Today was weird...

I haven't blogged in a long time. Usually my blogs were followed by cursory emails from someone that I loved very much. Bff, pal, friend, etc. I won't get those emails anymore, which makes writing a bit more difficult. They were sort of  'at-a-girl' emails. Proud, lauding, encouraging, and if no one liked them, there was always a 'fuck'em' in there for good measure. Grief makes a person sad. For me personally it's been a particularly difficult couple of months. Losing two people that you love in the span of a few days is sort of numbing. I've been wanting to produce word vomit about it for weeks. I thought if I could bang something out in type I would feel better. But every time I sat down, the words stopped, and the tears flowed. Hard. I'm of the opinion that that was healthy to some degree.

My dear friend, and previous supervisor passed away rather suddenly in the middle of May. This man was more than a friend, and believe me when I say- 'it wasn't like that'. I began to work for him when my first marriage blew up. When my x husband cut off the bank accounts and the credit cards and I scrambled to find my own income after staying at home for far too long to care for our boys. This man did not hire me, but I was hired to work for him. I spent the entire first week of my employment hearing stories about him and his demeanor, and escapades. I thought, what did I get myself into?? And then I met him. He said, "Aren't you gonna stand up and meet your supervisor??' And I seriously thought I was in trouble. And then he laughed. And I spent the next 7 years working for this guy. People within the organization where we worked thought we were an item. He was old enough to be my father, and the speculation would make me so angry. No one understood our relationship. They never would. He was amazing. Supportive. Honest. He always told me things would work out. He was there through my divorce, custody crap, fights with the x, issues with the boys, my second marriage, and the loss of folks that I thought were friends that blamed me for  divorce and thought I was the devil. He was my cheerleader, my counselor, my father-figure, my friend, my colleague, my hero, my constant. When the twins came I left him with a heavy heart. But I could not afford the childcare, so I made myself walk out the door. I worked part-time for him for a while, but when Sgt Dad left for his first tour overseas, I had to let go. But this guy, he wouldn't let me. He came over and cleaned the dead bunny rabbit from the road in front of my house so #2 son wouldn't see it and be heartbroken. He installed the security bar on my sliding glass door so mini-man wouldn't walk off when I was distracted. He installed a drive-way alarm because he didn't like me being alone with the kids while Sgt. Dad was overseas. He called, he listened, he counseled, he cared, he was there, he was
constant, and never ever ever judgmental.  And then he helped me find another job when I was ready to come back to work. And although I didn't work for him, we did work together. And we laughed. We had fun. We made fun. No one understood. We laughed about the "mountain" (the office toilet). We laughed about old stories from the time we worked together before, and the people we knew. He continued to be the constant. The cheerleader, the supporter.

And then he got sick. It happened so fast. Sort of.  He apparently didn't really share the reality of his illness. He was sick, and then, he was gone. Just gone. Empty desk, empty chair, empty heart. I still cry and it's been almost 2 months. For such a vivacious, charismatic person to just be ... gone. There is such a void in my life. I don't even think these words that I have written suffice. I can not even express it all right now. He is just gone, and his words remain.... in emails, in text messages, in reports at work that I just looked at today in an effort to archive them. There I saw his handwriting. But.... he's gone....

