that the Chair, Vice-chair and Membership Chair would all go. What about ME!!! Why was I not on that list? Is it because I skipped out on this meeting? Am I being punished? Why was the Vice-chair going? I mean I know that this group is her baby and she’s having a hard time letting it go, part of the reason I didn’t enjoy my year as chair, but still. I wanted to be there.
I know that I didn’t go to the meeting. I know that I shouldn’t complain. Who knows if I would have stood up for what I wanted in front of the group. Maybe I don’t even deserve to be there. I mean I’m willingly pulling back. I just feel undervalued. Unappreciated. I feel like I was deliberately stabbed in the back. Now I know that this likely isn’t true, but it hurt anyways. Why is it that the things I really look forward to somehow don’t seem to happen? Breath…talk about generalization here.
When I found out who was going, I sent the following email to our current Chair. I likely should have waited until I’d calmed down a bit, but at the same time she needed to know that I was upset:
In the past we have always had the Past Chair, Chair and Vice Chair (or when we could only send two it was the Past Chair and Chair - wow what a surprise for me! Given that I had helped national with the initial planning for the 15th Anniversary (outside of my position as Chapter Chair) I was really looking forward to attending. Given that I was unable to attend today's meeting can you please let me know why this changed?
So, she replied,
At our Chapter Conference Call in August we were told that the Chair, Vice Chair and Membership Chair goes to Conference. I will talk to JL on Monday and ask her why the Past Chair is not going this year and get back to you.
This was dated September 8th. I am still waiting. I know I could contact her myself, but why should I have too. I wasn’t on the Chapter Call in August. I don’t even recall hearing about it. Very odd, because technically I was Chair until September 1st. Likely some silly oversight, but whatever. I can see them asking for the Chair and the Membership Chair, but why the Vice Chair? In the past they’ve only ever stated two positions that need to be there. They tell you if you’d like a third to put in a request. Hum. See, here I go, reading things into something that should be nothing. But to me it’s not nothing. I feel like I was slighted.
They have a meeting next week. Guess what? I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go because I am angry. I don’t want to go because I think it will be a waste of my time. But I think that I should go. I know that I should go. Hubby told me not to, “Why bother.” Well, because when I agreed to be Vice-Chair, I knew that meant being Chair and then Past Chair. Because it is a commitment that I need to follow-up with. Finish my term and then move on. But all I can do is try to think up some silly white lie about why I can’t go. How bad is that? I even found myself hoping that I’ll get sick so I don’t have to go. The problem is…my luck I’ll end up getting sick this weekend for my mom’s birthday part, which I’m hosting. That’s how things work out for me. Maybe it’s karma. Who knows? But I mean, come on, who hasn’t told a little white lie?
I’m just not very good at saying no. Not that that makes it okay to lie; it’s just that telling that little white lie seems easier. Am I making any sense?
On Monday the school called to see if I could do lunch time supervision. I told them I already had a meeting. Truth was that I just didn’t want to do. I signed up to do it occasionally not all the time. I mean I’m already doing tomorrow, and I did a day last week. Then later that morning I started to feel sick, in fact I ended up with a slight fever. Was I being punished for my little white lie? How hard would it have been to say, “sorry not today.” I mean did I even have to give a reason. It shouldn’t matter why.
On Tuesday the school called again to see if I could do lunch time supervision. I’d already told my Kindred Spirit that we would spend the day together, but I’m sure she wouldn’t have minded if I only spent half a day. So, what did I tell the school? You guessed it, sorry I have a meeting. Why? Why do I do this? Is it because I don’t want to let people down? Is it to help me feel busy? Maybe I want them to think that I am important.
Tuesday evening I was supposed to go to an event. I am the Past Chair of a volunteer board. I’ve never felt like I belong on the committee. I’ve never felt like part of the group. It’s really brought me down. Anyway, I haven’t felt like going. More so lately because I am no longer working full time, so there doesn’t seem to be fit. I sent out an email saying that Hubby was going to be home late, and given the fact that I had to leave early anyway to attend my school meeting, there was no longer any point in me going. Well, Hubby did in fact end up coming home a bit later than normal, so it wasn’t a total lie. Maybe I actually saw into the future. I was letting them know in advance so they weren’t stuck waiting for me to help with set-up. That was a good thing, wasn’t it? Funny how the mind will try to rationalize things that we know are wrong.
But why should I have to go? I know that I am the Past Chair, but we all have lives outside of the committee. The problem is that I didn’t even go to the last executive meeting. I was using the time to get my assignment done. Important, yes. But could I have taken a couple of hours to go to the meeting – yes. Only why?
Why should I go when I don’t believe that I have anything to offer the group? None of them take me very seriously. They have the plan set out and my vision is so different from their vision. See - me against them - Black and White. No Gray!!! But this is a volunteer commitment and I hate it, so what is the point. Why should I bring myself down?
In the past the meetings have always been unorganized and lacked focus. Yes, even when I chaired. I never felt like I had the control to begin with. Things that we discuss seem to be pushed out the window, and it is more about dollars than it is about attracting the right people to the events. Even holding the right events for that matter. It felt like a bit of a waste of time. I’ve drafted welcome member letters, sponsorship ideas and more…none of it used. We discussed having an informal meeting at my house this summer to encourage volunteers to join the board. We all agreed that they should get to know the group before joining the committee. So anyone who emailed expressing interest in volunteering, I replied that we were having a meeting, likely in August. No meeting and we now have a new person on our board. What about the two people I’d recruited? Now I feel silly. The current Chair has assured me that she will follow-up with them, but that’s not really the point. Sorry, I’m getting mad just thinking about it. But mad over what? Because things didn’t go my way?
To make matters worse, I now have some bitterness. Every year there is an executive meeting out of town. In the past it has been the Past Chair and the Chair who’ve gone. The Past Chair is there to talk about the past year and the Chair is there to talk about the coming year. If a third person is allowed, it may be the Vice-chair, the Treasurer or someone else depending on the focus of the meeting.
This year as part of the conference they are also having the 15th anniversary party. I was really looking forward to going. There are some fabulous women. Plus, outside of my role as Chair, I sat on some phone conferences to help plan the anniversary party and edited a few documents. I wanted to see how it all come together. I think that national should have extended me an invitation as a thank you for volunteering on that committee as well. I think they should have extended that offer to all the committee volunteers. Isn’t that just part of being professional? Mind you, don’t get me started on professionalism. Even national doesn’t meet deadlines or follow through on what is promised.
Maybe that is part of it. The lack of work ethic. The lack of understanding and professionalism. I mean come on people. Is it that hard to get it together? 110%, that is what we’re supposed to give. Ok, so that’s not a realistic expectation of everyone, part of my problem I know.
I just thought it would be nice to debrief my year as the Chair. At the last meeting, which remember I chose not to attend, it was decided that the Chair, Vice-chair and Membership Chair would all go. What about ME!!! Why was I not on that list? Is it because I skipped out on this meeting? Am I being punished? Why was the Vice-chair going? I mean I know that this group is her baby and she’s having a hard time letting it go, part of the reason I didn’t enjoy my year as chair, but still. I wanted to be there.
I know that I didn’t go to the meeting. I know that I shouldn’t complain. Who knows if I would have stood up for what I wanted in front of the group. Maybe I don’t even deserve to be there. I mean I’m willingly pulling back. I just feel undervalued. Unappreciated. I feel like I was deliberately stabbed in the back. Now I know that this likely isn’t true, but it hurt anyways. Why is it that the things I really look forward to somehow don’t seem to happen? Breath…talk about generalization here.
When I found out who was going, I sent the following email to our current Chair. I likely should have waited until I’d calmed down a bit, but at the same time she needed to know that I was upset:
In the past we have always had the Past Chair, Chair and Vice Chair (or when we could only send two it was the Past Chair and Chair - wow what a surprise for me! Given that I had helped national with the initial planning for the 15th Anniversary (outside of my position as Chapter Chair) I was really looking forward to attending. Given that I was unable to attend today's meeting can you please let me know why this changed?
So, she replied,
At our Chapter Conference Call in August we were told that the Chair, Vice Chair and Membership Chair goes to Conference. I will talk to JL on Monday and ask her why the Past Chair is not going this year and get back to you.
This was dated September 8th. I am still waiting. I know I could contact her myself, but why should I have too. I wasn’t on the Chapter Call in August. I don’t even recall hearing about it. Very odd, because technically I was Chair until September 1st. Likely some silly oversight, but whatever. I can see them asking for the Chair and the Membership Chair, but why the Vice Chair? In the past they’ve only ever stated two positions that need to be there. They tell you if you’d like a third to put in a request. Hum. See, here I go, reading things into something that should be nothing. But to me it’s not nothing. I feel like I was slighted.
They have a meeting next week. Guess what? I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go because I am angry. I don’t want to go because I think it will be a waste of my time. But I think that I should go. I know that I should go. Hubby told me not to, “Why bother.” Well, because when I agreed to be Vice-Chair, I knew that meant being Chair and then Past Chair. Because it is a commitment that I need to follow-up with. Finish my term and then move on. But all I can do is try to think up some silly white lie about why I can’t go. How bad is that? I even found myself hoping that I’ll get sick so I don’t have to go. The problem is…my luck I’ll end up getting sick this weekend for my mom’s birthday part, which I’m hosting. That’s how things work out for me. Maybe it’s karma. Who knows? But I mean, come on, who hasn’t told a little white lie?
Memories and Innocence
There was a lovely layer of frost on the grass this morning as we walked to school. Sort of magical. The boys were both excited, hoping that it means snow is on the way. When do we lose this innocence? When do we start hating the word snow? Is it because we learn to connect snow with cold and shoveling? Who knows?
What about the other things that snow means? I mean I think of snow and I think of snow angels. Cuddling by the fireplace. Snowmen and snowball fights. Ice crystals on the trees. I think of snow and I see beauty. I long for the days of childhood laughter. The hot chocolate or apple cider that warms homes and hearts.
I long to find memories that seem to be somehow misfiled within. Did I lose them on purpose? Do I fear them? Fear that by remembering them I will wonder what changed. Fear that I will never have them again.
It is time to say goodbye to those memories. Let them melt into the ground like the frost. As the fog rolls in it comes a fresh start. A chance to make new memories. Moments to be filled not in the mind, but in the heart.
What about the other things that snow means? I mean I think of snow and I think of snow angels. Cuddling by the fireplace. Snowmen and snowball fights. Ice crystals on the trees. I think of snow and I see beauty. I long for the days of childhood laughter. The hot chocolate or apple cider that warms homes and hearts.
I long to find memories that seem to be somehow misfiled within. Did I lose them on purpose? Do I fear them? Fear that by remembering them I will wonder what changed. Fear that I will never have them again.
It is time to say goodbye to those memories. Let them melt into the ground like the frost. As the fog rolls in it comes a fresh start. A chance to make new memories. Moments to be filled not in the mind, but in the heart.
Wordless Wednesday Three: Lost moments in time
Please only add your name if you have a Wordless Wednesday Post. Thanks. I look forward to looking at all your photos.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Blogging Troubles and More...
After watching Dr. Phil, I was going to blog about why I married my husband; however that has since changed.
Today was a really good day. Other than the fact that I can’t seem to get comments on my blog. Not that people aren't leaving them, just that I'm not getting them. A few people told me they left comments, and yet there were none to be moderated. I am also no longer able to update my Ping on Technorati. It says I last updated it 21 days ago, which we all know is not accurate. Has anyone else had either of these problems?
Plus, I can't seem to post pictures or photos. Isn't this supposed to be fun?
I spend today, and I mean all day, with my Kindred Spirit and had a blast. I love days like that. No worries. I went to her house and tried to get my Ping to update. We looked at our Avon catalogues. I could easily spend all my mommy on Avon. Silly addiction. We talked about sex and marriage. We ate lunch, turkey instead of tuna. We went to another friend’s house for a quick visit. We went to the dollar store. I got some more scrapbooking stuff. We went to the grocery store. We came back to my house. She looked at the valance I sewed yesterday morning and the scrapbook I finished yesterday of my trip to South Africa. I drove her home.
I went to my first School Parent Council meeting and of course am now looking into a number of things. I’m even holding a meeting at my house on Monday afternoon. This is me, trying to keep busy. Trying to fit in and belong.
I then very excitedly sat down to watch the Season Primier of Gilmore Girls. It’s like the one show that I’ve been looking forward to all summer. I’ve been watching it since season one.
Anyway, somehow the VCR was set up wrong and it didn’t record properly. Who knows why these things happen, but they do. (Hey that was great, normally I would say who knows why things happen to me, but I didn’t). I called for Hubby to come down and check it out. Knowing that there would be nothing he could do. But sometimes there are things that I overlook.
“I thought you said you checked it?” I ask him. Just double checking.
“I did.” He snaps back. Did I say it in the wrong tone?
I start to cry. I’m upset that the show didn’t record. As I said it is the one thing that I was looking forward to all summer. I LOVE this show. Well apparently he thinks I’m crying because I’m mad at him. The next things I know he is yelling at me. YELLING at me. For what? For being upset that my show didn’t record. I’m suddenly not allowed to cry when I’m upset. What?
Well when someone yells at me, I yell back.
“Why are you yelling at me? I’m not allowed to be upset?”
“For getting mad at me.”
“Getting mad at you? I didn’t even say anything to you. I’m upset that the show didn’t record, am I not allowed to be upset?”
“I told you I checked it.”
He’s still yelling. WHY??? I’m too annoyed to even understand what he is saying. This is what I do. I blank it out. I know even less about what I am saying back. My tone changes to sarcasm. “This time you can deal with your son because of the yelling. I’m tiered of cleaning up your messes.” Ok, probably not the best thing to say, but he did start it.
“Oh, it’s always my messes isn’t it?”
“You’re the one who started yelling at me for no reason.” Because of you course I’ve never done it. Silence. This is a good queue that I have crossed the line. That I need to calm down and try to find my rational brain. I don’t think I have one for this situation. I’m not wrong to be upset that my show didn’t record. He has no right to yell at me. Do I sound like a silly child? I think I do a bit.
He fiddles around with the TV a bit more, flipping through the guide to see if it’s on again later. I sit, now to mad to even cry. I want to cry. Crying helps, but there are no tears. Just heat in the face.
“I’ll go see if I can download it for you.” And he leaves the room.
I sit and listen to the show. No picture, just a fuzzy screen with the words Unusable Signal in the middle. Obviously when he checked it, he forgot to switch something. I mean I saw the starting credits, then nothing. I know, I know, no point in blaming now, but did I mention that I LOVE Gilmore Girls. That all summer I have been waiting for this season premier.
On another note, please leave a comment for Doodles. The boys love to read them.
Also, please vote for How Would you Describe my Blog. I would like to get as many votes as possible.
Today was a really good day. Other than the fact that I can’t seem to get comments on my blog. Not that people aren't leaving them, just that I'm not getting them. A few people told me they left comments, and yet there were none to be moderated. I am also no longer able to update my Ping on Technorati. It says I last updated it 21 days ago, which we all know is not accurate. Has anyone else had either of these problems?
Plus, I can't seem to post pictures or photos. Isn't this supposed to be fun?
I spend today, and I mean all day, with my Kindred Spirit and had a blast. I love days like that. No worries. I went to her house and tried to get my Ping to update. We looked at our Avon catalogues. I could easily spend all my mommy on Avon. Silly addiction. We talked about sex and marriage. We ate lunch, turkey instead of tuna. We went to another friend’s house for a quick visit. We went to the dollar store. I got some more scrapbooking stuff. We went to the grocery store. We came back to my house. She looked at the valance I sewed yesterday morning and the scrapbook I finished yesterday of my trip to South Africa. I drove her home.
I went to my first School Parent Council meeting and of course am now looking into a number of things. I’m even holding a meeting at my house on Monday afternoon. This is me, trying to keep busy. Trying to fit in and belong.
I then very excitedly sat down to watch the Season Primier of Gilmore Girls. It’s like the one show that I’ve been looking forward to all summer. I’ve been watching it since season one.
Anyway, somehow the VCR was set up wrong and it didn’t record properly. Who knows why these things happen, but they do. (Hey that was great, normally I would say who knows why things happen to me, but I didn’t). I called for Hubby to come down and check it out. Knowing that there would be nothing he could do. But sometimes there are things that I overlook.
“I thought you said you checked it?” I ask him. Just double checking.
“I did.” He snaps back. Did I say it in the wrong tone?
I start to cry. I’m upset that the show didn’t record. As I said it is the one thing that I was looking forward to all summer. I LOVE this show. Well apparently he thinks I’m crying because I’m mad at him. The next things I know he is yelling at me. YELLING at me. For what? For being upset that my show didn’t record. I’m suddenly not allowed to cry when I’m upset. What?
Well when someone yells at me, I yell back.
“Why are you yelling at me? I’m not allowed to be upset?”
“For getting mad at me.”
“Getting mad at you? I didn’t even say anything to you. I’m upset that the show didn’t record, am I not allowed to be upset?”
“I told you I checked it.”
He’s still yelling. WHY??? I’m too annoyed to even understand what he is saying. This is what I do. I blank it out. I know even less about what I am saying back. My tone changes to sarcasm. “This time you can deal with your son because of the yelling. I’m tiered of cleaning up your messes.” Ok, probably not the best thing to say, but he did start it.
“Oh, it’s always my messes isn’t it?”
“You’re the one who started yelling at me for no reason.” Because of you course I’ve never done it. Silence. This is a good queue that I have crossed the line. That I need to calm down and try to find my rational brain. I don’t think I have one for this situation. I’m not wrong to be upset that my show didn’t record. He has no right to yell at me. Do I sound like a silly child? I think I do a bit.
He fiddles around with the TV a bit more, flipping through the guide to see if it’s on again later. I sit, now to mad to even cry. I want to cry. Crying helps, but there are no tears. Just heat in the face.
“I’ll go see if I can download it for you.” And he leaves the room.
I sit and listen to the show. No picture, just a fuzzy screen with the words Unusable Signal in the middle. Obviously when he checked it, he forgot to switch something. I mean I saw the starting credits, then nothing. I know, I know, no point in blaming now, but did I mention that I LOVE Gilmore Girls. That all summer I have been waiting for this season premier.
On another note, please leave a comment for Doodles. The boys love to read them.
Also, please vote for How Would you Describe my Blog. I would like to get as many votes as possible.
Monday, September 25, 2006
What Doodles Has to Say - Second Edition
Hi, remember me Doodles?
Thanks for commenting on my last post. I can't to read what you have to say this time.
I've had hockey tryouts and mommy and daddy and Mr. Magoo came. It was nice to have them there. Hockey is the best! It is the best sport. I mean it. Daddy is nice. He takes me to hockey and helps me to tie up my skates.
I like rocks and minerals. I have two books about them. I have lots of samples.
Mommy isn't feeling well tonight. She has a slight fever. Poor mommy.
Mommy cooked a good supper tonight, but Mr. Magoo didn't like it. When no one was looking, except me, he dumped it in the garbage. So then I asked mommy if she said he was allowed, and she said no.
Tomorrow my friend is coming over. Now that mom is home we can have play dates. I like that. Maybe on Friday my other friend can come over. We'll have to wait and see. There is a party at our house on Saturday for Granny. So the house has to be clean. But I told mom that we would just play fuse-ball or gameboy. Those don't make a mess. Do they? Maybe, but I would help to clean it up.
Dad was right, and so I can now have cappuccinos. That is great. I like the French vanilla kind from Tim Horton's. My dad had to pour some of his coffee in so it would taste better though.
Bye. Good night. I am about to read to my mom and brother. Maybe tonight dad will listen too!
Thanks for commenting on my last post. I can't to read what you have to say this time.
I've had hockey tryouts and mommy and daddy and Mr. Magoo came. It was nice to have them there. Hockey is the best! It is the best sport. I mean it. Daddy is nice. He takes me to hockey and helps me to tie up my skates.
I like rocks and minerals. I have two books about them. I have lots of samples.
Mommy isn't feeling well tonight. She has a slight fever. Poor mommy.
Mommy cooked a good supper tonight, but Mr. Magoo didn't like it. When no one was looking, except me, he dumped it in the garbage. So then I asked mommy if she said he was allowed, and she said no.
Tomorrow my friend is coming over. Now that mom is home we can have play dates. I like that. Maybe on Friday my other friend can come over. We'll have to wait and see. There is a party at our house on Saturday for Granny. So the house has to be clean. But I told mom that we would just play fuse-ball or gameboy. Those don't make a mess. Do they? Maybe, but I would help to clean it up.
Dad was right, and so I can now have cappuccinos. That is great. I like the French vanilla kind from Tim Horton's. My dad had to pour some of his coffee in so it would taste better though.
Bye. Good night. I am about to read to my mom and brother. Maybe tonight dad will listen too!
How would you describe my blog?
I am looking for some advice. I am planning to add my blog to a few more sites. Most of them require a description of 250 words. Which of the following would likely grab your attention:
- Everyday brings a new challenge. Every minute brings a new mood. Every experience adds to the journey. My boys melt my heart one moment, enrage it the next. My blog is a painfully honest account of my life as a parent with mental illness.
- Parenting is difficult and even harder if you suffer from a mental illness. Through my journey you will see that you are not alone and gain insight into a stigmatized world. You will see what the world is like through the eyes of someone else.
- Parenting is difficult. Even harder if you suffer from a mental illness. I am a mother who suffers from Depression & Borderline Personality Disorder. Through my entries, you will see what the world is like through the eyes of someone else.
- Mommy is ill. Sometimes she gets really, really angry, for no reason. Don't worry. It's not your fault. It's the sickness. Now, just take a deep breath and blow it away. Using honest life struggles my blog sheds light into one of humanity's dark corners.
- Parenting with a mental illness is lonely and scary, but it shouldn’t have to be. This is my journey. My struggle with not just the world, but also myself.
- Character: Your average Mental Mommy ~ Weapons: Depression & Borderline Personality Disorder ~ Adventure: An honest journey through the joys and tribulations of parenting while trying to unscramble thoughts and conquer self-destructive patterns.
Or perhaps you have some other suggestion all together. Thanks in advance. I look forward to as many comments as possible.
If you’d like to help me gather feedback, I’d appreciate all the help I can get. The more people who read my blog, the more I can spread the word that having a mental illness is not something to be afraid of. That if you suffer from a mental illness you do not suffer alone. Together we can stop the stigma.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Love means - no apology required
Today was an ok day. I took it very easy this morning. In fact, I didn’t get out of my PJs until after 1:00pm. The only reason I got out of them at all was because we were heading out to the in-laws farms.
First stop was my father-in-law’s farm. He wasn’t there though. For some reason I found myself very car sick on the ride up. It tends to hit me every once in a while out of no where. As a kid I got it all the time, even on short drives around the city. Things that you should have in the car in case of car sickness:
First stop was my father-in-law’s farm. He wasn’t there though. For some reason I found myself very car sick on the ride up. It tends to hit me every once in a while out of no where. As a kid I got it all the time, even on short drives around the city. Things that you should have in the car in case of car sickness:
- A plastic bag
- Napkins
- Ginger beer (although ginger ail will do)
- Salt and Vinegar Chips (not sure why but they really do help settle the tummy)
We hung out there for a bit, while my tummy settled down. Hubby used the time to fill some buckets with rocks to bring back to our house. We have a bunch of regrading to do. By we, I mean the royal we: Hubby. When then stopped at a gas station to pick up some Salt and Vinegar Chips. We were then on our way to my mother-in-law’s farm. The boys were excited about being able to see their cousin. Our niece. It was actually a nice visit. I sound surprised because my step-father-in-law can be a really big ass at times. Today however he was not.
I will now update you on last night. So Hubby did start the movie, which wasn’t actually that smart of him. I mean I know that I told him to, but he should have said, “no I’ll wait for you.” Boy, it must be tough living with me, always having to read between the lines.
