Cleanse Should Be a Four Letter Word

I learned something about myself this week. I am not a "cleanse" person.
Don't ask what prompted it, but I had decided that I would do a 3 day juice detox cleanse.
In theory it's a great idea. Flush all of the toxins that have been building up in your system from the crap food we eat, feel better, and give your system a little bit of a "re-boot", so to speak.
In reality it sucked ass. Like a lot.
Honestly the flavor was pretty good. I like juice. I like fresh juice I made myself. I even like vegetable juice. So for the most part I really liked the recipes. I went out and stocked up on some great, fresh produce, and set off to "cleanse".
The first day was a mental shift. Just wrapping my brain around the whole thing was difficult. And with some tweaking I was able to make my "lunch" turn out pretty good. I had a couple WTF moments, but I could do it.  I almost punched my husband in the throat when he had 5 doughnuts for dinner, but I could muster up some self control. This was my choice, not his, so I'll save my murderous rage for another time.
Oh, did I mention the no coffee thing? That should've been my first clue. No coffee? No good. People in my house have almost died because I didn't have coffee. This was not off to a good start.
The second day is what was my undoing. I woke up feeling like I'd been hit by a truck. My neck was sore, my head was pounding, my throat was sore, and I was just altogether icky. It was like a hangover without the snippets of fun bad decisions from the night before. According to my health-crunch friends (not a derogatory comment at all) this was the toxins trying to escape.
This is where I really started to lose my grip on my determination. But, instead of giving in I powered through. I made a really great juice for my breakfast and made myself ready to face the day. Once I got going with work, kids, and all the other crap I do in a day I was able to be more in my rhythm and felt a little better. I'm sure all the sugar from the fruit juice I had for breakfast didn't hurt either. I had been drinking water all day and by one o'clock still hadn't had any more juice (you're supposed to have one every 2-3 hours).  I just couldn't convince myself to get up and go make the juice. I tried making a salad out of the ingredients I was going to be drinking, thinking at least it was close. I could just not get up and actually make the juice.
I kept telling myself I can do this! I can do this!
Turns out, no I can't.
Well, that's not entirely true. I could. I don't want to. I couldn't pinpoint why I really wanted to do it in the first place. To look better in the bathing suit I'm not going to wear on our vacation to Mexico? Seriously, there's nothing I could do in the week that we have before we leave that is truly going to make any bit of difference.
I don't know if I'm just making excuses for giving up or if it's something more but I did have some pretty great thoughts. And if I can hold onto these I'll be much healthier than I would have been had I finished the cleanse. I will tell you that I'm pretty sure I heard a choir of angels sing when I finally said "I'm done" and opened a Diet Coke. Although I'm not 100% sure, it was slightly drowned out by the crying souls of my health-crunch friends.
Here's what I learned:
Right now I need to be OK with me. I need to not worry about the overall size of my ass or my gut. You know what? I'm 36 years old and I've had 5 kids. Two of those babies within 2 years of each other. When I met my husband I hadn't had a baby in 7 years, and I was still in my 20's (technically). Plus I'd just gone through that best-diet-ever-just-don't-recommend-it; it's called the Divorce Diet. It's amazing!! Lose that first 220lbs and the other 20 just falls right the F*** off! (If you don't get it, we can't be friends anymore. I'm sorry.) My baby cousin (19, and just gorgeous) recently told me "If I can look like you do when I'm your age and have had 5 babies, then I think I'll be doing damn good!".  I kind of laughed her off a bit, but it really stuck with me. You know what? She's right! I've lost about 50lbs in the last 2 years. I'm pretty sure I know a lot of women who would knife me in the eye right now to lose 50lbs. Amazing, beautiful women, that I would say didn't need to lose any weight, they're beautiful as they are, would be responsible for knifing me directly in the eyeballs.
My husband has learned in his 45 years, that it's best not to say anything at all when it comes to a woman and her weight. That's a Twix moment if there ever was one. My sweet husband, who still sticks his hand out to grab my ass as I crawl into bed most nights. The one who makes it obvious that he's not paying attention to whatever trivial thing I'm whining about because he's too busy looking down my shirt. He has told me when chastised about his lack of complimenting  abilities "I think you're beautiful, why should I continue to state the obvious?".  Apparently we don't walk around commenting that the sky is blue, so why should he say his wife is beautiful. There's a slight flaw in his logic, but that's another post entirely.
Bottom line, I'm not going to torture myself trying to re-boot a system that is currently running just fine. Could I be healthier? Absolutely. Couldn't we all? But with all that's going on in my life right now is this really something that needs to be my top priority? I don't think so. I need to feel good about myself and the state I'm in now. I'm not overweight. I'm considered a healthy range for my height and build. There's really nothing a little exercise can't fix. Later. When the chaos has settled a bit and I'm not dealing with such emotionally charged issues. Because quite frankly if a Diet Coke or a big bowl of ice cream is what makes me feel better right now then I am OK with it.
And as long as my husband is still trying to play grab-ass in the kitchen when the kids aren't looking, I should probably be OK with that, too.
So I will keep my juicer, because I like it and enjoy some fresh juice once in a while. But it will be relegated back to its position on the shelf in the garage for occasional use instead of taking up valuable, limited, counter space in the kitchen.  And I will worry less about the size of my dress, and more about keeping my husband's hands from it when we're in public.

