Control is an illusion and that sucks.

The longer I live, the less control I have. Or, at least if feels that way. I had complete control over my life until I got married. Then, I had to check before I booked a flight. Then with the babies...I got a little control back...because they depended on me and couldn't make their own decisions. Now, I have a 6-year-old and a 3-year-old. I have no control. There is more love in my life. There is more beauty. There is more light. But there are also many times when I have absolutely no idea how to deal with the push back of the 6-year-old, Zoe. Wow. We are close. Closer than I ever was with my parents already. I understand her brain and her emotions because they are so similar to my own. Which will make her life hard, but she will feel so many great things...and then there are the really tough times. To see your child act out their inner demon is scary. At times, I feel an exorcism is in order. When she is laughing at me...screaming horrible things, telling me she hates me and she wants me to move out of the house. Her anger becomes hotter and hotter. She kicks and hits and screams and talks back with as much disrespect as she can muster. All of this is probably brought on by her feeling as if she has no control. She wants to control situations as well. She wants to be perfect. She wants to know everything now. She wants the moments to roll out the way they are in her head. I get that. If something doesn't feel right or if it isn't as BIG of a moment as she wanted it to be, she's done. Life is going to be tough. I felt most of these things in my 20s. At 6, her thoughts and emotions far surpass her little body. Her brain hasn't developed enough to equal her out. During those times, I want to rewind and start again. I must have done something wrong. I wasn't sweet enough. I showed too much emotion. 

I cry. I cry at happy moments, touching moments, sad memories...even when writing them down. I cry more at movies than I ever did. My life continues to stuff me full of feelings. I think and feel about things much more than the average person. I know this. It drives me crazy. I love large. I want to be there for everyone and sometimes it leaves me feeling as if I can't reach out to anyone. Who first? And why haven't they called me? Are they sick? Are they upset with me? Are they depressed and can't reach out? Are they fine with me not being a part of their life anymore? 

See. 

I love all the ups and downs for writing purposes. I tend to not write if things are going well. I tend not to write if my days are flat lined and I feel as if I'm in Groundhog's Day...each day is the same. Staying home can do that. Today, as I was vacuuming and wanting to get out of there to write...but I felt compelled to get the crumbs in the kitchen before I left. That is fucking annoying. Who have I become? I am getting somewhat better. I will step away from all the dishes (because they are always there) and cuddle on the couch. I will go and sit down next to Harper and she will turn to me and say, "Have you come to be with me? You are so cute! I love you so much." She will immediately hug me and start holding my hand. I adore this child. 

Those are the moments. Yes, they are going to have "Regan"* moments and I will have to endure the pea soup being spit into my face because I know it will pass. I never spit pea soup at my parents. It triggers me into thinking that she doesn't respect me and that I don't feel worthy. (These are feelings that are discovered in therapy...hour and hours of therapy.) I have to remember she is 6. She is only 6. This is only a short period of time. In an hour, she will be making you the sweetest card that contains observations of an adult--to show you how much she really loves you. She will thank you for helping her with her letters. She will clean her room and the house and say, "You shouldn't have to do it alone." She will write to you that she sees how hard you work and will acknowledge the effort. At 6. She'll also watch black and white movies and love them. She will show such kindness to her little sister that it blows you away. 

I never had control. Not over my life and how it unfolds. The anxiety I feel every day trying to control it needs to go away. 

When that will happen, I just don't know.

*Regan is Linda Blair's character in The Exorcist. 

athletic supporter

Therapy is a good thing. It seems to put my thoughts in order. Writing can get them flowing and then sometimes I'm lost  with what to do next.

I've been selfish. I've been insecure and let it rule my life. I haven't been supportive at ALL. It makes me sick really. I need to get on the ball here. He's been running for so long and developing relationships--that is a GOOD thing. I can't be defensive...I need to be welcoming. I need to change my entire attitude about it all. I need to open my heart up and see what happens. We've been together for 10 years...you'd think I'd trust him by now.

Push out the brainwashing. They don't always leave. They don't. Sometimes they stay...they leave when they feel unappreciated and unsupported...unloved. I've sucked at this wife things. I really have. He should feel like he is in my inner circle. I need to let him in!!!! I need to crawl out of my shell and see that the sun shines--I don't have to be in the dark and protected.

