In 1990, I was at the ripe old age of 11. The same age my youngest son is now. Most of the stuff that I remember about my childhood happened after this time period.
Like all generations, you have things that you remember about your significant developmental years that you just had no idea what you were doing at the time. How do I understand that you have no good reason for doing something that you really didn’t want to do?
MC Hammer Pants.
Pegging your jeans.
Big Bangs.
Martika.
Mullets.
Men in cut-off jerseys, baring their midriffs.
Calling people “Wiggers”
Boy George.
Yeah. I went there.
How did we allow these atrocities to occur at the hands of our generation?
It’s a question I will ask myself in horror every time I watch the “Fly Girls” on “In Living Color.” Why, would we think it was acceptable for a man to wear a sleeveless shirt of any kind? You should NEVER see armpit hair unless you are at the beach or at home.
They are simply, crimes against humanity.
And like combating hunger, AIDS and genocide…we have to band together to never repeat the same mistakes twice.
We need change. (This is why I voted for Obama)
We need…
The New Kids on The Block. NKOTB. And Marky Mark…because he was an original member of the band.
“Donnie D’s on the backup. Drug-free, so put the crack up.”
I wonder how creepy it is for them to perform to audiences on their tour with the Backstreet Boys, and have 30-40 year old woman throwing their bras and panties at them? It’s got to be a life filled with lots of beer goggles and broken dreams. I wonder how many of their illegitimate children are introduced to them at their concerts?
“It was a starry night in Omaha, after the concert. He smelled like Drakkar Noir and Wild Turkey 101, and I was dressed like Donna from 90210. He kept wanting to call me Karen, even though my name is Jenny. It was magical.”
Every generation has their kryptonite. Those things that suddenly define you as a generation that you really wish didn’t. Like leisure suits and mutton chop sideburns. I mean, people HAD to be on heavy drugs to think that was attractive. For my children, it’s letting Miley Cyrus become famous and wanting hair like Justin Bieber.
In my day, we called that haircut Amish. It’s a bowl cut, folks.
I guess we just have to sit back and hope the next generation comes up with stuff that is more embarrassing than what we did.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Class Reunions are like car wrecks…
You really don’t want to see them, but you can’t help but look.
Like most people, I keep in touch with the majority of people I care to from high school or my youth. And I actually do a pretty good job at it. Sure, there are a few people I don’t get to talk to, or wonder what ever happened to them because they dropped off the face of the earth. And this is why I get drawn in to going to Reunion events.
And also to see people I hated, because in my head, I will have the balls to tell them to fuck off now.
I am still waiting to have the balls, in most cases.
Don’t get me wrong, the last few years of high school were pretty enjoyable. I had a good group of friends. But there is always a chain of insecurity in high school that pulls you down from being your true self. Maybe you were a dork who never got a date. Maybe you were popular, and felt pressured to be perfect. Maybe you were somewhere in the middle. You felt pretty good, but there were always a few who made you feel not good enough. That was me.
I like reunions to see how ugly the people are now, who I hated in high school. Some of them, you have to wonder why they were even popular to begin with, because they were ugly and not funny at all. How does it feel now, to be average like everyone else? You thought The Gap was high-end and didn’t even know what Prada was. You didn’t marry a plastic surgeon and move to Beverly Hills. You peaked at 17, and now secretly hide your addiction to meth, as your hatred for your life builds.
I also like to see the married couples who met in high school. I wonder if they really married their soul mates, or if they always wonder if they could have done better?
I also like reunions to be able to cheer for the underdog. Remember that girl who was really fat and quiet that you always pitied? You always wondered who she was? I love it when I see that they have lost all the weight and are gorgeous now. Because those are the people who deserve it. And then at reunions, when people say, “I don’t even remember you”, they can say, “Yeah, because you were a self-absorbed asshole.”
Most people in my high school thought they knew me, based on what little they did. I was blond and blue-eyed, bubbly and silly. I liked attention, and making people laugh. Self-deprecating humor has always worked for me, although I really have a healthy self confidence. People mistook my need to entertain for being dumb, when in actuality, I am smarter than most of them. It worked, because they underestimated me and then I didn’t have to put out as much effort.