Life Happens

I'm up way too early on a Saturday as usual. And I'm working. As usual. But, my reports pretty much run themselves and I'm not terribly productive or proactive at 6am. I've played all my lives on Candy Crush, read through my newsfeed - more than once. I thought about doing the dishes. No really, I did. Then I realized there was no getting my butt out of this chair except to get more coffee, and that cup is full. I started reading through my old bookmarked blogs. I love The Bloggess, she's really awesome but if you're easily offended skip it. I stop there every morning and part of my routine. There are others too but that's where I started this morning. I started going back through my old Blog Favorites folder and realized that most of them are gone! It's been a while since I've looked at some of them (last post in 2011? Really? Huh.) but I was kind of sad to find them not waiting for my return.
It got me thinking about my own blog here. Honestly I've kind of let it slip. While it was never something I wanted to make a living from, it was a much needed extension of my mental health. Whoa does that explain a lot. For a lot of it I've not shared things that are just too personal. While I admire those bloggers that I read that are sharing their crippling depression and new found love for Xanax (I don't judge. Been there. Amen to modern pharmaceuticals and their ability to return life when it's been sucked through your eyeballs) I'm not there. I have been and so I get it. Sometimes it's just me, and the overwhelming life that comes from having five kids, a gigantic dog, and an ailing father. I don't want to listen to myself whine, why the hell would the other two people that read this thing care?
There is joy, too. The amazing feeling of completeness that my children bring. Because, along with the fact that they make me bat-shit crazy, I love my children like nothing else! I would sacrifice anything for them and their happiness. Sometimes there are just so damn many of them. What falls short is the ability to share and analyze all that they make me feel. The moments are so precious. Even the ones that have me screaming like a crazy person. I am always learning and growing as a parent and as a person. This shit is hard, yo! Maybe I should share more of that. We are not alone in this, even though it often feels that way.
I'm a little scattered, too. I have grand plans and, sometimes, very little follow-through. It's not from a place of malice, or irresponsibility. It's a creative side that has yet to be adequately tapped. It's needing something to call my own in the midst of the chaos that is my life, it's a desire to take on everything and having to let the things with lesser importance drop. It's part of who I am. Love it or hate it, it's something that just has to be dealt with. Honestly I'm a little a LOT self conscious about it and am hesitant to get too excited about any one thing on the highly likely chance that my life will take over my passion. It happens. And often.
My point? Oh hell, who knows? I am ever evolving, and I hope that my blog is showing that. At least to some degree. This is really for my recollection. That is what I need to remember most of all. There will be a time when I will look back and this can be a reminder of how the kids were, how I was, how my family was. That is what I need to remember when deciding to (or not) share something. I need to make the time to keep this up (I know I've said it before) if for no other reason than prosperity's sake.
Oh look, my coffee cup is empty...