What kind of life is that?
Off to get supplies.

emotional vomit. Trust. Marriage. The struggle to be vulnerable.

I've started a couple of other blogs. This one is the mother ship, though. I'm at Starbucks trying to make some progress with my writing. I was with the girls all morning. I cleaned...then took them to lunch and the library. Zoe is eating up books and I love it. Jason ran a race this morning and is soaking his feet while watching Scooby Doo--a Dustin influence there. I'm so tired, but damn it, I have to keep it flowing. My class is over and so there is nothing pushing me out of the house. There are no more prompts. I sucked at them anyway. I felt as if I never had time, which is bullshit. I have the time, but don't feel inspired enough. I always feel that writing needs to be inspired.

I do have something to discuss however. I'll throw it out into the universe. So, I have a few close friends. Ones I have had for years and years and from the time I was 14 or so, I've told them everything. EVERYTHING. Well, I take that back. When I was going through my horrible times of depression, I didn't reach out. I didn't know who to call...and there are times when I am not sure what to say, so I don't. Otherwise, we talk about all aspects of our lives. This causes an issue for Jason who feels on the outside of things. He feels as if he's not in the inner circle. I can see what he is saying. The thing is, our relationship is a different one. It isn't exactly close. Close to me means, cuddling up at night and talking in dark. Our bodies touching, our minds unfolding...maybe I'm describing a teenage romance, but it's what I need. I need physical touch. I need to be held and whispered to and kissed and talked softly to. We raise our voices a lot. We are talking over kids a lot. We are tired and end up going separate ways many times in order to get things done. We are parents. We are roommates. We forget what got us here. Times where we laughed and laid in bed talking. We laughed a lot. I miss that. But I hold back my thoughts from him because he doesn't seem to really want to hear them. When we do talk, it's late and he gets tired and is sensitive to my feelings. He gets hurt. He doesn't want me to talk to my friends about everything. I do. I guess I understand where he is coming from, I guess. But, my comeback is that he has never had close friends like mine. He's never had such depth and history. So much has happened to connect me to these people...people that reached out to me in a time of need...or helped during an awful time in my life. The bonds are there. Jason and I didn't date very long before he proposed. It seemed like a lifetime, but it wasn't. I was so focused on the ring that I didn't let the relationship evolve. We needed more time and memories under out belt. We needed to bond more, trust each other more and feel comfortable sharing our feelings. I couldn't even share my feelings about the wedding. I say one thing and want another. I told him what I thought he wanted to hear. I just wanted him. I wanted it to work. I didn't want to screw it up. I guess I feel the same now. I don't feel safe letting him into all of my feelings and thoughts. I worry that he's not permanent. My mom made sure that was the feeling I would always have. They can always leave. You need to be guarded. Friends, well my friends, aren't going to leave me. If they haven't left me yet, they are in for life. I guess I'm not letting him in and that I do treat him differently than my friends. He wants to feel as if he's my main go to. He knows all. He wants to feel like we are a team...part of one another. I don't feel that way. A lot of loneliness occurs at night...going to bed alone...spending my evenings alone. I have developed a life that is just mine and is not shared. I don't want to share it. I want to keep it safe. But, I might just lose him if I don't let him in. Isn't that what marriage is?? He doesn't have to be everything, but he needs to be something. And it's true...right now he isn't in my inner circle. I see more walls than doors. He has his own friends. He has his running cult that I am not a part of. We have nothing together. Our life experiences are lacking. They are wrapped around the girls--but we don't have much on our own.

We're going to see To Kill A Mockingbird tonight at Geva. Maybe a play and discussion will be good for us. I'm not a runner...I'm a thinker, writer and movie watcher. I don't have anything in common with his friends...but J used to have all of those things in common with me.

hello pot.