People also thought I was a slut, because I got pregnant at 16. In reality, I had a boyfriend for a year, who was 18 and a German exchange student. Right before he left, I lost my virginity to him after my sweet 16th birthday party. I talked to my mother beforehand, to be responsible, and went on birth control, in case I went through with it. After this, I never saw him again because he had to go back to Germany. I was heart-broken, and 3 months later, I rebounded by having a summer time fling while on vacation. It was meant to make me feel better. What ended up happening, is that the guy was mentally unstable and abusive to me and I got pregnant because I hadn’t planned on sleeping with anyone and went off birth control. The day I found out I was pregnant, I broke up with him because I hated him. My biggest thought at the time, was that no one would ever take me to my senior prom. That was how I knew I wasn’t ready to be a mother. So my mom asked me if I wanted an abortion, and I didn’t know what I wanted to do. We went away to Baltimore for a weekend, so I could make a decision to have the baby or have an abortion. I had pretty much settled on an abortion, as I wanted no contact with the father what-so-ever, and made my choice to do so. And then it started to snow. The “Blizzard of 96”. And as it started to snow, I started to bleed. By the time we got back to Lancaster, I had miscarried. I went back to school a week later, and everyone thought I had an abortion. I would have, but I didn’t end up having to make that decision. It was made for me, and I am glad for that now. It would’ve been horrible to live with the guilt of that, even though it was the best choice for me at the time. People talked about me…how I was a slut because I got pregnant, even though they were sleeping with their boyfriends. Guess they didn’t realize they could’ve had the same problem very easily.
I didn’t become a slut until much later.
But it was that was fun. I had two years of casual sex before I got married. I didn’t do it because I had low self esteem. I didn’t do it to make boys like me. I did it because it was a blast and I was a goddess. And I have some hilarious stories, and slept with some people that most girls in my high school dreamed about. Why should I feel bad about that? Because it’s immoral? Could I have casual sex at this stage of my life, if I were single? Definitely. I am a sexual person. I’m not going to apologize for being myself. But I can honestly tell you that I have never cheated on my husband, from Day 1 of our marriage. I can keep my vagina in my pants.
I feel sorry for the closed-minded idiots that I went to school with. Those who took themselves so seriously that they didn’t bother to BE themselves. You might have sat at the “cool table” or the “smart table”, but you missed out on knowing me. So if I see you at the reunion and you are curious about what you might have missed, come over and say hi. I’ll give you a shot. Because if we haven’t grown at all in 14 years, then what have we done with our lives?
Like most people, I keep in touch with the majority of people I care to from high school or my youth. And I actually do a pretty good job at it. Sure, there are a few people I don’t get to talk to, or wonder what ever happened to them because they dropped off the face of the earth. And this is why I get drawn in to going to Reunion events.
And also to see people I hated, because in my head, I will have the balls to tell them to fuck off now.
I am still waiting to have the balls, in most cases.
Don’t get me wrong, the last few years of high school were pretty enjoyable. I had a good group of friends. But there is always a chain of insecurity in high school that pulls you down from being your true self. Maybe you were a dork who never got a date. Maybe you were popular, and felt pressured to be perfect. Maybe you were somewhere in the middle. You felt pretty good, but there were always a few who made you feel not good enough. That was me.
I like reunions to see how ugly the people are now, who I hated in high school. Some of them, you have to wonder why they were even popular to begin with, because they were ugly and not funny at all. How does it feel now, to be average like everyone else? You thought The Gap was high-end and didn’t even know what Prada was. You didn’t marry a plastic surgeon and move to Beverly Hills. You peaked at 17, and now secretly hide your addiction to meth, as your hatred for your life builds.
I also like to see the married couples who met in high school. I wonder if they really married their soul mates, or if they always wonder if they could have done better?
I also like reunions to be able to cheer for the underdog. Remember that girl who was really fat and quiet that you always pitied? You always wondered who she was? I love it when I see that they have lost all the weight and are gorgeous now. Because those are the people who deserve it. And then at reunions, when people say, “I don’t even remember you”, they can say, “Yeah, because you were a self-absorbed asshole.”
Most people in my high school thought they knew me, based on what little they did. I was blond and blue-eyed, bubbly and silly. I liked attention, and making people laugh. Self-deprecating humor has always worked for me, although I really have a healthy self confidence. People mistook my need to entertain for being dumb, when in actuality, I am smarter than most of them. It worked, because they underestimated me and then I didn’t have to put out as much effort.