Putting on the Big Girl Panties

http://dianeparadise.com/?p=237

A common saying in my house is saying you are or telling someone to "put on your Big Girl panties". That means that like or not, this is how it is and it's time to deal with whatever is going on like a Big Girl. Suck it up, Buttercup. Things are not going to change.
So here I am, digging out the Big Girl panties. Doug has had a pretty full plate at work lately. Like 14+ hour days full. It sucks for me (because we all know this is all about me) because it means spending more time at home on my own. I can handle that. I just don't like it. It's really not about the kids or the housework or getting a break (I'm not gonna lie, that stuff is important). The biggest problem is that I actually like my husband. 14+hour days do not get me a happy husband. Again, this sucks for ME (noticing a theme here?) I don't get the rested, funny, snuggley husband that I like. I get uber-quiet, extra-introverted husband who is just trying to get 20 minutes of rest before he gets to fall into bed and do it all over again.
Plus, things are about to get worse. My loving husband has been chosen for jury duty.  So on top of everything else he has going on he gets to sit in a room and decide the fate of some poor bastard when he would much rather be making a dent in the mountain of work so that there's hope he can get home to his amazing wife!
So here's where it gets to be about me and my panties. I have to be understanding, and patient. Loving but not needy. Supportive, and not bitchy.
Ermahgerd! this is going to SUCK! Like a lot.
This is where I need to channel my inner Big Girl and get to work on things I need to get done; things I don't do or put off because Doug is here and I'd much rather spend time with him than...anything. Maybe if the rain stops and the weather clears I might tackle the garage. Or even the disgusting piles that I call my desk. I could figure out how to use my scanner and organize some crap. I could figure out our budget.
Truthfully this really sucks for my husband the most. Bedtime comes often before he gets home most nights. Mornings are a rushed blur. His whole family has to go on without him while he works his ass off and misses the whole thing. I hope he knows how much we miss him and how we'd much rather he was home and that I do understand that this not just all about me.
I love you.

Sometimes Being A Mom Means Letting Go

That's something I've been working on lately.  And it's not easy for me.
At 7:30 this morning I was outside, in the cold, letting  Georgie jump on the trampoline. Still in her jammies. At 7:30 in the morning!  After about 20 minutes I was finally able to convince her to go inside. Her fingers and nose were bright red.  She was all snotty. But her eyes were bright and happy and she got out some pent up energy. She had fun. She "jumped" (bending her knees and straightening them again, while yelling JUMP!), she ran, she fell, and she giggled. It was fun for her. Truthfully it was fun for me, too. The kid is just too cute of her own good. Jumping on the trampoline at 7:30 in the morning, in jammies, is not something I would normally do. I don't know brought out this little loosening of control this morning but I'm glad I did it.
I've been letting all of the kids do more lately. They all run around and do things with their friends, and enjoy themselves. It's good for them. It's what kids are supposed to do! But it's hard for me sometimes. Especially at a time where I am struggling with where I am. I prefer to have all the kids home. It makes me feel safe and in control to know they're here and we're all together. But I have to remember they're kids. And I'm crazy. My mom put a lot of her crazy on me and I struggle not to do that with my own kids.
I have a countdown on my computer to when Krysty leaves for boot-camp. Maybe I shouldn't. Bur right now it's something I need. It's a reminder that way too soon she will be out in the world and starting her life on her own. It's a way to remind myself that time is precious. It's not always a pleasant reminder. But it is part of letting go. Your oldest child graduating high school and moving on in the world seems like such an abstract thought. Even to me. But it's not. Here and now I am working on letting go of her. Just a little. Her independence is startling sometimes. Isn't that how I raised her to be? I still catch glimpses of my little girl; I still see the child she hasn't entirely grown out of being. Those are more and more rare. More often I see the woman she is becoming. That's scary for me.
I look at Georgiana and wonder how Krystyne is not that age any more. As I watch all of them in their different stages I wonder how we ever got this far.
I still have so far to go. Thankfully there's five of them and maybe by the time Georgiana is where Krystyne is now I may have gotten this whole Mom thing down.

Happiness is a made bed

For all that is holy this is one of those things that just makes me happy. It's right up there with valet parking and coffee made by someone else. You'd think that I would  be one of those people that makes their bed every day with the great appreciation I hold for this simple part of every day life; I'm not. But I'm working on it.
I've been struggling lately with being happy. There's a restlessness and unease about me that I don't like. I love my husband, my children, and my life. There's just some external factors that weigh heavy on my head and have just made things difficult for me. But, over our Christmas vacation I was able to get some much needed rest and release a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.  I've always been one to trot out the phrase "If you're not happy with your life,  change it". I'm a firm believer in this. A life is either moving forward or becoming stagnant. If you are not happy with something change it. If you don't like the results, try something else. Like many people get, I've been caught in my own web of "this sucks". I'm stomping my feet and shouting at the heavens about how much I don't like XYZ and not making any forward momentum.