I've been neglecting writing...any real writing...anything that I could produce into something. A play. A blog. I have a friend from HS who has a blog and I can't even look at it because it just reminds me of what a coward I am. But lately, there have been signs from the universe that are pushing me to just do it. I know that sounds goofy, but it is pretty weird. I keep receiving the same message over and over but from all different sources. I think I'll start with a film blog and see how that goes. The play will come in time. I'm afraid of it a bit...and am going to take a course first before I dive in. The film blog at least marries to of my loves.  I wrote one review over a year ago and stopped. ?? I just need to keep going, even if it sucks. I'm holding on the hope that I will ge t better over time. If I get get worse, I'll just keep it all to myself. But I'm just sitting around feeling awful about not starting...about what I could be doing and what I'd love to see happen--but if you don't start, that's sort of not possible. I want the girls to see you can do anything you want. And even if you are scared to the core, you just try and see how it goes. Why not? In this age of doing most anything without people knowing who you are...hell, it makes no sense. My life is very vanilla it seems. Although it is rich with sweetness and my girls are growing and learning and I know I have a great deal to do with that...I always feel a bit empty when they go to bed. That makes me feel guilty--you see where I'm going. It's a cycle of nonsense. I'm tired of being in awe of other people and wondering what my life could've been. I'm not talking about any type of fame. I'm just talking about living a creative life. CREATE-ive life. I am always so annoyed that my mom won't start writing. wth.

thoughts of the right now...

Overwhelmed. That was the feeling I had yesterday. Walking into my house that had a mess in almost every room. Messes made my the girls...Jason. Blankets all over the couch that they cuddled in. The dishes all over the kitchen that we all ate on and talked about our day. Clean clothes that I didn't get put away...how lucky they are to have so many. I thinned out the toys and the books. I need to thin out so much more. We have too much. It's embarrassing to me. At one time I could survive a week with 20 bucks. My car only needed 10 to get to my job and back and the rest went to bread and milk. I had pb and jelly at home. I dressed in the clothes that I had packed. I didn't buy new ones. I read the books I had. I wrote in whatever I had. Granted, it was a confusing time and I didn't have children...but it is horrible consumerism that took over my life. I sit here drinking Starbucks...the one I frequent to get out of my house and write. I enjoy the coffee and the people. I like that I know the baristas. Everyone one around me is either talking to someone very passionately...or two guys laid back and laughing. One man is like me...he is plugged into headphones and is banging away on his laptop with a very serious face. My face is more happy than anything. Curious. Wanting to take it all in. Life goes on no matter what you do at home. In the end, having everything just so doesn't matter.

I'm a writer because I write. I listened to a book about children yesterday--The Gift of Failure. Lisa recommeneded to me and it's blown my mind. But one point it made was if you over praise a child for a certain gift, say writing, the child will develope a fear or have anxiety about writing something that people will not like and that will make you average again. Once...you had a gift.  A gift that you need to just dive into and do-------------and I'm so afraid to fail.

This morning around 1, I was up because I went to bed around 9. Z was in my bed and I wanted to sleep next to her...plus I was exhausted--anyway, I found 2 playwriting seminar/ workshops that I was interested in.  If I complete something, I could get it to Geva and they could read it. I could have my work on stage. It is in me. I need to let it loose. I just need to know the basics. I think I'll dive in. At least I can say I tried...I will regret it if I don't.

Just me....writing in Starbucks...

So, it's just me now. No class prompt to help me write...just do it. If you are a writer, then you just do it. I'm a writer. A scared one. A hesitant one. An unpublished one. But a writer, indeed. It's because I have to write it all down...I can't wait to write down my thoughts. I see something happen and I think...damn, I need to write that down. Like the other day. Harper was at the table eating Pirate Booty as her snack. I was doing the dishes.
Hey Mom...
Yes?
Remember when I threw water at you...
Yes...but you said you were sorry.
It still wasn't nice...
It's okay.

I go back to the dishes.
Hey mom.
Yes Harper
You always make your daughters happy.

I melted a bit. I told her that that was a really nice thing to say and that I appreciate it. We have our moments when we aren't happy...when I get upset.

Yeah...but it's because we didn't listen.

I'm reading a book--The Gift of Failure. Listening to it rather....and it's great.
I'm doing so many things wrong...but I do a lot right according to the book.
Another parenting book.
I don't seem to feel my "gut"...I need to find it.

"She Thinks" is the prompt...Farewell Dillon's

10 minute writing prompt for class...we are not allowed to stop, correct or anything, just keep writing no matter where it takes. you.