People also thought I was a slut, because I got pregnant at 16. In reality, I had a boyfriend for a year, who was 18 and a German exchange student. Right before he left, I lost my virginity to him after my sweet 16th birthday party. I talked to my mother beforehand, to be responsible, and went on birth control, in case I went through with it. After this, I never saw him again because he had to go back to Germany. I was heart-broken, and 3 months later, I rebounded by having a summer time fling while on vacation. It was meant to make me feel better. What ended up happening, is that the guy was mentally unstable and abusive to me and I got pregnant because I hadn’t planned on sleeping with anyone and went off birth control. The day I found out I was pregnant, I broke up with him because I hated him. My biggest thought at the time, was that no one would ever take me to my senior prom. That was how I knew I wasn’t ready to be a mother. So my mom asked me if I wanted an abortion, and I didn’t know what I wanted to do. We went away to Baltimore for a weekend, so I could make a decision to have the baby or have an abortion. I had pretty much settled on an abortion, as I wanted no contact with the father what-so-ever, and made my choice to do so. And then it started to snow. The “Blizzard of 96”. And as it started to snow, I started to bleed. By the time we got back to Lancaster, I had miscarried. I went back to school a week later, and everyone thought I had an abortion. I would have, but I didn’t end up having to make that decision. It was made for me, and I am glad for that now. It would’ve been horrible to live with the guilt of that, even though it was the best choice for me at the time. People talked about me…how I was a slut because I got pregnant, even though they were sleeping with their boyfriends. Guess they didn’t realize they could’ve had the same problem very easily.
I didn’t become a slut until much later.
But it was that was fun. I had two years of casual sex before I got married. I didn’t do it because I had low self esteem. I didn’t do it to make boys like me. I did it because it was a blast and I was a goddess. And I have some hilarious stories, and slept with some people that most girls in my high school dreamed about. Why should I feel bad about that? Because it’s immoral? Could I have casual sex at this stage of my life, if I were single? Definitely. I am a sexual person. I’m not going to apologize for being myself. But I can honestly tell you that I have never cheated on my husband, from Day 1 of our marriage. I can keep my vagina in my pants.
I feel sorry for the closed-minded idiots that I went to school with. Those who took themselves so seriously that they didn’t bother to BE themselves. You might have sat at the “cool table” or the “smart table”, but you missed out on knowing me. So if I see you at the reunion and you are curious about what you might have missed, come over and say hi. I’ll give you a shot. Because if we haven’t grown at all in 14 years, then what have we done with our lives?
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Camping? Oh Shit.
I can clearly see how, in a state of emotional turmoil, my decision-making skills were hijacked by the need for a distraction.
Like making the choice to go camping. FOR A 3 DAY WEEKEND.
I have only recently begun to contemplate what this really means.
3 days of hearing my children bitch and complain that they are bored. 3 days of not being able to send them away because I am sick of hearing them bitch and complain. 3 days of not letting them watch tv or use video games. 3 days of ME not being able to watch tv or lay in a real bed. 3 days of no climate control, which could screw me depending on extreme hotness or coldness, both of which will most likely occur. My dogs or children will probably pop my air mattress at some point the first night, leaving me tired, cold and uncomfortable.
I have only camped during one period of my life...when I was 20-23, living in Alaska, and drinking heavily. In fact, I drank heavily every time I went camping. And it was never in a campground, but the wilderness. What happens when you camp in a campground? Do people really come over and say, "Howdy, neighbor!" Do they invite you to come sing camp songs? Am I the type of person who would SING camp songs, or make fun of the campers at the next site over singing them?
I think we all know the answer to that question. I am really only looking forward to the hotdogs.
Yet, sometimes I wish I was a happier, stupid person. That I wouldn't feel uncomfortable leading the crowd in singing, "Happy Birthday" to my kids. That I was more "Mom-ish". That I could get simple enjoyment out of spending quality time with my family, when I would much rather leave them all at home and go to the casino for a day.
Is this type of mom even real? Has any mother in history really "liked" that mom crap, or are some just better at pretending, and then slip out of the room to take a gulp out of their vodka bottle, neatly hidden in a stack of perfectly folded towels? Or how many are popping "Mommy's little helpers", Xanax, Valium or other medication to keep from slitting their wrists in their mundane realities?
Do we all feel guilty for this mom image we have put on a pedestal? Of who we feel we SHOULD be, and how we know we never will?
For the most part, I just don't even bother trying, because I know it will make me miserable, and let's face it...I am miserable enough with life the way it is.
But, what the hell...I am going to give it a go this weekend. If nothing else, I may be able to embarrass my children, which would give me great amusement.
Like making the choice to go camping. FOR A 3 DAY WEEKEND.
I have only recently begun to contemplate what this really means.
3 days of hearing my children bitch and complain that they are bored. 3 days of not being able to send them away because I am sick of hearing them bitch and complain. 3 days of not letting them watch tv or use video games. 3 days of ME not being able to watch tv or lay in a real bed. 3 days of no climate control, which could screw me depending on extreme hotness or coldness, both of which will most likely occur. My dogs or children will probably pop my air mattress at some point the first night, leaving me tired, cold and uncomfortable.
