The Cup of Shame

I introduce you to this struggling mother’s shame. It is a large coffee mug (one of my favorites) filled with ice cream (today’s shameful flavor is chocolate chip) which is smothered with both chocolate and strawberry syrup and hot cocoa mix (yes, darlings, powdered cocoa) sprinkled (dumped) on top. 

Fuck my figure, fuck my care, because it feels like my life is going to shit. Bills are overdue, car took a shit on us, money too short, month too long, and marital spice is a bit more on the spicy side and lacking on the zest. My saving grace for the day is the fact that my three kids were good for a majority of the day. Even when I had my ridiculous meltdown because the stupid burger patties were frozen in the middle and refused to pull apart and instead they crumbled so I just threw the damn things on that fryer as I screamed because, fuck, I can’t even cook burgers right!

So I cried and bawled over broken patties and my kids, all three of them, heard my pleas and came rushing to me and hugged me and rubbed my back and told me everything would be ok…. They saw me in a way I wish they never had, but they loved me even in that moment and I thanked them and told them to go play and dinner would be ready soon. 

The truth is, I don’t think everything will be ok. And, frankly, I’m tired of hearing “everything will be ok.” It’s nothing personal to the loved ones who have said that to me, but in this moment nothing feels ok. Let me feel this moment because your words of encouragement do not reach my core. You don’t actually know that everything will be 100% ok. You have faith that my husband and I will figure it out, but you don’t know. 

I’m sure you’re right (you typically are), but I need factual assurance in times like these. Best wishes (while appreciated) don’t help me in the moment of a mental breakdown. I barely hear it. I need to feel my moment of hopelessness thoroughly before I crawl out of that pit (with help or on my own). 

And, darlings, I am feeling it. Every calorie, every ounce of sugar and fat and crap, oh yes. I am feeling all of it and I don’t care if this cup kills me. It’s delicious and it’s filling the cracks in my breaking heart. 

Tomorrow (or possibly Monday because the banks are closed tomorrow) will be better. I’m 75% sure. Which is really good because I’m typically a lot less sure about these kinds of things. Soon I will have solutions, game plans, and a sense of purpose I didn’t give myself before. Yes, changes are coming.

…And possibly another cup of shame because I still feel pretty shitty. 

Absolute Frustration

It’s really a shame how Facebook (or any social media for that matter) can get between family and friends.  When they can express their opinion, but shame on you if you express your own that doesn’t share their view. I’m so sick of people acting like everyone needs to wear kid gloves around them because God forbid you offend them! Or disagree with them. I’m sick of watching someone I love make the same stupid mistakes I made especially when they are being handed more opportunity than I ever got at their age.

I have my own issues I need to deal with and if you want to shut me out, fine, I will let you because it’s one less thing to stress me out (she says knowing full well she’ll continue to have anxiety about this issue until it’s eventually resolved…). I am more than willing to help out those in need to the best of my ability, but I can’t help those who refuse to help themselves.

I fuckin’ love you, you frustrating person you, and I hope that one day you will grow up to realize exactly that. I love you and have tried to be there for you while dealing with my own crap, but I’ve been sitting here, at the ready, hoping that you might actually take a helping hand. I’m angry and hurt, but that does not mean I’ve stopped loving you or stopped caring, but for now, for my own sanity and until you come to some kind of self realization, I’m done.

 

Keep Moving Forward

If Life has taught me anything, it’s that you can overcome damn-near anything it throws at you. For some of us, Life seems to have an itch that can only be scratched by giving you non-stop crap that overlaps each other and continues on as far as the eye can see. You can have the most positive attitude ever, but that doesn’t solve the situation.

I like to think of my view as realistic rather than pessimistic. The world doesn’t offer much to anyone. You have to go get it. You either steal it or you earn it. Rarely (and I’m speaking as a middle-class, job holding mother and wife) does anyone just hand you anything. If someone offers you help then you just gotta swallow your pride and accept it (if it is, in fact, helpful).

I have been through more than my fair share of shit and the hits keep on coming. My husband and I have been through things that would normally tear two people apart, but we’re still here, together. I’m not entirely sure what keeps me going anymore. A sense of duty perhaps, love, stubbornness…. All of the above I suppose.

There was a time in my life when I didn’t think I’d make it to the age of 25. I am now 29. I’m quickly approaching my 10 year mark of resisting the urge to self harm. That is also something I didn’t think I’d live to see. I have made so many mistakes in my life, in this marriage, my attitude is less than desirable most of the time, but I am trying to be better, to be happy in this life I never saw for myself. A life I never wanted for myself.

Now let me be clear, I never wanted this life because I 1) never saw myself making it this far and 2) was terrified of screwing up my kids and making my husband miserable. But now I have this life, a life I never saw for myself, wanted, or prepared for. I have it and I can’t picture myself being without it, but I don’t know how to be happy with it. I don’t know how to cope with the loss of my hopes and dreams. Ok, maybe “loss” is the wrong word, so let’s say “changes.” I’m not sure how to deal with the changes in my life.

