Sing to me, and let me tune out the world John....

Picture somewhat unrelated-altho-he is beautiful

John Mayer is singing sweetly in my ears tonight. I needed him tonight. We are old friends. We go way back. Okay, maybe not way back.... like 10 years or so ago I saw him singing on MTV and I thought gee, he's quite lovely. I have always loved music. At one point in my young life I did the choir thing... think 'Glee' but with less cool song choices. Music, lyrics, rhythms... they speak to me, they take me to certain moments of my own life. In John's case- he got me through. Through divorce. Through pain. He soothed and I love him for that. He's always there too, like an old blankie or your favorite sweatshirt. I just turn him on, and tune out. Tonight, I am tuning out somewhat. Tuning out from the news, tuning out from the quiet of another night without my love. Tuning out after walking out of the grocery store today and finding out that the man in the car 2 spots from mine in the parking lot... killed himself... in his car.

Suicide. Aside from my own grandfather, who gave up when I was only 2, I have never known anyone personally that has given in and ran away permanently. That said, I have been close to those who have known someone personally that took their own life. My husband, for instance, walked into his buddies house as soon as the gun went off and sat on the floor holding a rag to his friend's head until the rescue squad came. Of course it was too late. It changed my husband forever. It made him feel helpless and angry, and he is neither of those things. I could go on listing folks, but it's sort of pointless and perhaps a bit too much for a blog.

I thought about my husband and about his friend and about all the other souls that left us too soon, and those of us left behind. All this while the kind firemen loaded my ridiculous amount of groceries into my truck for me in a great hurry. They wanted me to wait back at the store and bring me my car, but I was already there, and the twins were too busy ooo-ing and aaahh-ing at the firetrucks and such to care about what was actually going on. I put the kids in their seats and we beat feet out of that parking lot and left it behind. But I didn't. I've been thinking about that poor man all afternoon. Was he in the store? Did I walk past him? Did I smile at him or not if he was even there? If someone had shown him a moment of kindness, would he have changed his mind? How does a person get there? I battle depression daily, but I am also aware of that fact that there is so much good in my life. Much to live for. Lives to care for. People to love. People that love me. I've hit rough patches, really rough patches... the rough patches I hit about 10 years ago were like huge gaping bottomless potholes. But there were people in my life loving me and supporting me and caring for me and I never went there... I never thought of it. My only thought was that I had to make it through, for those people that love me, for those people that I love, and mostly for myself.

And there was John singing sweetly to me every night as I went to sleep. Helping me tune out the world.

So no random rambling tonight about curtains that are the wrong color, and curtain rods that are not available in the size I need, and how my kids manage to make the bathroom look like New Orleans after Katrina when they shower. Just some quiet introspection... and John. And tell those that you love... that you love them... because you never know who may need to hear it the most.....

Full circle... with cursing....

Shite... it's like shit only a little bit more P.C. Some people say crap, poop, feces, it's straight up SHIT, and that's what I feel like right now. Serious pent up angst and shit. And worry. Sickening amounts of worry. Not hearing from someone for several days when they are living in a war zone and the world has gone mad... it's making me freakin nuts. I am constantly saying to myself.... well no news is good news right? I figure if someone had something bad to tell me they would have told me by now... I'm hoping that's the way of it anyway.

Aside from that there's been drama stewing with the x and the step-mother, which basically boils down to this- #1 son is turning into a teenager. In his awesome teenagey angsty way he wants to live here when they piss him off and there when I piss him off. Pissing him off can include things like, telling him to do any of the following- laundry, dishes, cleaning, taking out the trash, letting the farking dog out, or even not picking on his younger siblings. Are you freaking serious? Yes, yes I am. Damn, was I like this as a teen? Cuz if so, I kinda want to punch myself right now. His attitude and the hefty chip on his shoulder are making me freaking nuts.

And don't get me started on the twinados.... terrible twos times two is no freakin joke folks. Please stab me in the foot, but use a spork, k? I have a low threshold for pain. I am also finding that I have a lower and lower threshold for losing my mind when mini-man tells me- No and I can't. Did that sentence even make sense? It did in my mind, but now that I've written it... ahh screw it. Ya'll know there is vodka in my cup. 

I had it in my mind to write something more eloquent and witty and blah blah blah. But sometimes the word vomit just has to come out like this. There is nothing I can do about it . It is what it is. I have been fairly antisocial of late. Which basically means I'm lurking around my FB pages and reading blogs but too lazy to say anything of value. I haven't been out of the house much at all aside from the grocery store and the dang blasted Target... where I buy tons of shit I don't need and then feel guilty about it, but not guilty enough to take it back. These are the highlights of my week. That and if a toddler has pooped or peed in their 'potty-dance pants'. How incredibly intriguing am I, huh? So exciting, I know.

So here's the bottom line~ I am a frustrated mother at my wits end with children, chores, and the constant worrying of having a husband overseas. That is the long and the short of it. The 20 lbs I've gained and the worry lines on my forehead are not helping matters. Good Lord, I feel older than I ever have, which technically I am at this moment, but when I look in the mirror... I'm all- Damn- who the hell is that crazy bitch staring back at me? She's got a huge zit on her chin! Someone should... oh fuck... that's me. Well shit. And now we're right back where I started. Shite! 