What's worse?? My dear friend, my coworker, my partner in crime.... she followed him... a week and some days later. And today I looked at her signature, and her words, and numbers, and notes on those same reports that I'm attempting to archive. There they were glaring at me. My BFF, my friend. She found she had lung cancer almost two years ago. She called me that day, and I promptly threw my cigarettes in the trash and never had another one. We did so many silly things together. Mostly we talked at each other though. Complained about life and people at each other. Each one of us never really giving any superlative advice to the other about how to handle said complaints, but just being there, listening, or reading. We liked to text and im each other a lot. Hell, if it wasn't for her, I'd probably never have gotten on fb. She would call me her other child. She would always make me forget what I was pissed about in the first place. She'd curse repeatedly and exclaim 'fuck-em' in her NY Long Island accent, and I would go along because she was right. She was no-nonsense and said exactly what she thought, and I admired her, except for the part where she never knew how to say no. I realized her bark was bigger than her bite at some point, but I loved her anyway and I encouraged her to say no more often. She didn't. She continued to care for her grown children, and then her grandchildren as if she had all the time and energy in the world. But she didn't. She wouldn't stand up. She worried about those kids so much, all the time. And I got mad. I got mad that she didn't put herself first. I got angry with the parts of her family that seemed to walk on her while she fought the hardest fight of her life. And I got lost. I got bombarded by my own challenges, and I became weak, and I wasn't there with her towards the end because I was too weak to fight my own fight and too weak to watch her lose her fight. And then... she was gone. And I couldn't tell her how much I loved her. I couldn't tell her how much I admired her spirit. I couldn't hear her call anyone a fucktard anymore. She was just gone. And I felt guilt because I hadn't been the person she needed me to be at the end. I was so busy struggling in my own mind with my own demons, and fears, and issues in my own home I couldn't see. I didn't realize. I didn't know how bad it was. Until our bossman passed, and I called her to tell her he was gone. She was so tired. She told me so that day. She said she was so tired, and she didn't want to fight anymore. That she had been so sick, and it was no way for a person to live, and she was done. And I knew. I knew she was done. And I begged her to give me more time.... and she did... 13 days from my first loss... I lost her too. It was like a punch in the gut, and even more so because I felt like I had let her down even though she always told me she understand
and she was never angry with me. I should have laid there with her in her hospital bed so we could laugh about all the stupid things we did. But I didn't. I couldn't. It hurt so much to watch her slip away. I just couldn't do it. And now here I am feeling like shit, and there's nothing.... nothing I can do to change what I did or didn't do.

And I guess I'm writing all of this because I had hoped it would bring some catharsis. Some kind of end to all of this pain that is is just eating me up inside. I miss them so damn much. And they both were in my office today... in words... in random old reports on my desk. Staring at me. Making me feel too much. Making me remember all the things. Making this day so damn weird....

Fat girls are old....

These palm trees on my bewbs are so sexy!
(Also, I'm not actually fat- I just play
a fat model in sales ads.)

I went shopping today. I tried on many things. I discovered that I'm fat. Which I knew, but it was painfully clear today. I also discovered that fat women are supposed to buy clothing that makes them look like a 90 year old women who has ceased to care if her vagina has fallen out. I've been fat. Each pregnancy destroyed my waistline a bit more until the twins came and wrecked it completely. I wish I could still blame them, but in all honesty I'm lazy, and I like food. Sgt Dad appears to love the way I am and I'm sort of resigned to it at this point. There's just one problem. Clothing choices suck and I don't want to buy the same shirt my mom is wearing. Recently I bought a shirt that I deemed not old-lady-ish. I was wearing it one day while standing in line at the deli counter. There was a little girl shopping with her mother, and she (like most little girls- mine included) did not have a mouth filter. She looked at me, smiled, and very excitedly told her mother, and all who were listening that I had the same shirt as her grandma. Awesome.
Who designs this crap?  Skinny bitches with a bone to pick? Asshole men who think it's funny to see fat girls wear old lady's clothes? I'm so over this. If I could sew my own shit, I totally would. Why can't they make the cute skinny girl clothes in bigger sizes? Jerks!
I'm fed up with fat girl clothes.
And shit dentists and their bitchy assistants.
And also obligatory Facebook birthday greetings-like oh hey person I never talk to and only friended because I'm a nosy bitch- I hope you have a happy birthday. Hey nosy bitch- how bout you un-friend me instead. (Sorry, random)
I'm out of wine and patience and the Tylenol pm is finally starting to kick in. I haven't eaten real food in days by the way- maybe this dental thing could turn this fat girl thing around, and then I won't have to buy shirts with shiny palm trees on them.
I just don't want to deal, you know?