So I've changed my tactic. There are things I'm not happy with and can not change. There are things that I am working on that are going to take time. Patience is not one of my virtues. (Stop laughing, I have them!) There are things in my life that I can control. I am very affected by my surroundings.  Mess makes me anxious. You couldn't tell that right off based on the normal state of my house but it's true. Right now I am striving to put my physical house back in order so that I might be able to get my mental "house" (yeah, I see it. Shut up) back to something that resembles normal. Well, normal for me.
I've worked my butt off this weekend trying to restore some order in my house and my head. I've cleaned the kitchen repeatedly (the dishwasher is running for the 5th time in 2 days). I've added art and pictures to the walls. I cleaned out the cat box (totally not my yob man), cleaned up the dining room, done laundry, and cleaned my bedroom. Most importantly for me right now is my bed is made. I'm about to turn in for the night and I'm excited by the fact that I get to climb in a made bed. I'd be over-the-moon if the sheets were fresh but I had my limits this weekend. I did more this weekend than I have in a month. But I feel better for it. I want to continue this momentum for as long as I can. My goal is to make my bed every single day. This I can control. This makes me happy. This is what I will concentrate on, and I will not dwell on what I can not change and what I can not control.
What is one thing that you could do every day that makes you happy?

Over-Sensitive Much?

I'm generally pretty easy going. And by that I mean I don't offend easily. Everyone is entitled to their opinion and even if I don't agree that's OK. I'm a big girl and I can deal with it. You're obviously an idiot because you don't see it my way but we don't all have to agree all the time. Let's just agree to disagree (and I'll be Judgy McJudgerson in my head. Mostly.)
There is one point when I am not entirely rational. I call it the Mock-Single-Mom. When a happily married, healthy relationship having (usually a SAHM) woman has husband or other significant other that is for whatever reason not home for more than a few nights. Sometimes it's a week or two. And then the comments start. "So done being a single-mom" or "God I hate doing the single-mom thing".  It sends me into a rage. It's not rational. I get it. I totally understand 100% what is being said and the message that is trying to be conveyed.  I do. Doing shit on your own when you normally have a loving, helpful, understanding partner in your life that is suddenly not there to do the shit that you need them to do for days on end blows. What do you mean I have to take out the garbage? ALL THE WAY TO THE CURB?!?! But that's his job. Insert feet stomping and pouting. Explaining to a toddler why Daddy can't give kisses because he's in Cleavland on business is hard (and almost overwhelmingly heartbreaking). When there's no way to tap-out of the monumental fit that's being thrown or the referee to come in when you're trying to decide if you can lock them in the dog kennel without the neighbors noticing for like 20 minutes, life does kind of suck. It's hard. Parenting is a two person gig. It really is. That's why it takes two people to make babies. You need two people for the whole process. And having that person you've come to depend on suddenly not be there when you really need them to be sucks. Especially on those days when he walks through the door and you yell 1-2-3 NOT IT! And run to grab a glass bottle of wine. They're supposed to be there. D'uh.
But they're not. Shit.
I guess my problem is that I take this comment personally. And I don't usually take shit personally; but this gets me every time. I've been a single mom. Being a single mom sucks rancid monkey balls. Especially in the first year (I wasn't really single much longer than that so that's what I know. I'm pretty sure it goes on no matter how long you're single). There is no one else. Even if you do have awesome family (I didn't) and even more awesome friends (I did) it's still all on you. ALL OF IT. All of the time. And no matter the custody situation, when it's your turn you're on your own. All of that worrying you do late at night, whispering your fears and insecurities to your husband in the dark? That's all on you. There's no one to whisper back that you're really doing OK and you're not fucking up your kids so bad they'll never forgive you. You fall asleep most nights exhausted trying to figure out how to make it all work out. There are good an happy times, because you have to make sure that there are. But for you, these times are peppered with guilt and frustration and regret that you couldn't make it better because it's just you. Every parenting insecurity you ever had is hovering just outside your peripheral. All. The. Time. The times when you think you're going to do it are there; when you're confident and think everything might just be OK after all. And then someone has a meltdown, or throws up at school, or, or, or, or, or... and there's no back up.  You realize just what the "single" part of single-parent means on a visceral level.
I think I take this so personally is because, for me, my divorce and decision to become a single-mom was the biggest failure of my life. I don't for one moment regret my decision. I don't think that there was anything that I could have done that would have saved my first marriage. However, I know in my heart that I did not do everything in my power to try to make it better. I could have fought harder. I could have tried 100 different things, but I didn't. I see it as a personal failure. It was my marriage and it failed. Therefore, I failed.  My ex-husband was an asshole of galactic proportions. He'll admit to that. When we failed, I failed. There is no one on this earth that will ever convince me differently.
This is my personal demon and it's hard to hear someone be flip about something that caused me so much pain. I know there is no malice in the hearts of my friends when they use this. It's a simple turn-of-phrase. These women are my friends! These are the women I turn to when I need to bitch about Doug not taking out the garbage - again. Or the size of my ass, or the gray hair I pulled out of my head, or any of another million little (and big) things I love my friends for.
I said I know this isn't rational. This is my issue. This is my crazy. So ladies, if I bite your head off, or leave a snippy comment, or don't guffaw at something obviously hilarious it's OK. We all have our shit, and this is just some of mine.
When your husband comes home, love him. Hug him. Put a little extra effort into whatever may need it so that you never have to stop bitching about being a single-mom because you're too busy actually being one.
With all my love,

