Sunday, November 29, 2009


Hearts, they are funny things aren't they? You can't live without them and yet some days I wish I could pull mine right out of my chest. It breaks, it is heavy or sometimes I just want to see it beating.
Is it weird that I want to watch my body work? To see the raw blood and bones? To see my vain pulsate? When my anxiety was at it's worse I would dig my nails into my hairline, I wanted to peel my face off, it was this weird consuming desire. I would grab on, dig my nails into my skin and try to pull. I didn't want it to hurt though and once it did I stopped.
I lie in bed and wonder if I took myself apart would I be able to put it all back together. Would there be an extra part that I missed, clueless where it goes?
I'd love to dissect my life and being. Or have someone else do it. Tell me what I did right and what I did wrong.
I remember in high school dissecting the fetal pig, I picked one of the smartest girls in the class. I knew she would never complain of my desire not to rip apart flesh and cut open a heart. She wanted the grade more then she wanted my help.
If I could now I would stare at that pig. I would slowly pull and prod. Stare at every organ. I'd take it apart and see if I could put it all together again.

Friday, November 27, 2009

The Asshole

I am surrounded by them, mostly because I am one.
Whenever the family gets together we always seem to find a running joke for our time together, otherwise known as we find something funny to say and beat it like a dead horse. This visits running joke was our quest to not be the "asshole of Thanksgiving."
It started when my brother took the turkey to the downstairs kitchenette, "Don't drop the turkey or you'll be the asshole of Thanksgiving." And thus the joke continued on for the rest of the day.
"Don't burn the gravy or you'll be the asshole of Thanksgiving."
"Don't trip with the bowl of mashed potatoes or you'll be the asshole of Thanksgiving."
"Don't spill your wine or you will be the asshole of Thanksgiving."
On and on and on until my mom goes ape-shit nuts and tells us to stop.
Of course there is only one asshole at Thanksgiving and that asshole is the one who eats the last piece of pumpkin pie.
I am not the asshole.
It is good to have goals.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Feel too much

I had a bad morning. I am trying to change my perspective of things. If a morning is bad it doesn't mean my whole day is ruined. If I had a bad afternoon the rest of the day is not shot to hell. Changing this idea is hard though. I am a holder on to things. I grasp hold of things and don't let go. The ones I love try hard to pry me away from these bad thoughts and actions that were bestowed upon me, it doesn't help much. I know I should not let things bother me, but I do. I am one who lives, breathes and gives with my whole heart and when something is said that hurts or offends I feel it with my whole heart.
I vent, I let it out and still feel the anxiety, the sadness and the hurt. I don't want to be a person someone thinks less of, and when I sense I am it kills. I'd love to be one of those people that says "Whatever" and moves on. I would love to not dwell.
But I do.
On a side note that will make you laugh:
When I called my dear friend to vent about the events of the day I dialed the wrong number and spilled my guts to some stranger. I let loose and she listened only interrupting once- which I totally misinterpreted as her wanting more of the story.
Funny thing is this is what happens- I get totally caught up in my own little moment of panic, and self-pity that I do something so ridiculous I can't help but laugh at myself a little, which helps a little.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

A sign of our times

Meg: "Mom hold this to your ear," hands me computer speaker, "you can hear the ocean."

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Today was like any other day. And so was yesterday. I have nothing new exciting to share.
And I am kind of liking that.
My small, round head is filled with so much good stuff I can't yet find a way to release it. I have drafts, half written posts in my list, they will never see the light of day.
And I am okay with that.
What I know is that one of these days it is going to hit me, that inspiration and all will be good.
Sometimes waiting is good for you.
Being patient is hard, but when my time comes I will enjoy it so much more.

Friday, November 13, 2009


I have been harboring a secret detail of my ongoing life. A detail that might come in helpful to you my three readers. I don't know why I have been holding this piece of information hostage from you. I don't know why I haven't shared it, maybe it is because I was scared and nervous. Maybe I feared judgment. Maybe I was afraid that sharing this detail would come back and hit me hard in my face. Sharing something means you have to follow through. My rebellious nature makes me sluff off those things that are expected of me. Putting anything on my blog is equivalent to an expectation.
So my secret...
I am off my anxiety medicine.
Can I get a Scooby Doo "HUH?"
I am guessing some people knew, like my mom. And my sister.
The thing is I wasn't really feeling better on them. Sure I would have a few good weeks, then the shoe dropped.
The tremors.
Or the intense anxiety beyond what I felt when I was not on the pills.
Or the feeling of wanting to take my fingers and rip the skin right off my skull.
Not the best feelings in the world.
The worst of it was certain behaviors frightened me, mostly my complaisant feelings to alcohol. Don't get me wrong having a drink now and then is fine. But when it is everyday, more then one drink and you have a predisposition to alcoholism you have to really watch your drinking behavior. Having the anxiety made me hyper aware of my predisposition. I was watchful of what I drank and how much. Not having that feeling, I started drinking and drinking more. Till the empty wine bottles started adding up. I was making mid-week "more MORE, gotta have some" runs to the store.
What I want is to feel better.
What I want is to work through my feelings not placate them.
What I want to feel good without feeling dependent on something.
My anxiety is not something that will disappear on it's own. It might be something I will have to deal with the rest of my life.
It has been a bumpy couple of months. I have had to work on a bunch of stuff. Find what works for me. Finding real coping mechanisms that will help me through all this shit.
I have had the occasional anxiety attacks. I have had that hopeless feeling. I still struggle.
What am I doing to help? Here are somethings that work for me.
Doing busy work. Knitting, crafting. When anxiety hits I find something to do. If the feeling is still there after my busy work I sit down and try to work through it. Mostly the feeling goes away. I find dumping that nervous energy into something positive it works itself out. If the anxiety sticks I work my feelings out. I ask myself...
1. What am I anxious about?
2. Why am I feeling this way?
3. What can I do to help myself feel less anxious?
Okay it isn't that easy, there are a lot of steps that go into it.
An example of an anxious feeling I am having now.
What I am feeling: I am anxious about the kids school conferences. What if they are not doing as good as I think they are? What if there is something that will hinder them in the future?
Why am I feeling this way: I know this all stems from walking into my first IEP meeting 3 years ago with Nolan. I thought everything was okay. My kid was fine. Having an authority figure tell me differently was a blow.
Walking into room again with a person of authority is nerve-wrecking still. There is an unsettling feeling I might walk into the situation again.
What can I do to help myself? I can make a list of each child's strengths and things I think they need to work on. Work with teachers to develop goals. Don't think of the things I wasn't expecting to hear as bad news, think of it as things we need to work harder on.
Of course the anxious feeling doesn't go away entirely. I am constantly using my steps as a reminder, I have to do this a few times before I get to comfortable. It is hard work. It is not easy. And really I don't think it should be.
The most importantly thing is I need to talk about how I feel. It helps tremendously. This weekend I was feeling nervous about something at my moms, I sat down started knitting and was telling my mom about what I was feeling. She shared in my feelings, she helped me work through them. I knew I wasn't alone. Just knowing someone else had been there and got through it was a great comfort.
This will be a journey. An LONG journey. One though I am committed to.
Thanks for listening.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Just chatting