(Yes, I do....)

My blog is broken~

~ and I'm too lazy to fix it. Quirky little pics and videos and GIFS are MIA and oh freakin well. So right this moment I have free time- I think. I'm not sure how to act or what to do, but I'm sure as hell not gonna fix shit. I'm not going to do another load of laundry either. I think I have free time. I'm sure I don't. I never do. I should be asleep. I should be doing laundry. I should be doing dishes. Vacuuming, cleaning, fixing the hole in the drywall in the ceiling because Sgt. Dad is never, ever going to fix it. There's never enough time for anything, and yet I feel like I'm not doing anything at all. There's no time for drama, mine or anyone else's. There's no time for sleep. There's no time for fun. There's no time for me. That blows. Maybe I'm greedy or selfish- I've heard that a time or 10, but damn it why can't there be time for me after I'm done taking care and cleaning up after every damn person in this house. Would it hurt if I poured a glass of wine and watched an old movie? Yes, yes it would. Because then I will go to bed and stare at the ceiling and think about bills, how we should put the dog to sleep, and how there's still a hole in the living room ceiling and why Sgt Dad is working a crap job with crap hours even though he's worth so much more and he's too lazy to look elsewhere, and why won't he get his front tooth repaired because it's weird when I kiss him, how the truck needs washed, and the Durango needs fixed, and how the driveway needs a load of gravel. All of these stupid trivial unimportant things. And after I think about all of that and I start to fall asleep, Mini-Man will get up and tell me he can't breath and I'll have to get up and fix him and then I'll try again, and wonder why I can't keep him healthy and why his prescriptions cost so dang much, and wonder if my other son is autistic because surely there must be some reason he acts the way he does, and wonder if I should make myself a doctor's appointment because surely I have an ulcer. And I'll wonder if I'm doing ok as a parent. And I will wait and want for sleep, and it will never come, and tomorrow we'll do it all over again. Is this normal? I'm pretty certain that normal is just a setting on my dishwasher that actually translates to- doesn't wash shit. Also- something is dripping in my kitchen. Maybe the fridge. Who knows. I'm sure that translates to- another hole in the ceiling/ wall. 

So yea- the blog is broken but I'm not gonna fix it because yea- I have enough stupid shit on my very tiny plate. Stupid. Shit. Anyone else with angst about stupid shit? And I mean stupid stuff. Not serious legit stuff. Stupid silly unimportant nonsense that adds up make you want to scream....

A side of cynicism?

So I wrote this as FB note and it was directed at someone who pissed me off. Someone who wants for nothing and never has wanted for anything ever. Mostly because she doesn't seem to possess a sense of humor, and then too, because she does not know me at all. But after I wrote it, I thought, yea, this is where I'm at right now, and I'm annoyed with frivolous, ridiculous people who have no concept of life outside their own perfect bubble. And so I copied it and pasted it here. Whatevs. I hadn't bogged in a while, so BOOM instant blog.

I feel like there is a major chasm of general point of views between the haves and the have nots, and never have I ever been a 'have'. From my youth until now and probably for the rest of my life I will be part of the have-nots. Sure, I have a house, a car, healthy-ish family, etc. We get by. We make due. We don't vacation- Ever. And we haven't had new cars in oh... ever. We can't afford those things. I buy generic. I shop sales. But, the kids are never lacking the things they truly need. They do share rooms though, and I imagine that may never change. I wore hand-me-downs, got made fun of because I didn't have the cool whatever thing was cool, I've juggled bills and received my share of utility cut off notices and foreclosure notices. I did not finish college. It was expensive, and being the pragmatist I am, I thought my rent was more important than my higher education and I never ever wanted my parents to my foot my bills. I have a mediocre job (that I actually like) and a mediocre life, and that's ok. I'll never go skydiving or base jumping or look into a volcano and I'm thinking that's ok too. I'm used to it. I wouldn't say I'm content, persay- but I'm stable. That to me is paramount. Stability. The kids know what to expect, and the kids are number one in my life. (1, 2, 3, and 4 really)