"she thinks"

She thinks the world would be better without facebook...and twitter. I enjoy the internet, but no one really talks anymore. I'm a talker. More one on one, but if I'm comfortable,a group is fine. Letters are nice. I sent one last week. How many people still do that?  I want to get letters. I miss the paper in my hands and knowing their handwriting. I can still see the handwriting of my friends in my head. Does anyone take notice of it now? As a kid, I incorporated it with their personality somehow...it was a part of them...just as knowing what their voice sounded like. I miss phone calls. Texting is great at times, but a quick call...just to hear how the other person is...if I hear stress or if they sound down...you just can't tell in email. They may be struggling with so many things. With my old friends, I can tell by their voice when they are covering how they feel. But I have to hear it. I used to love to watch my dad and mom sign their names on checks. My dad was a judge for 30 years...I watched him sign a lot. I used to practice their signatures. I never thought of using it when I shouldn't, I just wanted to see if I could do it. I think it's great that we can all live where we want to live, but I do see how moving out of a community, especially in Kansas, can affect if the town will continue to thrive or not. My little town of St. John, Kansas, population 1100, just learned that their town grocery store, Dillon's, is closing within 2 weeks. There will no longer be a grocery store...I am so shocked and saddened by this, still. I have so many memories there. I used to sneak out of music class in 7th grade to buy cookie dough (you know, the ones in the tube) and go back so that my friend, Erica and I could eat it. The store clerks knew I shouldn't be there...but they never said a word. Everyone that worked there graduated from the same school. My mom taught there for 40 years. My friends parents were either teachers, farmers, lawyers (there were only 3 practices I think) or worked in the court house. Being the judges daughter had perks...I never got a speeding ticket. But I only got pulled over a couple of times...I didn't abuse it. I never used my parents' city stature to better my situation...I was just proud. They still live in St. John...not together, but still there. My older sister and her family are there. But a lot of my friends' parents moved to the area their children settled. There used to be more jobs...in the 50s and 60s, you stayed there after you graduated. You were part of the community. Only a couple of my classmates are there. I graduated with 23 others. And the town square, where all the businesses were...lining the streets with the town park in center...with a fountain...and enclosed by cement wall...a square. There was parking all along it...and at night we would cruise it...we would stop at Dillon's and get a pop and junk to eat. My dad went every day. He never over bought...he just got what they needed for a day or two. He and his wife are very concise. I would walk in with Dad and everyone would say, "Hi judge!" He didn't act like he was any better...he mostly liked to fish and talked about it with the people we ran into. My mom always sent me to the store with a check she'd signed. The store was a staple in my childhood. It's a staple for our community. The elderly will struggle to get groceries. The nearest grocery store is 25 miles in a much bigger town...with lined streets and stop lights. We don't have those things. It was great. But it seems this could cause it to be more like a ghost town. Slowly things are leaving. Most of the businesses are empty around the square. It's so depressing to go there. And now, to go home and not see Dillon's....my heart is broken.

I'm afraid

I'm taking a writing class and my prompt is:
 I'm afraid.

10 mins of writing...starting

I am afraid of being afraid of so many things. I have anxiety every single day. It used to be chest crushing, but it eased with medication. I've been a victim of my emotions for a long time. I hate the word victim, but I strive not to be that in almost every way. In order to not fall victim to my anger and irritability that seems to have made a permanent home inside...I take meds. I've been on some type of meds for 20 years. Even that makes me sound a little nutty...or that I'm seeking happiness through pills instead of doing the work myself. I've been in therapy for longer. Therapy helps. But it seems I come by it naturally--the anxiety, depression and the adult ADHD. STIGMA word!!! Yep...that's the one I normally don't come out with. It sounds made up. It sounds like I have a doc that just wants to sell me something. After being off all medication for 4 years to have my children...I thought I'd beaten it. I thought I had somehow been tricked the entire time and that nothing was really wrong with me. But even in the first year of my oldest, I felt the darkness slip in. Anger came with it at times...well, more aggravation. I would be frustrated with her...a baby. I would take her and put her in her crib to be safe and then go take a bath and calm down. She was never in danger with me...but I was then questioning my skills...or whether I could do this. Some days were great. Other days, I was just overwhelmed...by everything. We head another baby. Thank goodness for her. Zoe needed a sister and she is the best older sister to her. When I yelled too loud at Z one day, I sought help the next. My doc met with me 3 separate times for an hour each time. She didn't want any background information on my medications or diagnosis. She told me she thought I had ADHD and that I'd probably had it my entire life. I'd been diagnosed with bipolar disorder and had been taking those meds--I lost my twenties pretty much. The coctail I took made me a zombie and I had no short term memory. This cost me a job and made me feel as if I was pretty useless. I thought about high school and then college...it all fit. I sat in her office and cried about the life I'd lost. I felt robbed. I could never understand why other people seemed to have their life together and I didn't. I knew I was bright enough to get it together...but I couldn't figure it out. I always had a job...I paid my bills...but my emotions were whacky and it made me an interesting friend at times.