I have only camped during one period of my life...when I was 20-23, living in Alaska, and drinking heavily. In fact, I drank heavily every time I went camping. And it was never in a campground, but the wilderness. What happens when you camp in a campground? Do people really come over and say, "Howdy, neighbor!" Do they invite you to come sing camp songs? Am I the type of person who would SING camp songs, or make fun of the campers at the next site over singing them?
I think we all know the answer to that question. I am really only looking forward to the hotdogs.
Yet, sometimes I wish I was a happier, stupid person. That I wouldn't feel uncomfortable leading the crowd in singing, "Happy Birthday" to my kids. That I was more "Mom-ish". That I could get simple enjoyment out of spending quality time with my family, when I would much rather leave them all at home and go to the casino for a day.
Is this type of mom even real? Has any mother in history really "liked" that mom crap, or are some just better at pretending, and then slip out of the room to take a gulp out of their vodka bottle, neatly hidden in a stack of perfectly folded towels? Or how many are popping "Mommy's little helpers", Xanax, Valium or other medication to keep from slitting their wrists in their mundane realities?
Do we all feel guilty for this mom image we have put on a pedestal? Of who we feel we SHOULD be, and how we know we never will?
For the most part, I just don't even bother trying, because I know it will make me miserable, and let's face it...I am miserable enough with life the way it is.
But, what the hell...I am going to give it a go this weekend. If nothing else, I may be able to embarrass my children, which would give me great amusement.
Monday, June 27, 2011
What the hell just happened?
I am too tired right now to begin to put together the events of my weekend, but, "for the art", I will give it my best efforts.
Friday was like torture, waiting for everyone to arrive. I was a wreck...Andy was a wreck. It was a mess. I made all this food, and then there was no one there to eat it. I found out that my in-laws were in town already, but they went out to dinner, even thought they knew I had made food because I told everyone I was.
Of course, everyone arrives within the same time frame, so chaos ensued. It was a fun weekend, but very emotional too. But when I laid down last night, and Andy asked me how I was, I said "Good". I haven't felt good for a long time, so it was a relief.
The sad thing is that it takes a trauma to be able to get together with my friends. It's harder to justify when life is good, as if you "need" them less. I laughed pretty hard this weekend, I cried, and I ate a ton of food.
But it was like a blur...fast and then it's gone. But it was lovely while it lasted. Sharing secrets, talking about life. We all have sons too, so it was pretty funny. My boys were so good, playing with the little kids. This worked out perfectly...mine were old enough to babysit all their kids, so the moms could relax a little. Everyone pitched in and helped out with everything. It was a family. We ARE a family. And it's something that we all are not used to, because we live far away from each other and our parents...so we were all used to "doing it on our own" and it was nice to just not have to worry about everything because one of us would get it if there was a problem.
I wish life was like that. It makes me crave family and friends being around all the time. Few things in life are as reliable as the comfort I felt this weekend, even in its awkward moments...and there were definitely some.
I am so glad to go out to California next month. I feel better about it already...stronger. And I felt so good this weekend, I know I will be okay and have fun then.
Today, though, I am exhausted and feel slightly ill. And tonight, I need to just rest, because tomorrow, I start getting packed for this weekends camping trip.
Friday was like torture, waiting for everyone to arrive. I was a wreck...Andy was a wreck. It was a mess. I made all this food, and then there was no one there to eat it. I found out that my in-laws were in town already, but they went out to dinner, even thought they knew I had made food because I told everyone I was.
Of course, everyone arrives within the same time frame, so chaos ensued. It was a fun weekend, but very emotional too. But when I laid down last night, and Andy asked me how I was, I said "Good". I haven't felt good for a long time, so it was a relief.
The sad thing is that it takes a trauma to be able to get together with my friends. It's harder to justify when life is good, as if you "need" them less. I laughed pretty hard this weekend, I cried, and I ate a ton of food.
But it was like a blur...fast and then it's gone. But it was lovely while it lasted. Sharing secrets, talking about life. We all have sons too, so it was pretty funny. My boys were so good, playing with the little kids. This worked out perfectly...mine were old enough to babysit all their kids, so the moms could relax a little. Everyone pitched in and helped out with everything. It was a family. We ARE a family. And it's something that we all are not used to, because we live far away from each other and our parents...so we were all used to "doing it on our own" and it was nice to just not have to worry about everything because one of us would get it if there was a problem.
I wish life was like that. It makes me crave family and friends being around all the time. Few things in life are as reliable as the comfort I felt this weekend, even in its awkward moments...and there were definitely some.