I'm BAAAAACK!

So I've decided to come on back over to blogger. It's easier. For some reason having the website seems like work. And I don't like work. Especially work I don't get paid for. And while it's not really all that hard to post there, there just seems to be something different... something missing there that has kept it from being what I had here. I'll keep the website up and running and probably link the blog posts from here until I just don't anymore. When I think of it - if I think of it. This seems like extended Facebook posts, with the website I feel like if I'm not putting out something well thought out and coherent then I'm doing it wrong. Me, well thought out and coherent? Yeah, not so much.
The last year has been a whirlwind I'd rather not experience again. And while I am working slowly on getting my balance back I find that the soothing act of just writing has lost some of its flow.  Things here are in full swing of chaos-induced-normalcy. I feel like a storm chaser most days; Like I'm trying desperately to make sense of some raging act of God that is more random and harder to predict than the current power-ball numbers.
So here I am again. I can't wait to see what happens next.
Brandy

I'm Back

Well, maybe "back" isn't exactly right. Back would mean that I was gone. I wasn't gone, I just wasn't here. And in all truthfulness that was really probably best. I wasn't in a good place. I wasn't in a good writing place.The blog posts in my head were depressing even to me and I just couldn't bring myself to put it all out there. Not in a vulnerability kind of way, but more of  a no-one-wants-to-read-this-shit kind of way. In a I-don't-even-want-to-type-this-shit kind of way!
Honestly it was  all ridiculous. The blow up that I was expecting between me and my mom happened. There's no way to leave at 21 and come home at 34 and not have it happen. And it was more than just that. It was the expectations I was failing to live up to, the family functions I was expected to attend at the cost of my own family traditions (Christmas).  Add my own craziness that comes from living in chaos in a house that just won't ever feel like mine and I just had to shut the lid on the laptop for a while.  But here I am feeling a little bit better and the holidays behind me and ready to do it all over again. 
I miss it here. I miss my little piece of cyber-space and both the people that read this thing.  I am feeling the urge to write again. I am feeling the words pour though my head and look for a page to call home. So even though we have a TON going on, as always, I feel like I'm "back". Or maybe - more accurately - still here. Still standing. And still rambling on. Thanks for hanging around.