But now, when I take my meds, the anxiety starts to taper. The overwhelming feeling goes away. Life looks completely doable and I am zen. I have patience with my girls. I'm not climbing the walls anymore. Now, I have my days. Like this one. I'm overwhelmed at all there is to do in this damn house. I'm doing a purge project in order to have less stuff and less stress. So far, so good--but there is much to do. And I wish I had someone who could sit across from me and hold my hands and tell me that it's all going to be okay. Everything will get done. They will help me and we will have fun doing it. It's not exactly my husband, but he'd do. It's more of a female feel...a nurturing soul...someone maternal...or just one of my dear friends. I chose to move away from all of them. I worry that I'll be sucked into their lives and won't have my own...I love feeling needed. I crave it. It makes me feel worthy. Wow...I have so many therapy sessions to go.

bounce...

On Itunes, I normally go the 92nd street Y interviews. Today I chose one from 2006--Mommy Wars: Working vs. Staying Home, A panel discussion.

Ummm...very interesting. My brain runs around too much with this one. But at no point did I feel relieved or supported by my decision to stay home. Some of the things that are said are almost insulting. Some make me want to run away...some make me just want to sit and listen. I do struggle with it. I don't like it all of the time. I do get depressed...and might be more depressed than I am anything else. I have to take meds every day to get through it the way I want. Without them, I am horribly edgy and short tempered. I think there is something about not having my own money. This was a big discussion. My mom raised me to never be in the position I am now. I don't have my own bank account...I don't have cent that is mine. I feel as if I'm lesser because of it. I feel guilty if I need time away...employing a babysitter to do my job. My job...what is that exactly? "Take care of the girls." Grocery shop, shop for clothes, put away the clothes...I washed...clean their room along with every other room in the house. I pick up the house every single day...for hours I clean it up. Then everyone come in and destroys it and then I start over. Some days I am beat by 9. My husband looks at me, "you're going to bed now?" Yes, I'm exhausted. There is NO WAY that the thought, "but what did you do all day to make you THIS tired...I'm the one who had meetings all over and making presentations and preparing for this or that." Sometimes I feel that way, too. But, I do have days when I think...wow, I haven't even sat down today...except in the car. Because if I am sitting...and looking at something on the computer and he comes up, I feel like my boss just caught me not working. But then I remember, I'M MARRIED. And if I DID have a job outside the home...my suggestion of him helping me out with certain things wouldn't feel so bitchy...or pampered. "You're saying you don't like the life you have, there is something different that you'd rather do?" No...I love my girls, but the point was made that the most important thing you can do for your children is be happy. Later on, they won't have the guilt of keeping you away from a career path. Maybe they see other working mom's come home looking all dressed up and think that there mom wears jeans every day. My dad wore a suit every day and I was proud of it. Or maybe it was just that he was the judge...but I did like the suits. I feel as if I have a bad day...that everything jumps to the fact that I don't love what I do. Does anyone love what they do 100% of the time? Can't stay at home moms say, "this sucks" sometimes? I said it when I worked...

and then my mood can shift...because my insides flip hour to hour sometimes. Yay me. My husband just came up and discredited about every  negative comment about stay at home moms with good points, so I feel better. I do feel judged by moms that work. I don't have any judgements about them whatsoever. ??

Anyway...go listen to that interview and please tell me what you think.

Boo.

A good day. Meds seem to be working...but I go back and forth with the anxiety management. I'm inspired today...feel good about the fam...feel okay about the fact that there is an enormous amount of laundry to be done...I'll get to it. Folding..geesh. I'll get there. I need a new system.