So, I went upstairs and I crawled into bed with Doodles. I apologized that he had to hear Hubby and I yelling. I told him I was wrong to call daddy an ass and to blame him for everything. I was just mad at him. Of course Doodles asked me why, and I suddenly knew.
I hate it when people point out my mistakes. I feel so imperfect and like such a failure already that I don’t like to be corrected. It makes me feel even stupider. It’s not that I can’t be wrong or make mistakes, it just depends on what is being corrected and by who.
I just needed Hubby to read the entry. Give me a simple smile or nod of the head and be done with it. Nothing else. It’s my blog. My space. Apparently I take it very personally. Besides I wrote the first entry in such a hurry. Hubby wanted to start the movie.
After cuddling with Doodles for a bit, I went to my room. I paced around for a bit. I wanted to hit myself on the forhead. Stupid. Stupid. I wanted to pull my hair. I resisted the urge. Instead I made two fists and I crawled into bed. Curled up into the fetal position. Buried my face in the covers. I cried. Just a soft cry, but I cried. I let it all out. My self hatred. My anger at Hubby. I just cried.
The worst part was that Hubby didn’t even come to see if I was okay. Rationally I know it was for the best. I would have cried harder. I would have found something to yell at him for. But I wanted him there. I wanted to know that I was more important than some movie. I wanted to know, rather see, that he loves me. That he forgives me. That everything is okay. I always expect forgiveness without the apology. I need to work on that.
I blew up at my mom on Wednesday night. I didn’t really think of it until now. It was silly really. But it happened. And like everything else, we move one and pretend it didn’t happen. Maybe that’s what love means - no apology required. (Okay, I don’t believe that, but it helps me to get through.)
We’d just registered Mr. Magoo for swimming lessons, and he was really mad. He didn’t like that Doodles wasn’t going.
Mr. Magoo is really close to my mom. I used to be jealous, but I guess it stands to reason. I’m also very close to my mom. She has a very calming effect. She has it all together. She represents so much of what I feel my life is missing. Anyway, as I was saying…I thought that if my mom came to watch his first class it might help. I knew before calling that she’d say no. Not because it isn’t important to her, but because she spends Saturday mornings with my dad. It is there couple time and has been for years. They go for walks together and have coffee. Knowing this didn’t stop me from making the call. Why would it? I wanted her at Mr. Magoo’s class. It was important to me. Me. Me. Me.
As expected she said no. She sounded very sorry and was truly apologetic. Do you think that was enough for me?
“That’s fine. I understand that Doodles’ hockey is more important to you.”
“Now that’s not fair. You know that Saturday mornings are important to your dad and me. If Doodles had a game on, I wouldn’t go to that either.”
“Yup. Look, I was just asking,” I say somewhat sarcastically. We both know that I was telling her to come and not actually asking. “I have to go now, bye.” This is what I do know. I hang up before things get even more out of hand. I know that if I stay on they will. I know that I’ll get really mad. I know that I’ll end up crying. I know that I will feel guilt and self-hatred. I know these signs and this pattern all to well.
Just thinking about it scares me. I’m not sure why? I mean I’ve been there before so many times. I just couldn’t stop shaking. I asked God to help me find my strength.
On another note, I was doing some research on insomnia in those who suffer from Borderline Personality Disorder. It certainly isn’t uncommon. I can’t help but wonder though if perhaps my problem is not insomnia at all, but rather Clinophobia.
Saturday, September 23, 2006
What I do
Feeling proud of my earlier post, I asked Hubby to read it while I went to kiss the boys good night. I'm not sure what I wanted him to say, but it certainly wasn't to have him correct a few minor errors, which I have now corrected. (So sorry if I didn't get them all. If you want perfect grammar, then you probably shouldn't read my blog.) It amazes me that after eleven years of marriage Hubby doesn't know when it's better to just say nothing at all.
Now of course I am fuming. I can feel the heat I am so mad. And over what? Why do I get like this? WHY??????????
Then poor Doodles came downstairs.
"I couldn't sleep."
"You just laid down."
"No, because of you guys yelling."
"Well, tell your dad to quit being an an ass."
So off he goes. Oh that was a great thing for me to say. Way to make dad the bad guy. Way to reassure your son that everything is okay.
Breath. I can feel the stupid tears. That terrible lump in the throat.
This is me. This who I am. This is what I do. I make mountains out of molehills. I make things bad.
Better go check on poor Doodles. Hubby can watch his movie alone.
Now of course I am fuming. I can feel the heat I am so mad. And over what? Why do I get like this? WHY??????????
Then poor Doodles came downstairs.
"I couldn't sleep."
"You just laid down."
"No, because of you guys yelling."
"Well, tell your dad to quit being an an ass."
So off he goes. Oh that was a great thing for me to say. Way to make dad the bad guy. Way to reassure your son that everything is okay.
Breath. I can feel the stupid tears. That terrible lump in the throat.
This is me. This who I am. This is what I do. I make mountains out of molehills. I make things bad.
Better go check on poor Doodles. Hubby can watch his movie alone.
Ask him yourself
Hubby wants me to write a quick blog so we can start the movie we rented; he has no appreciation for the art of blogging. HeHe!
Earlier today I had this great post in my mind, but it has since escaped me. I know that many of you can relate to that.
Mr. Magoo started his swimming lessons today. He didn’t whine which was good, but I wouldn’t exactly say that he tried very hard. I guess we need to take things one step at a time.
Doodles had his last hockey tryout. Now we sit and wait to see if he made the interlock team. For his sack I hope he did; for our sake I hope he didn’t. It already bothers me how much time and money takes up. Interlock only means more of both. (Sorry that is the selfish me talking.)
We went to see The Ballad of Ricky Bobby tonight. It was really good. I had a good laugh. I like movies that offer life lessons without totally spelling them out for you. Life really is about doing things for yourself, because you want to and not because someone else wants you too. I need to learn this lesson. Most of my life has been based on what I thought other people wanted or me in some why trying to rebel against what I thought they wanted.
The boys had a bit of a tiff on the way out. Heaven for bit we go out as a family and not have a moment. I guess that’s what makes it real. Poor Doodles ended up crying. He’s very sensitive when he’s tiered. I have no idea where he might get that from. (Aren’t I just so funny today.)
On the way home I asked if either of the boys would be racecar drivers. Both said no.
“There are other jobs that can make you money,” commented Mr. Magoo.
“Life isn’t about money you know,” I replied.
“It’s about love,” he stated. How awesome is that?
This turned into a discussion about how in life you need more than love to get by. Hubby wanted to know what you do with love and how you live on love. I then told the boys that life is about priorities. Only you can decide what is on top. Mr. Magoo asked me what dad has on top, so I told him to ask Hubby himself.
“Dad, what do you have on top?”
“You guys!”
Earlier today I had this great post in my mind, but it has since escaped me. I know that many of you can relate to that.
Mr. Magoo started his swimming lessons today. He didn’t whine which was good, but I wouldn’t exactly say that he tried very hard. I guess we need to take things one step at a time.
Doodles had his last hockey tryout. Now we sit and wait to see if he made the interlock team. For his sack I hope he did; for our sake I hope he didn’t. It already bothers me how much time and money takes up. Interlock only means more of both. (Sorry that is the selfish me talking.)
We went to see The Ballad of Ricky Bobby tonight. It was really good. I had a good laugh. I like movies that offer life lessons without totally spelling them out for you. Life really is about doing things for yourself, because you want to and not because someone else wants you too. I need to learn this lesson. Most of my life has been based on what I thought other people wanted or me in some why trying to rebel against what I thought they wanted.
The boys had a bit of a tiff on the way out. Heaven for bit we go out as a family and not have a moment. I guess that’s what makes it real. Poor Doodles ended up crying. He’s very sensitive when he’s tiered. I have no idea where he might get that from. (Aren’t I just so funny today.)
On the way home I asked if either of the boys would be racecar drivers. Both said no.
“There are other jobs that can make you money,” commented Mr. Magoo.
“Life isn’t about money you know,” I replied.
“It’s about love,” he stated. How awesome is that?
This turned into a discussion about how in life you need more than love to get by. Hubby wanted to know what you do with love and how you live on love. I then told the boys that life is about priorities. Only you can decide what is on top. Mr. Magoo asked me what dad has on top, so I told him to ask Hubby himself.
“Dad, what do you have on top?”
“You guys!”
Friday, September 22, 2006
I lost him...
Today was an okay day. I finished a project for my neighbour. I worked on some of my Avon stuff. I did some blogging. You’ll notice that I added some new links on the side. I really do encourage you to check out the blogs that I recommend. I truly enjoy them.
Today, I did my first lunch hour supervision at the boy’s school. On my way to the school I dropped the posters off at my neighbour’s house. She is home schooling. I admire that. I could never do it. She has three kids, 6,4 and 2. She also has one on the way and has just joined the lovely world of morning sickness. Boy I don’t miss that. After dropping of the posters, I headed towards the school.
I have very weak ankles. Thin bones or something. I was given a name for it once as a child, but who knows what it is. I can’t keep track of all my ailments. I also have high arches. Why am I telling you this? Well, I bet you didn’t know that about me yet. No seriously, as true as that might be, it is because when I stepped off the curb onto the road I twisted my ankle. A sudden sharp pain in my left ankle. Unable to put any pressure on it. Just perfect! This will be helpful while trying to watch the kids in the lunchroom and on the playground equipment.
So I hobble over to the school. I’m early. I’m also early. I can’t be late. It would buck me too much. I think I need time to adapt to the situation. To feel comfortable in the environment. Anyway, I sign all my papers, talk with the secretary, meet some of the other supervisors and get suited up with vest, first aid kit and radio. Very official.
I’ll start off in the lunchroom with the grade one students. This is perfect. A nice small group. They are so cute. I just have to help them with heat up their food, open things that they can’t open and make sure that their spot is clean before they leave. Then I will be responsible for supervising one little boy outside. Just sort of keep an eye on him.
Apparently it shouldn’t be me. I lost him! He went into the boy’s room. I tended to another little girl who was crying. I looked around. I called into the bathroom. He was gone. Okay, don’t panic yet. How far could he have gotten? Silly question I know. He’s a young boy. He moved fast.
I went to the classroom. I went to the lunchroom. I went to the playground.
Okay, maybe now is a good time to panic. I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to do this today. I still feel foggy. So I ask another supervisor if she’s seen him. She has. She asked him if he was cold because he didn’t have his jacket on. But where is he now. She has a quick look around. My heart is racing. Other students are coming up to me with problems. This one wants his turn on a swing. This one wants to go to the bathroom. AHHH!!! Too much stimulation. Too many demands. I need to find the little boy.
On a normal day multi-tasking would be fine. No problem. You talk, I’ll listen, I’ll help, I’ll keep looking. Not today. Today my head is still spinning. Things are still unclear. I’m tiered.
The other supervisor radio’s the others, “Brony has lost (). Can you please keep an eye out for him and let us know if you see him?”
Great now everyone knows what a failure I am. I have to find him. I have to help this little boy get his turn on the swing. He just won’t go away.
She’s waving at me. She’s found () Perfect. Why is this other boy still bugging me. I told him to wait his turn. So wait. I go over to () He’s smiling.
“There you are,” he says.
‘There I am.’ Me? He was the one who was missing. “You were supposed to go back and meet me in your classroom.”
He shrugs his shoulders, “Sometimes I forget.”
This makes me giggle. At least I’m not the only one. So I watch him and his friend’s play. Everyone once in awhile he comes to me and asks proudly to show me something. I wave to a few of the other kids who were in the lunchroom. I talk with a few of the kids from Mr. Magoo and Doodles’ classes. I watch the kids. I watch the games the play. I watch the groups they play with. I watch the ones who are alone. I take it all in.
The bell rings. () is off. I have to make sure everyone leaves the park. I have to watch (). Why are the other kids going so slow? One little boy left.
“Come on sweety. The bell rang.”
A gush of tears, “My castle is broken. Someone kicked in the hole.” Sniff! Sniff! “I spend all lunch hour building it.”
‘Suck it up kid,’ I wanna say. ‘I don’t have time for your little problems I already lost () once, I’m not about to do it again.’
He looks so sad. “Think how much fun you’ll have building it again tomorrow.” He looks at me. He looks at his castle. Most of the other kids are in. “We really do have to go now. The bell rang.”
‘And I have to make sure that () got to his classroom, so get over it already.’
We walk towards the door. He tries to smile at me as he heads off to his. Another supervisor stops me, “Part of watching () means making sure he get’s to his room.”
‘No kidding, thanks for telling me something I already know.’ Don’t you just wish that sometimes you could say these things. “I’m on my way,” I offer with a smile. “I just had to clear the playground first and there was a little guy who was crying.”
We shared a joke about wishing we could tell him to suck it up. That life is full of disappointment. I find myself laughing. It’s refreshing and somewhat comforting to know that I’m not the only one who has these thoughts.
I go into the school and hurry to his classroom. I’m sure he’s fine. He doesn’t need to be watched. His friend’s look after him. He knows the school boundaries. He knows the rules. He’s there. I thank him for playing and head to the office to put away my stuff.
A little girl comes in. She banged into a tree at lunch. Her arm hurts. She can’t squeeze my fingers or move her wrist. It could be broken. One of the other ladies is also helping her. I sit down in the chair beside her. I feel this need to take care of her. A need I often feel. I have to look out for everyone else. I also don’t want to go home. I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts today.
One of the mom’s I know comes in. She’s here to do the Terry Fox run with her daughter. She thinks I should stay and do it. Me? In my jeans and my non-running shoes? I listen to the talk, while I wait for someone to come get the girl. It’s only around the field. I could handle that. My foot isn’t hurting anymore. The kids start to come out of the gym. I see Doodles. He wants me to stay. I go to Mr. Magoo’s classroom. They aren’t there yet.
As they come around the corner, I ask him if I should stay to run. He smiles widely and says yes. I guess that settles it. I’ll stay. I run with a little girl in his class. Her and I became big friends last year. After the run they play tag. Another little boy keeps hugging me. Him and I bonded last year. I looked after him when he was scared at Halloween. Sat in the classroom and read him books. At Christmas he was scared of the movie, so we went to the room. I rubbed his back and he fell asleep. He’s a cutey. Another little guy got in trouble for punching a boy in the knee. I go and talk to him. He’s so mad. But I get him to talk.
The grade six versus teachers soccer game is about to start. I find myself dizzy. Odd. I thought the day was getting better? I’m going to faint. An odd head rush. Food!!! It’s 2:15 and I need food. All I’ve had all day is a granola bar and a banana. I haven’t even had enough water. I stand there. I need to get my bearings back. I talk with another mom.
2:30. Is it worth going home? I mean I know I’m only five minutes away, but I have to be back for 3:15. Go across the road from the school to my friend T’s house. I can seem him resting on the couch before I ring the doorbell. Should I bug him? I do anyway. I need sugar. He let’s me in. He’s always happy to see me. Glad for the company. I tell him I need a drink. I’m just using him because I’m too lazy to go home and I need sugar. He laughs.
We talk. Catch up. As I see parent’s arriving I tell him that it’s interesting how even as adults women stay in little clichés. I wonder why that is. I tell how mom’s who ignored me last year when I was a “working mom”, suddenly have time for me now that I am a “stay-at-home mom”. News flash, I’m still the same person!!! Anyway, we get a laugh out of it.
Where did the time go? 3:10. I have to get back to the school. I go to Doodles’ classroom. I talk to a few mom’s. I see his friend’s mom. Doodles wants a freind to come over today. His mom says it’s okay. I love that Doodles’ is friend’s with everyone. Him and his friend look so funny together. His friend is really tall for his age and Doodles is a bit short.
Mr. Magoo is back to sassing me. I tell Doodles and his friend to walk ahead.
“We are not going to do this today. I am tiered of you talking back to me and treating me with no respect. I am your mother first and your friend second.”
His eyes water up. He is so sensitive. I hate looking at him with watering eyes. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at your behaviour. Do you understand the difference?” He nods. I’m getting the silent treatment. At home the boys all play nicely together. It’s a welcome break after yesterday.
My mom stop’s by. She give Mr. Magoo $20 to order pizza. He did really well on his spelling test. This is huge for him. He struggles so much at school. He’s been trying so hard this year.
I play around with my computer. Create a banner for Worthless Trivia. I can’t get it to upload on the page. I can’t seem to customize that template at all. I’m getting frustrated. Not as bad as I have in the past though. I know it’s just a silly computer and nothing that I’m doing.
I decide to move on before I do get mad. No point in that. I design the banner for this site. I work on a new background. After a number of tries I finally get it all working. Well almost, I’m not sure how to get the footer back. But hey, that’s not the end of the world.
I guess I better stop typing, turn the computer off and watch this apparently stupid movie that Hubby rented for us. It's over 20 minutes in.
I just asked him if he was bored and he said no. I told him the movie was really stupid, and he replied, “That’s okay you’ve got your computer.”
The computer. Always here when you need it!!!
Today, I did my first lunch hour supervision at the boy’s school. On my way to the school I dropped the posters off at my neighbour’s house. She is home schooling. I admire that. I could never do it. She has three kids, 6,4 and 2. She also has one on the way and has just joined the lovely world of morning sickness. Boy I don’t miss that. After dropping of the posters, I headed towards the school.
I have very weak ankles. Thin bones or something. I was given a name for it once as a child, but who knows what it is. I can’t keep track of all my ailments. I also have high arches. Why am I telling you this? Well, I bet you didn’t know that about me yet. No seriously, as true as that might be, it is because when I stepped off the curb onto the road I twisted my ankle. A sudden sharp pain in my left ankle. Unable to put any pressure on it. Just perfect! This will be helpful while trying to watch the kids in the lunchroom and on the playground equipment.
So I hobble over to the school. I’m early. I’m also early. I can’t be late. It would buck me too much. I think I need time to adapt to the situation. To feel comfortable in the environment. Anyway, I sign all my papers, talk with the secretary, meet some of the other supervisors and get suited up with vest, first aid kit and radio. Very official.
I’ll start off in the lunchroom with the grade one students. This is perfect. A nice small group. They are so cute. I just have to help them with heat up their food, open things that they can’t open and make sure that their spot is clean before they leave. Then I will be responsible for supervising one little boy outside. Just sort of keep an eye on him.
Apparently it shouldn’t be me. I lost him! He went into the boy’s room. I tended to another little girl who was crying. I looked around. I called into the bathroom. He was gone. Okay, don’t panic yet. How far could he have gotten? Silly question I know. He’s a young boy. He moved fast.
I went to the classroom. I went to the lunchroom. I went to the playground.
Okay, maybe now is a good time to panic. I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to do this today. I still feel foggy. So I ask another supervisor if she’s seen him. She has. She asked him if he was cold because he didn’t have his jacket on. But where is he now. She has a quick look around. My heart is racing. Other students are coming up to me with problems. This one wants his turn on a swing. This one wants to go to the bathroom. AHHH!!! Too much stimulation. Too many demands. I need to find the little boy.
On a normal day multi-tasking would be fine. No problem. You talk, I’ll listen, I’ll help, I’ll keep looking. Not today. Today my head is still spinning. Things are still unclear. I’m tiered.
The other supervisor radio’s the others, “Brony has lost (). Can you please keep an eye out for him and let us know if you see him?”
Great now everyone knows what a failure I am. I have to find him. I have to help this little boy get his turn on the swing. He just won’t go away.
She’s waving at me. She’s found () Perfect. Why is this other boy still bugging me. I told him to wait his turn. So wait. I go over to () He’s smiling.
“There you are,” he says.
‘There I am.’ Me? He was the one who was missing. “You were supposed to go back and meet me in your classroom.”
He shrugs his shoulders, “Sometimes I forget.”
This makes me giggle. At least I’m not the only one. So I watch him and his friend’s play. Everyone once in awhile he comes to me and asks proudly to show me something. I wave to a few of the other kids who were in the lunchroom. I talk with a few of the kids from Mr. Magoo and Doodles’ classes. I watch the kids. I watch the games the play. I watch the groups they play with. I watch the ones who are alone. I take it all in.
The bell rings. () is off. I have to make sure everyone leaves the park. I have to watch (). Why are the other kids going so slow? One little boy left.
“Come on sweety. The bell rang.”
A gush of tears, “My castle is broken. Someone kicked in the hole.” Sniff! Sniff! “I spend all lunch hour building it.”
‘Suck it up kid,’ I wanna say. ‘I don’t have time for your little problems I already lost () once, I’m not about to do it again.’
He looks so sad. “Think how much fun you’ll have building it again tomorrow.” He looks at me. He looks at his castle. Most of the other kids are in. “We really do have to go now. The bell rang.”
‘And I have to make sure that () got to his classroom, so get over it already.’
We walk towards the door. He tries to smile at me as he heads off to his. Another supervisor stops me, “Part of watching () means making sure he get’s to his room.”
‘No kidding, thanks for telling me something I already know.’ Don’t you just wish that sometimes you could say these things. “I’m on my way,” I offer with a smile. “I just had to clear the playground first and there was a little guy who was crying.”
We shared a joke about wishing we could tell him to suck it up. That life is full of disappointment. I find myself laughing. It’s refreshing and somewhat comforting to know that I’m not the only one who has these thoughts.
I go into the school and hurry to his classroom. I’m sure he’s fine. He doesn’t need to be watched. His friend’s look after him. He knows the school boundaries. He knows the rules. He’s there. I thank him for playing and head to the office to put away my stuff.
A little girl comes in. She banged into a tree at lunch. Her arm hurts. She can’t squeeze my fingers or move her wrist. It could be broken. One of the other ladies is also helping her. I sit down in the chair beside her. I feel this need to take care of her. A need I often feel. I have to look out for everyone else. I also don’t want to go home. I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts today.
One of the mom’s I know comes in. She’s here to do the Terry Fox run with her daughter. She thinks I should stay and do it. Me? In my jeans and my non-running shoes? I listen to the talk, while I wait for someone to come get the girl. It’s only around the field. I could handle that. My foot isn’t hurting anymore. The kids start to come out of the gym. I see Doodles. He wants me to stay. I go to Mr. Magoo’s classroom. They aren’t there yet.
As they come around the corner, I ask him if I should stay to run. He smiles widely and says yes. I guess that settles it. I’ll stay. I run with a little girl in his class. Her and I became big friends last year. After the run they play tag. Another little boy keeps hugging me. Him and I bonded last year. I looked after him when he was scared at Halloween. Sat in the classroom and read him books. At Christmas he was scared of the movie, so we went to the room. I rubbed his back and he fell asleep. He’s a cutey. Another little guy got in trouble for punching a boy in the knee. I go and talk to him. He’s so mad. But I get him to talk.
The grade six versus teachers soccer game is about to start. I find myself dizzy. Odd. I thought the day was getting better? I’m going to faint. An odd head rush. Food!!! It’s 2:15 and I need food. All I’ve had all day is a granola bar and a banana. I haven’t even had enough water. I stand there. I need to get my bearings back. I talk with another mom.
2:30. Is it worth going home? I mean I know I’m only five minutes away, but I have to be back for 3:15. Go across the road from the school to my friend T’s house. I can seem him resting on the couch before I ring the doorbell. Should I bug him? I do anyway. I need sugar. He let’s me in. He’s always happy to see me. Glad for the company. I tell him I need a drink. I’m just using him because I’m too lazy to go home and I need sugar. He laughs.
We talk. Catch up. As I see parent’s arriving I tell him that it’s interesting how even as adults women stay in little clichés. I wonder why that is. I tell how mom’s who ignored me last year when I was a “working mom”, suddenly have time for me now that I am a “stay-at-home mom”. News flash, I’m still the same person!!! Anyway, we get a laugh out of it.
Where did the time go? 3:10. I have to get back to the school. I go to Doodles’ classroom. I talk to a few mom’s. I see his friend’s mom. Doodles wants a freind to come over today. His mom says it’s okay. I love that Doodles’ is friend’s with everyone. Him and his friend look so funny together. His friend is really tall for his age and Doodles is a bit short.