I have been one hot mess lately. I border on emo depressed wannabe to frustrated bitch. Even a breath is not enough. I need a vacation.
I have been knitting a lot, the desire comes and goes in the great circle that is my life. Reading, knitting and scrapbooking are always done separate, never together. I get bored easy.
My knitting spree is coming to a close. What happens is I have a desire to try something new and I totally bite the big one and give up.
This time it is cable knit and knitting in the round.
They can both suck it.
I have had brain block for blogging and writing. I read a lot of my fellow bloggers are writing books. They blog, they write books and I can't even formulate a sentence. I am jealous.
I changed my blog to step away from the "stuff" that "mommy" seems to attract. I wanted to focus on honing a craft, as opposed to honing everything else a mommy blogs seems to come with.
It does seem cliche to say "I want to write a book." Is that the next step in blogging? Do we all just follow that idea because it is what is expected?
1. Blogging
2. Book deal
It is exciting to see bloggers getting noticed, but sadly not everyone will see their hardcover book on the shelves at Barnes and Noble.
Some will just sit in the bargain bin at the local cheap book store.
I'd rather wait till this blogger to book thing subsides, then I'll sneak in for a sudden surprise.
Or maybe my story will fit neatly on these pages. Is going to paper important? Is my story worth cutting down trees for? Or having an overworked man grinding paper pulp for?
There are only two bloggers that I could see writing books, and gladly they are.
I often ponder the "If a tree falls" but not in the tree kind of way. What happens to us behind close doors when no one notices. Are our actions heard?
What if no one knew the secrets we harbor, would it send sound waves through our forest?
Or are those secret silent? Does it go without notice? Do we change? And do we unknowingly change the people around you?
Does this make any sense at all?
Hey thanks for listening!
Talk to you later.

Sunday, November 8, 2009


I am feeling everything right now.
You know that pins and needles feeling? Every emotion every feeling is at the surface and you don't know which one to release first.
I want to cry and laugh and yell and whisper. I want noise and quiet. I want to be alone but I am scared to be alone. I want to be touched and loved and I want to hide in my room.
I want this all at the same time.
This I know is physically impossible. Most of everything comes out as displaced anger or frustration or I say nothing because I am afraid of the anger or frustration that could come out. Then anger at myself for overreacting.
or underreacting.
A thousand and one thoughts, ideas swirl through my head. I can't decide where they go. If I should forget. Compartmentalize. Give-up or go all the way.
I like to think all this is part of a cross road. I am scared of every decision and feeling because it is a more then a feeling and a choice it will be my life.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Taking Away

Dear Blog,
I have nothing today and yesterday and the day before that. A lot of thoughts and ideas go through me but it never makes it to paper. I am blocked. I apologize for neglecting you, and I might have to neglect you for a few more days. Hopefully my thoughts will settle and I will have something to say.
Till then....

Sunday, November 1, 2009

29 days

It hit me today, a flip of the calendar page, a rise in my belly, the cannon through the heart and the start of a month long panic. It is November, the month the symbolizes a family parted. Brothers not talking to sisters. And a sister crushed by a mother. And a son forever disabling a mother and a family.
29 days I have to get to that day. That day the phone rang, my sister beyond the point of existent, it was like her world stopped. No, her world stopped. Off axis thrown into an unknown universe. When I heard her tears I thought I knew the answer, but of course I was wrong.
If you think there is nothing worse then a death of a child, I might have one for you.
What if your child does something beyond what you thought was possible for a human to do? So horrific in it's nature that you wonder if he born of your womb? That second you think that does that child cease, does he become a new child? Or is he always yours, is he the same boy you cradled? Is he the one you fed and clothed and watched go from fetal to walking in 365 days? Does 10 minutes change that?
I so want to ask my sister all these questions. What she feels for her son who lost his moral compass, threw it out the window as he drove down the street, as he stopped at the house and walked to the door....


I never knew much about my Grandfather's job.  I knew he was a police officer.  A Sergeant on the Chicago Police Force.  When he came ho...