Spent my weekend working at the High Fall Film Festival. Meeting filmmakers, film lovers and tons of film nerds was great! I didn't feel like an alien there. Having a film degree gives you clout...even if you aren't using it. No one cares. If you majored in film...you are in.

I'm hoping to be part of the film selection committee for next year. so excited. 

I saw a film, Drama. and I loved it so much that I'm trying to get a hold of the director to discuss her work. She was so inspiring to me. She wrote about what she knew...and the body language that she incorporated with things was so natural. 

This is the type of writing I would do. That I will do, right...that's what I would say.

Really positive and uplifting.

So, my life, most days, is just the most monotonous crap...pick up after everyone. I cleaned the entire day...my free day--no kids. WTF.
I am tired, I'm lost...or I think I am. I just got back from st. john and my observations of depressed women made me feel that there seems to be some sort of plague.

I just lied on my couch and listened to the last 2 hours of Amy Poehler's book, Yes, Please. It was good to finish something. It was great that my tv hasn't been on all day. After school, I took the girls to the library and then we came home and read and then played with change...looking up what all the pictures meant on each. Canadian money is just prettier.

I just went upstairs to get myself some yogurt and granola. I was winded and felt weak...because I've probably had 500 calories (maybe) today due to the fact that my meds completely take away my appetite. Without the meds, I have no patience with my girls and my chest caves in with anxiety and the feeling of being overwhelmed. With them, I practically starve to death unless I think about it.

I believe that everyone has something...a light in them...something they are good at. If it's being a serial killer, well, that sucks. But that's my struggle...finding my light. I love to write, but I can't get motivated to actually start something. I don't know what that something would be. I have ideas, but I am so wiped by the end of the day, the thought of trying to put that together---I am impressed with anyone that can do it. Maybe I'd have more energy if I ate dinner. If I felt like eating dinner.

Please, God, let me be a late bloomer. PLEASE send me a sign...or an a-ha moment.

Until then, I will continue to feel like a failure, daily, as a mom. I will see mistakes all the time and can't pull the words back in. I need to be mended and how the hell am I suppose to raise girls? My god, I'm going to fuck them up...please let it be minor. All I know, is that I hope, if I do fuck them up, that they will at least know they are loved...insanely. They do not lack in kisses and hugs and tears of regret and apologies. I introduce them to great music. I keep them away from shitty tv. I try to keep them away from tv as much as possible...because it seems to have a horrible effect on Z. We are reading more. I am positive. I help with homework. I reassure, I love them like no other and if I could eat them, I would. I wish I could freeze them at this age...well, maybe a year ago. Z's shitty attitude and sassy mouth have thrown me into hell. "Oh shit, I already screwed up."

All I can hope is that the universe knows I am open to anything...and that the fact that I love the girls so much will help them when they can't stand me.

Gone Girl (I know, awful title (and movie)--but it fit.

I went away for a long time. And really, I'm still not here. But I felt that contact needed to be made.  I am lost. I really can't even explain what that means...except that the me in me feels gone. I'm insecure and irrational and too emotional and a little bit crazy at times. Some might say that actually sounds a lot like me, but it isn't. I'm a mom now. I'm a wife now. This type of behavior or inside trauma is unacceptable to me. I will not tolerate being this fucked up. So, I've been trying to fix it. My summer was spent trying to help someone else. I do find a lot of pleasure in feeling needed. That's probably an issue as well. I'm in therapy folks, no worries. I'm trying to iron it all out. It's hard to do with your life has daily worries of clean kitchens and crumbs on the floor. It seems to tear you down when you do your best to make the day awesome and your child has a meltdown and screams at you. This is do to the great day fatigue, but it still sucks.

Is this 40? Is this me? I just seem like I'm in some weird place and my insides are balancing out with my outsides. I get the EAT PRAY LOVE thing...I could do that about now.

But if anything, I'll try to write. I'll make an empty promise of trying to stay on this...more for me than for all of you that don't read anymore. Maybe this is my attempt to throw my shit into the universe and get rid of part of it.

Feel free to share any woes you may be having...or vent...or give advice. I'm here for you. Sort of. Not really, but it might feel better to write it out.

Time Changes

The hardest part
is
accepting how
people change
and
that alone
changes everything.


