Tonight is a night where I wish I didn't have to be responsible and could just fall back on my old habits that served me so well in the past. Sleeping pills and being oblivious to the world for 12 hours sounds wonderful.
I'm feeling like I'm locked in a prison, inside myself. At this moment, I'm feeling incredibly alone. I need someone to tell me I'm okay. And there's no one here but me, AJ and the dog. Neither of them are too talkative. The situation is of my own doing. I've built such a wall around myself that very, very few people have the patience to work their way in. Most of the time I'm okay with that. Tonight, I wish I had a support system.
I'm not even sure what my problem is. I realized how un-fun I am. Tonight for example, I'm home watching movies by myself while AJ sleeps. Everyone else is spending their Saturday night out getting shit faced and having fun. If I really wanted to, I could have found a babysitter and gone out. I just honestly don't want to. That lifestyle has no appeal for me anymore. I'm happy to be home with my baby, away from the drama and chaos of the outside world. Sometimes I just wish that I wasn't alone in wanting to be away from it all.
When did I become the person that no one wants around? I wasn't invited to go anywhere tonight. I wasn't NOT invited exactly, and I could have just gone along. But if people wanted me there, they'd ask me to go, right?
I'm just feeling sorry for myself. I guess I should find a distraction...one that doesn't involve a handful of pills and oblivion. I don't know if there is such a thing. Hopefully sleep will come for me tonight. It's been getting harder and harder to shut my mind up and rest. Unfortunately, I can no longer use anything to remedy that. Those days are over.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Looking Back, Looking Ahead
Note: I've been wanting to blog for like 4 months now, and am just now getting around to it. Yay for busy and procrastination.
Note #2, or a warning: This will be long.
Back to the point. Another year is gone, and holy shit, what a year it's been. The highs have been flying, soaring high, and the lows were miserable. Which, I suppose could be said for every year, but it seemed more dramatic than normal. It was a year of huge changes for my family.
Really, it started in October of 2009. Just 2 months after Andy and I got married, we packed up and moved 400 miles south to Fort Bragg. The whole thing was extremely stressful for both of us. Andy had never lived away from his family. The "Army" that I knew in Carlisle was completely the opposite of what was waiting for me in North Carolina. I won't go into details, but I will say that there was a whole lot of B.S. that I was not prepared to deal with. I know, everyone told me to get ready for the REAL Army, but how do you prepare for such a drastic change? Especially when I didn't even know what to expect? It wasn't ALL bad there. I did meet some really good people, and a few who actually cared about the people who worked under them (which, anyone who has served can tell you, is quite rare). But, there were also a hell of a lot of people who were 110% only out for themselves, and would gladly throw anyone and everyone possible under the bus to make themselves look better. I learned that the hard way, which really threw me for a loop. It was inconceivable to me that I would get punished when I literally hadn't done a single thing wrong. I guess I should have expected it, but I had never had to deal with that before. Lesson learned.
There were truly times when I wondered if Fort Bragg would be the end of us. We were both miserable and took it out on each other.
January proved to be a good month though. Just a week after the incident I just referred to, I woke up one morning and was totally not feeling pt. I had a headache and felt like crap, which I played up and said was worse than it was, and got a sick call slip. I figured they would give me some kind of narcotic for my head, so just to ease my mind, I POAS (peed on a stick) just to make sure I wasn't pregnant before I went to the doctor. And to my COMPLETE surprise, it was positive.
'
[Edit for background: We had been trying for months to get pregnant. And after being completely devastated every month, I forced myself to give up and quit caring. Of course, that was mostly impossible, but I did manage to push it from my mind enough to not lose myself in sadness and disappointment every month.]
Back to the story. I just about fell over, I was so shocked. I knew I was late, but I hadn't allowed myself to think about the possibility, to shield myself from the letdown later. I ran in the bedroom and jumped on the bed and woke up Andy to tell him the news. He mumbled something and went back to sleep. I suppose I should have let him be fully awake before telling him something so important, but I was too excited and happy to contain myself.
So I went to the doctor and they did a blood test to confirm it. I was walking on clouds the rest of the day. I really don't even think I was aware of my surroundings, people, anything. I was in shock. Complete, utter shock. Somewhere around 3-4 weeks later, we had the first ultrasound done. It became real that day. I can't even describe the feeling, knowing that there was this little tiny blob inside me that would someday come out as a baby and eventually grow to be an adult. It's unbelievably overwhelming, which any parent can commiserate with.
The end of January through the middle of June are a giant blur of crap. We had made the decision that I would leave the Army, and I had started the paperwork (or so I thought). I have never been run around so much in my life. Something that should have taken 4-6 weeks total, took 4 and a half months. Four and a half loooooong months of waiting, frustration, eventually anger, bitterness...well, you get the picture. I was not a happy camper, and neither was Andy.
But, finally, on June 15th, I became a civilian again. I changed out of ACUs for the last time in the back of my car in the PX parking lot. I was so anxious to have that place in my rear view mirror that I couldn't even be bothered to find a bathroom to change in. I went and picked up Bella from the Vet (we boarded her there so we could pack the moving truck, plus I stayed in a hotel the last night, plus I didn't get to leave until sometime in the afternoon - she would have been sitting in my car, running with the AC on of course, all day. So anyway, I picked up my Pup Pup and we started our LONG trip home. Andy had left with a ginormous moving truck the day before.
[FYI, the spell check does not think that 'ginormous' is misspelled, which I find awesome.]
I tired quickly, and we stopped for the night as soon as we got past the Great Smokey Mountains. I want to say we only drove for about 6 hours. Bright and early the next day, we started out again. It was a grueling trip, but we finally pulled into Hillsboro at 9:15 p.m. If I remember correctly, it was a total of 21 driving hours. But...I was finally home. Andy arrived the next day, and we started the process of moving in (of which I was little help, seeing as I couldn't lift more than 20 pounds, and got tired so easily) and putting our new life together.