Mr. Magoo is back to sassing me. I tell Doodles and his friend to walk ahead.
“We are not going to do this today. I am tiered of you talking back to me and treating me with no respect. I am your mother first and your friend second.”
His eyes water up. He is so sensitive. I hate looking at him with watering eyes. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at your behaviour. Do you understand the difference?” He nods. I’m getting the silent treatment. At home the boys all play nicely together. It’s a welcome break after yesterday.
My mom stop’s by. She give Mr. Magoo $20 to order pizza. He did really well on his spelling test. This is huge for him. He struggles so much at school. He’s been trying so hard this year.
I play around with my computer. Create a banner for Worthless Trivia. I can’t get it to upload on the page. I can’t seem to customize that template at all. I’m getting frustrated. Not as bad as I have in the past though. I know it’s just a silly computer and nothing that I’m doing.
I decide to move on before I do get mad. No point in that. I design the banner for this site. I work on a new background. After a number of tries I finally get it all working. Well almost, I’m not sure how to get the footer back. But hey, that’s not the end of the world.
I guess I better stop typing, turn the computer off and watch this apparently stupid movie that Hubby rented for us. It's over 20 minutes in.
I just asked him if he was bored and he said no. I told him the movie was really stupid, and he replied, “That’s okay you’ve got your computer.”
The computer. Always here when you need it!!!
Five Ingredient Friday - Any Meal Goes.
I wasn’t going to participate in Five Ingredient Friday again, but when Overwhelmed with Joy invited me too, how could I say no?
You see the thing is I hate to good. I don’t dislike it. I really hate it. I’m not very good at it, and I never know what to make. I love to bake and enjoy making appetizers, but cooking everyday meals is not for me.
The next receipt is what I like to call Any Meal Goes. (Makes Six)
What you need
You see the thing is I hate to good. I don’t dislike it. I really hate it. I’m not very good at it, and I never know what to make. I love to bake and enjoy making appetizers, but cooking everyday meals is not for me.
The next receipt is what I like to call Any Meal Goes. (Makes Six)
What you need
- Scrambled eggs (eggs (about seven), milk, butter)
- Tortilla Shells (I like to use the cheese flavoured ones)
- Grated Cheese (I use the Kraft Tex Mex bland)
- Veggies (bits of broccoli works well or green onion)
- Shredded ham (I use deli style black forest ham, cut thin and then just chop it up at home
What you do
- Pre-heat the oven to 375C
- Line a muffin tin (not a cupcake tin) with the Tortilla shells. You just sort of fold them gently into the slots. One in each.
- Scoop the scrambled eggs into each shell. Try to break it up evenly.
- Add you veggies (if you use broccoli, just sort of add bits of the top part)
- Add the shredded ham
- Stir it gently. You don’t want to mix it to much, just create a nice blend.
- Top with the grated cheese
- Place in the heated oven and cook for five to eight minutes (cheese should be melted)
- Serve hot.
For more great receipts stop by Overwhelmed with Joy.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
So dizzy...
I went to bed last night with great plans for the day. I was going to do some scrap booking. I was going to start cutting the patterns for the costumes. I was even thinking about maybe doing some of my assignment.
Well, so much for great plans.
Today just started off wrong. I woke up with a bad headache and some strange heartburn type feeling in my chest. Mr. Magoo was being a typical kid, slow to get ready and not really listening. Well, I was so not in the mood for it today, so once he started sassing me, I lost it. The witch within me came out.
To make myself feel better, I needed to make him feel worse. I told him he was stupid and couldn’t do anything right. Then I have no idea what I said, but I know he started crying. I heard myself saying, “Oh poor baby. Sucks to be you.” Then I just stood there and looked at him.
‘This is wrong.’
‘You have to stop.’
‘What are you doing?’
All thoughts going through my head. So my hand comes up and I start banging my forehead with the ball of my hand. Sort of a signal I suppose that I’m out of control. That I’m sitting on the line of right and wrong: rational and irrational. I close my eyes and leave the room.
‘What? What do I do now?’
Another thought.
‘He is stupid. He wants to be late. He’s trying to ruin your day.’ This is the Borderline Personality Disorder talking.
‘SHUT-UP!!! He’s a kid. Give him a break. You have to get them to school.’ Thank God I still have that voice. This is the one I need to listen too. I have too.
“Go get your jackets and shoes on. It’s time to go.” We have to go. A change of scenery. Some fresh air.
“But we’re not ready.”
“So get ready,” I snap back.
‘We have to go. We have to go now.’ So I help them get ready. I stay silent. It’s better than saying anything. Who knows what would come out. Mr. Magoo has stopped crying, but I can tell he is still upset. We leave the house. Get to the pathway and he puts his and into mine. I look down at him. He looks up at me and smiles. Everything will be okay. How did my little boy get to be so strong when I am so weak?
We get to the school, and I feel the need to walk him into his classroom. All the kids look great. It’s picture day.
I look around the room, “Close your eyes everyone so he can give me a kiss.” They all laugh. “I said close you eyes.” But of course most kids look our way. I try to give him a kiss. He’s embarrassed. But he laughs.
I go to the door. “You guys look great. Can everyone give me their best picture day smile?” Most of them do. I look over to Mr. Magoo. He’s messing up his hair and sticking out his tongue. That’s my baby.
I don’t much feel like a walk, but I take the long way home. Music playing on my iPod. ‘He knows you love him.’
What am I doing? What game am I playing at? Don’t ask me where these questions came from, but they are there. They are in my mind. I’m suddenly feeling guilty. Looking at how much I’ve changed “our plan.” Me not working I mean. I suddenly feel like my family gives me more than I give them. I’ve felt this way before. But the feeling today is heavy. It’s starting to drown me. Strangle my breath and seize me of all my energy. I feel like I’m going to faint.
I get into the house. Maybe I need a nap? Nap, you can’t nap. There is laundry and dishes. My mind is spinning. I need to sit. I’m tiered. Everything is blurry!
So I post my Thursday Thirteen. I write my husband a poem. I feel proud. Hopefully this will help him to see that I love him. Why do I need to prove this? Why now? Why today? He knows it. I know this. Do I believe this though? Well, obviously my subconscious does not.
I check out other blogs. I do some laundry. I pace around the house. I check out a few more blogs. There are some great blogs. There are some really stupid blogs. How do some get so many hits? I want that many hits? I’m jealous. Definitely off today. But why? What happened in my sleep? I become upsessed with getting hits. I visit as many TTs as I can, hoping that they will in turn visit me. I need to get my message out. People need to hear me. ME! ME! ME! That’s what it is. All about ME!!!
I call hubby. Did he see the post? Yup. Thinks he’s seen it before. He makes me mad. I worked so hard on it. It was for him and he didn’t even seem to care. Why did I bother?
So a friend comes over in the afternoon. We made the plans yesterday. A welcome break. Her kids are so cute. We talk about the kids and then we talk about marriage. Why do so many people give up? Why do they go straight to divorce? She’s feeling a bit lost. Boy can I relate. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t see it. She’s never seen me without my mask. Even now it is on.
“You know what you want to do. You’re lucky,” she says.
“I have no idea.”
“But you try things. At least you try thing.”
“I’m just looking for something that fits.”
We talk a bit more about her marriage. She’s worried about what will happen in March. In March her husband wants to quit his job and start working for himself. In March her maternity leave is up and she goes back to work.
We talk about staying at home. How it’s possible to both love it and hate it at the same time. How it is important to never lose sight of yourself. I guess that’s where I had an advantage, there was never a “me” to lose.
Time to get the boys. Her baby is ready for a nap so they have to go anyway. My kids will have play dates. I can still rest. HA!!
Mr. Magoo wants payback. He’s going to act up. Show me that he is still mad. Or maybe he’s just being a kid. But that’s how my mind interprets it. Suddenly our house seems to have no rules. Apparently he doesn’t have to respect me. I keep having to talk to him. I feel like a monster mom. What must his friend be thinking? Why can’t he just behave so I don’t have to keep talking to him? Counting down. Hubby calls. He’s coming home now. I know he’s not late, but it feels late. I need him home. I can’t do it anymore. I want everyone gone.
I watch TV. Who cares what the kids are doing? Hubby can take care of it when he get’s home. Hubby can clean it up. I’m done. I know that if I go in to the kitchen I will snap again. I can’t risk that, not with other kids over. So I watch TV. I sit and I wait. I can’t even tell you what happened on the show. I listen to the noises in the kitchen. I watch TV. I sit and wait.
He’s home. Mr. Magoo’s friend goes home. One down, one to go. He talks to Mr. Magoo about his behaviour. Mr. Magoo silently cries. ‘Good. How does he think I felt being treated with no respect.’ Doodles’ friend goes. It’s just us. The boys go to play. I go back to the couch. I sit. I watch TV. Hubby joins me. I’m mad. I’m mad at him for not showing me he appreciates my blog. I’m mad at him for not coming home earlier. He closes his eyes to rest. I need to get away. I’m so tiered. So tiered.
I go upstairs. I check my computer for comments. I post them. I have nothing to say. No point in replying. I feel dizzy. My eyes are dry. I want to cry. Just a tear, one tear. I lay in bed. I get up. I pace around the bedroom. My mind is foggy.
I’ll take a bath. I love bubble baths. I sit in the tub. The small room feels very bright. I turn off the lights. I lay in the tub, in the dark. I think I should cry, but there are no tears. I feel dizzy. I close my eyes. I think of ghosts and the childhood game “Bloody Mary”. Odd! Very odd!!! Breath slowly. Clear my mind.
I think I fall asleep. The bath water is suddenly very cold.
I get out. Put on my PJs. I go help my boys with the reading and word wall words. Mr. Magoo does so well. I am proud of him. Dinner time. Comfort food time. TV time. ER season premier. Doodles, Mr. Magoo and I in bed. Watching TV. Me blogging.
I love my boys. Time for them to go to bed. No energy left in me. I kiss them here. Later, when they’re asleep I’ll sneak into their rooms and give them a kiss good night.
Tomorrow will be a new day. This much I know for sure.
Well, so much for great plans.
Today just started off wrong. I woke up with a bad headache and some strange heartburn type feeling in my chest. Mr. Magoo was being a typical kid, slow to get ready and not really listening. Well, I was so not in the mood for it today, so once he started sassing me, I lost it. The witch within me came out.
To make myself feel better, I needed to make him feel worse. I told him he was stupid and couldn’t do anything right. Then I have no idea what I said, but I know he started crying. I heard myself saying, “Oh poor baby. Sucks to be you.” Then I just stood there and looked at him.
‘This is wrong.’
‘You have to stop.’
‘What are you doing?’
All thoughts going through my head. So my hand comes up and I start banging my forehead with the ball of my hand. Sort of a signal I suppose that I’m out of control. That I’m sitting on the line of right and wrong: rational and irrational. I close my eyes and leave the room.
‘What? What do I do now?’
Another thought.
‘He is stupid. He wants to be late. He’s trying to ruin your day.’ This is the Borderline Personality Disorder talking.
‘SHUT-UP!!! He’s a kid. Give him a break. You have to get them to school.’ Thank God I still have that voice. This is the one I need to listen too. I have too.
“Go get your jackets and shoes on. It’s time to go.” We have to go. A change of scenery. Some fresh air.
“But we’re not ready.”
“So get ready,” I snap back.
‘We have to go. We have to go now.’ So I help them get ready. I stay silent. It’s better than saying anything. Who knows what would come out. Mr. Magoo has stopped crying, but I can tell he is still upset. We leave the house. Get to the pathway and he puts his and into mine. I look down at him. He looks up at me and smiles. Everything will be okay. How did my little boy get to be so strong when I am so weak?
We get to the school, and I feel the need to walk him into his classroom. All the kids look great. It’s picture day.
I look around the room, “Close your eyes everyone so he can give me a kiss.” They all laugh. “I said close you eyes.” But of course most kids look our way. I try to give him a kiss. He’s embarrassed. But he laughs.
I go to the door. “You guys look great. Can everyone give me their best picture day smile?” Most of them do. I look over to Mr. Magoo. He’s messing up his hair and sticking out his tongue. That’s my baby.
I don’t much feel like a walk, but I take the long way home. Music playing on my iPod. ‘He knows you love him.’
What am I doing? What game am I playing at? Don’t ask me where these questions came from, but they are there. They are in my mind. I’m suddenly feeling guilty. Looking at how much I’ve changed “our plan.” Me not working I mean. I suddenly feel like my family gives me more than I give them. I’ve felt this way before. But the feeling today is heavy. It’s starting to drown me. Strangle my breath and seize me of all my energy. I feel like I’m going to faint.
I get into the house. Maybe I need a nap? Nap, you can’t nap. There is laundry and dishes. My mind is spinning. I need to sit. I’m tiered. Everything is blurry!
So I post my Thursday Thirteen. I write my husband a poem. I feel proud. Hopefully this will help him to see that I love him. Why do I need to prove this? Why now? Why today? He knows it. I know this. Do I believe this though? Well, obviously my subconscious does not.
I check out other blogs. I do some laundry. I pace around the house. I check out a few more blogs. There are some great blogs. There are some really stupid blogs. How do some get so many hits? I want that many hits? I’m jealous. Definitely off today. But why? What happened in my sleep? I become upsessed with getting hits. I visit as many TTs as I can, hoping that they will in turn visit me. I need to get my message out. People need to hear me. ME! ME! ME! That’s what it is. All about ME!!!
I call hubby. Did he see the post? Yup. Thinks he’s seen it before. He makes me mad. I worked so hard on it. It was for him and he didn’t even seem to care. Why did I bother?
So a friend comes over in the afternoon. We made the plans yesterday. A welcome break. Her kids are so cute. We talk about the kids and then we talk about marriage. Why do so many people give up? Why do they go straight to divorce? She’s feeling a bit lost. Boy can I relate. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t see it. She’s never seen me without my mask. Even now it is on.
“You know what you want to do. You’re lucky,” she says.
“I have no idea.”
“But you try things. At least you try thing.”
“I’m just looking for something that fits.”
We talk a bit more about her marriage. She’s worried about what will happen in March. In March her husband wants to quit his job and start working for himself. In March her maternity leave is up and she goes back to work.
We talk about staying at home. How it’s possible to both love it and hate it at the same time. How it is important to never lose sight of yourself. I guess that’s where I had an advantage, there was never a “me” to lose.
Time to get the boys. Her baby is ready for a nap so they have to go anyway. My kids will have play dates. I can still rest. HA!!
Mr. Magoo wants payback. He’s going to act up. Show me that he is still mad. Or maybe he’s just being a kid. But that’s how my mind interprets it. Suddenly our house seems to have no rules. Apparently he doesn’t have to respect me. I keep having to talk to him. I feel like a monster mom. What must his friend be thinking? Why can’t he just behave so I don’t have to keep talking to him? Counting down. Hubby calls. He’s coming home now. I know he’s not late, but it feels late. I need him home. I can’t do it anymore. I want everyone gone.
I watch TV. Who cares what the kids are doing? Hubby can take care of it when he get’s home. Hubby can clean it up. I’m done. I know that if I go in to the kitchen I will snap again. I can’t risk that, not with other kids over. So I watch TV. I sit and I wait. I can’t even tell you what happened on the show. I listen to the noises in the kitchen. I watch TV. I sit and wait.
He’s home. Mr. Magoo’s friend goes home. One down, one to go. He talks to Mr. Magoo about his behaviour. Mr. Magoo silently cries. ‘Good. How does he think I felt being treated with no respect.’ Doodles’ friend goes. It’s just us. The boys go to play. I go back to the couch. I sit. I watch TV. Hubby joins me. I’m mad. I’m mad at him for not showing me he appreciates my blog. I’m mad at him for not coming home earlier. He closes his eyes to rest. I need to get away. I’m so tiered. So tiered.
I go upstairs. I check my computer for comments. I post them. I have nothing to say. No point in replying. I feel dizzy. My eyes are dry. I want to cry. Just a tear, one tear. I lay in bed. I get up. I pace around the bedroom. My mind is foggy.
I’ll take a bath. I love bubble baths. I sit in the tub. The small room feels very bright. I turn off the lights. I lay in the tub, in the dark. I think I should cry, but there are no tears. I feel dizzy. I close my eyes. I think of ghosts and the childhood game “Bloody Mary”. Odd! Very odd!!! Breath slowly. Clear my mind.
I think I fall asleep. The bath water is suddenly very cold.
I get out. Put on my PJs. I go help my boys with the reading and word wall words. Mr. Magoo does so well. I am proud of him. Dinner time. Comfort food time. TV time. ER season premier. Doodles, Mr. Magoo and I in bed. Watching TV. Me blogging.
I love my boys. Time for them to go to bed. No energy left in me. I kiss them here. Later, when they’re asleep I’ll sneak into their rooms and give them a kiss good night.
Tomorrow will be a new day. This much I know for sure.
Thursday Thirteen - Edition 3
After doing a list of 13 things I like about myself, I decided that for the next three weeks I would focus on a family member. They are my strength. They are a big part of why I am still here. This week I'll do 13 things that I love about my husband.
- I love that sometimes when he sneezes he smells like honey. I can't explain it, and I don't know why. He just does.
- I love that he hates it when I rub his head. (He's so vain about his hair - it's cute.)
- I love that he's a great dad. He spends so much time with our boys and he genuinely enjoys it. He would rather be with them than go out with friends. It’s a very special gift. His heart is amazing. I love his heart. (This doesn't count as one of the 13)
- I love that he's always been there for me. No matter what my mood.
- I love that he can make me laugh when nobody else can. (Even though I don't like to admit that to him.)
- I love that he drives me around. He knows how much I HATE driving. I have this strange phobia. I know it drives him nuts, but he does it anyway. He does it for me. (Or maybe he does it so I don't bitch and whine, whatever the reason, I love that about him. I love that he looks out for me. Puts my needs first - okay that just sounds selfish.)
- I love his cooking. He is a wizard in the kitchen. Rarely does he make something totally gross.
- I love that sometimes when I'm watching Y&R he watches with me. (Although he'll tell you that he doesn't.)
- I love that he does the dishes and vacuuming because he knows that I hate it.
- I love that he falls asleep so fast at night. (Boy I wish I could.)
- I love his smile.
- I love that his eyes can look different colours.
- I love that in bed he sometimes cuddles the blankets or a pillow.
Boy, how do I stop at 13? There may need to be a part two down the road. This man, my Hubby, he is everything to me. I don't think he'll ever know how much I love him. I wish that he knew how sorry I was for taking away so many of our dreams.
Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
To My Hubby - No words can say how much I love you
You are the strength
I didn’t know I had.
You are the love
I didn’t think I deserved.
A little bit of colour,
when everything else is gray.
Right now I hate you
just go away.
No, please stop and turn
I love you – stay.
No matter how hard I push,
you’re still here with me now.
When I am broken
you hold all the pieces in your hands,
that much I know.
Hoping, wishing, praying,
will it finally be the day
I find my smile again?
Sunshine and rainbows,
I love to play.
Hurricanes and tornadoes,
you're the enemy today.
Which way will the wind blow?
I wonder if we’ll ever know.
As I scream so loud,
arms flying everywhere
you hold me tight.
Tears streaming down my face,
you are a rock;
this is not your fight.
(copywrited by Brony September 21, 2006)
How Do I Live by Trisha Yearwood
I didn’t know I had.
You are the love
I didn’t think I deserved.
A little bit of colour,
when everything else is gray.
Right now I hate you
just go away.
No, please stop and turn
I love you – stay.
No matter how hard I push,
you’re still here with me now.
When I am broken
you hold all the pieces in your hands,
that much I know.
Hoping, wishing, praying,
will it finally be the day
I find my smile again?
Sunshine and rainbows,
I love to play.
Hurricanes and tornadoes,
you're the enemy today.
Which way will the wind blow?
I wonder if we’ll ever know.
As I scream so loud,
arms flying everywhere
you hold me tight.
Tears streaming down my face,
you are a rock;
this is not your fight.
(copywrited by Brony September 21, 2006)
How Do I Live by Trisha Yearwood
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Words to live by
I was just visiting some other sites. Along my travels I found Our Random Ramblings.
There was the following post:
Dedication to my family
IF I KNEW
If I knew it would be the last time
That I’d see you fall asleep,
I would tuck you in more tightly
and pray the Lord, your soul to keep.
If I knew it would be the last time
that I see you walk out the door,
I would give you a hug and kiss
and call you back for one more.
If I knew it would be the last time
I’d hear your voice lifted up in praise,
I would video tape each action and word,
so I could play them back day after day.
If I knew it would be the last time,
I could spare an extra minute
to stop and say “I love you,”
instead of assuming you would KNOW I do.
If I knew it would be the last time
I would be there to share your day,
Well I’m sure you’ll have so many more,
so I can let just this one slip away.
For surely there’s always tomorrow
to make up for an oversight,
and we always get a second chance
to make everything just right.
There will always be another day
to say “I love you,”
And certainly there’s another chance
to say our “Anything I can do?”
But just in case I might be wrong,
and today is all I get,
I’d like to say how much I love you
and I hope we never forget.
Tomorrow is not promised to anyone,
young or old alike,
And today may be the last chance
you get to hold your loved one tight.
So if you’re waiting for tomorrow,
why not do it today?
For if tomorrow never comes,
you’ll surely regret the day,
That you didn’t take that extra time
for a smile, a hug, or a kiss
and you were too busy to grant someone,
what turned out to be their one last wish.
So hold your loved ones close today,
and whisper in their ear,
Tell them how much you love them
and that you’ll always hold them dear
Take time to say “I’m sorry,”
“Please forgive me,” “Thank you,” or “It’s okay.”
And if tomorrow never comes,
you’ll have no regrets about today
WOW!!! I hope you stop by there to say how much you enjoy it.
There was the following post:
Dedication to my family
IF I KNEW
If I knew it would be the last time
That I’d see you fall asleep,
I would tuck you in more tightly
and pray the Lord, your soul to keep.
If I knew it would be the last time
that I see you walk out the door,
I would give you a hug and kiss
and call you back for one more.
If I knew it would be the last time
I’d hear your voice lifted up in praise,
I would video tape each action and word,
so I could play them back day after day.
If I knew it would be the last time,
I could spare an extra minute
to stop and say “I love you,”
instead of assuming you would KNOW I do.
If I knew it would be the last time
I would be there to share your day,
Well I’m sure you’ll have so many more,
so I can let just this one slip away.
For surely there’s always tomorrow
to make up for an oversight,
and we always get a second chance
to make everything just right.
There will always be another day
to say “I love you,”
And certainly there’s another chance
to say our “Anything I can do?”
But just in case I might be wrong,
and today is all I get,
I’d like to say how much I love you
and I hope we never forget.
Tomorrow is not promised to anyone,
young or old alike,
And today may be the last chance
you get to hold your loved one tight.
So if you’re waiting for tomorrow,
why not do it today?
For if tomorrow never comes,
you’ll surely regret the day,
That you didn’t take that extra time
for a smile, a hug, or a kiss
and you were too busy to grant someone,
what turned out to be their one last wish.
So hold your loved ones close today,
and whisper in their ear,
Tell them how much you love them
and that you’ll always hold them dear
Take time to say “I’m sorry,”
“Please forgive me,” “Thank you,” or “It’s okay.”
And if tomorrow never comes,
you’ll have no regrets about today
WOW!!! I hope you stop by there to say how much you enjoy it.
A bit of this and that
Let me start by clarifying that my Wordless Wednesday photo was taken last August. Sorry about the confusion. I just love the photo. Like many of the comments I too wonder what they are thinking. Next week I will post of picture of them now. Buzz, he's six. He is a Shitsu-poodle. Chloe is now 15 months; she is 1/2 boxer, 1/4 miniature Australian Sheppard and 1/4 Bullmastiff. Just like typical siblings they are the best of friends and the worst of enemies. Now our poor cat on the other hand.