I generally keep my opinions to myself. Opinions are really like assholes..... eveyone has them, and mostly no one wants to be privy to someone elses (opinion that is). No one is really listening to anyone else's opinion anyway. No one is really listening at all. And the chasm grows. The rich are getting richer. The poor are getting poorer, and the middle class is screwed. Now there are folks that make poor choices in life, and I admit I've made my share. I've been too cautious, too careful, too protective, and then too reckless all at the same time. Life is all about choices. Successful folks- the haves- apparently made better life choices, or perhaps things were handed to them. Fantastic. Good for them. All I'm saying is- life is seen through a different camera lense to folks who wake up to Bob Ross' happy little trees every day. They see the positive in everything. Me- I'm waiting for the next mishap. The next disaster. The next bill to the auto repair shop, the next burst water pipe in the basement, the next broken appliance, the next repair bill our tenants send us, the next thing that is going to break us- and this last 4 years have given us A LOT. There's been suicide, separation, war, and PTSD, subsequent alcholism, and then throw in a family member being arrested and charged with unspeakable horror, and I slowly watch the threads of my life slowly unravel while I try to remain stable for my kids. My camera lense is scratched and foggy and maybe even cracked. I don't have time for drama, for frivolity, for excess. I have 4 kids. I work 40+ hours a week. I don't have time to analyse and read every detail. If the cynic in me thinks something smells like bullshit, then I deem it bullshit and I move on.  Most of the bullshit I see is on the news, so mostly I avoid that. I don't have time for it. I don't have time to ponder and read and look at every point of view and make educated decisions. I have to make snap judgments. Do I want to do that? No. But I don't want to waste my free time analyzing the political viewpoints of the mayor of some podunk town in Missouri. I don't want to analyze the ridiculous notion of racism in this decade, I don't want to read statistics and percentages and scorecards (unless it's the Steelers). I do have time to analyze federal legislation regarding FTA grant funding for rural transportation which by the way is hanging in the balance. Apparently old folks in the sticks will soon have to drive their tractors to town to get dialysis treatments and get to to doctor's appointments. I get paid to analyse this though, and I have serious angry opinions about it. Contact your congressman! Buy a bus, idk. I digress...

Mostly, I want to hear my kids laugh because they will never laugh the way they do right now. I want laugh to at things that make me laugh. Mostly I want to sleep because this damn house apparently won't clean itself and I can't afford to have someone do it for me, so I will be up bright and early cleaning sticky gunk off the kitchen floor. I made poor choices in life, and this is where I am and that's ok. Could be worse, right? And that's the point. I know it could be worse, and I know that it also could be better, but my life and my choices, and my struggles are mine just like my opinions are mine. They're not right and they're not wrong, but they are mine. Copyright and Notarized- btw I can do that now- but I can't notarize myself, that's illegal.

And let me leave with this one last thought. You are only as offended as you choose to be. It's a choice. 

In closing I want to make this other thing clear (and remember what I just said, you are only as offended as you choose to be and this is my opinion). The ice bucket challenge is stupid. Why would you dump ice over your head instead of just donating to charity. You either donate or you don't. Stop making mini-martyrs of yourselves, stop telling me it brings awareness. If you weren't aware that the specific illness existed- then your bubble must truly be perfect. There are a million other causes equally deserving of someones donation. I find the whole thing ridiculous, but then I also thought Harry Potter stunk, and had no interest in ever seeing Titanic, and why don't I like these things? I don't believe the hype folks. Don't believe the hype. 

"I cheat the light to check my face.... It's slightly harder than last year"

".... And all at once it gets hard to take..... It gets hard to fake what I won't be....."

and that pretty much sums it up right there.

John always knows what to say.

Smut.... it's what I'm reading while you're reading this!