July goes by alright; we settled in and got comfortable. August however, was one of the longest months of my life. At this point I've gained over 40 pounds, am retaining more water than a camel's hump, pee every 5 minutes, am starving all the time, being beaten from the inside, can't sleep, am exhausted all the time, and just wanted to get the whole pregnancy thing over with. I'll admit it, I was a bitch. My whole body hurt and I felt like shit all the time. Poor Andy had to deal with me. It pissed me off immensely at the time, but now I can understand why he spent as much time away from home as he could. I was insufferable.
We had all thought that the baby would come early. Well, he didn't. My due date (Sept. 1) came and went. I'm pretty much hating life at this point, and convinced that he was NEVER coming out. The night of September 4, I went to bed around 11 and was laying in bed watching t.v. At 11:42 (yes I remember the exact time), I had my first real contraction. I didn't know for sure at the time if it was real or not. I had another one 45 minutes later. 45 minutes after that...nothing. So, I went to sleep. I woke up a few times during the night with a contraction, plus my normal trips to the bathroom every 2 hours. By 5:00, I'm awake and can't get back to sleep. I decided to go lay on the couch, hoping it would be more comfortable, or at least I wouldn't be bothering Andy. As soon as I got up, the contractions intensified. I started timing them, and they were about 7 minutes apart. I kept timing, and eventually decided that I should call the hospital. They said I could come in. So, I took a shower (easier said than done when you're having contractions every 4-5 minutes), called the people that were keeping Bella, and woke Andy up. A little while later, we took Bella to the kennel, and then headed to the hospital. Mom arrived within 10 minutes after we did.
I was dilated to 3 centimeters when we got there. I was so excited and ready to get the show on the road. After maybe an hour or so, they gave me a shot of Stadol to help with the pain. It did help, but it also made me feel more drunk than I've ever been in my life. The room was spinning and my speech was slurred. I couldn't think. It literally felt like my head was a balloon...connected to my body, but just barely. I was so happy when it wore off...for about 3 seconds. Then I wanted my epidural, and I wanted it NOW. Each contraction had me doubled over and made it hard to breathe. I'm laying there in pain, and Andy and Mom are watching the contraction on the monitor. "Oh, that was a big one!" Yeah, I noticed....
So I got the epidural, and suddenly life is good again. I couldn't feel a thing, and it was wonderful. By that afternoon, I was between 5 and 6 centimeters. That evening...5-6 centimeters...that night...5-6 centimeters. I was pissed. I wanted them to break my water, give me Pitocin, something, anything to get things moving. My doctor comes in and says that they will consider doing something to help in the morning, but they would let me progress on my own through the night. I was half crushed and half livid. "Just try to get some rest," they tell me. Yeah, right. At that point I can feel contractions again, and the pressure is building as the baby moves down.
Late night...5-6 centimeters. I was making NO progress. At this point the nurse says she's not checking me again until I feel something. Uhh, I feel something now, bitch. Somewhere around 3 a.m., I demanded that she check me again. Halle-fricken-lujah, I've finally made it to 8-9. I dozed a little, but mostly I laid there and whimpered. The pressure and the feeling of needing to push was so intense I could hardly stand it. They gave me an extra shot of something in my epidural. That helped a little, but not enough. 7 a.m. rolls around, which is the shift change for the nurses. So I pushed the call button, and sure enough, someone new comes in, which made me SOOOO happy. I could have kicked that night nurse in the head.
[Edit: Later on, I came to love her. She was really good with AJ.]
She checked me, and I finally heard the words I've been waiting for, "You're fully dilated." My water still hadn't broke on it's own, so she did it. At 7:15 I started pushing. It wasn't so bad at first. And then...Oh, God, I thought I was dying. I wanted to die. I truly cannot explain the depth of the pain. I begged for them to help. To use forceps, or the vacuum, or a C-section, or anything that would make it stop. I literally begged. But, the doctor kept saying no, that it would stop when I pushed him out. Keep in mind, I haven't eaten in 2 days, and I've barely slept in 2 days. I was exhausted, and felt like I had no strength left in me. I started to hyperventilate, and they gave me oxygen, which I also hated because the mask on my face made me feel claustrophobic.
They kept telling me to keep going, that I was almost done. They said they could see his head. I thought they were lying to me just to keep my spirits up. Haha. Eventually, I did give up. Basically said fuck it and just laid there and didn't try to push. At the exact moment that I quit, my body took over and the contractions grew even more, and I couldn't help but push. I started trying again, giving it absolutely everything I had in me, knowing that it was now or never, because I wouldn't be able to keep going for much longer. When I felt like I couldn't push any more, I held it for another few seconds anyway. And it paid off.
At 8:27, my little Alexander James was born. He weighed 9 pounds, 14 ounces and was 21 inches long. My first words when he came out were, "He's so big!" The cord had gotten wrapped around his neck, so it took him a minute to start breathing. The doctor, nurses, Mom and Andy were all over by AJ. I was literally all by myself for several minutes. Looking back, it''s kind of funny, but at the time I was scared. It's all a bit blurry now, but I remember asking why he wasn't crying yet and feeling this sudden immense fear that something was wrong. But, then he cried, and so did I.
So, we'll skip the gross parts, and fast forward to about an hour later when I finally get to hold him for the first time. It was incredible. I couldn't fathom how this creature had been living inside me for months and then had just about killed me coming out. Seeing Andy hold him for the first time was really emotional for me. I feel in love with him more at that moment, than I had ever been.