I put out my first Halloween decoration today. I was going to wait until October 1st, but I walked with a friend to her house today and noticed that she already had some stuff out. Hey why not. We should enjoy it as long as we can.
We registered Mr. Magoo for swimming lessons. You’d think we were torturing him, the way he carries on. Suddenly he is interested in watching Doodles play hockey. Doodles got of lucky because his class was full. I love the water. I wonder why neither of my boys seem to enjoy it. Hubby and I both believe that it is important for them to take lessons until they are confident swimmers. It’s about safety.
I bought myself some swim tickets. I thought maybe I could do lanes while he has his class. I’d also like to start doing some water aerobics again. It’s a great way to get into shape and it doesn’t put any pressure on the body. With the fibromyalgia this is a good thing. Who knows between my daily walks and the water activities, maybe I’ll actually get myself into good shape.
I find it hard to fall asleep at night. My mind just runs with too many thoughts. When I was little I used to sleep with stories on tape playing quietly in the background. As I got older this became the TV. The sounds block out my thoughts. Help to take the focus off of them. Hubby can’t stand the noise. He wouldn’t mind if it was a radio, but then I would sing along. You see the TV show I don’t know the words, so no risk of singing. I thought maybe I should invest in some type of head phone set and start listening to books on tape again. Who knows maybe I’ll get really smart from all the subliminal messages.
My Kindred Spirit’s father is really sick. She is so worry about him. I feel just terrible for her. The worst part is that no one in our silly medical system seems to want to help him. I don’t get that. His toes are rotten – there is no circulation going to them, he has an aneurysm in his heart and diabetes. To top it off, he’s being to stubborn to go to the hospital.
I can relate to that. Sometimes it’s just easier to live in our fantasy world where everything is alright. Sometimes it’s easier not to know the truth. Sometimes it’s easier to just not know. The problem is that things only get worse and in the end everything catches up to us.
Someone asked me how it is that I have so much insight into my illnesses. My answer I suppose is journaling my moods, doing my research, listening to those around me, learning my signs…I don’t know. It’s just a very conscious effort to work at it. No one wants me to be healthy more than I do. No one.
I put out my first Halloween decoration today. I was going to wait until October 1st, but I walked with a friend to her house today and noticed that she already had some stuff out. Hey why not. We should enjoy it as long as we can.
We registered Mr. Magoo for swimming lessons. You’d think we were torturing him, the way he carries on. Suddenly he is interested in watching Doodles play hockey. Doodles got of lucky because his class was full. I love the water. I wonder why neither of my boys seem to enjoy it. Hubby and I both believe that it is important for them to take lessons until they are confident swimmers. It’s about safety.
I bought myself some swim tickets. I thought maybe I could do lanes while he has his class. I’d also like to start doing some water aerobics again. It’s a great way to get into shape and it doesn’t put any pressure on the body. With the fibromyalgia this is a good thing. Who knows between my daily walks and the water activities, maybe I’ll actually get myself into good shape.
I find it hard to fall asleep at night. My mind just runs with too many thoughts. When I was little I used to sleep with stories on tape playing quietly in the background. As I got older this became the TV. The sounds block out my thoughts. Help to take the focus off of them. Hubby can’t stand the noise. He wouldn’t mind if it was a radio, but then I would sing along. You see the TV show I don’t know the words, so no risk of singing. I thought maybe I should invest in some type of head phone set and start listening to books on tape again. Who knows maybe I’ll get really smart from all the subliminal messages.
My Kindred Spirit’s father is really sick. She is so worry about him. I feel just terrible for her. The worst part is that no one in our silly medical system seems to want to help him. I don’t get that. His toes are rotten – there is no circulation going to them, he has an aneurysm in his heart and diabetes. To top it off, he’s being to stubborn to go to the hospital.
I can relate to that. Sometimes it’s just easier to live in our fantasy world where everything is alright. Sometimes it’s easier not to know the truth. Sometimes it’s easier to just not know. The problem is that things only get worse and in the end everything catches up to us.
Someone asked me how it is that I have so much insight into my illnesses. My answer I suppose is journaling my moods, doing my research, listening to those around me, learning my signs…I don’t know. It’s just a very conscious effort to work at it. No one wants me to be healthy more than I do. No one.
Wordless Wednesday Two: The Meeting
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
I wouldn’t say that today was a bad day…just a reflective day.
Have you ever just started scribbling on a blank piece of paper? You know randomly moving the pen around the page. Sometimes I think that's what my life is like. Just going around in random directions hoping that something will feel right. Hoping that in the end there will be a piece of art.
Today was an interesting day of refelction. Trying to step back and eveluate things from all angles.
I got a call from my step-mom-in-law and she thinks it's such a great idea to have Hubby and his dad go together. So she decided to call my father-in-law and ask him what he thought. Then she called me back to say that he was for it. So there we go, I guess that they are going to the wedding. Isn't that great. I know that Hubby really wants to be there. I think he still hopes we'll get to go to. He says he'd feel a bit weird without us. I told him not to sorry. I mean in November I went to South Africa without them to see my family. We do what we need to do. And I believe that I really do.
I guess that me meddling worked out. The only problem is that I don't actually know that it's what I wanted. I know back and forth. No desisiveness. Welcome to my world.
I mean I think that it is. I know that it's for the best, but a part of me would be jealous. I mean I want to go on a vacation. How terrible is that? I just got back from SA, where I went alone. Part of me would be mad. How dare he go without me? How dare he leave me at home with the kids while he's on some beach? Oh, but it's okay for me to go away. I went for three weeks and this would only be for a week. Part of me would be afraid the whole time. What if his plane crashed? What if he was hurt on the streets? What if...? Talk about a week without sleep. And part of me would be worrying the whole time. There's be a lot of pressure on Hubby to make sure that his dad doesn't drink. What is Hubby has a misrable time? What if he's only going because he thinks that's what I want? Twisted isn't it. Welcome to my rambling thoughts.
I mean this is me. Always creating drama. Some new crisis to worry about. Close my eyes...take a deep breath...and another...let it go. There is no point in worrying or wondering until the airline tickets are bought. I mean there is still a small chance that me and the boys will get to go.
The I read a book called Understanding the Borderline Mother. So not a good book. It has way to many generalizations in it. It is also extremely negative. Nor did I find it to be well written. Anyway, as I read it I of course cried. I mean this is the world that my boys are growing up in. How much damage am I creating in their little lives? At this point Hubby called. He knew that something was wrong. So, I sobbed to him.
"You're not as bad as them, hun. You know that. You are stronger."
"You don't live inside my head. You have no idea how hard it is to stop myself from over reacting, acting impulsively, self mutilating...You can't hear my terrible thoughts. Everyday I have to fight old patterns and make new ones."
"You're right, I don't know. I do know that you are strong. I know that you are very self aware. I know that you love me and the boys. They know that you love them."
This is when I have to go. I don't want to know about love right now. Great they love me - the horrible beast that I am. Talk about self damaging thoughts!
"I have to go. I didn't mean to sit here on the phone crying while you're at work."
"It's okay."
"I love you."
"Love you too."
So we hang up. I go back to my reading. As I read words like volatile, insanity, and psychotic jump right off the page. Is this who I am? If I am not this now, have I been? Is it who I will become?
Then I see things like borderlines cannot be cured, difficult to treat, and long road. Is there hope?
And of course the risk for the development of BPD is my children. I fear that more than anything. Already I worry so much about Mr. Magoo.
I look at the categories the book outlines: the Waif Mother, the Hermit Mother, the Queen Mother and the Witch Mother. Where do I fit? The first question I find myself asking. Even within my own illness I need some sense of belonging. I look for some connection. Some piece of identity. Something to explain who I am. But there doesn’t seem to be one tight fit. Even here I am an outsider. I mean what a stupid thing to think.
They did get one thing right though: mothering is the single most daunting task. Not because I don’t love my boys, in fact quite the contrary – because I love my boys. I don’t want them to be on my rollercoaster. I don’t want to disappoint them. I don’t want them to see me for the fake that I am. And on and on it goes. Many times I’ve thought about leaving them. For a couple of reasons
Today was an interesting day of refelction. Trying to step back and eveluate things from all angles.
I got a call from my step-mom-in-law and she thinks it's such a great idea to have Hubby and his dad go together. So she decided to call my father-in-law and ask him what he thought. Then she called me back to say that he was for it. So there we go, I guess that they are going to the wedding. Isn't that great. I know that Hubby really wants to be there. I think he still hopes we'll get to go to. He says he'd feel a bit weird without us. I told him not to sorry. I mean in November I went to South Africa without them to see my family. We do what we need to do. And I believe that I really do.
I guess that me meddling worked out. The only problem is that I don't actually know that it's what I wanted. I know back and forth. No desisiveness. Welcome to my world.
I mean I think that it is. I know that it's for the best, but a part of me would be jealous. I mean I want to go on a vacation. How terrible is that? I just got back from SA, where I went alone. Part of me would be mad. How dare he go without me? How dare he leave me at home with the kids while he's on some beach? Oh, but it's okay for me to go away. I went for three weeks and this would only be for a week. Part of me would be afraid the whole time. What if his plane crashed? What if he was hurt on the streets? What if...? Talk about a week without sleep. And part of me would be worrying the whole time. There's be a lot of pressure on Hubby to make sure that his dad doesn't drink. What is Hubby has a misrable time? What if he's only going because he thinks that's what I want? Twisted isn't it. Welcome to my rambling thoughts.
I mean this is me. Always creating drama. Some new crisis to worry about. Close my eyes...take a deep breath...and another...let it go. There is no point in worrying or wondering until the airline tickets are bought. I mean there is still a small chance that me and the boys will get to go.
The I read a book called Understanding the Borderline Mother. So not a good book. It has way to many generalizations in it. It is also extremely negative. Nor did I find it to be well written. Anyway, as I read it I of course cried. I mean this is the world that my boys are growing up in. How much damage am I creating in their little lives? At this point Hubby called. He knew that something was wrong. So, I sobbed to him.
"You're not as bad as them, hun. You know that. You are stronger."
"You don't live inside my head. You have no idea how hard it is to stop myself from over reacting, acting impulsively, self mutilating...You can't hear my terrible thoughts. Everyday I have to fight old patterns and make new ones."
"You're right, I don't know. I do know that you are strong. I know that you are very self aware. I know that you love me and the boys. They know that you love them."
This is when I have to go. I don't want to know about love right now. Great they love me - the horrible beast that I am. Talk about self damaging thoughts!
"I have to go. I didn't mean to sit here on the phone crying while you're at work."
"It's okay."
"I love you."
"Love you too."
So we hang up. I go back to my reading. As I read words like volatile, insanity, and psychotic jump right off the page. Is this who I am? If I am not this now, have I been? Is it who I will become?
Then I see things like borderlines cannot be cured, difficult to treat, and long road. Is there hope?
And of course the risk for the development of BPD is my children. I fear that more than anything. Already I worry so much about Mr. Magoo.
I look at the categories the book outlines: the Waif Mother, the Hermit Mother, the Queen Mother and the Witch Mother. Where do I fit? The first question I find myself asking. Even within my own illness I need some sense of belonging. I look for some connection. Some piece of identity. Something to explain who I am. But there doesn’t seem to be one tight fit. Even here I am an outsider. I mean what a stupid thing to think.
They did get one thing right though: mothering is the single most daunting task. Not because I don’t love my boys, in fact quite the contrary – because I love my boys. I don’t want them to be on my rollercoaster. I don’t want to disappoint them. I don’t want them to see me for the fake that I am. And on and on it goes. Many times I’ve thought about leaving them. For a couple of reasons
- I think they’d be better off without me.
- I want to leave them before they leave me. I think this is also why I sometimes sit back and watch them play rather than joining in. If I don’t join in then they won’t expect it. If they don’t expect it then I can’t disappoint them. STUPID. I mean as if they aren’t disappointed that I’m not joining in.
After one of my cries, I’m tiered. So I decide to take a nap. However my phone seems to have different plans…it won’t stop ringing. So I answer it. A few calls to take my mind off of things. And before I know it’s time to get the boys.
We had a very enjoyable walk home. Joking around together. Then I go to watch the Young and the Restless and they go to the basement to play. Hubby comes home. I love seeing my man. He’s so good to me. I wish that I could give him half of what he gives me. He left a comment on Stop...Be Quite...Breath!!! today. Isn’t that nice?
Then dinner. Hubby and I share the cooking tonight. We always eat as a family. I love that. It’s a great way to catch up. After dinner we go to Wal-Mart, where we meet my mom. We buy some Halloween decorations and the material for me to start sewing our costumes. I am so excited. I have to go back tomorrow. I forgot to buy the pattern for Doodle's costume. Plus I need some lace and rope for mine.
Home and bed time for the boys. Now I type in our bed and Hubby sits in the office across from me playing his game. I like that our office is attached to the bedroom. We can be close without being in the same room. In our old house we used to spend a lot of our evenings in different rooms.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Stop...Be Quite...Breath!!!
I went to my first Avon meeting tonight. It was ok, a bit long. I started selling at the end of August, so I’m only on my second campaign. I did it more to get the savings on the stuff that I like to order, but if I can make some money, bonus. For my first campaign, I walked away with $3. My client orders also paid for my order, so that’s cool.
I never know what I should and shouldn’t blog about. By that I mean what I should be keeping private and what is ok to share with a larger audience. However, I need to get this off my chest, so I will blog.
My sister-in-law is getting married in February, I think. I believe the wedding is in the Caribbean. Can you tell were close? Hee Hee. Anyway, I think it’s important that my husband be there for the wedding. Problem there is that we don’t have the money for the ticket. We will not put it on credit. The reason we moved was to be debt free so I could stay at home and not feel any pressure to work, unless I wanted to.
I also think it’s important that his dad goes. The problem is that his dad has no desire to go. You see he hasn’t talk to his daughter in a long time. He feels like she’s shut him out of her life. But on the other side of it, she believes that he’s the one who’s cut her out of his life. Well, someone has to be the bigger person here, and I think it should be the dad. I think he’ll regret it later if he doesn’t go to the wedding.
So here I am
I never know what I should and shouldn’t blog about. By that I mean what I should be keeping private and what is ok to share with a larger audience. However, I need to get this off my chest, so I will blog.
My sister-in-law is getting married in February, I think. I believe the wedding is in the Caribbean. Can you tell were close? Hee Hee. Anyway, I think it’s important that my husband be there for the wedding. Problem there is that we don’t have the money for the ticket. We will not put it on credit. The reason we moved was to be debt free so I could stay at home and not feel any pressure to work, unless I wanted to.
I also think it’s important that his dad goes. The problem is that his dad has no desire to go. You see he hasn’t talk to his daughter in a long time. He feels like she’s shut him out of her life. But on the other side of it, she believes that he’s the one who’s cut her out of his life. Well, someone has to be the bigger person here, and I think it should be the dad. I think he’ll regret it later if he doesn’t go to the wedding.
So here I am
- Sticking my nose in where it really doesn’t belong.
- Trying to figure out why it means so much to me that Hubby and his dad go to the wedding when neither one of them seems that interested. This means that it is my problem/issue and not theirs. It is MY need.
So today I talked to my step-mother-in-law. I asked her what she thought about the idea of Hubby and his dad going together. After telling me that in no way would she attend the wedding, she felt it might be good for them to go together. She told me to talk to hubby and have hubby talk to his dad. Great, that was easy. Well I’m making it sound easy.
You need to understand that there is a lot of history here. You also need to know that my step-mother-in-law suffers from bi-polar and is a recovering alcoholic. You also need to know that my father-in-law is an alcoholic. So it took two phone calls, each one going off in various different rants to actually reach any sort of conclusion.
I’m very proud of my step-mother-in-law. She’s been clean for awhile now. She’s also getting some great support for her illness. She’s even started researching cognitive behavioural therapy. I hope that she does well. I often worry that something I say will upset her too much. I would hate to be the one responsible for drinking again. A lot of pressure to put on myself I know. I also know that I cannot control what someone else does. She just seemed so hurt today when we talk about Hubby’s sister and Hubby’s mom and step-dad. There is a lot of anger there. Ok. Pause. I can’t take on the weight of someone else’s problems. I can listen and be empathetic, but it is not my job to fix them.
My mother-in-law called last week asking if Hubby and the boys had passports.
“Nope.”
“Have you thought about getting them?”
“We have no need for them.”
“They’re good to have even for traveling into the states.”
“We don’t really travel much out of Alberta.”
“I know that TJ would love to have the boys at her wedding, and she realizes that means having you guys there too.”
My mind processing this…means having you guys there too…so what? She doesn’t actually want us there? Maybe S said that wrong. Did I hear wrong? A week later these questions still linger in my mind. Maybe I just need to ask her straight out what she said and what she meant. Why stir up something? Why create problems when it was likely just a misunderstanding?
“Well unless you’re planning on buying the tickets there is no way we can go,” I say jokingly.
There is a pause.
“I have to talk to B, but I’d like to see what we can do.”
Where would they get the money? I mean it would be great to go. To see the wedding. To take the boys on a plane. To have a family vacation. But you see the thing with me is that I start to wanting something so badly it hurts. I start to believe in things to the point that I can taste them. I will not let that happen this time. I can’t.
I just believe that Hubby and his dad need to be there. If we get to go too, bonus.
A mile a minute my thoughts run. I guess that’s why I get headaches. I have too process things to quickly. Stop the irrational thoughts before they take over.
On a positive note, I have lost enough weight that I can finally get back into Hubby’s pants. It must be because my insomnia is gone.
What is the point?
My son had his second scrimmage tonight for hockey tryouts. He played well. He looked a bit tiered though, poor guy. After his game he was goalie for another game. Not his best time ever in net, but he still had fun. He told me earlier this summer that he was born to be an NHL goalie. Hey, it’s great to have big dreams. I hope that they come true for him.
Me, I’ve seen too many of my dreams slip away. Although I still find myself dreaming many of them. Maybe it’s never too late.
My day did get a bit better. We all ended up going out. I’m not sure of that’s what I wanted. I thought I wanted to go out alone, but I kept hinting for everyone else to come. Maybe I wanted them to want to come, but not actually come. Instead they came, but didn’t really want to. I guess that’s why we need to be careful for what we ask for. My poor family never knows how they are supposed to act around me.
Anyway, we went to my mom’s first. My niece and nephew were there. It was fun watching Doodles play with them. Mr. Magoo stayed upstairs. He too was having a bit of a sulky day. But he cheered up. Then we went to Wal-Mart. We looked at the Halloween stuff. I bought a cool Beware of Dog sign. We picked up a pattern for their costume and for mine. They are going to be some type of black hooded cap guy, maybe it’s supposed to be the grim ripper and I’m going to be a queen. The off to the arena.
They rank the kids into groups A and B according to skill. The games were so unfair because they did A versus B. The poor B team was so outplayed. I wonder what the point of that was. Why do we make everything so complicated? So many adults were complaining about the unfairness. Was it bothering the kids or was it bothering us? Who knows really.
I think we do that as adults. We forget about simplicity and we make things so much more complicated than they need to be. I mean take the word Sesquipedalian. When other than my college English class and the one time it appeared in the Globe and Mail crossword puzzle would we ever use that word? What is the point of it?
What is the point of a lot of things?
Me, I’ve seen too many of my dreams slip away. Although I still find myself dreaming many of them. Maybe it’s never too late.
My day did get a bit better. We all ended up going out. I’m not sure of that’s what I wanted. I thought I wanted to go out alone, but I kept hinting for everyone else to come. Maybe I wanted them to want to come, but not actually come. Instead they came, but didn’t really want to. I guess that’s why we need to be careful for what we ask for. My poor family never knows how they are supposed to act around me.
Anyway, we went to my mom’s first. My niece and nephew were there. It was fun watching Doodles play with them. Mr. Magoo stayed upstairs. He too was having a bit of a sulky day. But he cheered up. Then we went to Wal-Mart. We looked at the Halloween stuff. I bought a cool Beware of Dog sign. We picked up a pattern for their costume and for mine. They are going to be some type of black hooded cap guy, maybe it’s supposed to be the grim ripper and I’m going to be a queen. The off to the arena.
They rank the kids into groups A and B according to skill. The games were so unfair because they did A versus B. The poor B team was so outplayed. I wonder what the point of that was. Why do we make everything so complicated? So many adults were complaining about the unfairness. Was it bothering the kids or was it bothering us? Who knows really.
I think we do that as adults. We forget about simplicity and we make things so much more complicated than they need to be. I mean take the word Sesquipedalian. When other than my college English class and the one time it appeared in the Globe and Mail crossword puzzle would we ever use that word? What is the point of it?
What is the point of a lot of things?
Only 43 more days until Halloween.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
So deeply rooted...
Why is my first reaction always to get angry or sad? Why do I feel before I think? Why am I so quick to blame others? WHY? WHY? WHY? The question of my life.
I got my assignment back for my course. No mark on it, which was odd, but whatever. Based on the numerous mark-ups, I don’t think I did well. But the teacher didn’t even understand the assignment. You see she took over part way through from another teacher. I opened it up and I was mad. I was angry. I was downright pissed-off. How could she have interpreted my assignment so wrong? What was she stupid? Maybe she should stop teaching and try it out in the working world again, because she was obviously outdated. No way was it my fault. I mean I knew what I was doing. I knew what I wanted to achieve. If she didn’t understand it, then it was all her fault. I couldn’t have written it wrong. Expressed myself poorly…no. Heaven forbid I have an imperfection. Another fault to add to my list.
I think part of it is that my school work is the one thing I’ve always felt good at. The one thing that has given me a sense of belonging and stability. Hooky I know. But when you need something to hold onto, something to give you a sense of identity you grab onto whatever you can.
Anyway, it just started my day off wrong. Now of course my mind dwells on my imperfections. My lack of abilities. I want to run. I want to escape the thoughts of my mind. I know they are wrong. I know they are completely irrational. Yet there seems to be a difference between knowing and believing.
I have to get out of the house. Change of scenery. Take my mind off of things. As soon as my cloths are dry, I am out of here. Where? I don’t know. Just away. I need a break.
I used to believe that if I moved, my problems would some how stay behind. That if I could change my physical location, I could change who I was. You know start over. Maybe a part of me still does. I do know that the simple act of getting out of the house helps. It allows me to breath. To refocus my energy without constant reminders in my face. Without responsibilities hanging over me.
I used to think that if I change my appearance (hair colour, start wearing make-up…) that I would become someone else. I suppose in may ways I did. For a few days I played a part. I wore a mask so convincing that I fooled even myself. But I always came down again. It never lasted for long. Came down is the wrong word choice. I always realized quickly enough that it was simply another game of charades. Another attempt to belong in a world that didn’t want me. A group where I was the outsider.
Sounds harsh, I know. I get that. But thoughts become realities, right or wrong. That was my reality. I’ve slowly learnt that it doesn’t matter if I don’t fit in. I was born to stand out. But sometimes I long for that sense of belonging. I then need to stop and think about it. Reflect on all the people I have in my life. All the groups that I do in fact belong to: my family for one. But somehow that never felt like a group. They have to love me and accept me. That’s what family does.
I also have my friends. So many wonderful, supportive friends. This was always an interesting group, for even among my friends I often felt like an outsider. This has changed now that I am an adult. Friendship groups aren’t as public as when you were in school. They no longer define you as they did then. My friends are those with big hearts. Those with tolerance and understanding. Many of them are also lost souls. We have each other.
But then I wonder why does it matter at all whether I belong or don’t. Is that what life is about? You see another why? Maybe I need to stop asking the question. Stop looking for answers that aren’t there to be found. But how so I turn off something that is rooted so deeply?