Wine.
It's tasty. And also, it makes me want to say things to people that I probably shouldn't say. All that alcohol induced honesty could be hazardous to ones health. Not mine. But perhaps folks that get their panties in knots when folks tell them things they know but didn't want to hear. A few examples would be... wow, you have some poor decision making skills. Another would be... you are quite desperate, aren't you?

Which kind of brings me to my point. There's gotta be a fine line between being honest and saying what's on your mind and being an adult and saving face, keeping your mouth shut, and walking away from drama. I actually had a much older colleague come in to my office and gossip about another colleague yesterday. And the entire time she sat there bending my ear I thought, wow, am I suddenly in high school again? I turned to my much older colleague and said something like- well, this is what it is to be an adult, sometimes you work with people that you may not get along with, but you have to be an adult and ignore it and do what you have to do. Not everybody can get along with everybody.

What I wanted to say? Totally different. I wanted to say what I thought of her small-mindedness and ignorance. And what I really wanted to say? STFU, you're obnoxious, and I really don't care that you have beef with someone else. I'm not your friend. But. I have a sober-induced filter and I have to work with her everyday. So. I refrained. I politely changed the subject to coffee and creamer and moved on.

These people in this world that are all- I say what I want to say and I don't care. I kinda think they care. I kinda think they want the attention of being shocking and stirring the pot and the attention
that they claim not to want and that they also ridicule and claim to be the victim of.... they need it. They thrive off it. They would wither up and rock in the fetal position without it. This irritates me. Go get therapy and stop whipping the masses into hysterics of persecution that you later claim to be the victim of.

I am trying to say something important here. Really I am. Other than some people need to realize they need therapy- myself included... Sometimes it's ok to keep your thoughts to yourself. Sometimes it's ok not to update social media regarding the size and shape of your poo or how many times you blew your nose today and what color it was. Sometimes it's ok not to get along with people and keep the thoughts to yourself. The inner machinations of the mind are an enigma and it's ok to keep them that way. Because guess what folks? This is the real world and we are all grown ups and this isn't high school anymore!

THANK GOD- because high school was painful and awkward and embarrassing and the only thing I could imagine wanting back from that time in my life.... is the body I had when I though I was fat but was actually thin and perky........

and now I'm going to put down my wine glass and go read my smut novel... because I read smut novels. Don't judge.

too damn much.... an un-proofread blog

Sweet music is flowing tonight in my ears. Mostly because I just found my mp3 player that's been MIA for quite some time. Well that's partly why. The other part is this... there is too much.

On the surface that sentence appears completely incomplete. Perhaps. But trust me when I tell you, it is incompletely complete.

Too much anger, too much pain, too much resentment, too much crying. I haven't been able to write. It just won't come out. I don't know that it will here either, but it's a start.
Too much responsibility, fear, anxiety, illness, emptiness, loneliness, darkness.
When does a body have enough? For a while I felt like I was trudging onward. Soldiering on. Shrugging it all off. But the fact of the matter is this, I've been soldiering on yes, but burying feelings underneath a facade of cheerful cynical sarcasm- if such a thing exists. So basically sweeping the important stuff under rug because it's too much to deal with. And this last week, for whatever reason the too much really has become too damn much. I'm screaming at children, and cutting myself off from everyone because I hurt. I remind myself of a wounded animal. I'm just going to sit over here looking all pitiful (blogging) but don't touch me or I will freaking bite you and give you rabies.

And the really pissy part? I'm just dealing with every day life. And yet I'm struggling. I'm drowning. Currently considering drowning myself in this bottle of wine. Although I know I will just wake up with a headache and the continued 'too much responsibility'.

I seem to have misplaced my boot straps. Probably because I broke the heal off my boots just the other day....

Screw the boot straps. I need something a bit more substantial. A lifeboat? A tow strap?

*insert cheerful cynical sarcasm here*

yes, well, I prefer to be alone anyway.... apparently.