I am so glad to go out to California next month. I feel better about it already...stronger. And I felt so good this weekend, I know I will be okay and have fun then.
Today, though, I am exhausted and feel slightly ill. And tonight, I need to just rest, because tomorrow, I start getting packed for this weekends camping trip.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Girls just wanna have fun!
I am so excited. I'm surprised I slept last night.
My friends and family arrive tonight for the weekend, and I can't wait to laugh.
I need to laugh.
Last night we had some good thunderstorms in the early evening. I was sitting in my garage, talking to Andy. Was a deep conversation and we were both emotional. The garage door was open, and it started to pour.
I love thunderstorms and rain showers. We used to get them all the time when we lived in Georgia. Frequently, I fight the urge to just walk out and stand in the pouring rain. To feel it wash over me, like a shower.
I didn't fight it yesterday. I got up, took off my socks and walked out in the storm. It was cold, but it felt so good. I just felt the water and the chill, and it relaxed me. Made me feel alive and free.
Must have scared the crap out of Andy, because he came out a few minutes later and grabbed me and forced me in the garage. He looked scared. Then he ran and got a towel, because I was cold and soaked. Then he shut the garage door, in case I got a little skitzy and took off again.
Made me giggle a little.
Is it crazy? I don't think so. There are plenty of people who would think it was, though. But to those people, you can't explain how a good thunderstorm can "set you right" again, at least temporarily.
Also, I booked my boudoir photos for August. Now I just have to figure out what to wear, which is always the problem.
Tomorrow I renew my vows. I can't say I am excited for that. I feel more like it's just something that I am driven to do. It's not the same as when you get married the first time. You are innocent then. (Kind of.)
But I have the hope that this time will not end in pain. That its the beginning of the rest of my life.
I can not wait to see my friend's boys. CANNOT WAIT. I love them. It's just as amazing to see what they created as it is to see my own kids. And they are all young and sweet, not mouthy like mine are.
Gavin got mad last night because he wanted to sleep at his friends house. He's been to sleepovers the past three weekends, so this time I was not giving in.
I was promptly rewarded with a text that told me how much he F****** hated me. (It was texted just like that, with the stars.) Evidently, he thought that as long as he didn't spell it out, it was not a big deal.
He thought wrong.
So I called him in our room, where Andy and I had just put in "Nightmare on Elm Street". Andy grabbed the remote to turn off the start menu, because it was mildly scary, but I told him not to. Let it scare the little bugger a bit. The movie hadn't started, just the reel that plays in the start menu.
Ha. Alternative parenting.
He walked in with an "angry" look on his face. Pursed lips and redhead scowl. He would've sat there for an hour and kept it up because he's stubborn as shit.
And then he realized what was on the tv screen, and his attitude quickly vanished, as he moved closer to Andy and I.
And then the anger flew away.
I am so smart. And a little twisted.
My friends and family arrive tonight for the weekend, and I can't wait to laugh.
I need to laugh.
Last night we had some good thunderstorms in the early evening. I was sitting in my garage, talking to Andy. Was a deep conversation and we were both emotional. The garage door was open, and it started to pour.
I love thunderstorms and rain showers. We used to get them all the time when we lived in Georgia. Frequently, I fight the urge to just walk out and stand in the pouring rain. To feel it wash over me, like a shower.
I didn't fight it yesterday. I got up, took off my socks and walked out in the storm. It was cold, but it felt so good. I just felt the water and the chill, and it relaxed me. Made me feel alive and free.
Must have scared the crap out of Andy, because he came out a few minutes later and grabbed me and forced me in the garage. He looked scared. Then he ran and got a towel, because I was cold and soaked. Then he shut the garage door, in case I got a little skitzy and took off again.
Made me giggle a little.
Is it crazy? I don't think so. There are plenty of people who would think it was, though. But to those people, you can't explain how a good thunderstorm can "set you right" again, at least temporarily.
Also, I booked my boudoir photos for August. Now I just have to figure out what to wear, which is always the problem.
Tomorrow I renew my vows. I can't say I am excited for that. I feel more like it's just something that I am driven to do. It's not the same as when you get married the first time. You are innocent then. (Kind of.)
But I have the hope that this time will not end in pain. That its the beginning of the rest of my life.
I can not wait to see my friend's boys. CANNOT WAIT. I love them. It's just as amazing to see what they created as it is to see my own kids. And they are all young and sweet, not mouthy like mine are.
Gavin got mad last night because he wanted to sleep at his friends house. He's been to sleepovers the past three weekends, so this time I was not giving in.