I got my assignment back for my course. No mark on it, which was odd, but whatever. Based on the numerous mark-ups, I don’t think I did well. But the teacher didn’t even understand the assignment. You see she took over part way through from another teacher. I opened it up and I was mad. I was angry. I was downright pissed-off. How could she have interpreted my assignment so wrong? What was she stupid? Maybe she should stop teaching and try it out in the working world again, because she was obviously outdated. No way was it my fault. I mean I knew what I was doing. I knew what I wanted to achieve. If she didn’t understand it, then it was all her fault. I couldn’t have written it wrong. Expressed myself poorly…no. Heaven forbid I have an imperfection. Another fault to add to my list.
I think part of it is that my school work is the one thing I’ve always felt good at. The one thing that has given me a sense of belonging and stability. Hooky I know. But when you need something to hold onto, something to give you a sense of identity you grab onto whatever you can.
Anyway, it just started my day off wrong. Now of course my mind dwells on my imperfections. My lack of abilities. I want to run. I want to escape the thoughts of my mind. I know they are wrong. I know they are completely irrational. Yet there seems to be a difference between knowing and believing.
I have to get out of the house. Change of scenery. Take my mind off of things. As soon as my cloths are dry, I am out of here. Where? I don’t know. Just away. I need a break.
I used to believe that if I moved, my problems would some how stay behind. That if I could change my physical location, I could change who I was. You know start over. Maybe a part of me still does. I do know that the simple act of getting out of the house helps. It allows me to breath. To refocus my energy without constant reminders in my face. Without responsibilities hanging over me.
I used to think that if I change my appearance (hair colour, start wearing make-up…) that I would become someone else. I suppose in may ways I did. For a few days I played a part. I wore a mask so convincing that I fooled even myself. But I always came down again. It never lasted for long. Came down is the wrong word choice. I always realized quickly enough that it was simply another game of charades. Another attempt to belong in a world that didn’t want me. A group where I was the outsider.
Sounds harsh, I know. I get that. But thoughts become realities, right or wrong. That was my reality. I’ve slowly learnt that it doesn’t matter if I don’t fit in. I was born to stand out. But sometimes I long for that sense of belonging. I then need to stop and think about it. Reflect on all the people I have in my life. All the groups that I do in fact belong to: my family for one. But somehow that never felt like a group. They have to love me and accept me. That’s what family does.
I also have my friends. So many wonderful, supportive friends. This was always an interesting group, for even among my friends I often felt like an outsider. This has changed now that I am an adult. Friendship groups aren’t as public as when you were in school. They no longer define you as they did then. My friends are those with big hearts. Those with tolerance and understanding. Many of them are also lost souls. We have each other.
But then I wonder why does it matter at all whether I belong or don’t. Is that what life is about? You see another why? Maybe I need to stop asking the question. Stop looking for answers that aren’t there to be found. But how so I turn off something that is rooted so deeply?
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Enjoy the moment
I just wanted to let you all know that Mr. Magoo has perpetual verbal diarrhea. I never thought that anyone would talk more than me. At least he comes by it honestly. It’s also great that he’s such a cutey, or I might just gag him for some peace and quite every once and awhile. (Totally joking, I would just lock him in a closet or something. HEE HEE!!!) All day, yack, yack, yack. I mean nonstop. Watching a movie, eating dinner...I swear I've even heard him talk in his sleep. That my friends is dear old Mr. Magoo...most of the time. (I just finished reading this to him and he says, "I'm only like that some of the time." And then asked yet another question about the movie, RV, which we watched yesterday.)
Doodles had an enjoyable hockey scrimmage today. He had fun and played his hardest that’s what counts. I just hope that he isn’t too disappointed if he doesn’t make the interlock team. After the hour long scrimmage for evaluations, he played goalie for an hour. (So, I just read this to him, and he said, "SHHH! I'm watching a movie.)
I heard one couch, who was doing evaluations, come out of the arena saying, “well that was a waste of time.” Meaning that none of the kids were worth watching. Boy was I mad. Life has so many pressures when we get older. Do we need them all as children?
Hubby was extremely loving today. It was nice, but odd. Most of the time when we are at the arena he’s busy talking with the other parents. This of course makes me feel like an outsider and leaves me a bit jealous. How bad is that? Well today was nice, we sat together, he rubbed my shoulders for a bit. And do you know what I found myself thinking? ‘Hum, must be no one around that he wants to talk too.’ Or ‘I wonder what he wants.’ That’s even worse!
This is when I need to tell the silly voices in my mind to SHUT UP!!! He is sitting with you because he loves you. So, I did. I then sat back against his legs and enjoyed the moment as we watched our son play goalie. His favourite position on the team. Our second hour at the arena. Tomorrow we go back for more. Maybe I can get a longer massage out of it.
Doodles had an enjoyable hockey scrimmage today. He had fun and played his hardest that’s what counts. I just hope that he isn’t too disappointed if he doesn’t make the interlock team. After the hour long scrimmage for evaluations, he played goalie for an hour. (So, I just read this to him, and he said, "SHHH! I'm watching a movie.)
I heard one couch, who was doing evaluations, come out of the arena saying, “well that was a waste of time.” Meaning that none of the kids were worth watching. Boy was I mad. Life has so many pressures when we get older. Do we need them all as children?
Hubby was extremely loving today. It was nice, but odd. Most of the time when we are at the arena he’s busy talking with the other parents. This of course makes me feel like an outsider and leaves me a bit jealous. How bad is that? Well today was nice, we sat together, he rubbed my shoulders for a bit. And do you know what I found myself thinking? ‘Hum, must be no one around that he wants to talk too.’ Or ‘I wonder what he wants.’ That’s even worse!
This is when I need to tell the silly voices in my mind to SHUT UP!!! He is sitting with you because he loves you. So, I did. I then sat back against his legs and enjoyed the moment as we watched our son play goalie. His favourite position on the team. Our second hour at the arena. Tomorrow we go back for more. Maybe I can get a longer massage out of it.
Something to be his
Sorry that I didn’t write more yesterday. I ended up running around doing errands of lot of the day. Just little things that take time. Some of the better ones were:
- I surprised my boys and picked them up from school to take them to McDonalds. It was a lot of fun.
- My dog was finally able to get into the groomers. So much nicer when he is clean.
- I rented three movies.
- I bought the Wild, which we’ll watch tonight.
- I checked out the Halloween stock at Zellers. Not much yet, but being the Halloween Freak that I am, I’ll keep checking.
- We went to Boston Pizza for supper. Had the worst service. They kept making silly mistakes and were slow. With such a strong economy here the service industry is really suffering.
Plus, my silly head cold still had me a bit drained. I’m feeling much better today. Just in time to spend the weekend at the hockey arena.
We watched RV as a family. I wasn’t sure what I would think of it, but was dying to watch it since we were in Kananaskis when they filmed it. I actually saw Robin Williams in our hotel restaurant. I wouldn’t say that I’m one of these star struck people or that I even really follow Hollywood news, but I totally respect Robin Williams as an actor. I think that’s why it was so totally cool to see him there. Jo-Jo said hi to Mr. Magoo, Not that at the time we knew who she was. We talked to the boy and his family for awhile; they made sure we knew he was starring in the movie. Totally uprooted their whole family just for him. I think that’s crazy, but hey to each their own. I hope it works out for them.
It was so funny, I was trying to explain to my boys who he was. I was naming all these movies and they were looking at me funny. Then I had it – Jumanji. Mr. Magoo put his hand on my shoulder, looked me in the eyes and in a very serious tone said, “Mom, you need to know that the guy from Jumanji does not come out of the TV.” It was so cute.
I love the innocence of kids. I mean even walking home yesterday, the boys were having such a blast running through all the rain puddles. Doodles was picking the water up inside his umbrella and dumping it on his head, “Look mom it’s raining.” Then he’d come and try to spray me with it, “Did it get you? Did it?” I of course answered no every time. This made him giggle as he said, “Mom!!!”
So RV is really, really funny. I couldn’t stop laughing the whole time. Even the messaging is good. Life is too short to waste on business. Family is too valuable to let it grow apart. I saw that happening to us awhile ago. Boy did it ever scare me. We were always in such a hurry to go from here to there. Everyone was grouchy. I hated it. I was miserable at work and miserable when I got home. I couldn’t win. Since I’ve stopped working full time in June, things have already started to get better. Things seem more relaxed. Mr. Magoo seems more open and outgoing. He’s trying harder at school and he’s more interested in making friends. Even his teacher has commented on the complete transformation.
I had to have a little talk with Doodles last night. I felt bad, but it needed to be done. You see Mr. Magoo has started Hip Hop lessons, and he loves it. This is great. He always starts things and ends up hating them. Never wants to show anyone or talk about the activity. Well Hip Hop is totally different. He’ always talking about it, and he always wants to show others. So last night, he wanted to show me his moves after the movie was done. I watched and smiled. While he was dancing Doodles kept saying,” I have a dance to show you too.” Once Mr. Magoo was done I told him to go get ready for bed.
When he left I told Doodles, “It’s not that I don’t want to see your dance, but you have to respect that dancing is Mr. Magoo’s thin. He’s spend his whole life in your hockey shadow. Everyone always talking about Doodles and how good he is at hockey. Doodles and his skating. Dancing was finally something that he was good at and that could be his.” Doodles looked at me a bit confused. “It’s not that you can never dance, but you don’t need to show me a dance every time Mr. Magoo does. It takes away some of his magic. I love whether you show me the dance or not. I already think you are special and talented.”
I don’t know, maybe I should have said nothing at all. But poor Mr. Magoo just needs something to be his. Or maybe I'm just trying to fill one of my own needs?
Friday, September 15, 2006
Five Ingredient Friday - Comfort Food
Normally I don't partake in Five Ingredient Friday, but for some reason today I feel like sharing my favourite comfort food, and it's perfect because it only has five ingredients:
- Ice Cream
- Peanut Butter
- Chocolate Chips
- Sliced Banana
- Shredded sweetened Coconut.
Just mix it all together and enjoy. How much of everything is totally up to you. It goes will with a great big glass of milk.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Blogging Clarity
(My Thursday Thirteen is below if that is why you stopped by. However, please feel free to read more of my posts that just that one. In fact, I hope you do.)
I will apologize now for the tone of this entry. To begin with, I have a terrible head cold or flu of sorts, so I am tiered. To top that off it is very dark, rainy and cold. Plus, for some reason today I seem to be getting a few negative emails from people, more than normal. I feel a bit sadden by this and also a bit confused. I am also annoyed that those who do post comments that any bit of negative energy to them, post anonymously. Have the guts to at least stand behind what you say!!!
I knew that by blogging about my illnesses I was making myself vulnerable to being judges. I also realize that for every negative comment, I get about five positive comments. Anyway, I think that maybe I should clarify a few things:
I will apologize now for the tone of this entry. To begin with, I have a terrible head cold or flu of sorts, so I am tiered. To top that off it is very dark, rainy and cold. Plus, for some reason today I seem to be getting a few negative emails from people, more than normal. I feel a bit sadden by this and also a bit confused. I am also annoyed that those who do post comments that any bit of negative energy to them, post anonymously. Have the guts to at least stand behind what you say!!!
I knew that by blogging about my illnesses I was making myself vulnerable to being judges. I also realize that for every negative comment, I get about five positive comments. Anyway, I think that maybe I should clarify a few things:
- To begin with, I am not in any way trying to profess to be an expert or to offer advice that would replace that of a professional. I am telling my story. Sharing from my experiences and offering bits of information from the courses that I teach.
- I am not currently suicidal. In my entry Not the Coward’s Way, I was talking in the past tense. Memories from moments in my past.
- As part of my treatment program, I do in fact work with a team of professionals. I also take medication, do meditation, journal, and now blog. Yes, blogging is therapeutic. Does that mean that I am doing it for selfish reasons? I don’t think so, but just as you are entitled to your opinion, I am entitled to mine.
- Often I am talking about what my life has been like, or what it is like to live within my thoughts. It does not mean that I am continually depressed or that I do not know how to reframe my thought patterns. It is a journey. Knowing how to reframe things does not stop the thoughts from coming. It helps to move them along. Not that this will make sense to many of you, but the world inside my head is different from how I portray myself and act in public. I know what is socially acceptable. I do in fact understand right from wrong.
- Occasionally I have a bad day. Who doesn’t? The difference is that maybe mine are a little sadder or a little grumpier. So what? We all experience life in different ways.
- Not everyone who suffers from a mental illness can talk their way out of it. It is not always as easy as taking medication. For some it is a life long battle…a journey. This does not mean that I live in a world of self-pity or a world defined by my illnesses. It does not mean that I don’t go through periods of remission. It is just a reality. A reality that I have learnt to accept. I know from past patterns that the minute I let myself believe that I am healthy, I will fall again. I put my guard down. I stop watching for signs.
Many of these emails simply reinforce my desire to educate people and reduce the stigma. There is so much fear. So much ignorance and so much hatred that needs to go away. I pray for you to find your strength and to come to terms with whatever darkness ails you. I pray that you will find the strength and courage to accept diversity in every form and realize that my illness is not your weakness or your problem. It is nothing that you need to fear.
I would now like to look at the positive light. No more negative energy.
For those of you who email me or comment about your stories with mental illness, you are not alone. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You should have nothing to fear. God made us all unique for a reason. I pray for you to find the strength to accept yourself for who you are. Your illness does not define you. They are simply a part of what makes you who you are. I pray for your health. I am here if you need someone to listen to.
Many of you leave me comments of encouragement. I truly appreciate all the emails and comments of support. It helps to give me strength. It reminds me that I am not alone. I enjoy hearing about all of your journeys. I will offer whatever bit of hope and insight that I can. If you need someone to listen, I am here. I pray for you to stay strong. I pray for your health and happiness. I pray for your families and loved ones.
For the first time in a long time, I feel more at peace. I believe that I am on the right road. Though I am still trying to figure out how to spend my time and what I want to be when I grow up. But I am in the right place. I am no longer working full time. I am home. I am here with my boys in the morning. They are able to come home for lunch. I am home when school is out. They can have play dates. Our evenings are more relaxed. I am less stressed. It’s a wonderful thing. I know how to refocus my thoughts. I know how to tame the beast within. I know how to see beauty when before there was none. It is a journey of growth. A journey of self-acceptance. A journey of acceptance and forgiveness. I journey to answer the question, "Who am I?" And you know what, it won’t be easy and it will be long.
Enjoy you life. Enjoy your journey.
Thursday Thirteen Edition #2
Thirteen Things that I love about my Mental Illnesses
I was going to post 13 things that I love about my husband this week, but after reading so many comments on my blog and so many other blogs, I thought that I’d better post this one. You see having a mental illness, or in my case two, isn’t all bad. In fact there are many positive sides of it as well.
- I love that they have made me appreciate life.
- I love that they have taught me empathy.
- I love that they allow me to see things that other people don't (notice the details, the little stuff).
- I love that they keep me creative.
- I love that they have shown my boys about compassion and understanding.
- I love that they have opened the doors to me meeting so many special people.
- I love that they give me a purpose (to teach others about mental illness and to help others through their journey with mental illness).
- I love that they have given me the ability to read people's moods and body language.
- I love that they have allows me to feel emotion so deeply and so honestly.
- I love that they have given me patterns to keep my life on course.
- I love that they have taught me about diversity.
- I love that they have shown me how accept others for who they are.
- I love that they allow me to love so freely.
Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
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Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Borderline Personlity Disorder in My Words
I suppose it’s no coincidence that I suffer from Astraphobia, which is especially common in young children. Some doctors say that those who suffer from Borderline Personality Disorder struggle to leave their childhood. They live in a young mind – sometimes even a make-believe world. A mind that cannot distinguish between right and wrong, fact and fiction. They struggle to find their independence. They grapple with various identities, trying to discover one that fits. Yet they must somehow find away to function in the adult world. This I suppose is where the chameleon like traits come into play.
I always learnt ways to pose as a member of a group. I could walk like them, talk like them, share the same interests and believes. Looking in, no one would no that I was any different. But I knew. Wearing my masks I stumbled forward. I somehow faked my way through life’s tasks. Continually having to pick myself up after tripping over self-doubt and feelings of inadequacy. The truth of my difference, or should I say my awareness of them, only made me feel more alienated. Why couldn’t I fit in? My sense of loneliness only grow stronger in the presence of others. I was always so fearful of exclusion or rejection.
Some days I wanted no part of the outside world. Others I wanted to destroy all societal structures. But most days I longed for my niche. Some sense of belonging. I was achieving well on the outside. So well that most people, often times including my doctors, presumed that underneath everything was okay. If you saw me in my work clothes or all dressed up, you’d think I was a highly functional business women. I suppose in many ways I was. The Monday to Friday work week gave me some sense of stability, predictability. I saw a beginning, middle and end to my projects. I was able to achieve some level of accomplishment. In that way, work was good for me.
However, the office politics only brought me further down. I was so aware of the negative energy. I knew who was on the inside and who was on the out. I was keenly aware of how others perceived me. I am extremely sensitive to my environment: things I hear, see or do…moods, colours, smells, sounds or perceptions. Gossip. An ugly game. A game I try to shy away from. I know the pain it causes. All to often I have been the one on the other side of it. As a general role of thumb I won’t say something about someone unless I have said it to them first. I won’t repeat things unless I was given permission. It’s a rule. Rules are made to be broken. I know this. However unless I was in the BDP realm, I stuck by it. I still do.
In my heart I live by the philosophy that everything happens for a reason, and that what will be, will be. However in my mind, anytime something goes wrong I find myself wondering why the world is trying to sabotage me, and I lose sight of anything good that has happened to me or that is currently around me. How can the two be so opposite? This war, for me, is between false self and real self, dysfunction and function.
I feared that I could not accomplish what was expected of me. (Many days I still do.) I was a lost soul. Uncertain about everything, but mostly myself. (If only that could have changed.) Average was not an option for me. I wanted success and popularity. In my search for this I raced from one thing to another. To the point of being half-dead with exhaustion. To the point of sacrificing my family. (Thankful I am slowly realizing that it's not worth it. I am now at home. I am putting my physical and mental health first. I am here for my boys.)
Then there is the rage. If only I could forget the rage. Move past it. Forgive myself. My anger often seemed out of proportion. If I dropped a pencil I would fly off the deep end, sputtering profanities. I would pick the pencil up and fling it across the room. Break it. Anything to get the anger out. Not the anger from dropping the pencil, but all my anger. I’ve found a way to control it, but I can still feel the beast lurking within. It was the anger that let me know I needed to get help. (That is a story for another day.)
I found myself wishing for a way out. I no longer wanted to live with myself. I needed to get out of the confounds of my mind. I didn’t want to die. I wanted answers. I wanted help. I wanted a break from myself.
Self-mutilation was a big part of my life. Even as a baby I banged my head against the crib. As I got older it turned into other things like scraping my arms, pulling out my hair, bending my wrists backwards, sticking pin in my arms, biting my lips until they bleed. Some of those I still do today. Old habits die hard. I think the worst thing I ever did was cut the inside of my thighs repeatedly. I started with one deep cut. The relief when I saw the blood. Then two…three…four…five on each side; alternating sides from one day to the next. It made me feel. You have no idea what it is like to feel something when for so long you’ve felt nothing at all. It made me real. It gave me an escape. Refocused my thoughts. It was something that I could control. It was a way to make my inside pain real to the world.
This is only part of the continuous battle that I face living in the realm of BPD. Then there is the ongoing self talk to stop myself from self mutilating; the constant nagging in the back of my head that I’ll never be good enough, that I don’t deserve to be loved, that people will eventually see through the mask…This behaviour is driven by fear and is designed not to hurt others but to protect my annihilated sense of self. Thankful it is not my life everyday. But it is something that I need to be aware of. Something that I need to watch for.
I’ve slowly been teaching my boys to recognize the BDP realm. I give them the details that I think they can handle. They need to know that I am sick, but that I love them. They need to know that it’s okay if they get scared. They need to know what to do.
This is a disorder that doesn’t get enough media attention and when it does it often misguided. Mainstream media is all but ignoring Borderline Personality Disorder. Why? The only times I've seen it reported at all in the media, sadly, are times when someone diagnosed with it has either committed a crime or killed themselves. This one-sided negative representation just continues to fuel the stigma that remains attached to BPD.
People with BPD should not have to fight to get help and to be heard, understood and treated with the dignity and compassion that we deserve. Nor should we have to suffer the shame of such societal stigma. There is stigma when it comes to mental illness and then there is the stigma perpetuated by many in the helping professions who still refuse to educate themselves about the reality that most of us living with BPD can get better if we are appropriately treated.
Speculation that the following people had BPD: Princess Diana, Marilyn Monroe, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Judy Garland, Susanna Kaysen (author of Girl Interrupted)
I always learnt ways to pose as a member of a group. I could walk like them, talk like them, share the same interests and believes. Looking in, no one would no that I was any different. But I knew. Wearing my masks I stumbled forward. I somehow faked my way through life’s tasks. Continually having to pick myself up after tripping over self-doubt and feelings of inadequacy. The truth of my difference, or should I say my awareness of them, only made me feel more alienated. Why couldn’t I fit in? My sense of loneliness only grow stronger in the presence of others. I was always so fearful of exclusion or rejection.
Some days I wanted no part of the outside world. Others I wanted to destroy all societal structures. But most days I longed for my niche. Some sense of belonging. I was achieving well on the outside. So well that most people, often times including my doctors, presumed that underneath everything was okay. If you saw me in my work clothes or all dressed up, you’d think I was a highly functional business women. I suppose in many ways I was. The Monday to Friday work week gave me some sense of stability, predictability. I saw a beginning, middle and end to my projects. I was able to achieve some level of accomplishment. In that way, work was good for me.
However, the office politics only brought me further down. I was so aware of the negative energy. I knew who was on the inside and who was on the out. I was keenly aware of how others perceived me. I am extremely sensitive to my environment: things I hear, see or do…moods, colours, smells, sounds or perceptions. Gossip. An ugly game. A game I try to shy away from. I know the pain it causes. All to often I have been the one on the other side of it. As a general role of thumb I won’t say something about someone unless I have said it to them first. I won’t repeat things unless I was given permission. It’s a rule. Rules are made to be broken. I know this. However unless I was in the BDP realm, I stuck by it. I still do.
In my heart I live by the philosophy that everything happens for a reason, and that what will be, will be. However in my mind, anytime something goes wrong I find myself wondering why the world is trying to sabotage me, and I lose sight of anything good that has happened to me or that is currently around me. How can the two be so opposite? This war, for me, is between false self and real self, dysfunction and function.
I feared that I could not accomplish what was expected of me. (Many days I still do.) I was a lost soul. Uncertain about everything, but mostly myself. (If only that could have changed.) Average was not an option for me. I wanted success and popularity. In my search for this I raced from one thing to another. To the point of being half-dead with exhaustion. To the point of sacrificing my family. (Thankful I am slowly realizing that it's not worth it. I am now at home. I am putting my physical and mental health first. I am here for my boys.)
Then there is the rage. If only I could forget the rage. Move past it. Forgive myself. My anger often seemed out of proportion. If I dropped a pencil I would fly off the deep end, sputtering profanities. I would pick the pencil up and fling it across the room. Break it. Anything to get the anger out. Not the anger from dropping the pencil, but all my anger. I’ve found a way to control it, but I can still feel the beast lurking within. It was the anger that let me know I needed to get help. (That is a story for another day.)
I found myself wishing for a way out. I no longer wanted to live with myself. I needed to get out of the confounds of my mind. I didn’t want to die. I wanted answers. I wanted help. I wanted a break from myself.
Self-mutilation was a big part of my life. Even as a baby I banged my head against the crib. As I got older it turned into other things like scraping my arms, pulling out my hair, bending my wrists backwards, sticking pin in my arms, biting my lips until they bleed. Some of those I still do today. Old habits die hard. I think the worst thing I ever did was cut the inside of my thighs repeatedly. I started with one deep cut. The relief when I saw the blood. Then two…three…four…five on each side; alternating sides from one day to the next. It made me feel. You have no idea what it is like to feel something when for so long you’ve felt nothing at all. It made me real. It gave me an escape. Refocused my thoughts. It was something that I could control. It was a way to make my inside pain real to the world.