I’ve been trying to do it on my own, but I’m not able to. I’m also not able to afford the help I do need. I’m also not eligible for any state aid/assistance of any kind. So how do I push forward when I have no idea what direction to push or what I can push with?

I have no answers yet, all I know is somehow I will make it to tomorrow. I will keep going, day by day, fighting, searching, and pushing until I find the answer and become whole again.

I Earned a Parenting Merit Badge I Didn’t Know Existed!

Dinner was served and baths were given. My long day was finally coming to a close.

Until…

My daughter called to me. She told me her little brother had stuck a bead in her ear. What the fuck? I think to myself. I then ask her why the heck she held still long enough for him to do that. “I dunno” was her response.

Now, I’ve dealt with cat food up a toddler’s nose. That was relatively simple. My husband was home so he held her head still while I got it out with a pair of tweezers, but this bead was a completely new ballgame and my husband is away at work. It wasn’t very large, it looked like a pearl with a tiny hole for the string. I used my cellphone light to shine in her ear so I could see and I caught a glimpse of it. It was WAY back there.

I call up my Solemate (yes, solemate), and tell her my situation. She gave me some good ideas. First she asked if I had one of those nose suckers you get from the hospital when you have a baby. Nope, a couple months back I got rid of virtually all of my infant supplies. Then she asked if I had a turkey baster. LOL NOPE, I sure don’t! Okay, then she asked if I had a straw. Bitch, please, I have three kids, you best believe I got bendy straws lol. So she tells me to have my daughter put the beaded ear facing down while I put the straw in her ear and suck…..

Um, excuse me, wha??? But what if the bead goes through the straw and down my throat? That’s freaking motherhood for ya!

Ugh, so I collected myself and did exactly that. Now, my daughter was just in the bath and her ears were pretty clean, but there’s always gonna be some earwax in there. Well, I sucked through the straw, trying like hell to get that bead out, but that little bastard would not pass through the ear canal. It was slightly too big to just roll out and I couldn’t suck long enough or hard enough to get it passed. I’m not a freaking Hoover.

At this point I was getting light headed and tired of earwax making me gag. This was simply not working. The bead was closer now, but there was no room for me to maneuver tweezers around it. However, I could see the tiny hole that the string goes through. So, I grabbed a toothpick and tried to get it through the hole, but it only pushed the damned thing further in!

My friend asks if I have anything sticky, like gum. I look at my husband’s nightstand and see a pack of gum, but it’s freaking empty! Good God man! Then she asks if I have any glue. Haha! I knew I did somewhere, but my husband recently cleaned up the house for my surprise birthday party and now I don’t have a fucking clue where anything is at! Then she asked if I had peanut butter…. Yep, I have that. So I grabbed a Q-tip, put a little dab of peanut butter on there and stuck that in her ear. I’m really glad I went with the peanut butter and not the honey because I think the honey would have made it even worse. The peanut butter didn’t work, by the way, so I went back to the straw.

I’m beginning to become more panicked at this point because I can’t get this little bastard out and I can’t afford the copay for an ER visit (thanks Obamacare) so she offers to  come to my house with the necessary supplies. She lives a good 20-30 minutes away and I didn’t want her to come out if there was another way I could do this. So I told her to hang on, I wanted to call my mother first and if she couldn’t help then I would call her back asking her to bring the calvary lol.

So I call my mom. She, being a mother of five kids and being the second oldest child of eight kids, would probably have the most experience in dealing with something like this. Welp, as much as I love my mom, she wasn’t sure what to do with my lack of items. If I had even one of the items she mentioned then I wouldn’t have had an issue. But life likes to fuck with you sometimes.

I call my friend back and ask her to come over. I also started venting about how I couldn’t find anything. Like how I found my glue sticks for my hot glue gun, but I couldn’t find the damn gun, if I could just find the gun then I could warm up the glue and try using that. Then my friend asks about my glue sticks. I tell her their the hot glue stick for the hot glue gun, not the Elmer’s glue sticks. She then smartly asks why I don’t just warm up the glue sticks with a lighter….?

Good grief. Why, WHY did I not think of that?

So I did just that. I melted a bit of the glue stick with a lighter, take a Q-tip and get just a little dab on there and my daughter starts to lose her shit. She did not want hot glue in her ear (can’t really blame her, that would freak me out too if I didn’t have any context to go along with that) so I calmly explained to her that she would not feel it, I wasn’t pouring the glue in her ear, I just needed a little bit so it would stick to the bead and I could pull it out.

I slowly inserted the Q-tip, she was on the verge of tears until she realized she couldn’t feel the glue, I held it in place for a bit then pulled it out, but was fruitless. I tried again, the glue was still warm, so I held it there longer. I was a little panicked because it pushed the bead back further, but I held it there. Finally, I pulled on it and the bead was coming with it so I kept pulling and out the little fucker came!