--Robert M. Drake



Yes...but I will expand. The hardest part isn't accepting how people change...but how they don't and why they don't...especially when it is needed. Why don't people change when they see how they hurt people? Why don't they change when they are miserable...they just accept it as a fact.

That is such bullshit. And that is the shit that drives me into the ground. I have to accept that some people won't, even though I did. I have to accept that some people don't like that I did..but realize that the people that are upset are the ones that just want company in their misery.

Be happy. Seriously. In your days, strive to be up, be positive, find the energy to pull through the dark.

Don't be a victim. You will always find those who want to save you...but what kind of life is that? A long, miserable, lonely one. And...eventually your savior will get tired. Save yourself.

what a vague and obvious post. but i don't care. my world seems to be full of the vague and obvious. It's obnoxious.

sending out a flare

Hello again....I make promises and then I break them...saying I'm going to keep up on this and then I get horribly distracted. OR I feel that my emotional purge wouldn't be good reading. But, who am I to say. The summer has started for me. Z finished pre-school...geesh. She is growing at a rapid pace right now and I can barely keep up. At times she is an absolute dream of a child...I pat myself on the back...until she starts talking back to me and saying things that i would never dream of saying to my parents. On the nights after she's become demon like and I put her to bed...I am on Google, researching how I can redirect her...how I've screwed her up...if I can fix it. Which is my first problem. Thinking that I can fix anything...all I can do is not fuck it up any more. I've stopped screaming--because I used to...a lot. I've stopped taking it personally (hence the screaming) and understanding that pushing her away during her times of freak outs doesn't work...I pull her as close as I can now...and that seems to help. I'm like a cow squeeze machine. (look it up, it can really work.)

I am throwing my attention outward lately...which is good. Having other things to think about besides my own whacko thoughts about my anxieties and my feelings of worthlessness. is welcomed. I do feel that my gifts are more in being there for others rather than making a product or performing heart transplants. Someone out here has to be the person that says it's all going to be okay. And when I tell Zoe as I hug her...she seems to calm.

I want it for myself. I want a squeeze machine. I will see if I can find one on Amazon.

"the inner tapes of my parents"

4/25/15

I'm old school.
I want them to be there early
I want them to go to bed on time
I enforce boundaries
I make them clean up
I tell them not to spend time with people who don't make them feel good.
I tell them of their worth
I tell them I love them
I tell them to leave a situation that is uncomfortable
I tell them to love each other
I cuddle
I have dance parties
I save their art work
I have no tolerance for bad manners
I make them do it themselves
I am the bad cop
I tell them to sit up
I make them ask to be excused from the table
I limit sugar
I tell them I'm proud of them
I take pictures
I love when they climb in my bed in the middle of the night
I make them bathe
I get loud
I spank
I have regret
I am a different parent than I thought I'd be
I am exhausted
I go to therapy
I am trying

10 mins to write a poem.

Yesterday I wrote of our how close I felt to you.
How you never let me down.
I felt vulnerable and seen.
Today, you are so damn cold.
I woke up and you made sure I knew...
You were warm to me, then you freeze me out.
I don't understand.
Do you want to prove that you're unpredictable?
That no one can really count on you?
Well, I knew that. Everyone knows that.
I moved away from you.
I couldn't stand being scared night after night...
wondering what you would do.
I knew that at any time, you could rip everything away...
You could beat up my car...break down the walls in my house...
I lived in fear every time I could see you getting that dark look.
So, I moved away. I went where your angry hand couldn't reach me.
Now, you're just cold...and you show'd me again just how cold you can be...
You can cover the things I love...making them cold and icy...
But I'll know that this is nothing compared to what you can do.

4-23-15
Spring in upstate ny (instead of western kansas)

I am procrastinating...and I can't anymore.

I over book my interests
I want everything in my mind to be worked on...right now.
I am tired...exhausted at night...wanting to just to lay down and veg.
nothing gets done.
How do people do it?
I'm trying to get back in to shape.
Every part of my body hurts. That's good.
I'm trying to organize my cluttered house.
I'm trying to help others who need my help...whether they do or not.
I'm putting off the writing I should be doing out of fear.
I'm desperately trying not to fuck up my daughters
I am trying to support my husband.
I am not doing a very good job with myself.
Everything is outside my body. I can't get inside.
I am afraid.
I have a vision...I need it to measure up.
What if it doesn't??
I will lose the idea I've had about myself my entire life.
Then...what will I do then?
I'm not sure I could live with that.
It scares me...the idea of being average.
Of not making an impact.
Of not making a difference.
Of disappearing.