This is only part of the continuous battle that I face living in the realm of BPD. Then there is the ongoing self talk to stop myself from self mutilating; the constant nagging in the back of my head that I’ll never be good enough, that I don’t deserve to be loved, that people will eventually see through the mask…This behaviour is driven by fear and is designed not to hurt others but to protect my annihilated sense of self. Thankful it is not my life everyday. But it is something that I need to be aware of. Something that I need to watch for.
I’ve slowly been teaching my boys to recognize the BDP realm. I give them the details that I think they can handle. They need to know that I am sick, but that I love them. They need to know that it’s okay if they get scared. They need to know what to do.
This is a disorder that doesn’t get enough media attention and when it does it often misguided. Mainstream media is all but ignoring Borderline Personality Disorder. Why? The only times I've seen it reported at all in the media, sadly, are times when someone diagnosed with it has either committed a crime or killed themselves. This one-sided negative representation just continues to fuel the stigma that remains attached to BPD.
People with BPD should not have to fight to get help and to be heard, understood and treated with the dignity and compassion that we deserve. Nor should we have to suffer the shame of such societal stigma. There is stigma when it comes to mental illness and then there is the stigma perpetuated by many in the helping professions who still refuse to educate themselves about the reality that most of us living with BPD can get better if we are appropriately treated.
Speculation that the following people had BPD: Princess Diana, Marilyn Monroe, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Judy Garland, Susanna Kaysen (author of Girl Interrupted)
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Not the Coward's Way
So many times I found myself staring at the bottles of pills in my medicine cabinet. So many times I’ve actually counted them.
I remember looking at the kitchen knives once wondering if I could actually stab myself in the heart.
I once thought that maybe it would be best to just fall asleep in the garage with the car on.
But, no matter how many times I thought about suicide only one thing ever stopped me.
I know that you are likely thinking it’s the love I have for my children, and I wish that I could say that’s correct. However, I cannot do that for it would be a lie. You see, I always thought, no believed that they would be better off without me. I truly believed that the pain of losing me wouldn’t be as great as the pain as living with me. In my mind, I was doing them a favour. I couldn’t raise kids. What kind mother was I anyway?
Maybe your next thought is the support I have. Again, you are wrong. I don’t often feel that support. I know now that it is there. I think even in the darkest moments I’m aware of it, but I do not process it. I am alone.
Perhaps it is because I don’t really want to die, you’re thinking now. I would say that’s in part correct. I don’t want to die. Suicide is not about death. It is about ending the pain. It is about making it stop once and for all. If death meant purity and no more suffering, then in the moments I did in fact want to die. Somehow in my mind though, it was never the end. It was always a new beginning. I knew that God would forgive me. He’d understand that I was sick of being stuck inside a tornado.
Was it a cry for attention? Perhaps. But not in the sense of “oh poor girl.” Or “Look at me”, but more that I wanted people to know that my pain was real. I needed them to know that I couldn’t do it anymore. That I was done. That I had no more energy. That I was void of emotion and thought. That I had nothing left to gift.
So why then did I never actually try anything? Because I never knew what to write in the note. That silly note that you are supposed to leave when you commit suicide. How pathetic is that? It wasn’t that I realized how lucky I was to have love and support. It wasn’t that somewhere in the back of my mind I found a reason to live. It was that I couldn’t find the words to say good bye.
I mean how do you say good bye and not make those around you feel guilty? Find themselves stuck in the very world of eternal pain that you are trying to avoid. I thought about things like,
I remember looking at the kitchen knives once wondering if I could actually stab myself in the heart.
I once thought that maybe it would be best to just fall asleep in the garage with the car on.
But, no matter how many times I thought about suicide only one thing ever stopped me.
I know that you are likely thinking it’s the love I have for my children, and I wish that I could say that’s correct. However, I cannot do that for it would be a lie. You see, I always thought, no believed that they would be better off without me. I truly believed that the pain of losing me wouldn’t be as great as the pain as living with me. In my mind, I was doing them a favour. I couldn’t raise kids. What kind mother was I anyway?
Maybe your next thought is the support I have. Again, you are wrong. I don’t often feel that support. I know now that it is there. I think even in the darkest moments I’m aware of it, but I do not process it. I am alone.
Perhaps it is because I don’t really want to die, you’re thinking now. I would say that’s in part correct. I don’t want to die. Suicide is not about death. It is about ending the pain. It is about making it stop once and for all. If death meant purity and no more suffering, then in the moments I did in fact want to die. Somehow in my mind though, it was never the end. It was always a new beginning. I knew that God would forgive me. He’d understand that I was sick of being stuck inside a tornado.
Was it a cry for attention? Perhaps. But not in the sense of “oh poor girl.” Or “Look at me”, but more that I wanted people to know that my pain was real. I needed them to know that I couldn’t do it anymore. That I was done. That I had no more energy. That I was void of emotion and thought. That I had nothing left to gift.
So why then did I never actually try anything? Because I never knew what to write in the note. That silly note that you are supposed to leave when you commit suicide. How pathetic is that? It wasn’t that I realized how lucky I was to have love and support. It wasn’t that somewhere in the back of my mind I found a reason to live. It was that I couldn’t find the words to say good bye.
I mean how do you say good bye and not make those around you feel guilty? Find themselves stuck in the very world of eternal pain that you are trying to avoid. I thought about things like,
- “I told you I was going to break, well now I can break no more.”
- “Good bye”
- “I’m sorry”
- “Please know that it is not your fault”
- “You couldn’t have stopped me”
- Or even writing some big elaborate letter. And I did, I drafted many big elaborate letters. I even hid some just in case the day ever came when I really could not go on anymore.
Some people say that suicide is the cowards’ way out. Others say it is the most selfish act there is. Who are they to judge unless they have been there? Suicide is neither wrong nor right; it is not a defect of character; it is morally neutral.
Why am I writing about this tonight? In July I had a friend end up in emergency because things were spinning so far out of control that she wanted to end her life. She saw no other way out. She had suffered in silence for too long.
Again you ask, what does this have to do with tonight? You see, last night one of my friends spend six hours at the emergency room with a friend that she believed to be suicidal. She heard her friend’s cry and she reached out to help. What a powerful act of love. How did she know her friend needed help? I’m not sure, but you can look for the following signs:
- The individual is talking about suicide, possibly making directly saying things like "I'm going to kill myself," "I wish I was dead" or "I wish I hadn't been born".
- The person is suddenly withdrawing from social contact and having an increased desire to be left alone.
- The individual is experiencing wide mood swings, such as being emotionally high one day and deeply discouraged the next.
- The person seems to be preoccupied with death, dying or violence.
- The individual has noticeable changes in routine, including eating or sleeping patterns.
- The person is experiencing personality changes, such as becoming very outgoing after being shy.
- The individual is suddenly involved in risky or self-destructive behavior, such as drug use or unsafe driving.
- The person is giving away belongings or getting affairs in order.
- The individual is saying goodbye to people as if they won't be seen again
Everyone is different. Some people don't reveal any suicidal feelings or actions. And many who consider or attempt suicide do so when you think they should be feeling better — during what may seem like a recovery from depression, for instance. That's because they may finally be able to muster the emotional energy to take action on their feelings.
But you need to know that reaching out isn’t always enough. You can’t control the outcome. No matter what happens it’s not your fault.
Why do we have to suffer in silence? Why do we need to wear our masks?
It’s scary. It’s scary for those who witness the desperation and it’s scary for those who experience the desperation. It changes lives forever, even if no act of suicide has occurred. There is a new dimension of care. A small element of protection.
How to help if someone is suicidal
Suicide prevention is not a last minute activity.
- If the person has attempted suicide and needs medical attention, call 9-1-1 or your local emergency services number. Attempt first-aid if possible.
- If the person is actively suicidal, get help immediately. Call your local crisis service or the police, or take the person to the emergency room of your local hospital. Do not leave the person alone.
Questions To Ask
Ask them directly if they are. Asking them won't give them the idea or push them into doing something self-destructive. In fact, your willingness to ask may decrease the risk of suicide by giving them an opportunity to talk about their feelings. Things to ask them include,
- Are you thinking about dying?
- Are you thinking about hurting yourself?
- Are you thinking about suicide?
- Have you thought about how you would do it?
- Do you know when you would do it?
- Do you have the means to do it?
The answers will help you access the risk factors. It will also help you to determine a course of action. No matter what, they should get professional help at some point. If you think the individual is in immediate danger, assess the home for potentially dangerous items. You may have to remove items that could become weapons of self-destruction, such as guns or knives. You may also want to look for easily accessible medication and move it to a secure place. But don't put yourself in harm's way doing so, either.
DO
- Remain calm.
- Be supportive and empathetic.
- Take is seriously
- Listen actively to their concerns.
- Reassure them that help is available and that with appropriate treatment they can feel better.
- Reassure them that they are not "bad" or "stupid" because they are thinking about suicide.
- Help the person break down their problem(s) into more manageable pieces. It is easier to deal with one problem at a time.
- Emphasize that there are ways other than suicide to solve problems. Help the person to explore these options, for example, ask them what else they could do to change their situation.
- Offer to investigate counselling services.
- Suggest that the person see a doctor for a complete physical.
DO NOT
- Risk your own health and safety.
- Judge
- Patronize them by saying that "everything will be OK," that "things could be worse" or that they have "everything to live for."
- Swear you'll keep the discussions a secret. It will become an an unwanted burden for you. It will also be a promise you risk having to break if you need to enlist immediate professional help, which could betray that trust.
- Worry about losing a friendship when it's a life that could be lost.
Things to Keep in Mind
- You are not an expert.
- It's not your job to become a substitute for a mental health professional.
- You are not responsible for the final outcome. All you can do is your part.
Go ME GO
Yeah – My first assignment is in for marking
Sorry I just had to share that. Only two more to go before the middle of November I can do this!!!
Today was just your average day. I found myself with a lot on my mind:
1) I’ve started selling Avon, so I’ve been trying to get a handle on that.
2) One of the courses I was going to teach was cancelled which is both good and bad. Bad because:
- I love teaching.
- The people who registered will not be able to take it and I feel bad. To help I told the women who takes registration that they can call me and I will give mail them the package. My husband says, “you can sell it to them”. Nice guy hey. These people are depressed and all he can thing about is money.
- We could use the extra money.
Good because
- The anxiety of the drive would have been way too much for me.
- It means Mr. Magoo doesn’t have to sit through Doodles skating lessons.
3) My course work and how on earth I’ll get it all done.
4) What course I should register for next. Should I do one or two? Am I the only one who takes over nine years to finish a degree?
5) All the blogs I want to read and comment on. The blogging world in general. Rules and etiquette. How to change my template. What to write for my next Defining Intimacy Blog.
6) Tomorrow Chamber of Commerce Lunch, which I really don’t want to go to. I know it’s good for my company, but do I really have a company to promote?
7) My husband’s family. Some stuff that happened last night when his step-mom found out I was blogging about my illnesses. Some comments his uncle made. Boy I would love to blog about it, but I promised him I wouldn’t. Old me wouldn’t have cared. I would have done it anyway. Yeah for growing me.
Another yeah for growing me. I have this dessert that I like to eat occationally (ice cream, peanut butter, chocolate chips and coconut). Hubby does not approve. Not only does he think it’s disgusting, but he thinks it is extremely unhealthy. First off, I don’t remember asking his opinion. Second off, he’s not eating it I am. Third off, I’m not forcing him to eat it. Anyway I made some tonight. He gave me his usual rude comment. Old me would have blown off the deep end. Told him where to go and how to get there.
Growing me took him aside and spoke with him, in a somewhat harsh tone, about how much I didn’t appreciate that. How I’ve told him nicely before to stop making the comments. I went on to say that apparently nicely didn’t work so I was now trying a harsh tone. He made some comment about me not liking his supper. Um, what did supper have to do with it? It’s called dessert. It’s called there was only enough of the very good supper for me to have two tiny pieces of chicken thighs. I even scrapped of Doodles plate, I was so hungry when I was done. And did I mention, it’s called dessert. I know let it go. And so now that I have vented here, it is gone. Gone meaning it will stew away in my mind for a while but not be spoken of again. As far as everyone else is concerned, you and hubby being everyone, I have let it go.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Life Long Learing
I truly believe that everyday we should learn something. It doesn't have to be something major or something earth shattering, but it should be new. I have created a new blog to help you do just that. It is fun and very easy to read. All you need is a few minutes in the morning, during the day or at night.
If you want to stay longer, you can join in the debates or share your stories. I hope that you will stop by and tell others to meet you there, Worthless Trivia is up and running. What better was to rejuvenate your mind.
If you want to stay longer, you can join in the debates or share your stories. I hope that you will stop by and tell others to meet you there, Worthless Trivia is up and running. What better was to rejuvenate your mind.
Life is a journey
Not sure why, but for some reason I felt like sharing an old poem I wrote on July 26, 2005.
Mistakes are being made
Eyes are closing shut
The head is pointing
And the stomach hollow
Spinning round and round
No way to stop
No way to go
Which is up
What is down
Where is left and right
Do this do that
No now
Not at all
Forgotten
Left undone
Completed with mistakes
Who’s turn is it
Which priority first
How many falls before it’s to late
Eyes are closing shut
The head is pointing
And the stomach hollow
Spinning round and round
No way to stop
No way to go
Which is up
What is down
Where is left and right
Do this do that
No now
Not at all
Forgotten
Left undone
Completed with mistakes
Who’s turn is it
Which priority first
How many falls before it’s to late
Everyone uses the metaphor that life is a journey. I say that life is a series of journeys; although when compiled I suppose they could in fact make on single journey.
I heard once that a journey is a single passage along a fixed course. I say that life is not a fixed course but rather a very unpredictable one.
A journey can also be defined as the act of traveling from one place to another. Fair enough! That can relate to life on many different levels. People often move from place to place, they may travel, they may change careers… and so it goes on.
Similar to the above definition is that a journey leads a person directly from one point to another. While life's transitions aren’t always direct, your personal choice or course of action does in fact take you from one point in life to another.
No matter what, a journey is an experience – an experience that covers a large distance (as in moving or traveling) or that takes a long time (as in getting an education, committing to a marriage, or raising child(ren)).
My journey is that of a passage from one state to another; it is a journey that is not yet complete and may never be. It is a journey of growth. A journey of self-acceptance. A journey of acceptance and forgiveness. I journey to answer the question, "Who am I?"
How far the ripples reach
I wasn't sure if I was going to write a post remembering September 11th. I have mixed emotions.
- Are we remembering for ourselves, to ease our own pain?
- Are we remembering for the families?
- Are we keeping something alive that we shouldn't be?
- Are we glorifying something terrible?
- Does the media coverage only fuel the fire more?
Why do we put some much effort into praying for those victims, when people die everyday. Heroes are lost, lives are forever changed. Should we not remember them as well? - Those who are fighting for peace, are they part of our thoughts?
I cannot answer these questions, for I do not know. As with most things, I am confused. I see so many angles and I look for the one right answer. The simplest answer. The safest answer. But life doesn't work that way. What I do know is that
- I pray for the families and friends who lost loved ones in 9/11.
- I pray for those who were injured in 9/11.
- I pray for those who have lost loved ones in the wars we fight for peace and freedom.
- I pray for those who were injured in the wars we fight for war and peace.
- But beyond that, I pray for those who lose people everyday.
- I pray for those who are injured every moment.
It is not the size of the splash the matters, but how far the ripples reach!
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Can a dog suffer from Agoraphobia?
I just finished watching a movie called Last Exit, boy was it ever powerful. It was so accurate in that we are all rushing through life in a hurry and all looking for someone else to blame. It’s sure not worth it. The risks that we take. The need that some people have to seek revenge. Life is so valuable. Some people even say it’s the only one we’ve got. I think it depends on your school of thought. Are we reincarnate as someone or something else? Do we come back as ourselves to do it over and over again to get it right; learn the lessons God wants us to learn? Do we become ghosts who roam the earth? Are we angles watching out for loved ones? No one truly knows. It’s all speculation. It’s a matter of faith.
I’m not sure what this has to do with today’s blog, but the movie really got to me. I look at the choices that I have made and the roads that I have traveled, and I ask myself if I would want to do it again. If I would change anything. To be honest, I don’t know. This life, my life as it is right now is all I’ve ever known.
Up until recently I used to say that I would die with regrets if I died tomorrow, but now I’m not so sure. Why carry around so much negative energy? Besides, each choice that I made is how I got to where I am now. There were things that I needed to experience and things that I had to learn.
Today was a better day than yesterday. I mean I stayed in bed until 12:30 but somehow I was in a better mood. I didn’t really get out of bed that way, but after lunch I opened the door and couldn’t help but laugh. Last night some partiers put a bike in our tree. Right up there, hanging off a branch was a child’s bike. How many times in a lifetime do you get to see something that silly? My little sign reminding me to smile and take it as it comes.
(Don’t get me wrong I feel bad for whoever lost the bike, and I hope they find it.)
But after such a simple thing, I realized how seriously I often take life. How stuck I get in my silly thought patterns. I went out to talk to my neighbours. My kindred spirit came over and we looked at a house, sort of a hobby of ours. I watched Doodle’s hockey tryouts. Boy is that hard to watch. He wants to badly to make the interlock teams this year, but I just don’t think he has the skill yet. He has the heart and the determination, but my negative side knows that often that’s not enough. He tried his best and that’s what counts. After dropping him off at a birthday party we took Mr. Magoo to Extreme Pita for dinner. I love the falafel pita. Then we game home. Started homework. Oh the joys of homework. The we walked to get Doodles from the party. It’s funny how Chloe is still so scared of people. Can a dog suffer from Agoraphobia?
After that I wrote up the invitation for my mom’s birthday party. What an amazing women my mom is. I can only hope to be half the person she is. She is always to optimistic. She takes life as it comes. She likes and gets along with almost everyone. She is my hero.
But there is also a side of me that needs to let go of her. I rely on her. I look to her for approval. When I fail, I feel like I’m failing her. Letting her down. Not good enough for her. It’s as though I owe her something for adopting me. How stupid is that? I mean I was a baby. Ten days old. I am her daughter through and through. Blood or no blood.
She’s amazing, truly my best friend and one of the people who keeps me going. I can only imagine how hard my mental illness has been on her over the years. Yet she’s always tried to be my pillar, believing in me.
This entry sure is going all over the place; scattered like my thought patterns. How do you shut that up? Slow it down? I process things like a lighting strike: fast and furious, gone in a flash. That’s part of my problem. I see things. I analysis things to quickly that I am able to see things before others. Sometimes even things that they may never think off. Okay so that problem doesn’t make must sense to you. Maybe it makes me sound vein or like some smarty-pants. Not my intention. Believe me, I am neither vain nor a smarty-pants. I struggled through my schools years, just as I do most things in my life.
The funny thing though is now, as an adult, I find school to be comforting. It’s the one thing I really feel good at. The one thing I really feel like I have some control over. I’ve been working towards my bachelor of professional arts, majoring in communications through part-time self-study for almost eight years. Eight crazy long years, but I keep going. This will not be another thing that I quit at. This will not be another disappointment to add to the list. I can and I will accomplish this. I believe I can do it. I know I can do it?
I’m not sure what this has to do with today’s blog, but the movie really got to me. I look at the choices that I have made and the roads that I have traveled, and I ask myself if I would want to do it again. If I would change anything. To be honest, I don’t know. This life, my life as it is right now is all I’ve ever known.
Up until recently I used to say that I would die with regrets if I died tomorrow, but now I’m not so sure. Why carry around so much negative energy? Besides, each choice that I made is how I got to where I am now. There were things that I needed to experience and things that I had to learn.
Today was a better day than yesterday. I mean I stayed in bed until 12:30 but somehow I was in a better mood. I didn’t really get out of bed that way, but after lunch I opened the door and couldn’t help but laugh. Last night some partiers put a bike in our tree. Right up there, hanging off a branch was a child’s bike. How many times in a lifetime do you get to see something that silly? My little sign reminding me to smile and take it as it comes.
(Don’t get me wrong I feel bad for whoever lost the bike, and I hope they find it.)
But after such a simple thing, I realized how seriously I often take life. How stuck I get in my silly thought patterns. I went out to talk to my neighbours. My kindred spirit came over and we looked at a house, sort of a hobby of ours. I watched Doodle’s hockey tryouts. Boy is that hard to watch. He wants to badly to make the interlock teams this year, but I just don’t think he has the skill yet. He has the heart and the determination, but my negative side knows that often that’s not enough. He tried his best and that’s what counts. After dropping him off at a birthday party we took Mr. Magoo to Extreme Pita for dinner. I love the falafel pita. Then we game home. Started homework. Oh the joys of homework. The we walked to get Doodles from the party. It’s funny how Chloe is still so scared of people. Can a dog suffer from Agoraphobia?
After that I wrote up the invitation for my mom’s birthday party. What an amazing women my mom is. I can only hope to be half the person she is. She is always to optimistic. She takes life as it comes. She likes and gets along with almost everyone. She is my hero.
But there is also a side of me that needs to let go of her. I rely on her. I look to her for approval. When I fail, I feel like I’m failing her. Letting her down. Not good enough for her. It’s as though I owe her something for adopting me. How stupid is that? I mean I was a baby. Ten days old. I am her daughter through and through. Blood or no blood.
She’s amazing, truly my best friend and one of the people who keeps me going. I can only imagine how hard my mental illness has been on her over the years. Yet she’s always tried to be my pillar, believing in me.
This entry sure is going all over the place; scattered like my thought patterns. How do you shut that up? Slow it down? I process things like a lighting strike: fast and furious, gone in a flash. That’s part of my problem. I see things. I analysis things to quickly that I am able to see things before others. Sometimes even things that they may never think off. Okay so that problem doesn’t make must sense to you. Maybe it makes me sound vein or like some smarty-pants. Not my intention. Believe me, I am neither vain nor a smarty-pants. I struggled through my schools years, just as I do most things in my life.
The funny thing though is now, as an adult, I find school to be comforting. It’s the one thing I really feel good at. The one thing I really feel like I have some control over. I’ve been working towards my bachelor of professional arts, majoring in communications through part-time self-study for almost eight years. Eight crazy long years, but I keep going. This will not be another thing that I quit at. This will not be another disappointment to add to the list. I can and I will accomplish this. I believe I can do it. I know I can do it?
Saturday, September 09, 2006
The non-existent day
I wasn’t really sure what to write about today. In fact, I even found myself thinking maybe I wouldn’t write at all. I’ve had the computer on almost all day for comfort and consistency more than anything. It’s a formality realy, part of habitual routine. Instead of not blogging, I am going to try and let you inside my head. I am going to create a world that I don’t even understand – the world I live in.
Today my spirit became my shadow and my body an empty shell. Any thoughts that formed lingered above me (scattered pieces of a puzzle, a dot-to-dot waiting to be connected.) Emotions…there were none.
I was simply an observer trying to figure out what was wrong, what was missing. Why in this moment could I not find happiness that has come to me before? What changed? How did I not notice?
Even though I woke up relatively early, I stayed in bed until nearly noon. Somehow I felt safe in the comfort of my blankets. My head on the soft pillow, void of thoughts. I was whole. But soon enough that tranquility was broken. I found myself questioning the expectations of the world outside my bedroom door. Even my getting out of bed was an expectation. The question remains: was it mine or was it their’s?
Went downstairs. Sat on the couch. Got off the couch. My body restless. I was searching for something. But what? Perhaps myself. Cooked some eggs for the family. Food=substance. Substance=feeling. Or not. Ate almost in silence.
Searching for normalcy or perhaps validation that my mind did in fact work, I called my kindred spirit. My words seemed disconnected. My sentences were but fragments. Still no feeling at all.
Blank! Void! Nothing! Fidgeted with things. Dabbled in this and that. Nothing was accomplished. Nothing complete. My family moved about, and I watched. I did not join in. I wanted to be alone. I needed to find away back into myself.