So, September: We go home and try to get used to life with a newborn, which really is impossible. He cried All. The. Time. Doctor says it's colic, and should be better by the time he's 3 or 4 months old. What? 3-4 months? I don't think I can handle 1 more day of this...But, of course we do.
October: Linda comes to visit, and it's awesome. I got to sleep for 5 straight hours and felt a million times better. Back to the doctor, and tell them I think he has silent reflux. They agree, and put him on a medicine that most people say doesn't do a damn thing. It didn't. Take him back, get a new medicine, and switch to a hypoallergenic formula. 2 or 3 weeks later...it's like a brand new baby. He actually sleeps, and doesn't cry 99% of the time he's awake. Andy started his new job. It was really stressful for him, and scary for me to suddenly be all alone all day with AJ. I am so proud of him though. I know how hard it was for him to go way out of his comfort zone to take care of his family.
November: More of the same. Got my wisdom teeth pulled the Monday before Thanksgiving, and it made me feel a billion times better. The pain following having 3 teeth pulled was far less than was I had been feeling every day previously.
December: We went to PA for a week to see Andy's family. It was a good little vacation, but it was so good to get back home. AJ didn't handle not having his routine very well. Overall, he did pretty good though. He's just now finally settling back into things. His sleeping habits have been erratic since we got back.
So, here we are at January 1, 2011. I'm starting college classes at the end of the month. I'm super excited. I've tried college stuff on 3 occasions, and never really cared about it. I was doing it because I was supposed to, and because people expected me to. This time, I want it. I want to make something of myself for my son. I want to be able to give him a good life.
I've made 2 New Year's Resolutions this year. One being the standard weight loss, which is more intense this year because now I have an extra 20 pounds of baby weight hanging out on my ass and belly. The second one is more important though. I'm going to finish something I start. I have this nasty habit of starting projects and never finishing them. One of two things happens. I get so involved in it that it's all I do, and then I get burned out and don't want to do it anymore. Or, I simply get bored. It's hard to keep my attention for very long. I just started an afghan, and I AM going to finish it. That probably sounds stupid, but it's important to me.
I'm also going to try to not be so antisocial. Sure, I have "friends". But not really. I never talk to anyone. I never see anyone. Why? I'm not sure. It just seems like so much work. Now don't get me wrong...I like helping people if I can. It's more like it takes a lot out of me just to have a conversation. I suck at small talk. Maybe there's just something wired wrong in my brain. Who knows.
So, all in all, I consider 2010 to be a good year. I moved back home where I belong, and Aj came into the world. His little smile, and his big blue eyes like his Daddy's, his little giggle...everything makes my heart swell every day. It's hard to imagine life without him. That little boy is my everything.
And hopefully, 2011 will be even better.
Note #2, or a warning: This will be long.
Back to the point. Another year is gone, and holy shit, what a year it's been. The highs have been flying, soaring high, and the lows were miserable. Which, I suppose could be said for every year, but it seemed more dramatic than normal. It was a year of huge changes for my family.
Really, it started in October of 2009. Just 2 months after Andy and I got married, we packed up and moved 400 miles south to Fort Bragg. The whole thing was extremely stressful for both of us. Andy had never lived away from his family. The "Army" that I knew in Carlisle was completely the opposite of what was waiting for me in North Carolina. I won't go into details, but I will say that there was a whole lot of B.S. that I was not prepared to deal with. I know, everyone told me to get ready for the REAL Army, but how do you prepare for such a drastic change? Especially when I didn't even know what to expect? It wasn't ALL bad there. I did meet some really good people, and a few who actually cared about the people who worked under them (which, anyone who has served can tell you, is quite rare). But, there were also a hell of a lot of people who were 110% only out for themselves, and would gladly throw anyone and everyone possible under the bus to make themselves look better. I learned that the hard way, which really threw me for a loop. It was inconceivable to me that I would get punished when I literally hadn't done a single thing wrong. I guess I should have expected it, but I had never had to deal with that before. Lesson learned.
There were truly times when I wondered if Fort Bragg would be the end of us. We were both miserable and took it out on each other.
January proved to be a good month though. Just a week after the incident I just referred to, I woke up one morning and was totally not feeling pt. I had a headache and felt like crap, which I played up and said was worse than it was, and got a sick call slip. I figured they would give me some kind of narcotic for my head, so just to ease my mind, I POAS (peed on a stick) just to make sure I wasn't pregnant before I went to the doctor. And to my COMPLETE surprise, it was positive.
'
[Edit for background: We had been trying for months to get pregnant. And after being completely devastated every month, I forced myself to give up and quit caring. Of course, that was mostly impossible, but I did manage to push it from my mind enough to not lose myself in sadness and disappointment every month.]
Back to the story. I just about fell over, I was so shocked. I knew I was late, but I hadn't allowed myself to think about the possibility, to shield myself from the letdown later. I ran in the bedroom and jumped on the bed and woke up Andy to tell him the news. He mumbled something and went back to sleep. I suppose I should have let him be fully awake before telling him something so important, but I was too excited and happy to contain myself.
So I went to the doctor and they did a blood test to confirm it. I was walking on clouds the rest of the day. I really don't even think I was aware of my surroundings, people, anything. I was in shock. Complete, utter shock. Somewhere around 3-4 weeks later, we had the first ultrasound done. It became real that day. I can't even describe the feeling, knowing that there was this little tiny blob inside me that would someday come out as a baby and eventually grow to be an adult. It's unbelievably overwhelming, which any parent can commiserate with.
The end of January through the middle of June are a giant blur of crap. We had made the decision that I would leave the Army, and I had started the paperwork (or so I thought). I have never been run around so much in my life. Something that should have taken 4-6 weeks total, took 4 and a half months. Four and a half loooooong months of waiting, frustration, eventually anger, bitterness...well, you get the picture. I was not a happy camper, and neither was Andy.