But I'm trying. That's all I can do.
I'm on the edge of doing...I'm out of the chair...I'm looking over the edge.
JUMP!!!
Fuck...that's a long way down...that's going to take a while
It takes a while of doing something before you realize you either should or shouldn't be doing it anymore.

It's all I have. It's all that has made me feel as if I'm special.
My brain...it's workings...it's meant for something.
My heart...it's ability to feel so much more than I feel it was intended to.
I am wrecked daily by someone else's story.
My heart breaks...
I can only hope that it breaks open enough to spill out words on a page.
Words that will affect and change and help other hearts grow.
The world is so ignorant.
It's evil and cruel.
I have to create something that my daughters can cling to.
"This is what she wrote...what she completed...and it says so much. This was who she was."
And they'll always have it...and will always feel them with them.
That's why I need to do it.

circle of friends...

Having a day that I don't feel like explaining. A day where your feelings are yours...and voicing them won't make sense. As if there aren't words that could ever explain it. There could be many reasons for this...

I'm still reeling over my long weekend with friends...the conversations, the tears, the laughter, the feelings of love.

My mom and sister just left...my mom after 6 weeks...my sister, after we finally had some time to ourselves over a course of days. (who knows when that will happen again.)

I'm just exhausted.

I have too many things I want to do and I can't put them in order...and I am overwhelmed by the thought of losing the inspiration to do them.

I am, once again, feeling like a sponge for other peoples' anxiety...taking on their mental dump they  just had over the phone. 

Here's the thing. Friends are important. Their influence in my life has been extraordinary. I look back at some of the times I've had and am amazed that I have the same friends since grade school. I'm a difficult person. It takes a lot of listening and squinting. (squinting and shaking of the head...maybe just inside)

But friendships evolve and change. And sadly, I now believe they have their seasons. A close friend in your 20s does not mean you will be close in your 40s. That pains me. I don't like to see people slip away. But, after a while, conversations become too difficult. Your thought patterns just don't jive. We all change. I've been lucky to have so many that I feel I can learn from. I know when they are guarded on the phone. I know when they are just off...and they can't talk about it. I don't think they know I know...and it seems awkward to mention it.

I'm changing a lot. Especially this year. My insides need cleaned out. Right now the dust is flying and all of the drawers are poured out--it's somewhat a mess. But...at least it's not pristine--with all of my demons hiding under the carpet or the bed...or in a locked drawer. It's hard to find friends that aren't phased by my mess--but I have them.

Just wish we could spend more time.

Quick Best Pic Oscar post.

American Sniper--just not good. for many reasons. mostly because clint didn't do his job.

Birdman- VERY good. hoping it gets the love it deserves.

Boyhood- Good, but not for everyone. Long. very real life...it's not for the typical hollywood blockbuster movie goer.

The Grand Budapest Hotel- hilarious. beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. well thought out and executed.

The Imitation Game- good viewing...acting was okay. Benedict was pretty good. Not sure why Keira was nominated.

Selma-- I learned something. so, that's a good thing. It was average. Didn't carry the weight it should have.

The Theory of Everything--have yet to see...but should by next week.

Whiplash-- same thing. hoping to have it viewed very soon.

Wimp

okay obviously thinking I could stick with this every day was far fetched. I always think I can do it all and I can't. I have such control issues. I get very frustrated if I can't get it all done. I have a hang up with not following through. It drives me nuts. I need to make my expectations more realistic. Even sleep. I can't expect I'm going to get much. Lately, I don't. The girls climb in one by one at some point in the night. One normally takes over my pillow. One I have to constantly be moving over. Getting restful sleep is difficult. But it won't always be like this. I know other things will get more difficult, but a lot of things will get easier as the girls grow older.

Life is good. I'm just tired. But nothing compared to other people. Complaining about anything seems so trivial. I am aware of the hardships of the world. People living in war zones, poverty, abusive situations....and I'm tired because my healthy, sweet girls climb in with me. My God. Get a fucking grip.