I was promptly rewarded with a text that told me how much he F****** hated me. (It was texted just like that, with the stars.) Evidently, he thought that as long as he didn't spell it out, it was not a big deal.
He thought wrong.
So I called him in our room, where Andy and I had just put in "Nightmare on Elm Street". Andy grabbed the remote to turn off the start menu, because it was mildly scary, but I told him not to. Let it scare the little bugger a bit. The movie hadn't started, just the reel that plays in the start menu.
Ha. Alternative parenting.
He walked in with an "angry" look on his face. Pursed lips and redhead scowl. He would've sat there for an hour and kept it up because he's stubborn as shit.
And then he realized what was on the tv screen, and his attitude quickly vanished, as he moved closer to Andy and I.
And then the anger flew away.
I am so smart. And a little twisted.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Stop the coaster, I wanna get off!!!
Every day is so up and down.
Just when I think I am making progress, I fall backwards. I know it's going to be that way for a long time. I just can't help but be disappointed. And it pisses me off a little at myself for not being tougher. Then I realize how much energy it is pulling out of my body just to get out of bed in the morning, and I back off beating myself up.
Andy has to go to the field for a week after we go camping. It scares the crap out of me. I made it through a 24 hour duty two weeks ago, where he didn't come home. I had a beer and watched "Under the Tuscan Sun." I went to a happy place, and I fell asleep quite nicely. But I knew he was coming home the next morning. This time, he will be gone from Wednesday to Wednesday. That's a lot of time to not have a physical reassurance. It's not going to be pretty. He's not gonna be too good either. By the time we get home from work every day, we need to just lay down and hold each other to calm down from the damage our own brains inflict upon us. I guess it's good practice for when i go to California next month. I am so excited to go. I just want to be able to have fun, and not be afraid I will freak out a little bit. Trying to get that under control.
I may need a refill on my Xanax. I have done PRETTY WELL with not taking the Xanax, I will have you know. In fact, I haven't taken one for over a week. I am taking Zoloft every day...I'm no robot. I need chemical help for this shit.
On the upside, I have to say...I feel MUCH better than I did a month ago. The hardest thing about the first 6 weeks, was that the bad feelings didn't ever go away. I felt horrible 24/7. I was desperate to do anything to feel better. Like, in a "sell my soul to the devil" kind of way. That was truly scary. But then it started to settle, and as it did, I was able to start sorting out thoughts and feelings in a manageable way. And it gets better every week. Now, I not only hope that I will be happy again, I actually have periods of happiness already. Smiling helps. One of the meditation exercises actually makes you close your eyes, breathe in, and when you breathe out, Smile. Yeah, you feel like a douchebag, but after you do this enough times, the realization you LOOK like a douchebag makes you smile, and even laugh. So you really do feel better, although, I don't know if they intended you to think about being a douchebag.
I have to go grocery shopping tonight and get a pedicure. My last pedicure was the weekend before "D-Day", in anticipation of Andy coming home. I got my nails painted black with white flowers. Never painted my nails black before. Maybe it was an omen. Anyway, now I can see how much they have grown since this happened. It's a visable distance of how far I have come. Sounds dumb...but today I am ready to move forward.
Just when I think I am making progress, I fall backwards. I know it's going to be that way for a long time. I just can't help but be disappointed. And it pisses me off a little at myself for not being tougher. Then I realize how much energy it is pulling out of my body just to get out of bed in the morning, and I back off beating myself up.
Andy has to go to the field for a week after we go camping. It scares the crap out of me. I made it through a 24 hour duty two weeks ago, where he didn't come home. I had a beer and watched "Under the Tuscan Sun." I went to a happy place, and I fell asleep quite nicely. But I knew he was coming home the next morning. This time, he will be gone from Wednesday to Wednesday. That's a lot of time to not have a physical reassurance. It's not going to be pretty. He's not gonna be too good either. By the time we get home from work every day, we need to just lay down and hold each other to calm down from the damage our own brains inflict upon us. I guess it's good practice for when i go to California next month. I am so excited to go. I just want to be able to have fun, and not be afraid I will freak out a little bit. Trying to get that under control.
I may need a refill on my Xanax. I have done PRETTY WELL with not taking the Xanax, I will have you know. In fact, I haven't taken one for over a week. I am taking Zoloft every day...I'm no robot. I need chemical help for this shit.