But, finally, on June 15th, I became a civilian again. I changed out of ACUs for the last time in the back of my car in the PX parking lot. I was so anxious to have that place in my rear view mirror that I couldn't even be bothered to find a bathroom to change in. I went and picked up Bella from the Vet (we boarded her there so we could pack the moving truck, plus I stayed in a hotel the last night, plus I didn't get to leave until sometime in the afternoon - she would have been sitting in my car, running with the AC on of course, all day. So anyway, I picked up my Pup Pup and we started our LONG trip home. Andy had left with a ginormous moving truck the day before.
[FYI, the spell check does not think that 'ginormous' is misspelled, which I find awesome.]
I tired quickly, and we stopped for the night as soon as we got past the Great Smokey Mountains. I want to say we only drove for about 6 hours. Bright and early the next day, we started out again. It was a grueling trip, but we finally pulled into Hillsboro at 9:15 p.m. If I remember correctly, it was a total of 21 driving hours. But...I was finally home. Andy arrived the next day, and we started the process of moving in (of which I was little help, seeing as I couldn't lift more than 20 pounds, and got tired so easily) and putting our new life together.
July goes by alright; we settled in and got comfortable. August however, was one of the longest months of my life. At this point I've gained over 40 pounds, am retaining more water than a camel's hump, pee every 5 minutes, am starving all the time, being beaten from the inside, can't sleep, am exhausted all the time, and just wanted to get the whole pregnancy thing over with. I'll admit it, I was a bitch. My whole body hurt and I felt like shit all the time. Poor Andy had to deal with me. It pissed me off immensely at the time, but now I can understand why he spent as much time away from home as he could. I was insufferable.
We had all thought that the baby would come early. Well, he didn't. My due date (Sept. 1) came and went. I'm pretty much hating life at this point, and convinced that he was NEVER coming out. The night of September 4, I went to bed around 11 and was laying in bed watching t.v. At 11:42 (yes I remember the exact time), I had my first real contraction. I didn't know for sure at the time if it was real or not. I had another one 45 minutes later. 45 minutes after that...nothing. So, I went to sleep. I woke up a few times during the night with a contraction, plus my normal trips to the bathroom every 2 hours. By 5:00, I'm awake and can't get back to sleep. I decided to go lay on the couch, hoping it would be more comfortable, or at least I wouldn't be bothering Andy. As soon as I got up, the contractions intensified. I started timing them, and they were about 7 minutes apart. I kept timing, and eventually decided that I should call the hospital. They said I could come in. So, I took a shower (easier said than done when you're having contractions every 4-5 minutes), called the people that were keeping Bella, and woke Andy up. A little while later, we took Bella to the kennel, and then headed to the hospital. Mom arrived within 10 minutes after we did.
I was dilated to 3 centimeters when we got there. I was so excited and ready to get the show on the road. After maybe an hour or so, they gave me a shot of Stadol to help with the pain. It did help, but it also made me feel more drunk than I've ever been in my life. The room was spinning and my speech was slurred. I couldn't think. It literally felt like my head was a balloon...connected to my body, but just barely. I was so happy when it wore off...for about 3 seconds. Then I wanted my epidural, and I wanted it NOW. Each contraction had me doubled over and made it hard to breathe. I'm laying there in pain, and Andy and Mom are watching the contraction on the monitor. "Oh, that was a big one!" Yeah, I noticed....
So I got the epidural, and suddenly life is good again. I couldn't feel a thing, and it was wonderful. By that afternoon, I was between 5 and 6 centimeters. That evening...5-6 centimeters...that night...5-6 centimeters. I was pissed. I wanted them to break my water, give me Pitocin, something, anything to get things moving. My doctor comes in and says that they will consider doing something to help in the morning, but they would let me progress on my own through the night. I was half crushed and half livid. "Just try to get some rest," they tell me. Yeah, right. At that point I can feel contractions again, and the pressure is building as the baby moves down.
Late night...5-6 centimeters. I was making NO progress. At this point the nurse says she's not checking me again until I feel something. Uhh, I feel something now, bitch. Somewhere around 3 a.m., I demanded that she check me again. Halle-fricken-lujah, I've finally made it to 8-9. I dozed a little, but mostly I laid there and whimpered. The pressure and the feeling of needing to push was so intense I could hardly stand it. They gave me an extra shot of something in my epidural. That helped a little, but not enough. 7 a.m. rolls around, which is the shift change for the nurses. So I pushed the call button, and sure enough, someone new comes in, which made me SOOOO happy. I could have kicked that night nurse in the head.
[Edit: Later on, I came to love her. She was really good with AJ.]
She checked me, and I finally heard the words I've been waiting for, "You're fully dilated." My water still hadn't broke on it's own, so she did it. At 7:15 I started pushing. It wasn't so bad at first. And then...Oh, God, I thought I was dying. I wanted to die. I truly cannot explain the depth of the pain. I begged for them to help. To use forceps, or the vacuum, or a C-section, or anything that would make it stop. I literally begged. But, the doctor kept saying no, that it would stop when I pushed him out. Keep in mind, I haven't eaten in 2 days, and I've barely slept in 2 days. I was exhausted, and felt like I had no strength left in me. I started to hyperventilate, and they gave me oxygen, which I also hated because the mask on my face made me feel claustrophobic.
They kept telling me to keep going, that I was almost done. They said they could see his head. I thought they were lying to me just to keep my spirits up. Haha. Eventually, I did give up. Basically said fuck it and just laid there and didn't try to push. At the exact moment that I quit, my body took over and the contractions grew even more, and I couldn't help but push. I started trying again, giving it absolutely everything I had in me, knowing that it was now or never, because I wouldn't be able to keep going for much longer. When I felt like I couldn't push any more, I held it for another few seconds anyway. And it paid off.
