Monday, November 28, 2011

Ruminate

I have deep thoughts.  Deep.  Deep. Thoughts.  All the time.  They usually only make sense to me of course.  I ruminate a lot.  Some people use the word ruminate like it's a bad thing.  My mom, who worked in a mental institution, said they used ruminate when talking about patients with certain mental disorders.  Ruminate was the technical term they used for people who talked about the same thing over and over obsessively. 
I like to think my ruminating is the completely healthy kind but it is not.  I usually think of interactions with people and think of at least five different way I could have handled the situation.  My social anxiety prevents me from getting an interaction right the first time.  I usually resort to inappropriate humor.  Inappropriate humor is deceiving.  People always laugh at inappropriate humor.  The question is are they laughing because they truly thought my inappropriateness was funny or because they are uncomfortable. 

Sunday, November 27, 2011

I have been thinking a lot about anxiety, mostly because I suffer with it.  I make jokes about it, a lot.  I joke because it helps me cope.
I tried the whole medicine thing and it didn't work.  I've heard medicine doesn't work for a lot of people.  It makes it worse.  Which is weird.  Because everyone and every commercial makes you believe it will work, then your reality hits you and you realize you won't be that reality you see on T.V.  You won't be that woman who one second was looking sad on the couch to happily buying flowers at the market the next.  Your reality finds you on the couch.  Always and forever.  Or you think it will be always and forever.  Because that is how it feels.
I'd love to explain what my anxiety feels like but I can't.  It's a whole lot of feeling.  It's a rush to the head and a tightening in the chest.  It effects the whole body.  And I take my hands and rub my face.  I start at my forehead with the tips of my fingers and rub hard to the top of my hairline to the bottom of my chin.  And back up again and around till I reach the top of my head.   And part of me want to rub the skin off and see what it looks like underneath.  I want to see what my brain is doing.  I want to know what part of me is making me feel the way I feel.  The not knowing makes it worse.
And now that the anxiety is bad enough it effect other parts of me.  I grind my teeth and clench my jaw causing TMJ.  And the blood vessels in my hands constrict and reopen to fast and my hands turn red and white and blue and they ache.  And I ache all over.
The thoughts are the worst of it.  Because they never end.  Sometimes I sit in my room with the music way up just to make them stop.  I put the bass up and let the vibration massage the tightness in my chest.  Let something loud distract me from the thoughts that make it hard to breathe and concentrate and be.  Me.
And to know that anxiety is not just mine.  Because my family feels it everyday.  In my silence..  And the verbal snaps.  And in my tears.  And I want it to stop.  So bad.  And I know there is no easy answer.  I will not wake up one day and feel like that girl in the commercial.  And so bad I want to buy flowers at the market and have it be just what it is.

Friday, November 11, 2011

This Post Makes No Sense.... You Are Welcome.

What is it that makes me want to blog?  I think that all the time.  Why do I have to write something and put it out there?  Why can't I just think a thought and idea and that be enough?
Because I'd go crazy that's why.
I have this insane....or inane....desire to put what I think and feel out into the universe.  I wonder if that is how you define an artist.  Anyone can paint a picture, an artist puts it out there.  Anyone can write a song and play it, and artist makes it heard.  Anyone could write a story, an artist lets his/her thoughts be known to the masses.
Now I feel kind of vain calling myself an artist.
Whenever I hear the song "You're So Vain" I always think what if they are not vain, what if they are just paranoid?? What if you sing that song they think anxiously 'What if this song is about me?  What did I do wrong??'  And that kind of makes Carly Simon a non-understanding bitch.  It's called paranoia and it can be debilitating and just because you were married to James Taylor and were really cool in the 70's you think you can judge people, well fuck you Carly...FUCK YOU!!!
That is all....

This song is so old but when I have a rift with my hubby I sing this song.  I don't know why.

Monday, November 7, 2011

Torn up Piece of Paper.

*I love the movie Stealing Beauty.  It is one of those movies that I watched over and over and still watch when it comes on T.V.  When I was younger I wished my mom had died and my father had sent me away to an artist commune in Italy to smoke pot with Jeremy Irons and swim topless with Rachel Weisz and lose my virginity to an adorable pubic-haired Italian boy.  These were my selfish years.
Now I watch the movie and I just want to run away to an artist commune in Italy and lose my virginity to an adorable pubic-haired Italian boy.  A girl can still be a little selfish no matter what age.
In the movie Liv's character eats her words.  She always writes on small scraps of paper, tears the paper and sticks it in her mouth.  Or sometimes she burns the paper.  I love this part of the movie because I know I am not that girl who runs away to an artist commune in Italy but I am that girl that hides her words.
Half the stuff I write does not  get posted.  The words sit as drafts burnt and torn and swallowed never to see the light of day.

*“I love you also means I love you more than anyone loves you, or has loved you, or will love you, and also, I love you in a way that no one loves you, or has loved you, or will love you, and also, I love you in a way that I love no one else, and never have loved anyone else, and never will love anyone else.”
Jonathan Safran Foer


This is a quote I have on my fridge, the quote is printed on a torn up piece of paper framed on a piece of scrapbook paper.  I love this quote about love.  I put the scrap of paper at eye level so I can always see it.  It's so much better than a picture of a pig telling me 'oink'.
Actually the quote isn't for losing weight, when I read it I think of my kids.
I don't have a favorite kid, as some people say.  I don't love my kids in the same way but I  do love them both just like the quote says- which I guess is loving them in the same way.
I think people get the 'favorite' and the  love mixed up.  Our kids need our love in different forms.  My girl needs cuddling and affection.  My boy needs tons of high-fives and an affectionate headlock.
One is more willing to help me on a daily basis, the other works to surprise me in amazing ways on a less frequent measure.  One curses and swears like a sailor when they are mad, the other is prone to fits of crying.
One is not my favorite.  I never mix-up these feelings up.  The torn up piece of paper on my fridge is a reminder of those feelings.

*When you  are working with your fancy scrap-booking paper it is important to remember to tear the piece of paper towards you.

Friday, November 4, 2011

today ain't for nothing.  That's two negatives making a positive, maybe things will look up.  Maybe someone will knock on my door and just give me a hug.  You know you are having a bad day when you wish someone would knock on your door to give you a hug as oppose to say a million dollars.  That's how life works sometimes.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

horse and carriage

I woke up yesterday morning and I fake punched my hubby in the gut, he got all sad looking and I said "I'm prone to violence in the morning." and he shakes his head, and walks away.
  And sometimes he kisses me goodnight.  and sometimes he doesn't.  and sometimes I get mad at him for not being affectionate and then I put super glossy lip gloss on and tell him he can't kiss me.
  And we fight hard and get mad at each other and yell empty insults and threats and wave our fists and we apologize for our empty insults and threats. and for waving our fists in the air.
I've been thinking a lot about divorce.  It isn't hard when the people around you seem to be doing it.  A mother leaves.  A father leaves.  A car and a presences is missing in the neighborhood,  it is not hard to miss.  You wonder if those people are like you.  If you can make their same mistakes.  Am I making their same mistakes?
Divorce is like a plague, once one person gets it the person next to them is sure to get it and you end up praying to God that you got your immunizations to fight off the horrible disease that is divorce.  You wonder if your marriage can make it.
And I fake punch my hubby in the gut and he got all sad looking and I say "I'm prone to violence in the morning."  and he shakes his head and walks away and in that moment I know we are going to be okay. 

“We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.”
― Dr. Seuss

just

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