On the upside, I have to say...I feel MUCH better than I did a month ago. The hardest thing about the first 6 weeks, was that the bad feelings didn't ever go away. I felt horrible 24/7. I was desperate to do anything to feel better. Like, in a "sell my soul to the devil" kind of way. That was truly scary. But then it started to settle, and as it did, I was able to start sorting out thoughts and feelings in a manageable way. And it gets better every week. Now, I not only hope that I will be happy again, I actually have periods of happiness already. Smiling helps. One of the meditation exercises actually makes you close your eyes, breathe in, and when you breathe out, Smile. Yeah, you feel like a douchebag, but after you do this enough times, the realization you LOOK like a douchebag makes you smile, and even laugh. So you really do feel better, although, I don't know if they intended you to think about being a douchebag.
I have to go grocery shopping tonight and get a pedicure. My last pedicure was the weekend before "D-Day", in anticipation of Andy coming home. I got my nails painted black with white flowers. Never painted my nails black before. Maybe it was an omen. Anyway, now I can see how much they have grown since this happened. It's a visable distance of how far I have come. Sounds dumb...but today I am ready to move forward.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
What is normal?
I will probably not get to see the President...sounds like it's going to be a rushed appearance...very cloak-and-dagger.
The kind of event you need a Purple Heart or other war recognition.
Unfortunately (or fortunately!) I don't have any of those, nor does my husband. We are average. Nothing outstanding to see, people. So we don't warrant a special meeting with the Prez.
Oh well.
Things have been very up and down lately. I have intense feelings of forgiveness when I go to bed, only to have that ripped to shreds by bad dreams through the night, to wake up scared and unsure again.
I try to take my obsessive, unproductive thoughts (flashback images of my husband doing things that are not good, nagging questions that I don't know if I trust the answers he gives or if I just doubt that I am credible enough to myself to believe them) and I stuff them in a mental trashbag and lock them away. I am getting better at blocking this stuff out. But it takes time and a concerted effort to do.
I am my own worst enemy. I wage a war on two fronts...one with my relationship and one with myself. I will win because I have to. Living in fear is not optional. I am not acting like my demons don't exist, because they do. Somehow, people want to give me advice to not think about any of it and put it out of my head. Just think about something else. Ha. What else is there? This is my life. But they don't see that in order to conquer it, I must face it head on and defeat it. I don't want to be in denial that I am okay, because I would just be leaving myself open for a mental breakdown in the future, or a divorce.
The pain from this is searing. But I feel awake. I notice how much I was sleeping for the past two years in my life. I was numb and complacent. I am determined to never let myself go back to that mental state that I think everything is okay. Sometimes, I guess it takes almost dying to appreciate life. There are silver linings to this mess. And this is one of them. I have a new appreciation for living and doing things better.
I understand Buddha now. I feel enlightened by embracing my pain, working through it, making changes and accepting the way things were. But they don't have to remain that way for the rest of my life. I have power to change them and be a better person in my relationship, as my husband does. Now we are free to just be who we are honestly. I feel like my husband sees me as a whole for the first time, and I see there is so much more to him. I am not at this understanding all the time...I regress during the day. But in dealing with my emotions rather than shoving it in a corner of my mind, I lessen the chances I will be caught off guard again or damaged by my own insecurities.
Am I torturing myself? I very easily could be. The difference is pushing out the unproductive thoughts, and dealing with the productive ones. It's actually a very good exercise in meditation, and something I needed to do anyway, because my stress level was out of control, thinking about things I cannot change and/or have no control over. Those are what I have to let go.
It's hard to trust again, but not as hard as I thought it would be. I already have glimmers of trust. Part of me knows I will never be as devastated as I was. The kind of hurt I felt initially will never happen to me again, because it was a loss of innocence in our marriage. That is gone, and it's sad. But it was glossy, and kept a film over seeing what is real. Does it feel better to be deluded? HELL YES IT DOES. But once you have the wool removed from your eyes, you can either choose to put yourself back in a situation where you continue to delude yourself, or see life through clear glasses. If you look at things for what they are, and accept changes that need to be made, then you can be whole again down the road.
My husband could hurt me again because I choose to stay. But he will never hurt me again like he did, because it's not possible. And now I know it won't kill me and I won't go crazy. And if he does hurt me again, I will leave him and take away the power to do any more damage.
Again...I know everyone who is not going through a trauma like this right now is reading this and thinking "SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY. YOU ARE NOT INTERESTING WHEN YOU ARE ALL INTROSPECTIVE AND SHIT."
Yeah, I know. I have time for funny later. Right now, I am trying to get this crap out for the people who have commented or emailed me that they too, were going through a hard time. Because I have been searching far and wide online for SOMETHING to guide me through this crap and let me know I am not alone. So I am leaving my trail of breadcrumbs here so other people have that comfort too. I can't tell you what to do. All I can tell you is what I am doing and why.