At 8:27, my little Alexander James was born. He weighed 9 pounds, 14 ounces and was 21 inches long. My first words when he came out were, "He's so big!" The cord had gotten wrapped around his neck, so it took him a minute to start breathing. The doctor, nurses, Mom and Andy were all over by AJ. I was literally all by myself for several minutes. Looking back, it''s kind of funny, but at the time I was scared. It's all a bit blurry now, but I remember asking why he wasn't crying yet and feeling this sudden immense fear that something was wrong. But, then he cried, and so did I.
So, we'll skip the gross parts, and fast forward to about an hour later when I finally get to hold him for the first time. It was incredible. I couldn't fathom how this creature had been living inside me for months and then had just about killed me coming out. Seeing Andy hold him for the first time was really emotional for me. I feel in love with him more at that moment, than I had ever been.
So, September: We go home and try to get used to life with a newborn, which really is impossible. He cried All. The. Time. Doctor says it's colic, and should be better by the time he's 3 or 4 months old. What? 3-4 months? I don't think I can handle 1 more day of this...But, of course we do.
October: Linda comes to visit, and it's awesome. I got to sleep for 5 straight hours and felt a million times better. Back to the doctor, and tell them I think he has silent reflux. They agree, and put him on a medicine that most people say doesn't do a damn thing. It didn't. Take him back, get a new medicine, and switch to a hypoallergenic formula. 2 or 3 weeks later...it's like a brand new baby. He actually sleeps, and doesn't cry 99% of the time he's awake. Andy started his new job. It was really stressful for him, and scary for me to suddenly be all alone all day with AJ. I am so proud of him though. I know how hard it was for him to go way out of his comfort zone to take care of his family.
November: More of the same. Got my wisdom teeth pulled the Monday before Thanksgiving, and it made me feel a billion times better. The pain following having 3 teeth pulled was far less than was I had been feeling every day previously.
December: We went to PA for a week to see Andy's family. It was a good little vacation, but it was so good to get back home. AJ didn't handle not having his routine very well. Overall, he did pretty good though. He's just now finally settling back into things. His sleeping habits have been erratic since we got back.
So, here we are at January 1, 2011. I'm starting college classes at the end of the month. I'm super excited. I've tried college stuff on 3 occasions, and never really cared about it. I was doing it because I was supposed to, and because people expected me to. This time, I want it. I want to make something of myself for my son. I want to be able to give him a good life.
I've made 2 New Year's Resolutions this year. One being the standard weight loss, which is more intense this year because now I have an extra 20 pounds of baby weight hanging out on my ass and belly. The second one is more important though. I'm going to finish something I start. I have this nasty habit of starting projects and never finishing them. One of two things happens. I get so involved in it that it's all I do, and then I get burned out and don't want to do it anymore. Or, I simply get bored. It's hard to keep my attention for very long. I just started an afghan, and I AM going to finish it. That probably sounds stupid, but it's important to me.
I'm also going to try to not be so antisocial. Sure, I have "friends". But not really. I never talk to anyone. I never see anyone. Why? I'm not sure. It just seems like so much work. Now don't get me wrong...I like helping people if I can. It's more like it takes a lot out of me just to have a conversation. I suck at small talk. Maybe there's just something wired wrong in my brain. Who knows.
So, all in all, I consider 2010 to be a good year. I moved back home where I belong, and Aj came into the world. His little smile, and his big blue eyes like his Daddy's, his little giggle...everything makes my heart swell every day. It's hard to imagine life without him. That little boy is my everything.
And hopefully, 2011 will be even better.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
The Waiting Game
Sooo, in 8 minutes it will officially be my due date, and this baby is still so far from being born :( I had a doctor appointment today, and it SUCKED. First of all last week, my doc was on vacation so I saw some midwife that works in the same hospital. She checked me, and said I was a fingertip dilated (about 1 centimeter) and 90% effaced. Not the best news, but at least it was some progress. Well today, when my real doctor checked me (which I had to ask him to do - strange), he said that I am still only at 1 centimeter, but that the midwife was wrong and I'm not at 90% effaced! Argh! We're going in the wrong direction here! The tiny glimmer of hope I had that someday this science experiment in my body might actually end was crushed. And then, to kick me when I was already down, I had to schedule a 41 week appointment. That's just mean... Oh, and he won't even talk about inducing me until after that appointment. UGH. I've wanted this and have been waiting for it for so long. Is it too much to ask that I finally get it? Not to mention the fact that being this pregnant is completely miserable, and it would be wonderful to not be suffering anymore.
Also, people need to stop telling me to enjoy this while it lasts. YOU may think that life ends when you have kids, but I do not. I am very much looking forward to this. Just because your life sucks and your kids made you miserable does NOT mean that mine will be the same. So do me a favor, and just keep your opinions to yourself.
Also, people need to stop telling me to enjoy this while it lasts. YOU may think that life ends when you have kids, but I do not. I am very much looking forward to this. Just because your life sucks and your kids made you miserable does NOT mean that mine will be the same. So do me a favor, and just keep your opinions to yourself.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Self Betterment?
First of all, is betterment even a real world? I suppose I could look it up...Nah.
Anyway. I've been meaning to write this for a couple days now. I wanted to write it when it happened but I figured that at 6 in the morning, I should probably try to sleep rather than go blog. And now that I'm sitting here, ready to go, my thoughts are becoming a big jumble of nothing. So bare with me, this may not make a whole lot of sense.
So, the other night Andy and I were up talking all night. Like actually talking, which doesn't happen near enough. As much as I hate to admit it, he had some really good points, and made me realize some things that I didn't see. And I also came to a somewhat shocking, somewhat painful realization: Somewhere in the last couple years, I lost track of who I am.