Did I mention... the curtains came... but were the wrong freakin color and now I have to ship them all back? Perhaps I didn't. But now you know, and knowing is half the battle....

Today's tiny little victory... and it has nothing to do with the toilet!

I am just so uber excited, I wanted to share my uber excitement and by doing so, you will see just how incredibly lame I am.

 Finally a decision! Finally, after weeks and weeks of deliberation... it's done. I am beyond excited! What am I excited about?
I am excited about curtains.
Curtains.
You did not misread.
I bought curtains for my living room today. Ordered them online. This was the highlight of my day. You are all ready to click to another blog, aren't you? That's cool. You do what ya want. I'm still gonna write this bitch.

I'm sure that you all may not be aware of the gravity of this situation. We have been living in this house for the last 4 and half years and the curtains in this living room were whatever I grabbed at Wally World when we moved in, just to have something on the windows. They are now dirty, dusty, and some are ripped in places because, well, they were prolly made in some sad foreign sweatshop. So, Sgt. Dad and I discussed window treatment options via Google Chat... for months. Like, since he left for his second trip overseas. I mean, we've discussed other things of course. Unpleasant things, hopes, fears, dream, stories about the kiddies etc etc. But always back to the curtains. The curtains were a safe topic. We compared and shopped and looked. It was a bit of fun for us. However in recent weeks it was becoming obnoxious and annoying. I know he was reaching a breaking point. Today he admitted- it was much like picking out paint- and he was thinking- just pick something already. He has been such a good sport about the stupid curtains.

Aren't they just awesome?!

It seems stupid. It seems lame. But I think there must have been something deeper here. I'm certain there was actually. Whatever it was, I have failed to see it. Perhaps if the antidepressants weren't fogging my brain I could find some way to turn this weird obsession with finding just the right freakin' curtains into some sort of emotional epiphany. Am I reading more into it than just my general propensity to be a perfectionist in some way? They are just curtains after all.
Now... I must find curtain rods!!

The end of the line?

All summer we sat around complaining of the heat, sleeping in, staying up late, slacking off, eating crap.... sweet sweet summertime... and then 2 weeks into school for the bigger boys and BAM... the cold germs were all, hey there! How ya been?? Let me just climb up in ya body and cozy up with your respiratory system. So comfy in there. WTH?! Every. year. Yuck. Always awesome when I'm sick too, because I don't get a break... just like every other mother on the face of this earth. Except like rich moms, with nannies and shit. They're all here take my kid whether they feel good or not. Oh and sea turtle moms... don't they like lay their eggs on the beach and walk off? You're on your own bitches, better learn how to feed yourself real fast!

I realize I've started another random blog post here folks... bear with me... I'm trying to reign it all into focus a bit because there is something I do wanna talk about here. (Obviously, right?) You all know a bit about me through random postings and bios and whatever. Some folks actually know me. Mostly I try to maintain a bit of anonymity though. Past experience has taught me that this is the best way to avoid drama in ones life, mostly because certain douchy people like to be judgmental, gossipy pains in the ass. If you want to be judgmental, please exit stage left or right. I really don't care. Just go. Now. Thanks. Reason being, I'm about to lay out some of my personal business here, and I don't need crap.

I may be a wee bit paranoid.
... and a lot bit depressed.
.... and insane amounts of anxious.

I've touched on this a bit before. Glazed over it. Covered it with laughter and wrapped it in sarcasm. It  is what I do. Like icing on a jacked up cake. I'm not sure when I actually put a name to what I've dealt with for so long. I'm certain it was long before the loss of my first set of twins, and the marriage counseling, and the therapy, the pills, the affairs, and the imminent destruction of my first marriage. I think I knew back in high school that my bad days were more than just raging or waning teenage hormones. I know now that genetics had a lot to do with it, and that my fully functional dysfunctional 'normal' family had a hand in it too. Depression is a nasty bitch that hangs around and thrives on anxiety. Even now, even medicated, it's lurking in my life. And now, based on insane amounts of research Sgt. Dad has done for me, it appears that these pills that I am on may be worse than the beast itself. So now what? I can't drop them cold turkey, I've been on them too long. The effects will apparently be debilitating regardless, and I intend to wait until Sgt. Dad comes home before I set anything into motion. The doctors just want to swap one pill for another. Sgt. Dad is looking at herbal remedies. I just want to refill my wine glass and sleep it off. Unfortunately, I'm a wife, and a mother, and right now I am the only one taking care of this house- sad state that it's in by the way... so that is not an option.

Not sure why I'm sharing this. Perhaps I have been inspired by others around me. Doesn't really matter why. I blog, therefore I share. And let me share this gem while I'm at it- Cymbalta is evil. Try not to get hooked on it. Seriously. No joke here. I'm beginning to deal with cognitive impairment, memory loss, and this awesome little thing people have termed brain zaps, or brain shivers where I feel completely disoriented for a hot minute. Not to be confused with hot flashes, because apparently I'm having those too. Perhaps coping with the beastly depression would have been better than coping with this....

So, while Martha Stewart clearly does not live in my house, it is becoming evident that I am not quite all here either....
It's my hope that I can continue to blog while attempting to ween myself off these unsuspecting brain leech pills... it makes for good self-therapy. (Is there such a thing?? If not, well then, I just made that up so HA!) It's bound to make for some interesting reading, right?
Hold on folks!.... we're in for a bumpy ride!