If you feel uncomfortable with my pain, then take a break from me if I talk about this. Recovery IS talking about it. And I need to be selfish to recover, even if it is at the expense of someone else's comfort level. So do as I am doing, and get over it. It happened. I won't pretend it didn't to make you feel better. It doesn't make ME feel better to ignore it.
That being said, I am planning on having a fantastic weekend this weekend with my friends and family. This weekend is about celebrating and the future. And I can't wait.
The kind of event you need a Purple Heart or other war recognition.
Unfortunately (or fortunately!) I don't have any of those, nor does my husband. We are average. Nothing outstanding to see, people. So we don't warrant a special meeting with the Prez.
Oh well.
Things have been very up and down lately. I have intense feelings of forgiveness when I go to bed, only to have that ripped to shreds by bad dreams through the night, to wake up scared and unsure again.
I try to take my obsessive, unproductive thoughts (flashback images of my husband doing things that are not good, nagging questions that I don't know if I trust the answers he gives or if I just doubt that I am credible enough to myself to believe them) and I stuff them in a mental trashbag and lock them away. I am getting better at blocking this stuff out. But it takes time and a concerted effort to do.
I am my own worst enemy. I wage a war on two fronts...one with my relationship and one with myself. I will win because I have to. Living in fear is not optional. I am not acting like my demons don't exist, because they do. Somehow, people want to give me advice to not think about any of it and put it out of my head. Just think about something else. Ha. What else is there? This is my life. But they don't see that in order to conquer it, I must face it head on and defeat it. I don't want to be in denial that I am okay, because I would just be leaving myself open for a mental breakdown in the future, or a divorce.
The pain from this is searing. But I feel awake. I notice how much I was sleeping for the past two years in my life. I was numb and complacent. I am determined to never let myself go back to that mental state that I think everything is okay. Sometimes, I guess it takes almost dying to appreciate life. There are silver linings to this mess. And this is one of them. I have a new appreciation for living and doing things better.
I understand Buddha now. I feel enlightened by embracing my pain, working through it, making changes and accepting the way things were. But they don't have to remain that way for the rest of my life. I have power to change them and be a better person in my relationship, as my husband does. Now we are free to just be who we are honestly. I feel like my husband sees me as a whole for the first time, and I see there is so much more to him. I am not at this understanding all the time...I regress during the day. But in dealing with my emotions rather than shoving it in a corner of my mind, I lessen the chances I will be caught off guard again or damaged by my own insecurities.
Am I torturing myself? I very easily could be. The difference is pushing out the unproductive thoughts, and dealing with the productive ones. It's actually a very good exercise in meditation, and something I needed to do anyway, because my stress level was out of control, thinking about things I cannot change and/or have no control over. Those are what I have to let go.
It's hard to trust again, but not as hard as I thought it would be. I already have glimmers of trust. Part of me knows I will never be as devastated as I was. The kind of hurt I felt initially will never happen to me again, because it was a loss of innocence in our marriage. That is gone, and it's sad. But it was glossy, and kept a film over seeing what is real. Does it feel better to be deluded? HELL YES IT DOES. But once you have the wool removed from your eyes, you can either choose to put yourself back in a situation where you continue to delude yourself, or see life through clear glasses. If you look at things for what they are, and accept changes that need to be made, then you can be whole again down the road.
My husband could hurt me again because I choose to stay. But he will never hurt me again like he did, because it's not possible. And now I know it won't kill me and I won't go crazy. And if he does hurt me again, I will leave him and take away the power to do any more damage.
Again...I know everyone who is not going through a trauma like this right now is reading this and thinking "SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY. YOU ARE NOT INTERESTING WHEN YOU ARE ALL INTROSPECTIVE AND SHIT."
Yeah, I know. I have time for funny later. Right now, I am trying to get this crap out for the people who have commented or emailed me that they too, were going through a hard time. Because I have been searching far and wide online for SOMETHING to guide me through this crap and let me know I am not alone. So I am leaving my trail of breadcrumbs here so other people have that comfort too. I can't tell you what to do. All I can tell you is what I am doing and why.
If you feel uncomfortable with my pain, then take a break from me if I talk about this. Recovery IS talking about it. And I need to be selfish to recover, even if it is at the expense of someone else's comfort level. So do as I am doing, and get over it. It happened. I won't pretend it didn't to make you feel better. It doesn't make ME feel better to ignore it.
That being said, I am planning on having a fantastic weekend this weekend with my friends and family. This weekend is about celebrating and the future. And I can't wait.
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