I've always thought of myself as a relatively nice person...at least as much as the next person.
I've been mistaken.
At one time, yes, I was a compassionate, kind person. I'm not anymore. I have become a selfish, mean spirited bitch. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a completely horrible person. There are still people who love me and want to be around me for more than 5 minutes at a time. But, there are not a lot of people that I enjoy being around for more than the same period of time. I have developed an "intense dislike" (because I don't want to use the word hatred) of people in general. I've become so jaded that I can't, or won't, see people as even just background noise. I see them as a nuisance, something I'd rather just be rid of. I loathe going out even just to run errands because it seems like every minor to major even was designed purely to inconvenience or bother me. Yes, I know how self-centered that sounds, and I guess it is. But it really seems that way. I cannot go out to do the simplest thing without some jackass doing something to piss me off. I hate people for no reason, or for something so trifling, most people wouldn't even notice. That's incredibly unfair, but that's just how I am.
Anyone who really knows me, knows that I've been through a lot of shit in my life. I've seen my fair share of turmoil through the years. Millions of others have it far worse than I ever did, but that's not to say that the abuses I've suffered count for nothing and haven't profoundly affected who I am. While I have come a long way and am a hell of a lot mentally healthier than I used to be, there are still demons that I struggle with, some on a daily basis. And there are people, some still in my life and some who are long gone, who are responsible for that. Some I have at least partially forgiven, and some I wouldn't mind being burned at the stake. What Andy made me realize is that I am holding the entire world responsible for the actions of a few. And that is completely unfair. These random people on the street have done nothing to me. It's not their fault that I spent years wanting to die. And yet I have a level of wrath for them as though they held the knife to my skin themselves.
You may wonder how I could go about my life with this constant level of anger and hate, and not realize that it was completely uncalled for. Yeah, you would think someone would notice that. Well, I didn't until now. I guess I'm just a little behind the ball game.
Now, had I come to this realization at any other point in my life, I probably would have said something along the lines of, "Oh well, I'm not actually hurting anyone, so who gives a fuck why I'm angry?" Buuuut, I'm about to be a mother. And that is NOT the kind of role model I want to be for my son. I want him to live a life if happiness and kindness, not one of constant anger and frustration. Also, who am I to doom him to that kind of life? That would just be wrong.
So, for the last couple days, I've been trying to be less angry and more open minded towards people. It's more difficult than you would think. I can't say that I've been completely different, but I am trying to not let things bother me as much. And when dumb things do annoy me, I try to think about the bigger picture. Is it really a big deal that the people in front of me checking out at the store have 8,410 things and the checkout person is going for the Slowest Checker In The Universe Award, and they are going to make me 5 minutes later than I expected? No.
So, wish me luck on trying to change almost 23 years' culmination of a bad way of thinking into something more positive.
Anyway. I've been meaning to write this for a couple days now. I wanted to write it when it happened but I figured that at 6 in the morning, I should probably try to sleep rather than go blog. And now that I'm sitting here, ready to go, my thoughts are becoming a big jumble of nothing. So bare with me, this may not make a whole lot of sense.
So, the other night Andy and I were up talking all night. Like actually talking, which doesn't happen near enough. As much as I hate to admit it, he had some really good points, and made me realize some things that I didn't see. And I also came to a somewhat shocking, somewhat painful realization: Somewhere in the last couple years, I lost track of who I am.
I've always thought of myself as a relatively nice person...at least as much as the next person.
I've been mistaken.
At one time, yes, I was a compassionate, kind person. I'm not anymore. I have become a selfish, mean spirited bitch. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a completely horrible person. There are still people who love me and want to be around me for more than 5 minutes at a time. But, there are not a lot of people that I enjoy being around for more than the same period of time. I have developed an "intense dislike" (because I don't want to use the word hatred) of people in general. I've become so jaded that I can't, or won't, see people as even just background noise. I see them as a nuisance, something I'd rather just be rid of. I loathe going out even just to run errands because it seems like every minor to major even was designed purely to inconvenience or bother me. Yes, I know how self-centered that sounds, and I guess it is. But it really seems that way. I cannot go out to do the simplest thing without some jackass doing something to piss me off. I hate people for no reason, or for something so trifling, most people wouldn't even notice. That's incredibly unfair, but that's just how I am.
Anyone who really knows me, knows that I've been through a lot of shit in my life. I've seen my fair share of turmoil through the years. Millions of others have it far worse than I ever did, but that's not to say that the abuses I've suffered count for nothing and haven't profoundly affected who I am. While I have come a long way and am a hell of a lot mentally healthier than I used to be, there are still demons that I struggle with, some on a daily basis. And there are people, some still in my life and some who are long gone, who are responsible for that. Some I have at least partially forgiven, and some I wouldn't mind being burned at the stake. What Andy made me realize is that I am holding the entire world responsible for the actions of a few. And that is completely unfair. These random people on the street have done nothing to me. It's not their fault that I spent years wanting to die. And yet I have a level of wrath for them as though they held the knife to my skin themselves.
You may wonder how I could go about my life with this constant level of anger and hate, and not realize that it was completely uncalled for. Yeah, you would think someone would notice that. Well, I didn't until now. I guess I'm just a little behind the ball game.
Now, had I come to this realization at any other point in my life, I probably would have said something along the lines of, "Oh well, I'm not actually hurting anyone, so who gives a fuck why I'm angry?" Buuuut, I'm about to be a mother. And that is NOT the kind of role model I want to be for my son. I want him to live a life if happiness and kindness, not one of constant anger and frustration. Also, who am I to doom him to that kind of life? That would just be wrong.