If they talked to me I did not answer. In part because their words seemed fuzzy. In part because I couldn’t decipher what I needed to say. If they repeated themselves, I barked one-word responses. Why no gentle tones? I think because of the disconnection from body and mind. I didn’t think they could hear me. I needed to be loud to be heard. One-word answers…simplicity.
Ate a burger. No cheese, which is very odd for me.
We went to our neighbours. I found myself suddenly weak. Needed to sit. Sat on the floor. My back felt like it was falling. Leaned against the wall. Was my body giving up its search? Was I dying?
Looked at her movie collection, but the words on the cases made no sense. My mind had no recollection of what it has seen before. On her recommendation I borrowed Along Came Polly. We left. Up the steps. Into the house. For a moment I was connected as I said, “I’ve seen this before.” As quickly as it come the moment was gone. Barely a flash. Hardly a glimmer.
A movie…something mindless. Put it on. Stared blankly at the screen. Nothing. Hardly even aware of what was happening. Desperate to feel something I started biting my lips. Confirming that I am in fact still alive. I grab a Kleenex to wipe the blood. I’ve done this so many times my mouth is immune to the taste. I need to see it. Know for certain that it is there.
Stop the movie. Go to the basement. The boys have filmed a movie of their own. They want to share it. Sit for a moment. I should be enjoying this. Smiling at the creativity (nothing). I wasn’t even questing that in the moment, just void. Tell them I’ve had enough. Leave.
Sit on the couch. Press play. It was at some point in the movie that I found myself thinking what a non-existent day it had been. I was saddened. I turned the movie off. My boys had been asking for hours to play Playstation and my mind only just registered it now. My beautiful boys. I was returning.
I find myself hungry. Nachos and Cheese. The buttons on the microwave confusing me, but the task get’s done. A small sense of accomplishment. Over a plate of nachos…silly really. I need to look for hubby; maybe he holds the piece I am missing.
I enter our room, half expecting him to be asleep. He is not. He is in our office playing his computer game.
“What are you doing,” he asks.
“Not sure,” I reply. He’s picking at my plate of nachos. It’s bugging me. These are mine. It was my accomplishment. It is my fuel.
He starts saving his game.
“I’ll go read outside,” I said more as a question than fact.
So he joins me out on the deck. He continues to eat MY nachos. He didn’t stay outside long. He went inside to cook dinner. Hungry or not, when you have kids you have to cook.
Suddenly the bench felt hard and uncomfortable. I grab two small pillows. I knew in that moment that the metamorphosis is almost complete.
I go upstairs. I am going to work on my novel. In this moment my thoughts are more focused than ever. Not focused on the day, but on who I am…what my life is like…what my life means.
Dinner is ready. I go down and eat some more. This time, for the first time today, I can taste the food. When dinner is done, I want to walk the dogs as a family. I want to experience the outdoors…I want the freedom. And so we go. Just a short one, but still an enjoyable one. Although I had hoped hubby would hold my hand. It’s the little things that matter.
As I write this, I am still a bit confused and empty. I know this because I have no tears. Because the buttons on the microwave still seem odd to me. My fingers seem heavy as I type. The popcorn is somehow less gratifying than usual.
But I also know that when you spend your whole day as two entities, you find yourself twice as tiered.
Today my spirit became my shadow and my body an empty shell. Any thoughts that formed lingered above me (scattered pieces of a puzzle, a dot-to-dot waiting to be connected.) Emotions…there were none.
I was simply an observer trying to figure out what was wrong, what was missing. Why in this moment could I not find happiness that has come to me before? What changed? How did I not notice?
Even though I woke up relatively early, I stayed in bed until nearly noon. Somehow I felt safe in the comfort of my blankets. My head on the soft pillow, void of thoughts. I was whole. But soon enough that tranquility was broken. I found myself questioning the expectations of the world outside my bedroom door. Even my getting out of bed was an expectation. The question remains: was it mine or was it their’s?
Went downstairs. Sat on the couch. Got off the couch. My body restless. I was searching for something. But what? Perhaps myself. Cooked some eggs for the family. Food=substance. Substance=feeling. Or not. Ate almost in silence.
Searching for normalcy or perhaps validation that my mind did in fact work, I called my kindred spirit. My words seemed disconnected. My sentences were but fragments. Still no feeling at all.
Blank! Void! Nothing! Fidgeted with things. Dabbled in this and that. Nothing was accomplished. Nothing complete. My family moved about, and I watched. I did not join in. I wanted to be alone. I needed to find away back into myself.
If they talked to me I did not answer. In part because their words seemed fuzzy. In part because I couldn’t decipher what I needed to say. If they repeated themselves, I barked one-word responses. Why no gentle tones? I think because of the disconnection from body and mind. I didn’t think they could hear me. I needed to be loud to be heard. One-word answers…simplicity.
Ate a burger. No cheese, which is very odd for me.
We went to our neighbours. I found myself suddenly weak. Needed to sit. Sat on the floor. My back felt like it was falling. Leaned against the wall. Was my body giving up its search? Was I dying?
Looked at her movie collection, but the words on the cases made no sense. My mind had no recollection of what it has seen before. On her recommendation I borrowed Along Came Polly. We left. Up the steps. Into the house. For a moment I was connected as I said, “I’ve seen this before.” As quickly as it come the moment was gone. Barely a flash. Hardly a glimmer.
A movie…something mindless. Put it on. Stared blankly at the screen. Nothing. Hardly even aware of what was happening. Desperate to feel something I started biting my lips. Confirming that I am in fact still alive. I grab a Kleenex to wipe the blood. I’ve done this so many times my mouth is immune to the taste. I need to see it. Know for certain that it is there.
Stop the movie. Go to the basement. The boys have filmed a movie of their own. They want to share it. Sit for a moment. I should be enjoying this. Smiling at the creativity (nothing). I wasn’t even questing that in the moment, just void. Tell them I’ve had enough. Leave.
Sit on the couch. Press play. It was at some point in the movie that I found myself thinking what a non-existent day it had been. I was saddened. I turned the movie off. My boys had been asking for hours to play Playstation and my mind only just registered it now. My beautiful boys. I was returning.
I find myself hungry. Nachos and Cheese. The buttons on the microwave confusing me, but the task get’s done. A small sense of accomplishment. Over a plate of nachos…silly really. I need to look for hubby; maybe he holds the piece I am missing.
I enter our room, half expecting him to be asleep. He is not. He is in our office playing his computer game.
“What are you doing,” he asks.
“Not sure,” I reply. He’s picking at my plate of nachos. It’s bugging me. These are mine. It was my accomplishment. It is my fuel.
He starts saving his game.
“I’ll go read outside,” I said more as a question than fact.
So he joins me out on the deck. He continues to eat MY nachos. He didn’t stay outside long. He went inside to cook dinner. Hungry or not, when you have kids you have to cook.
Suddenly the bench felt hard and uncomfortable. I grab two small pillows. I knew in that moment that the metamorphosis is almost complete.
I go upstairs. I am going to work on my novel. In this moment my thoughts are more focused than ever. Not focused on the day, but on who I am…what my life is like…what my life means.
Dinner is ready. I go down and eat some more. This time, for the first time today, I can taste the food. When dinner is done, I want to walk the dogs as a family. I want to experience the outdoors…I want the freedom. And so we go. Just a short one, but still an enjoyable one. Although I had hoped hubby would hold my hand. It’s the little things that matter.
As I write this, I am still a bit confused and empty. I know this because I have no tears. Because the buttons on the microwave still seem odd to me. My fingers seem heavy as I type. The popcorn is somehow less gratifying than usual.
But I also know that when you spend your whole day as two entities, you find yourself twice as tiered.
Stranger and I
Who is this shadow that follows me,
lingers close by.
What does it want from me,
trying not to cry.
Not my tears,
for I have none.
But from all those years,
I’ve tried to out run.
It is no ghost,
no shadow on the wall.
The person I know most,
she’s about to fall.
This shadow that follows,
it is me.
Found within the hallows,
look at you will see.
lingers close by.
What does it want from me,
trying not to cry.
Not my tears,
for I have none.
But from all those years,
I’ve tried to out run.
It is no ghost,
no shadow on the wall.
The person I know most,
she’s about to fall.
This shadow that follows,
it is me.
Found within the hallows,
look at you will see.
Friday, September 08, 2006
God Knows
Earlier today I was planning to Blog about the cattiness of women, but since them my mood has improved. It’s amazing what a night a good friend’s house can do – a best friend. In that regards I think women are great; we are always able to find that one true friend we can confide in, that we can laugh with, that we can cry with and that we can grow with. I’m not talking about our husbands, partners or lovers…I am talking about that one girlfriend that you love like a sister.
I am lucky to be blessed with a handful of really great friends. Each one brings something different into my life and holds a different part of my heart.
Tonight, I was with a friend who truly sees me as I am. She not only understands but can also relate to my physical problems. She understands the complexity of life and love. She knows the hardship of raising children. She can make me laugh like few can. She reminds me why I am special and what makes life so beautiful. It’s the simple things that we often forget about. I love that she doesn’t take life too seriously. I love that she knows there is more to life then money, status, material items…She represents safety, comfort and familiarity.
Then on the drive home, my husband told me about a few of the guys in his team and the many problems that they are encountering in life:
I am lucky to be blessed with a handful of really great friends. Each one brings something different into my life and holds a different part of my heart.
Tonight, I was with a friend who truly sees me as I am. She not only understands but can also relate to my physical problems. She understands the complexity of life and love. She knows the hardship of raising children. She can make me laugh like few can. She reminds me why I am special and what makes life so beautiful. It’s the simple things that we often forget about. I love that she doesn’t take life too seriously. I love that she knows there is more to life then money, status, material items…She represents safety, comfort and familiarity.
Then on the drive home, my husband told me about a few of the guys in his team and the many problems that they are encountering in life:
- One of the guys is going through a sticky divorce
- Another is really sick again
- And another has a sick father (who will be losing his fingers on his left hand)
As he talked I found myself thinking about an old saying, “Bad things happen to good people”. This seems to be almost part of my life motto.
I’ve always struggled. I struggled through school. I struggled to make friends. I had a hard time getting pregnant. I have my physical and mental illnesses. I felt like God had dealt me a really shitty hand. I was angry. I didn’t understand how a God who loved his people could make life so hard. What was I being punished for? And then when I started to notice signs of mental illness in Mr. Magoo I felt betrayed. I hated God.
The thing is that there is always someone who struggles, someone who is in pain, someone experiencing loss, someone who’s left alone…But it’s about balance. It’s about lessons. It’s about growth.
Bad things happen to good people, because God knows that they can handle them. He knows that they will bounce back. He knows that they will continue to be good people.
On a different yet similar note, as I sat here typing this entry I received the following email:
Subject: e-mail From God Have you been misbehaving?
One day God was looking down at Earth and saw all of the rascally behaviour that was going on. So God called one of the angels and sent the angel to Earth. When she returned, she told God, "Yes, it is bad on Earth: 95% are misbehaving and only 5% are not. " God thought for a moment and said, "Maybe I had better send down a second angel to get another opinion. "So God called another angel and sent him to earth for a time too. When the angel returned he went to God and said, "Yes, it's true the earth is in decline: 95% are misbehaving, but 5% are being good. " God was not pleased. So He decided to e-mail the 5% who were being good, because he wanted to encourage them - give them a little something to help them keep going.
Do you know what the e-mail said?
Okay, just wondering - I didn't get one either...
Talk about eerie!!! Have a great night.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Thursday Thirteen Edition #1
So, this will be my first 13 Thursday Post and you are challenging me to come up with 13 things I like about myself. Here goes nothing (in no particular order):
- My smile
- My eyes
- My nose (sometimes)
- That I am a devoted volunteer
- That I do everything 110%
- My writing style
- My ability to listen to others
- My ability to teach others
- That I’ve started to take long morning walks with the dog
- That I am trying to eat healthier (trying being the key word)
- That I lost eight pounds (I’m not even counting the ones I’ve put on (hee hee)
- That I’m a child at heart
- That I’m a great mom
Links to other Thursday Thirteens!
1. Tracie
2. Lime
3. Caryle's Random Ramblings
4. Bad Homeschool
5. Buttercup & Bean
6. Amerlee
7. Mom in Progress
8. To Reflect His Glory
10. Night if Joy Lounge
11. Crazy Thoughts By Chelle
(leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!)
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
Wizard of Oz
Last night I had a strange dream. I was in the movies. I in the Wizard of us.
There was no lion, but the Tin Man was there and the Scarecrow and the great wizard himself.
- Mr. Magoo was the Scarecrow: “If I only had a brain.”
- My Husband was the Tin Man: “If I only had a heart.”
- I was Dorothy: “Trying to find my way home.”
- Buzz was Toto: the loyal
- Doodles was the great and powerful Wizard of Oz: helping us to see things as they really are.
I think sometimes Mr.Magoo forgets that he is smart, that he has talent. He acts dumb on purpose so that people don’t expect things of him. It comes back to that idea of intentional failure. Hence the Scarecrow. If he would just apply himself he could do amazing things, and he does, when he’s not paying attention. When he doesn’t think he’s being tested. When he doesn’t think it matters.
As of late, my husband has been annoying me. Part of the old “house wife” lack of respect thing, but it’s more than that. I need the little things: the kiss when he get’s home from work, help preparing dinner (I HATE cooking), some once of sympathy when I am having a rough day. I get the feeling that he’s tiered of hearing about it. That he doesn’t take it seriously anymore. Part of the reason that I am no longer working is because it was too hard on me. Not just mentally, but also physically. I have a bad kidney, Fibromyalgia, occasional migraines, Irritable Bowel Syndrome, TMJ, mild heard problems, a deformed rib cage that presses into my lungs if I move the wrong way, and very extremely bad menstrual problems. So if I need to rest during the day; if I need a nap…back the F-off and allow it. Don’t make me feel like I didn’t accomplish anything. Don’t make it sound like your day was harder than mine.
Plus, sometimes I think he’s to hard on the boys. He forgets that they are kids. Rather than asking nicely once and then giving warnings, he jumps straight to the yelling or the snapping. He wants them to be perfect. He also forgets that kids are different. Mr. Magoo doesn’t need as much sleep as Doodles, so who cares if he’s playing quietly in his room until he falls asleep. Sorry, a bit of bitterness today. Anyway hence the Tin Man.
Me, well I think that’s an obvious one. The whole idea of feeling lost and desperate. Feeling out of place in a strange new land…Hence Dorothy.
Now Doodles, I’m not as sure about. Maybe it his strength. His ability to bring calmness.
It was weird. It just felt so real.
Not really sure
I don’t know if I am thankful, relieved or disappointed that Doodles isn’t more like me.
I am thankful that he is strong. That he doesn’t seem to care what people think of him. He is a leader and not a follower. He is able to stand on his own. Very assured about who is he.
I am relieved because he won’t find life as hard as I did. Because he is so level headed.
I am disappointed because he lacks in imagination. Because I find it more difficult to relate to him than I do Mr. Magoo. I mean the positive side of that is that is forces me to try new things. Keep an open mind.
He is like me in that he worries a lot. How he takes on the world’s problems. He needs to fix them all. Although slowly he is starting to grow out of that. But his compassion is a gift. His sensitivity overwhelming. He has wisdom and insight beyond his age.
I also like that he can bond with his dad. That his father shares so much with him, the way I do with Mr.Magoo. Together we make a strong team. Each of us balancing the other. Providing elements that we need.
I am thankful that he is strong. That he doesn’t seem to care what people think of him. He is a leader and not a follower. He is able to stand on his own. Very assured about who is he.
I am relieved because he won’t find life as hard as I did. Because he is so level headed.
I am disappointed because he lacks in imagination. Because I find it more difficult to relate to him than I do Mr. Magoo. I mean the positive side of that is that is forces me to try new things. Keep an open mind.
He is like me in that he worries a lot. How he takes on the world’s problems. He needs to fix them all. Although slowly he is starting to grow out of that. But his compassion is a gift. His sensitivity overwhelming. He has wisdom and insight beyond his age.
I also like that he can bond with his dad. That his father shares so much with him, the way I do with Mr.Magoo. Together we make a strong team. Each of us balancing the other. Providing elements that we need.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
What Doodles Has to Say!
(Since Mr. Magoo had a chance to write yesterday, Doodles thought it was only fair that he should have a chance to write today, so here we go.)
Hi, my name is Doodles, and we went to the mountains. I found seven golf balls and four golf balls in different days. And I found the seven golf balls in five minutes, maybe even less. And we had a came who could find the most golf balls, and daddy found the first two. And I only found one golf ball for that game. But you already know all this, so I might as well be going on to something else; talking about something else.
I got a stuffy named Speedy at the mountains. And I named him speedy cuase I'm really fast. He is a tiger. That's why his name is Speedy. I have lots of stuffies. My favourite is Meow. I got him in the mountains two years ago; I think.
My mom painted my room with all kinds of Oilers symbols. She's the best at that sort of stuff. We've always had good rooms.
When mommy is sick, me and Mr. Magoo make a poster. I draw them in big, big bubble letters. And Mr. Magoo draws them in like snake shapes in mom's favourite colours. Sometimes she is tiered when she's sick, and I brush her hair in bed and give her a massage.
When mommy yells, we know to leave the room or either blow (on her), because that's what mommy made up. If she get's mad at me she blows (on me) too. Because we both blow. Sometimes I'm sad when she yells at me, but then at the end she always says sorry, and I know she loves me. Mommy has always told me she is sick; she gets stuck in sad, and stress. It's called depression, although sometimes I forget that word. It's pretty big!
Daddy lets me play his game with him. He let's me tell him sometimes who to kill (on the game). When daddy yells at me, we don't blow or do anything. We either cry or go to our room, or get grounded. But mom always comes to check on us. But mom told us a secret that I'll tell you, when ever you're trying to break the rules (at night in your room), shut the door then dad can't see you. Last night I tried it and it worked. So, don't ask me, just take my advice.
Mr. Magoo and I always play games with each others. We built an electric car that actually works, but we don't have a top on it. Sometimes he annoys me with his talking because he doesn't know how to stop. And, he sings in the bathroom and it's really weird. When we fight, mom tells us to stop because really we're all we've got: we're brothers.
As a family we like to play like Monopoly and Life with each other. And for mom's birthday we got her, her favourite Playstation game: Kingdom Hearts Two. I like to tickle mom's feet and armpits, but they're sweaty in the summer...Joking! Mom and I have a secret kiss. Sometimes I have to hold her head still because it's bouncing so much.
We're a great family, and I mean it!
Hi, my name is Doodles, and we went to the mountains. I found seven golf balls and four golf balls in different days. And I found the seven golf balls in five minutes, maybe even less. And we had a came who could find the most golf balls, and daddy found the first two. And I only found one golf ball for that game. But you already know all this, so I might as well be going on to something else; talking about something else.
I got a stuffy named Speedy at the mountains. And I named him speedy cuase I'm really fast. He is a tiger. That's why his name is Speedy. I have lots of stuffies. My favourite is Meow. I got him in the mountains two years ago; I think.
My mom painted my room with all kinds of Oilers symbols. She's the best at that sort of stuff. We've always had good rooms.
When mommy is sick, me and Mr. Magoo make a poster. I draw them in big, big bubble letters. And Mr. Magoo draws them in like snake shapes in mom's favourite colours. Sometimes she is tiered when she's sick, and I brush her hair in bed and give her a massage.
When mommy yells, we know to leave the room or either blow (on her), because that's what mommy made up. If she get's mad at me she blows (on me) too. Because we both blow. Sometimes I'm sad when she yells at me, but then at the end she always says sorry, and I know she loves me. Mommy has always told me she is sick; she gets stuck in sad, and stress. It's called depression, although sometimes I forget that word. It's pretty big!
Daddy lets me play his game with him. He let's me tell him sometimes who to kill (on the game). When daddy yells at me, we don't blow or do anything. We either cry or go to our room, or get grounded. But mom always comes to check on us. But mom told us a secret that I'll tell you, when ever you're trying to break the rules (at night in your room), shut the door then dad can't see you. Last night I tried it and it worked. So, don't ask me, just take my advice.
Mr. Magoo and I always play games with each others. We built an electric car that actually works, but we don't have a top on it. Sometimes he annoys me with his talking because he doesn't know how to stop. And, he sings in the bathroom and it's really weird. When we fight, mom tells us to stop because really we're all we've got: we're brothers.
As a family we like to play like Monopoly and Life with each other. And for mom's birthday we got her, her favourite Playstation game: Kingdom Hearts Two. I like to tickle mom's feet and armpits, but they're sweaty in the summer...Joking! Mom and I have a secret kiss. Sometimes I have to hold her head still because it's bouncing so much.
We're a great family, and I mean it!
A lot alike
Yesterday in his entry, Mr. Magoo made the following statement:
Mom and I are a lot a like because our eyes, our hair, and with both in the sky, um...you know Leos. We both like to write stories.
And his is so right. Him and I truly are alike. But our similarities go beyond that of physical attributes and intellectual interests. Our similarities are outside his current level of comprehension. Him and I share a special bond, one grounded in the belief that we are invisible, or more the desire to be invisible.We feel things with such passion, with such force that it’s amazing we’re still alive. We live a world where every mistake, no matter how small, eats away at our confidence to the point of intentional failure (it’s easier to fail on purpose that to try and fail). Every ounce of anger chips away at our heart, voiding us of not only mental comprehension but also physical energy. We find ourselves wanting to lash out – release the pressure. We find ourselves wanting to run away and hide – disappear.Our individuality is gift; we are unique, but it also a curse. It makes us different from those with whom we think we should be the same. Afraid to voice our interests, find our own paths. We seek not only approval but also belonging. Surrounded by love, our world is empty.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
In the Words of Mr. Magoo
In my family I, well we, have a fun time. It is fun because
Jesse is my cat, but I share her with the family. I got her for my birthday. She is scared to open the cat door. She doesn't like (it).
We have a number of fish, but they keep dieing. Too bad. Maybe we'll get more. And we have a big, big fish. Jesse always stares at the fish.
It's fun when we watch a TV shows as a family.
When mom is sick, we make a big thing, paper thing, for mom to make her feel better. Doodles writes on it and I draw. Sometimes we have to be very quite, but we can still visit mom in her bed. Other times we have to leave her alone. Dad yells at us to tell us.
I like when mom and I read in bed together. I like holding her hand when we walk to school. I like watching TV with her. I like our secret kiss good night. She is the best mom, because I love her the most, her and dad and Doodles, and Buzz, and Chloe, and Jess and the fish.
Mom and I are a lot a like because our eyes, our hair, and with both in the sky, um...you know Leos. We both like to write stories.
Chloe likes to sit on the couch and the bed.
I'm done now, mom. I didn't say I wanted you to write that. (laughing) STOP!!! (more laughing)
how do you erase? MOM...OOOOOOM....
My family at the park. Me on the monkey bars and Doodles on top.
- we eat as a family
- we all love each other
- we all help each other
Jesse is my cat, but I share her with the family. I got her for my birthday. She is scared to open the cat door. She doesn't like (it).
We have a number of fish, but they keep dieing. Too bad. Maybe we'll get more. And we have a big, big fish. Jesse always stares at the fish.
It's fun when we watch a TV shows as a family.
When mom is sick, we make a big thing, paper thing, for mom to make her feel better. Doodles writes on it and I draw. Sometimes we have to be very quite, but we can still visit mom in her bed. Other times we have to leave her alone. Dad yells at us to tell us.
I like when mom and I read in bed together. I like holding her hand when we walk to school. I like watching TV with her. I like our secret kiss good night. She is the best mom, because I love her the most, her and dad and Doodles, and Buzz, and Chloe, and Jess and the fish.
Mom and I are a lot a like because our eyes, our hair, and with both in the sky, um...you know Leos. We both like to write stories.
Chloe likes to sit on the couch and the bed.