Jack of All Trades, Master of None

I've realized something. I have too much going on.  I know, take a minute to let that kind astonishing announcement sink in.  It's taken me a few days/weeks/months/years to come to that realization myself. 
Things have been difficult lately.  I've felt like I've been swimming in a mudslide.  Getting the house unpacked, taking care of the girls, figuring out my new schedule, work and desperately trying to find something kind of hobby or outlet has left me with a ton of unfinished projects, unpacked boxes and a disaster of a house. 
Through it all I'm not able to be the kind of wife/mother/friend I want to be. There's just not enough of me left.  There's not enough of me left for ME!  I'm struggling. And I'm all the more crazy for it.  I've been trying to figure out what I can do to make this clutter in my head disappear.  I'm not handling anything well and I need to. So I decided that I need to simplify my life. I need to just get back to basics and stop trying to be super-mom, super-wife, super-anything. I need to just be... simpler. 
It's not as easy as it sounds but I'm working on it a little every day. With multiple melt-downs under my belt the last few days I've been able to see what my triggers are and hopefully can figure out how to avoid them. Or at the very least recognize when I'm get swallowed up whole by my life. 
So I've given up on couponing. I've been able to cut the costs of our groceries, just by the costs associated with food here.  I don't know if it's just an ease of transport thing or what, but I'm finding groceries are much less expensive than I was anticipating.  I need to just let the coupons go for now and concentrate on making fresh meals from in-season produce.  It'll be cheaper and healthier in the long run.  Plus, I've found a Win Co close by and that will really help, too.  I'm going to be passing the coupon-torch to a good friend who can benefit and don't feel like it's going to waste.  My chaos is benefiting another family. Can't go wrong there!
I'm putting the craft mess away.  I toyed with the idea of starting a business with the beautiful fabric flowers I was making. I found them relaxing and just loved creating something.  But the pressure of making the hobby into something that might actually provide some kind of income (even as a little "extra") was becoming one more thing I had/wanted to do that I just didn't have time for and we were all suffering because of it. 
So now it's back to basics. It's crafting one thing at a time when I can. It's finding the best deals and finding a new way to save on meals and groceries. It's getting back on track with a budget and trying to save for a house. It's doing only what I can and letting the rest be.
I need to learn to let Doug help more. I need to accept that the kids don't do the job as well as I do but that they are  helping and it's that much less I have to do. 
I need to take a deep breath and learn to enjoy my family again.  I am truly and deeply blessed.  I know it, I just need to re-learn how to accept it. 
Be patient with me. 

Anonnimity Please

So I know that's not really something a blogger should really be looking for is it?  I mean the whole reason some of us do that is to get what we have to say heard and out there and for people to know who it was that said/thought/wrote it. But sometimes it'd be nice to be able to just word vomit it all out there without having to think and re-think how everything sounds and if it's going to hurt someone's feelings or should even be said at all. .
 There are times though... oh, but there are times... when what you have to say isn't for the masses. For me writing is therapeutic. It's how I process things. You would be amazed to know how much time I spend "writing" in my head. I work out problems. I make things that I'm struggling with in my own head by writing.  This is not only my website out to the world, it is what makes my world livable.  Like everyone I have my stuff to deal with. But unlike everyone, this is how I deal with it.  This is what puts my thoughts together.  While I'm sure there are people that read this and think there isn't a filter.  That's not true. There's actually a very heavy filter. I've asked Doug how open he's willing to have his life, since this can affect him, too. He says that "so far" there hasn't been too much. So far I've kept it mild to prevent putting too much of our private life on public display.  There have been things I've wanted to write about that I've left out because I don't want to have to have the conversation that the post was "too much" and I have to delete it.  Maybe that would be therapeutic, too but I don't want to have to get there.  Writing seems to be so much a part of my brain that I don't know how else to think.  I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings and so I am careful. But when my frustration with someone or some situation is reaching overload it's hard not to rant. And those are the times I wish I no one knew about this. That I could hide behind some kind of anonymity and word-vomit all over.
There are blogs that allow you to "take over" and has ghost posts. Maybe I should think about doing that the next time the urge takes me.

Haunted

Wow, it's been almost a month! I don't know where all my time is going. It sure doesn't seem like it's been that long.  Let's see if I can't get better at this.
Being back in California has been a bit surreal. What I've found most difficult is suddenly being surrounded by a lot of memories I would just a soon forget.  I keep looking for the Ghost of Christmas Past showing me all of the crap I did from about 14 on. Doug says "we all have things we've done that we're embarrassed about".  Embarrassed doesn't seem to cover it. I've been told "these are the things that have made you into the person you are today." Yeah, I get that. But it doesn't mean I want to be sitting next to Ebenezer, either! It's going to take some getting used to.  I don't have a lot of really fond memories growing up here.  There are some, but the strongest ones seem to be the awful ones that just jump right out at you.  We lived in the projects. I rarely had friends over because they weren't willing to come to my neighborhood to visit.  My parents had their own shit going on. While I've never forgotten, I've been faced with why I left every time I get in the car.  Doug doesn't get it.  But, I'm glad he doesn't and it's part of what I love about him. He doesn't have a lot of this shit he carries around.  I didn't think I was carrying it either but I think it just kind of popped out of where I stuffed it. 
I know that it'll get easier. Hell, it has to. And I will create memories here with my own family that will wash away the bad ones that seem to be creeping around every corner.  But that all takes time and I'm just not there yet.  But I will be. I know I have to.  Soon. 