So, for the last couple days, I've been trying to be less angry and more open minded towards people. It's more difficult than you would think. I can't say that I've been completely different, but I am trying to not let things bother me as much. And when dumb things do annoy me, I try to think about the bigger picture. Is it really a big deal that the people in front of me checking out at the store have 8,410 things and the checkout person is going for the Slowest Checker In The Universe Award, and they are going to make me 5 minutes later than I expected? No.
So, wish me luck on trying to change almost 23 years' culmination of a bad way of thinking into something more positive.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Just Because You Can't See The Scars, Doesn't Mean They Aren't There
This will be short because I don't feel like sitting at the computer, but I just need to say that people who were verbally, mentally, and emotionally abused suffer just as much as people who were beaten. Just because they never had black eyes or broken bones doesn't mean that they weren't beaten and broken down.
It's so easy for people to just ignore or not care about what someone did because they never hit anyone. Whatever. That's fine. You go ahead and be best god damn friends with that asshole, I'm not going to tell you what you should or should not do. But don't think for one second that I'm going to like it. I don't easily forgive, and I definitely don't forget.
It's so easy for people to just ignore or not care about what someone did because they never hit anyone. Whatever. That's fine. You go ahead and be best god damn friends with that asshole, I'm not going to tell you what you should or should not do. But don't think for one second that I'm going to like it. I don't easily forgive, and I definitely don't forget.
A List of...
...Things That I Hate
I was reading a thread about this on a message board, and decided to make my own list because it seems as though there are about a billion things in life that I hate or that drive me absolutely batty, and other people seem to have no problem with. So, in no particular order...
-Beer. Every kind. They all taste the same to me, and they're all gross.
-When people assume that I want their advice. I don't. If I did, I would ask for it.
-On the same note, when people assume that I want to hear their horror stories about something I'm about to do for myself. I really don't want to hear about how your neighbor's second cousin's friend was in active labor for 30 hours and ended up having an emergency C section because she couldn't push anymore. Please, spare me.
-People butting their noses into things that they have absolutely no reason to involved in. Also, people who only ask how you're doing just so they can gossip about whatever you say.
-Driving less than the speed limit.
-Parking crooked.
-Shag carpet.
-All the spit globs outside of gas station doors.
-Amish. I shouldn't be prejudiced, but they just really piss me off.
-When people say their going to do something, and then don't.
-Band Aids. I hate anything sticky like that to touch me. It grosses me out.
-Old people in store who feel the need to pay with exact change, or with all change, and take forever in line.
-People in the military who think they are infinitely better, smarter and more important just because they have stripes on their uniform.
-Prior military who think they are better than the rest of the world because they served.
-Other peoples' kids. That may sound cruel, but there are really very few kids that I actually like.
-Actually, there are not a lot of adults that I actually like either.
-"Pets" that are not really pets...snakes, spiders, rodents. (Sorry Colen)
-People who shove their religion down others' throats. I HATE that. Also, people who judge others purely based on their beliefs.
-When a song I like gets overplayed on the radio and hearing it so many times makes it annoying.
-Commercials.
-Trying to call somewhere and doing nothing but going in circles with some automated options that don't lead anywhere.
-The watery, slimy stuff that comes out of a ketchup bottle before the ketchup does.
-Ice in drinks.
-People letting their kids run wild at buffets, where they put their nasty grubby hands all over everything.
-Big dogs. You can tell me till you're blue in the face that your particular beast of a canine is the sweetest dog in the world, but I will still be afraid of it and hate it.
-Orange.
-PT Cruisers. They look like mini-hearses.
-Speaking of, when people don't stop for funeral processions.
-People who think claustrophobia isn't a real phobia. Wanna bet motherfucker?
-Basketball. Stupidest sport ever.
-People who think the military is really the way it's portrayed in movies.
-People who protest military funerals. They should be kicked in the face.
-People who are happy and cheerful ALL the time.
-The smell of hospitals.
-Waiting rooms.
-Hand and finger prints on glass doors when there is obviously a metal bar there that is meant to put your hands on.
-Cleaning showers. I think I'd rather clean the toilet.
-Public bathrooms.
-Everything involved with airports and airplanes.
-Putting gas in a vehicle, and not being able to get the smell of gas off your hands for hours.
-Humidity.
-Rich people thinking their better than the rest of us.
-Liars.
-Vegans.
-Super skinny people. Eat some real food and stop making the rest of us look bad.
-Glasses. Only on me though...I don't care what you do with your face.
-That feeling when you're completely out of place with the people you're with, and knowing that they're only being nice to you because they have to.
-Having to be nice to people you don't like.
-Loiterers...people who think that sidewalks, store aisles and entry ways, are the perfect place to stop and have a conversation.
-Hitler mustaches.
-Dirty dishes.
-Giant gold hoop earrings.
-Any oversized jewelry.
-Nasally voices. Just don't talk to me.
-People who have 12 kids and live off welfare checks ONLY because they're too lazy to go get a job.
-Dreadlocks.
-Cornrows. It freaks me out to see someone's scalp.
-When people pronounce things wrong. For example, the assholes who say "melk" instead of "milk" or "windle" instead of "window". This drives me INSANE.
-Body odor. Seriously...showering is not that hard. Stick an air freshener in between your fat rolls if you have to.
-Enormous people driving teeny tiny little midget cars like a Geo.
-People who let their kids get fat. It's unhealthy and bad parenting, IMO.
-When people say "Moo-cows". Dude. It's a cow. Nothing more.
-Unnecessary noise. Such as the kids who live below us running back and forth like a heard of elephants.
-AM radio.
-Pointy shoes. Ugh.
-Designer purses, especially when they're the size of a suitcase.
-I'm going to make a whole separate list of foods that I can't stand. There are a lot.
-Pickles.
-Seafood. Just the smell makes me gag.
