I Can’t Concentrate Enough To Think of a Good Title for This Post. Just Please Don’t Laugh at Me.

September 17, 2009 Me, Unplugged,Stuff I'm Thinkin',Sugarpants Herself!,Wow I'm a Tool

I’m slipping.

Not into depression again, I’m sure.

This is something else.  It’s different than last time.

I know I should call the doctor, explain my symptoms and just have her prescribe something or suggest something that will help me climb out of this fog.

I’m not interested in phone calls from friends & family. I would rather slice off my right arm than deal with the drama of being a part of this machine that is my family.  I have shrunk into the background, trying desperately not to be pulled out.  There’s a family thing in November and I hope that I feel better by then because if not, I really don’t want to go.  I don’t want to talk to anyone in my family right now.  Jess wants to come and visit and honestly, I’m not up for it.  I feel like I had a whirlwind summer and I just want to hibernate like a motherfuckin’ bear.

I can’t handle the bills.  We have enough money (I think) but I can’t handle the pressure of budgeting.  This past week I blew an obscene amount of money on a Costco membership & on stuff we’ll use but really?  We could have done without or waited and stuck to the regular grocery store.  I want to take it all back and have a do-over but I’m too embarrassed.  At least I have enough dishwasher detergent for the next 3 months. Right?

I’ve been gaining fat & losing muscle because I can’t seem to get to the gym.  Every day I promise myself that ‘Tomorrow, tomorrow I will go and possibly run and do a weight circuit’ but tomorrow never comes and I feel like a bloated gazelle.  I know I’m the type that if I don’t do some form of cardio, I’ll look 6 months pregnant.   Which hello, I do right now.  The weight thing is really bothering me because I worked so very hard to get to this point and now I can’t stop binging.  I’m eating for no good reason and it has to stop because then I beat myself up over it big time and starve myself for as long as I can stand to.  Oh yes, old habits die hard and I’m hovering at the same weight, give or take a couple of pounds on any given day.  Good God, it scares me to admit that.

I interrupt when someone is talking to me.  I say stupid things and regret them later.  I replay conversations in my head and beat myself up for them.  I think these things come with being a woman, no?  Ha.

I’m putting off my work every single day and basically prefer to play games or hang with the kids.  Which really, good for them, but not so good for my wallet.  I’m happiest when I’m with the kids and feel very down when I have to sit down and work.  I just don’t enjoy it anymore.  I’ve got exciting projects on the go and I can’t seem to move forward.  It’s like my feet are stuck in cement.

When I do sit down to work, I can’t focus.  I’m everywhere.  I can’t concentrate worth a shit and end up giving up.  Twitter, Facebook, Gmail, Twitter, Facebook, Gmail, texting, Twitter, etc etc.  It’s nuts.  Last week a friend took Thomas for a play date though and I hammered out 8 articles in 3 hours.  It was like I needed the deadline of picking up my kid or something.  Course 6 of those articles were long overdue, so there’s that.

I’m not sleeping very well at all.  I can’t get to sleep at night and end up finally caving around 2 a.m. only to be exhausted, obviously, when I have to get up and get the kids ready for school.

When Daren is home, I’m Little Miss Snuggle Bunny.  I just want to disappear into his arms and hide from the world.

In short, I’m lame as hell and paralyzed in doing anything about it.

But, still happy.  I’ve just been feeling down when I think of all the shit that’s piling up.  Then I skip away from that pile of shit and go have fun with my kids or my friends.  But that pile of shit just sits there and more shit gets tossed on top of it.  Thar she blows!

I’ve talked to friends about this in the past, suggested ADD, but they laughed at me.  So I hid how I felt.

So I Googled some of these things last night and Adult ADD popped up.  Again.  In fact, it was the only thing to pop up with all those symptoms.

I know.  Dr. Google is the devil.  I’m aware.  But listen.

This article seems to fit and I know myself well enough that I am pretty sure that’s what I’ve got.  Aside from skipping the gym, this lack of concentration/motivation has been going on for over a long period of time.  Course, the organic treatment is to eat well, get good sleep & get organized.

Yeah I laughed too.  Cuz how the fuck am I supposed to do that if I can’t even shower till 2 p.m. everyday?

I feel as though I’m drowning.  And for weeks I’ve put off calling the doctor.

It’s like a vicious cycle and the only way off is for me to pick up that phone and begin to fix it.  I can’t explain to you why I can’t.  I feel like if I go to an appointment, I’ll chicken out because I’m afraid she’s just going to say, “Listen lady, get your shit together and quit blaming this self-diagnosed bullshit you’ve convinced yourself you have.”