Today is Hard

We’re starting to get settled. I won’t say that things are going smoothly. They’re not. In the 7 days we’ve been here I’ve had multiple bouts of what-the-hell-am-I-doing-here’s just as many I-just-want-to-go-home’s. It’s hot. I don’t have any of my stuff. I don’t have an internet connection of my own that isn’t based off my phone. I’m disconnected from the people I need the most right now. While my family would argue that they’re all right here, it’s my close-knit group of friends that I am most lonely for.  My marriage is in a difficult time right now. We are both going through and adjustment and having to come back from the real damage that was done over the past year of Doug’s ridiculous schedule.  It’s been trying to say the least.  With two people that have two completely different communication styles things can go from great to worse quickly.  When there is also a time deficit and a family to raise in between, and there are things that have been said and left un-said that have caused fissures in our foundation.  Add that I am stressed about the amount of work that I am coming back to and I’m ready to crack.  Thankfully I was able to drop off Krysty and Fi with my mom to get some laundry done while I get time to try to get work done and some much needed blogging done.  At some point I’m going to have to upload all of this to the website and figure out how to get it all in order.

Right now this sucks. It’s hard and I don’t wanna!  I know I’m still adjusting and coming off a really hard week/month/year.  I know in a few days I’ll feel better. Much better – but today is hard. 

Control Issues

So we all know I’m a crazy bish with control issues. Seriously, I don’t try to hide or deny it. The more stressed I am the worse it gets. With the stress level lately trying to get everything ready for the move you can imagine what a peach I’ve been to be around.  Add to that a steady diet of Diet Coke and chocolate I’m just about wired for sound.  This is all a recipe for an OCD cocktail that just might explode if you’re not careful.  I think my husband has been at least mildly thankful that his schedule has kept him out of the line of fire. 

There is reason behind my madness, though.  When chaos reins supreme as it has the last few months my brain requires control.  If you know me at all you know that my life is normally filled with some kind of chaos, so how can this really be any different? Well, usually it’s a chaos of my own creation and I know where the limits are.  I do brew my own proprietary brand of crazy and am able to happily work within the confines that requires.  Trust me, live in my head long enough and you find ways to make this work.  When there’s extra crazy, that’s when things get dicey.  I then require to have a gargantuan amount of control over, well, everything.

I also have a wicked fear of heights. Not so much heights as falling.  I think more accurately it’s that sudden stop at the end that’s the real problem.  I do have a rather vivid imagination and can see everything that’s going to happen from the time I’m somewhere Up until how I horrifically make it to Down. That also requires an uncontrolled fall for an indeterminate amount of time (see above). All in all, not good.

I explained all that to tell you this:

My husband tried to kill me. No shit, thought I was gonna die, all his fault and the bastard did it on purpose! I’m not sure if he was going for the driving-us-off-a-cliff-fireball-of-death-down-a-mountain or giving me a heart attack because I was imagining the driving-us-off-a-cliff-fireball-of-death-down-a-mountain.  Let me explain. I usually drive. I just do. I always have (ahem, control issues). And, mountain roads scare the hell out of me (the whole heights/falling/ sudden stop thing).  Doug, trying to be a sweet husband, had offered to drive (and had to continue to drive because of some freak issue with my power seats). I prefer to drive on mountain roads because if I’m gonna die from driving-us-off-a-cliff-fireball-of-death-down-a-mountain then I’d rather try to control it.  Instead I spent  a good 20 miles curled in a little ball in the passenger seat with a white knuckled grip on the arm rest and my eyes squeezed tightly shut praying that we didn’t all die in that aforementioned fireball and trying not to whimper or out-right cry.  Not one of my proudest moments.  We did get to re-play the whole thing again when we drove down the Oregon coast for a few hours.  All he could do was shake his head and ask “Seriously?”.  Especially, since the second time I wasn’t able to stifle the whimper and about crawled onto the center console. Yes, I’m crazy. And as I like to remind him, he signed up for this shit on purpose.

Needless to say we are not going to be continuing down the 101 and visiting the great California Redwood forest. I don’t think my nerves could take it. Maybe next year.