-Any meat that has more than a tiny bit of pink in the center.
-Potato salad.
-Tator tot salad.
-Fish sticks.
-Mayonnaise.
-Soy sauce, worchestershire sauce (no idea if that's spelled even close to right), steak sauce. Pretty much everything that isn't ketchup, barbeque sauce, or ranch.
-Chili. And don't tell me that *your* chili is different and I'll like it. I won't.
-Green beans.
-Peanuts. Ew.
I was reading a thread about this on a message board, and decided to make my own list because it seems as though there are about a billion things in life that I hate or that drive me absolutely batty, and other people seem to have no problem with. So, in no particular order...
-Beer. Every kind. They all taste the same to me, and they're all gross.
-When people assume that I want their advice. I don't. If I did, I would ask for it.
-On the same note, when people assume that I want to hear their horror stories about something I'm about to do for myself. I really don't want to hear about how your neighbor's second cousin's friend was in active labor for 30 hours and ended up having an emergency C section because she couldn't push anymore. Please, spare me.
-People butting their noses into things that they have absolutely no reason to involved in. Also, people who only ask how you're doing just so they can gossip about whatever you say.
-Driving less than the speed limit.
-Parking crooked.
-Shag carpet.
-All the spit globs outside of gas station doors.
-Amish. I shouldn't be prejudiced, but they just really piss me off.
-When people say their going to do something, and then don't.
-Band Aids. I hate anything sticky like that to touch me. It grosses me out.
-Old people in store who feel the need to pay with exact change, or with all change, and take forever in line.
-People in the military who think they are infinitely better, smarter and more important just because they have stripes on their uniform.
-Prior military who think they are better than the rest of the world because they served.
-Other peoples' kids. That may sound cruel, but there are really very few kids that I actually like.
-Actually, there are not a lot of adults that I actually like either.
-"Pets" that are not really pets...snakes, spiders, rodents. (Sorry Colen)
-People who shove their religion down others' throats. I HATE that. Also, people who judge others purely based on their beliefs.
-When a song I like gets overplayed on the radio and hearing it so many times makes it annoying.
-Commercials.
-Trying to call somewhere and doing nothing but going in circles with some automated options that don't lead anywhere.
-The watery, slimy stuff that comes out of a ketchup bottle before the ketchup does.
-Ice in drinks.
-People letting their kids run wild at buffets, where they put their nasty grubby hands all over everything.
-Big dogs. You can tell me till you're blue in the face that your particular beast of a canine is the sweetest dog in the world, but I will still be afraid of it and hate it.
-Orange.
-PT Cruisers. They look like mini-hearses.
-Speaking of, when people don't stop for funeral processions.
-People who think claustrophobia isn't a real phobia. Wanna bet motherfucker?
-Basketball. Stupidest sport ever.
-People who think the military is really the way it's portrayed in movies.
-People who protest military funerals. They should be kicked in the face.
-People who are happy and cheerful ALL the time.
-The smell of hospitals.
-Waiting rooms.
-Hand and finger prints on glass doors when there is obviously a metal bar there that is meant to put your hands on.
-Cleaning showers. I think I'd rather clean the toilet.
-Public bathrooms.
-Everything involved with airports and airplanes.
-Putting gas in a vehicle, and not being able to get the smell of gas off your hands for hours.
-Humidity.
-Rich people thinking their better than the rest of us.
-Liars.
-Vegans.
-Super skinny people. Eat some real food and stop making the rest of us look bad.
-Glasses. Only on me though...I don't care what you do with your face.
-That feeling when you're completely out of place with the people you're with, and knowing that they're only being nice to you because they have to.
-Having to be nice to people you don't like.
-Loiterers...people who think that sidewalks, store aisles and entry ways, are the perfect place to stop and have a conversation.
-Hitler mustaches.
-Dirty dishes.
-Giant gold hoop earrings.
-Any oversized jewelry.
-Nasally voices. Just don't talk to me.
-People who have 12 kids and live off welfare checks ONLY because they're too lazy to go get a job.
-Dreadlocks.
-Cornrows. It freaks me out to see someone's scalp.
-When people pronounce things wrong. For example, the assholes who say "melk" instead of "milk" or "windle" instead of "window". This drives me INSANE.
-Body odor. Seriously...showering is not that hard. Stick an air freshener in between your fat rolls if you have to.
-Enormous people driving teeny tiny little midget cars like a Geo.
-People who let their kids get fat. It's unhealthy and bad parenting, IMO.
-When people say "Moo-cows". Dude. It's a cow. Nothing more.
-Unnecessary noise. Such as the kids who live below us running back and forth like a heard of elephants.
-AM radio.
-Pointy shoes. Ugh.
-Designer purses, especially when they're the size of a suitcase.
-I'm going to make a whole separate list of foods that I can't stand. There are a lot.
-Pickles.
-Seafood. Just the smell makes me gag.
-Any meat that has more than a tiny bit of pink in the center.
-Potato salad.
-Tator tot salad.
-Fish sticks.
-Mayonnaise.
-Soy sauce, worchestershire sauce (no idea if that's spelled even close to right), steak sauce. Pretty much everything that isn't ketchup, barbeque sauce, or ranch.
-Chili. And don't tell me that *your* chili is different and I'll like it. I won't.
-Green beans.
-Peanuts. Ew.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
It ain't always easy...
Why is doing the right thing sometimes so hard? Tonight I stood up for what I knew was the right, best, smartest, most responsible decision, even though it caused a lot of drama. At the time, it wasn't hard. I knew what I had to do, and did it. But dealing with the aftermath was definitely not fun. And I'm sure it's not over. Tomorrow will probably bring on a whole new wave of anger. Oh well I guess. I did what's best for me and my son. And that's what counts, right?
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