I’m so confused.

On top of all of this, I feel like you are all going to laugh at me when I hit publish.

You Keep Playin’ Me Like a Fruit Machine

June 11, 2009 Me, Unplugged,Sugarpants Herself!

Hilly did a post the other day that resurrected the “This I Believe..” meme that went around some time ago.

I’m not that deep today.  I’m high on life, and want to keep it light and airy like Papa’s pancakes, which he claims are so light they float away so eat ‘em fast!  Now I want pancakes.

ANYWAY.

I’m the woman who…

…will tell you when you have something in your teeth.

…gets annoyed if you show up at my door without calling first.

…does a lot of listening.

…sings out loud at every opportunity.

…probably annoys her gym mates with her singing.

…hates washing her kitchen floor.

…loves all the windows open in all kinds of weather, even if it’s snowing.

…will stand at the back door and watch the Blue Jays and Cardinals in silence, while tossing them bread.  Gets angry when a fecking squirrel absconds with said bread.

…loves being alone.

…reads too many blogs, fiercely loves the authors and thinks of them as friends.

…forgets the clothes in the washer and has to wash them twice, sometimes three times before remembering to put the in the dryer.

…worries far too much about what people think of her and her home.

…has bad days when nothing gets done.

…cranks the tunes while cooking and dances while chopping veggies or stirring sauce.

…doesn’t anger easily.

…is afraid to be angry about anything for fear of being called crazy.

…doesn’t like to drink to much because she is afraid to be compared to her mother.

…plays soccer with her kids in the field and climbs the monkey bars when she’s only with her kids.

…loves to feel needed.

…says ‘i love you’ daily to many, and means it.

…feels things very passionately but plays it way down.

…struggles with body image, but…

…has great tits.

…is secretly pleased when she makes someone laugh.

Letting Go of The Bitch

June 3, 2009 Douchebaggery,I'm a Tool.,It's On Like Donkey Kong,Muffintop,Sugarpants Herself!,There are other people besides me?

One night, Daren and I were in bed, and he was trying mercilessly to get me to get on board with the doing of the sexual things. I felt fat, overly so, and was very very snippy.

“You’re leaning on my hair,” I whined. I huffed, and shifted, and very nearly poked him in the eye as I pulled my hair out from under his elbow.

I really wasn’t into it, as you can tell. When I’m feeling unsexy, the last thing I want to do is show off my rolls and get all naked to roll around with my husband, even though he has seen it all over the last 13+ years that we’ve been together.

“My leg doesn’t bend that way,” I groaned. I kept moving around, unable to get comfortable, and kept sighing. Sexy huh?

“Fuck you complain a lot,” he muttered. He gave up, rolled over, and back-to-back, we both lay awake, angry with the other though neither one of us could verbalize why.

Obviously, I felt unattractive and grumpy and he felt rejected.

That was about 3 years ago. It was an isolated incident that is forever etched in my mind. I can go back to that night in my mind and feel the same things I felt at the time.

I can recall numerous times where I’ve snarled at my kids for well, being kids. I can remind myself of every whiny spell I’ve had where I’m complaining about stupid things like the laundry piling up or the toys I’m tripping over. I can vividly remember how I’ve felt around friends who I felt were prettier, skinnier, more financially stable, smarter than me. I’ll cancel plans simply to avoid my girlfriends seeing me look fat/tired/out of shape.

The insecurity that I feel a lot of the time ends up being something I metabolize into a bitchy attitude.

It always amazes me how I feel after being at the gym or going for a run. I’m happy, I see the good, I remain positive when dealing with criticism. Money? Pah. We’ll make more. Laundry? Pah. I’ll get to it.

Now, after less than a week of being back to running and about 2 months into regular exercise, I feel so good. I have more energy for my boys, I get my work done quicker, and I handle stress way better. Sure the laundry is still piling up, but that’s because I’m outside playing with my kids or at the gym! Fuck laundry!

I just don’t ever want to hear, “Fuck you complain a lot,” in that context, ever again. I don’t want to be one of those people who complain about every little thing. I’ve been friends with people like that and they are exhausting, draining souls. I know life isn’t all rainbows, but to complain constantly about waking up in the morning, about being a parent, about work and life and oxygen? Ugh. Who wants that for their life?

Now when Daren and I are kidding around, if one of us is getting whiny or whatever, the other will whisper, “Fuck you complain a lot.” Throws us into a fit of giggles every time.  And we’ve been giggling a lot more these days.