I'm done now, mom. I didn't say I wanted you to write that. (laughing) STOP!!! (more laughing)
how do you erase? MOM...OOOOOOM....
My family at the park. Me on the monkey bars and Doodles on top.
How Competitive is Too Competitive?
I was unpacking our bags from the weekend today, and I found our grocery bag of golf balls. You see the condo backs onto the tenth tee. Doodles spend hours out there looking for golf balls.
On Sunday, we decided that it might be fun to turn our evening walk into a game.
Which team could fined the most golf balls?
Team One: Doodles, Grandpa and Granny (my parents)
Team Two: Mr. Magoo, Me and Dad (my hubby)
You need to know that Doodles and Mr. Magoo are sore winners but even worse loosers. Me, I’m extremely competitive. Grandpa well, depending on his mood he can get bored easily, and this just happened to be one of those night.
We all set out from the condo together, heading along almost the same path, anxious to see who would find the first golf ball. I have to be honest, I was hoping that it would be me. If not me, then Mr. Magoo and not just because he was on my team. Neither one of us had any luck finding golf balls during the day. (So what if I didn't look for any.)
Suddenly the first ball was found – by dad. Determined to be the second one to find a ball, I broke off from the pack.
Second ball found – by dad. So me, I started praying. “Please help Mr. Magoo and I find a ball. We deserve this. I don’t want him to be upset again. Let it be his turn to win.”
Soon everyone but me crossed back over to the side we’d started on. Eventually grandpa announced that he was heading in. One man advantage for are team.
I don’t know how many balls had been found by the time I found my first, my second, my third, my fourth, or my fifth. That was when we were all going to head back in. It was movie time.
Dad had seven balls: he found five, Mr. Magoo found two.
Granny and Doodles had one. One lonely ball.
That was pretty bad. That was 12 balls to their one. This is where a nice person would have let them look a bit longer, so I did. Ok, it didn’t quite count since our team also looked longer.
On a positive note they did find another ball, but so did Dad and so did I.
We were now: 14 to their two.
Walking back up to the condo Mr. Magoo kept bragging to Doodles. And me, I kept making silly cracks under my breath. At one point I might have yelled out, “yeah we won.” To make matters worse, I then spotted a seventh ball.
As Doodles picked it up, I said “just because you pick it up that doesn’t make it your point. I found it.” He slowly handed me the ball. “And what’s that now. Um, my seventh ball?!” I told you I’m competitive. Poor Doodles. Remember, he’s not very good at losing.
When we got inside and the game was done. I told Doodles that it was only a game. I reminded him that during the day he’d found seven at one point and four at another, when Mr. Magoo had found none. I reminded him that this was also my first time finding any. This meant that he was still in the lead. The best golf ball hunter. I also reminded him that the balls belonged to the family and not just one individual.
This is when dad came in and said, “The blue ball is mine.”
It’s good to know that I’m not the only one.
On Sunday, we decided that it might be fun to turn our evening walk into a game.
Which team could fined the most golf balls?
Team One: Doodles, Grandpa and Granny (my parents)
Team Two: Mr. Magoo, Me and Dad (my hubby)
You need to know that Doodles and Mr. Magoo are sore winners but even worse loosers. Me, I’m extremely competitive. Grandpa well, depending on his mood he can get bored easily, and this just happened to be one of those night.
We all set out from the condo together, heading along almost the same path, anxious to see who would find the first golf ball. I have to be honest, I was hoping that it would be me. If not me, then Mr. Magoo and not just because he was on my team. Neither one of us had any luck finding golf balls during the day. (So what if I didn't look for any.)
Suddenly the first ball was found – by dad. Determined to be the second one to find a ball, I broke off from the pack.
Second ball found – by dad. So me, I started praying. “Please help Mr. Magoo and I find a ball. We deserve this. I don’t want him to be upset again. Let it be his turn to win.”
Soon everyone but me crossed back over to the side we’d started on. Eventually grandpa announced that he was heading in. One man advantage for are team.
I don’t know how many balls had been found by the time I found my first, my second, my third, my fourth, or my fifth. That was when we were all going to head back in. It was movie time.
Dad had seven balls: he found five, Mr. Magoo found two.
Granny and Doodles had one. One lonely ball.
That was pretty bad. That was 12 balls to their one. This is where a nice person would have let them look a bit longer, so I did. Ok, it didn’t quite count since our team also looked longer.
On a positive note they did find another ball, but so did Dad and so did I.
We were now: 14 to their two.
Walking back up to the condo Mr. Magoo kept bragging to Doodles. And me, I kept making silly cracks under my breath. At one point I might have yelled out, “yeah we won.” To make matters worse, I then spotted a seventh ball.
As Doodles picked it up, I said “just because you pick it up that doesn’t make it your point. I found it.” He slowly handed me the ball. “And what’s that now. Um, my seventh ball?!” I told you I’m competitive. Poor Doodles. Remember, he’s not very good at losing.
When we got inside and the game was done. I told Doodles that it was only a game. I reminded him that during the day he’d found seven at one point and four at another, when Mr. Magoo had found none. I reminded him that this was also my first time finding any. This meant that he was still in the lead. The best golf ball hunter. I also reminded him that the balls belonged to the family and not just one individual.
This is when dad came in and said, “The blue ball is mine.”
It’s good to know that I’m not the only one.
No matter what I told Doodles, I know that with a final score of 15 to 2 ~ MY TEAM WON!!!
Blogger Catch - Up (Fun Games)
After being away for the long weekend, I found that I had a lot of reading to catch-up on last night. There were a few blogs with some neat games; I will play them all now.
The first one I came across was on Boo Mama's site: A Meme!
The first one I came across was on Boo Mama's site: A Meme!
- If you make sweet tea, do you use Luzianne, Lipton or _______ whatever your brand is?
I love most teas. I think I tend to use Lipton the most. However, I often buy tea leaves at various specialty shops. - What brand of toilet paper do you buy, and is it the larger rolls or regular?
Hum, what ever is on sale. It has to be at least two-ply and it has to be soft. I think right now we just have some Costco brand. - Which brand of bath soap do you use? Is it body wash or bar style?
Whatever I was given for Christmas or my birthday. I swear people I think I stink or they know how much I love to take bubble baths. Usually it is a body wash. - Which cereal do you buy for yourself?
Kellogg’s (it has dried fruit in it) - What brand of dishwasher detergent do you use and is it liquid or tablets?
It's a powder - maybe Cascade - What is your favorite fruit to eat?
I love most fruit. Strawberries, bananas, pomegranate... - Which brand of clothes detergent do you use?
Liquid Tide - Do you like chocolate?
Depends on the time of month - Are you right-handed or left-handed?
Right - Do you still write checks or use a debit card?
Mostly debit card, but there are things that call for the occasional cheque.
- What food or meal is certain to bring back wonderful childhood memories?
How old were you??? Was this a special holiday meal, or a Sunday dinner??? Who prepared the meal, was it a grandmother or mom, or maybe even your father???
Leg of lamb. Sunday family dinners. My mom prepared the meal. Doesn't happen as often anymore now that my sister is a vegetarian.
And then out of no where, I stumbles across this one on My Quiet Place.
- If I was a cookie
I would be peanut butter. Either you like me or you don't.
And now I would like to challenge you with your worst perm story.
I was about 15ish and I got my first perm. I have natural curl, but I wanted that TV style wave. My mom reluctantly took me to a professional hair salon, you know the expensive ones. They used two bottles of perm solution and left the stuff in for an-hour-and-a-half. My hair was so fried it was falling out. Plus the curl that was there, was tight little ringlets.
Morning Rush
Who knew that waking up only two minutes late could throw your whole morning off. I guess when I get up two minutes late, the boys get up five minutes late, and five minutes late for late is a lot for little boys.
I think it all started last night, when I took my husband’s silly advice and didn’t make their lunch. He seemed to think that there was plenty of time to do it in the morning. I knew better. I hate that when I listen to others for no reason.
Anyway, so today I got up two minutes late. My boys five minutes late. Mr. Magoo was in a surprisingly good mood. You have to know that he is normally grouchy and defiant. Today he got dressed with no problem. Then he was at his desk and I asked him,
“what do you do after you’re dressed?”
“I go downstairs and eat breakfast.”
“Thank you.”
So off he went.
Meanwhile, Doodles is still laying in bed. So I took out two pairs of shorts and a t-shirt. I then went to find underwear and socks. I throw them in the room and went downstairs to make the lunches. No Doodles. So I call upstairs to see what is going on.
“You gave me two pairs of shorts,” he whined back at me.
“And what, you can’t use your brain to pick one pair?” Okay, probably not the nicest thing to say, but true.
So finally he comes downstairs. Goes to the freezer and gets breakfast. However, he puts the empty box back in.
“Why are you putting an empty box back in?”
“It’s not.”
So I take the box and bang it against the freezer door, then pull the bag out.
Doodles goes to make his breakfast. I finish making lunches. Then it’s almost time to go. I tell the boys to go get their shoes. Doodles has no socks.
“Where are your socks?”
“You didn’t give me any.”
“Yes I did, now go get them on.”
Upstairs he goes. I finish getting lunches packed up. Find the dog leash, the keys, and my ipod. No Doodles.
“Are you coming?”
“You didn’t give me any socks. I can’t find them.”
So I march upstairs. “Move.” And I start to look for the socks I throw in early. Odd, where were the socks? Not on the floor. Not on the bed. Not under the bed. Not in his dresser. Hum, no socks. But I gave him the gray pair that say ‘Small but Dangerous.’
“Go downstairs and finish eating.”
I go to find him another pair. Finally it look like we were ready to go, only five minutes late!
Once we were out the door, and the fresh air hit us, we were all smiles and laughter. Doodles walked the dog for a bit, while I carried his ‘me bag’ and then we switched. Mr. Magoo held my hand for part of it. Close to the school we stopped so I could give them their hug and kiss. Perhaps we stopped a little too close today,
“I thought you were going to only walk part of the way,” stated Doodles.
“I enjoy the morning walk. It gets my day going. However, after school today you and your brother can start walking home even if I’m not there.”
A big smile. First bell rang. I finished walking Mr. Magoo to his door. He asked me to come in with him. So I picked up our wet dog and went into the school. I’m not sure why he wanted me to come. Once in his classroom, I might as well not have existed. The other kids really enjoyed seeing Buzz, and I enjoyed talking to the teacher.
I left the building, put on my ipod and walked the long way home. Music playing, dog panting and thoughts running:
I think it all started last night, when I took my husband’s silly advice and didn’t make their lunch. He seemed to think that there was plenty of time to do it in the morning. I knew better. I hate that when I listen to others for no reason.
Anyway, so today I got up two minutes late. My boys five minutes late. Mr. Magoo was in a surprisingly good mood. You have to know that he is normally grouchy and defiant. Today he got dressed with no problem. Then he was at his desk and I asked him,
“what do you do after you’re dressed?”
“I go downstairs and eat breakfast.”
“Thank you.”
So off he went.
Meanwhile, Doodles is still laying in bed. So I took out two pairs of shorts and a t-shirt. I then went to find underwear and socks. I throw them in the room and went downstairs to make the lunches. No Doodles. So I call upstairs to see what is going on.
“You gave me two pairs of shorts,” he whined back at me.
“And what, you can’t use your brain to pick one pair?” Okay, probably not the nicest thing to say, but true.
So finally he comes downstairs. Goes to the freezer and gets breakfast. However, he puts the empty box back in.
“Why are you putting an empty box back in?”
“It’s not.”
So I take the box and bang it against the freezer door, then pull the bag out.
Doodles goes to make his breakfast. I finish making lunches. Then it’s almost time to go. I tell the boys to go get their shoes. Doodles has no socks.
“Where are your socks?”
“You didn’t give me any.”
“Yes I did, now go get them on.”
Upstairs he goes. I finish getting lunches packed up. Find the dog leash, the keys, and my ipod. No Doodles.
“Are you coming?”
“You didn’t give me any socks. I can’t find them.”
So I march upstairs. “Move.” And I start to look for the socks I throw in early. Odd, where were the socks? Not on the floor. Not on the bed. Not under the bed. Not in his dresser. Hum, no socks. But I gave him the gray pair that say ‘Small but Dangerous.’
“Go downstairs and finish eating.”
I go to find him another pair. Finally it look like we were ready to go, only five minutes late!
Once we were out the door, and the fresh air hit us, we were all smiles and laughter. Doodles walked the dog for a bit, while I carried his ‘me bag’ and then we switched. Mr. Magoo held my hand for part of it. Close to the school we stopped so I could give them their hug and kiss. Perhaps we stopped a little too close today,
“I thought you were going to only walk part of the way,” stated Doodles.
“I enjoy the morning walk. It gets my day going. However, after school today you and your brother can start walking home even if I’m not there.”
A big smile. First bell rang. I finished walking Mr. Magoo to his door. He asked me to come in with him. So I picked up our wet dog and went into the school. I’m not sure why he wanted me to come. Once in his classroom, I might as well not have existed. The other kids really enjoyed seeing Buzz, and I enjoyed talking to the teacher.
I left the building, put on my ipod and walked the long way home. Music playing, dog panting and thoughts running:
- I hope Doodles waits for Mr. Magoo.
- I hope Mr. Magoo knows to go to Doodles door.
- It would be great of they could walk with a larger group.
- Maybe I should still walk to the school.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out. ‘The boys will be fine.’
Tonight, lunches will be made and clothes will be put out. We’ll start the day off on the right foot.
Monday, September 04, 2006
Irrational Thoughts
I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been looking up Obsessive Compulsive Behaviour on the internet to see if any of it relates to me, but I suddenly find myself questioning most of my thought patterns. You know little things that I can’t stop myself from thinking about – things that I obsess over. As I play each one, I realize that many of them are totally irrational:
- When I travel by plan, I truly believe that my fear is the only thing that keeps the plane in the air. If I stop being afraid than the plane goes down.
- When I go on a highway, I play through all types of possible car accidents. In each one, somebody usually dies. I think it’s almost as though I’m trying to prepare myself for the worst.
- If I know that someone else is on the highway behind us, I always picture them coming across our tragic accident. Then once I’m safely home, I worry about the phone ringing only to be told that they were in an accident.
- If we are out of town, I worry that our house will be robbed. I worry that as we drive home, I will see a black cloud of smoke in the distance: our house.
- If I have tea in the morning, I spend all day worrying that I left the kettle on.
- Most nights when I go to bed, I worry that it is my last night. That I won’t wake up in the morning.
- I have to have the towels folded the same way. Sometimes if my husband puts them away, I take them out and refold them. (Shouldn’t I just be happy that he helped and that they are put away.)
- If I can’t find even the simplest thing, I find myself panicking. I retrace my steps over and over again.
- If I'm sick (like with a fever), I truly believe that I am dying.
- Sometimes I believe so fully that I will win something, I find myself devastated that I didn’t. I mean devastated to the point of tears, to the point of anger.
- And the list goes on.
I see the images for each of these so clearly in my mind. My imagination gets the better of me. Isn’t creativity supposed to be a gift, not a curse?
But I don’t know if I have any compulsive behaviours. Do I have any strange patterns? Mind you if they are my patterns then how would I know they are strange? Do thought patterns count?
Mind you even me obsessing over this seems odd. Most people would just let it go. There it is that phrase again, let it go. Perhaps the very fact that I can’t is my answer.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Chaos
Two nights,
two days,
two dogs,
two kids,
two parents,
two grandparents,
all in one condo!
Need I say more?
Okay so maybe it’s not that bad. My boys would never use a sling shot in the house.
Aside from the occasional bit of whining and Mr. Magoo’s constant talking, the boys have actually been very well behaved. They love building the train tracks and playing with the castle: toys that they only see when we are here for a visit.
And my parents seem more relaxed about the kids’ noises and are more accommodating when planning the daily walks. As far as Chloe (are big dog) is concerned, we just keep her in her kennel when we’re not around. And Buzz (are little dog) is always under foot.
As for me, I’m doing well. I’m rather tiered and in a bit of pain from all the walking, but it is nice to be out and about. I love the tranquility and simplicity of the mountains.
two days,
two dogs,
two kids,
two parents,
two grandparents,
all in one condo!
Need I say more?
Okay so maybe it’s not that bad. My boys would never use a sling shot in the house.Aside from the occasional bit of whining and Mr. Magoo’s constant talking, the boys have actually been very well behaved. They love building the train tracks and playing with the castle: toys that they only see when we are here for a visit.
And my parents seem more relaxed about the kids’ noises and are more accommodating when planning the daily walks. As far as Chloe (are big dog) is concerned, we just keep her in her kennel when we’re not around. And Buzz (are little dog) is always under foot.
As for me, I’m doing well. I’m rather tiered and in a bit of pain from all the walking, but it is nice to be out and about. I love the tranquility and simplicity of the mountains.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Let it Go
Learning to Let it Go is often harder than forgiveness. There is a certain finality to it. Closure! Yet while it can only be interpreted one way there are varying degrees and contexts:
‘That’s the past; let it go.’
‘So you failed the test; let it go.’
‘It’s not worth it; let it go.’
And, there are even smaller moments; almost more like brushing it off.
Yesterday while driving, I told my husband that I thought we should surprise the boys and take them horseback riding. It would be a special treat since we didn’t get a true summer vacation. He told me that they likely wouldn’t be interested. I thought he was just saying that because he didn’t want to pay for it.
So this morning, I called around to get some pricing. I then very excitedly asked the boys if they’d like to go. I was surprised when Doodles shock his head no. So I asked Mr. Magoo. He wanted to take horseback riding lessons last year; therefore you can imagine how stunned I was when he to shock his head no. I just stood there in disbelief. They used to always ask. It was a special treat; something I wanted to do for them.
This is where, as someone who suffers from Borderline Personality Disorder, I would normally try to make them feel guilty; somehow manipulate the situation to get my way. But as I stood there starring at them, my mind was quickly processing right from wrong. So, I said nothing. Then with my sad eyes I looked up at my husband. Trying to be nice he said, “We can still go.”
This is a moment when he should have said nothing at all. Knowing me as he does, he should have let it go. I didn’t want them to do it out of pity - some sense of obligation. The joy of the surprise, the pleasure in a special treat was gone.
I knew that I needed to leave; let it go. I could feel the anger. As I told everyone that I was going to have a shower, I started to walk away. As I passed my husband I could hold it in no longer, “You must be happy that you know OUR BOYS better than me.” I then shot him a blank look, pain in my eyes.
The minute I was around the corner I started to cry. The irrational side of me was crying because I truly believed what I said to my husband. Crying because I didn’t get my way. Crying because every time I wanted to do something fun no one else did. A conspiracy. The rational side of me was crying because I’d intentionally tried to hurt my husband and I felt bad. Crying because I was disappointed that we weren’t going.
As I cried in the shower, I knew that before going back upstairs, I had to just let it go.
‘That’s the past; let it go.’
‘So you failed the test; let it go.’
‘It’s not worth it; let it go.’
And, there are even smaller moments; almost more like brushing it off.
Yesterday while driving, I told my husband that I thought we should surprise the boys and take them horseback riding. It would be a special treat since we didn’t get a true summer vacation. He told me that they likely wouldn’t be interested. I thought he was just saying that because he didn’t want to pay for it.
So this morning, I called around to get some pricing. I then very excitedly asked the boys if they’d like to go. I was surprised when Doodles shock his head no. So I asked Mr. Magoo. He wanted to take horseback riding lessons last year; therefore you can imagine how stunned I was when he to shock his head no. I just stood there in disbelief. They used to always ask. It was a special treat; something I wanted to do for them.
This is where, as someone who suffers from Borderline Personality Disorder, I would normally try to make them feel guilty; somehow manipulate the situation to get my way. But as I stood there starring at them, my mind was quickly processing right from wrong. So, I said nothing. Then with my sad eyes I looked up at my husband. Trying to be nice he said, “We can still go.”
This is a moment when he should have said nothing at all. Knowing me as he does, he should have let it go. I didn’t want them to do it out of pity - some sense of obligation. The joy of the surprise, the pleasure in a special treat was gone.
I knew that I needed to leave; let it go. I could feel the anger. As I told everyone that I was going to have a shower, I started to walk away. As I passed my husband I could hold it in no longer, “You must be happy that you know OUR BOYS better than me.” I then shot him a blank look, pain in my eyes.
The minute I was around the corner I started to cry. The irrational side of me was crying because I truly believed what I said to my husband. Crying because I didn’t get my way. Crying because every time I wanted to do something fun no one else did. A conspiracy. The rational side of me was crying because I’d intentionally tried to hurt my husband and I felt bad. Crying because I was disappointed that we weren’t going.
As I cried in the shower, I knew that before going back upstairs, I had to just let it go.
Friday, September 01, 2006
No Matter Which Road
As a parent we look forward to all the milestones. We jot them down in their baby books. We have a special place in our mind where we file them. They are the moments that make us go 'ah'. They are the moments that bring tears to our eyes. They are the moments the really do say that our baby is growing up.
I was no different. I looked forward to the moment when they would hold their head up, sit, crawl, walk, start school...but when I was thinking about first moments there was one that never crossed my mind.
Today as we were walking to school, Doodles suddenly stopped. He looked at me, and then he looked around.
"Mom," his eyes serious.
"Yes."
"Mom, can you hug and kiss me here today?"
What? Were was this coming from. He never minded before. He was always so loving and affectionate. Now, all of a sudden he was embarrassed. He was telling me something that I didn't want to hear.
With each new step they take
they grow a little further from me.
Not to leave me,
but to find themselves.
A search for independence.
I knew it was coming:
a moment I hoped would never come,
a moment I'm not ready for.
Let me lead you.
Hold you.
Help you find your way.
But my words go unanswered
as they journey further each day.
Close my eyes,
take a picture -
another to file away
another for the heart.
I look at my little boys;
I wonder if I need them
more than they need me.
Still so small.
Yet so big.
Things they need to know:
untold stories
new discoveries.
Things I want them to see.
Let me take a moment
to reflect on what has been.
As I look at you now,
so far ahead of me,
I catch you stealing a quick glance,
checking to see that I'm still there -
where you need be to be.
Know that no matter how far you go,
no matter which road you take,
you can always stop to look behind.
Because I'll always be there -
right where you need me.
As a parent it's hard to admit that your babies are growing up. When do you let go of the reigns? Maybe on Tuesday I should stand a little further away and let him walk to school on his own.
I was no different. I looked forward to the moment when they would hold their head up, sit, crawl, walk, start school...but when I was thinking about first moments there was one that never crossed my mind.
Today as we were walking to school, Doodles suddenly stopped. He looked at me, and then he looked around.
"Mom," his eyes serious.
"Yes."
"Mom, can you hug and kiss me here today?"
What? Were was this coming from. He never minded before. He was always so loving and affectionate. Now, all of a sudden he was embarrassed. He was telling me something that I didn't want to hear.
With each new step they take
they grow a little further from me.
Not to leave me,
but to find themselves.
A search for independence.
I knew it was coming:
a moment I hoped would never come,
a moment I'm not ready for.
Let me lead you.
Hold you.
Help you find your way.
But my words go unanswered
as they journey further each day.
Close my eyes,
take a picture -
another to file away
another for the heart.
I look at my little boys;
I wonder if I need them
more than they need me.
Still so small.
Yet so big.
Things they need to know:
untold stories
new discoveries.
Things I want them to see.
Let me take a moment
to reflect on what has been.
As I look at you now,
so far ahead of me,
I catch you stealing a quick glance,
checking to see that I'm still there -
where you need be to be.
Know that no matter how far you go,
no matter which road you take,
you can always stop to look behind.
Because I'll always be there -
right where you need me.
As a parent it's hard to admit that your babies are growing up. When do you let go of the reigns? Maybe on Tuesday I should stand a little further away and let him walk to school on his own.
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Do you or anyone you know suffer from a mental illness?
Mental Illness costs the Canadian economy approx. $18B a year.