I have never been so happy to see a freakin bead! There was a point where I apparently forgot to breathe because I ended up gasping as it came out and I became a little light headed. My friend and I celebrated this victory and I realized I passed a rite of passaged I never knew existed. This is not the kind of shit they teach you about in the hospital or lamaze classes (not that I would know about that because I never went to a lamaze class).

Honestly though, is anyone working on a parenting manual? Somebody should really jump on that because some of us are really struggling here!

People Watching Challenge

One of my favorite blogs, A Momma’s View, recently wrote about People Watching (a hobby I too enjoy) and left a photo at the end challenging her readers to write a story about it. So, here I go:

An English lad was returning home from a small game hunt in the woods. He managed to grab a squirrel and a couple plump rabbits. He was happy as this catch would provide a better meal than the previous night’s, which was barely more than boiled water.

He was barely out of the woods, going over a small hill, when he saw five horses he did not recognize standing outside his home. Fear pumped through his veins as he thought of his mother and two young sisters inside with strange, probably violent, men.

He squat down amongst some foliage to survey the area and try to get a better feel for the situation. Suddenly he heard a scream from within. He had no time to think. He grabbed his skinning knife (which had become dull, but he’d have to make it work) and went around to a small window that he’d more than likely be able to sneak into, unnoticed.

He practically dove through the window and pressed himself against the wall peering around it and seeing only four large, cloaked figures stomping on the ground. His blood boiled and he silently charged, stabbing one in the calf and held the blade to another’s throat. “Back away!” He spat. The man he stabbed was wincing in pain, two were on either side of their fallen friend, staring at the young man, bewildered, he had a knife to the fourth…where was the fifth? “Where is he?” The young man yelled in panic as he darted his head back and fourth desperately searching for the fifth man.

“There is no fifth.” Said the man he held a blade to in a rather bored, yet slightly amused, tone.

“But…I saw..”

“A fifth horse?” Grunted the man he stabbed as he was helped to his feet. “That horse is for you, boy.” He winced as he put weight on his foot. The man looked gruff and angry, but after a moment burst into laughter and soon the other men shared in his amusement. The young man looked around, baffled.

A noise behind him made him turn which allowed the man he had a hold off to slip away and stand with his comrades. He saw his mother entering the room with his sisters following closely. “Mother!” He declared as he ran to embrace her.

“Edward, wha-” she looked at his bloody knife and scanned the room spying the man favoring one leg. “What have you done?” Edward stopped hugging his mother and looked at her, perplexed.

“What do you mean? I’m rescuing youm and my sisters.” The men began laughing again and his mother looked at him endearingly.

“Oh sweet Edward, we were never in danger.” She placed her hands on his face and smiled at him.

“But I heard screaming…” he was thouroughly confused.

“Your sister, Addy, knocked a candle over and the mat caught fire very quickly. I was startled.” Edward contemplated her words then details began to become clearer in his head. Thinking back now he recalled smelling burning straw and that’s probably why he saw the four men stomping on the ground. Fear began to release its hold on him and he turned back to the men. All four began to boom with laughter.

“Sir, I am so sorry about your leg. I thought…. I thought you were here to…to…”

“It’s ok, son. You came in to protect your family. It’s a minor wound, really. It’ll heal quick enough. But that fearlessness and selflessness is exactly why we’re here. You are your father’s son in nearly every way. He was a great and noble knight and I’m sure you’ll be just as great, if not greater, than he.”

“A knight? You want me to be a knight?” Edward was shocked and elated. He turned to his mother and looked at her with both joy and fear.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” She gave her son an assuring nod. “We’ve talked over the details already. You will ride ahead with them. I need to settle a few things here and then your sisters and I will join you in the kingdom.” Edward sighed with relief. His prayers had been answered.

What he thought was going to turn out to be a terrible day had quickly become the best day of his life.

Straining

I sit here, dazed, my thoughts race through my mind faster than the blood pumping through my veins, then they leave. It’s like I’m trying to hold water only I don’t have a bucket, I have a collender. 

Another Sleepless Night Torturing Myself

As I write this it’s nearly 3am and I’ve given up the idea of sleep since I have to be awake in three hours. I’m feeling consumed by my emotions. I see and feel art in nearly everything. I’m simultaneously overjoyed and deeply saddened, both to the point of tears. It’s making me lose hold on reality. 

I need to work tomorrow morning and this weekend I get to look forward to two double shifts. While I need the hours and I am willing and able to work them, double shifts are an emotional breaker. Moreso than a physical one. 

Now, as much as I understand my responsibilities and what’s expected of me, I can’t shake the overwhelming desire to scream like a wild animal, run for the hills, and demolish anyone that gets in my way. 

I’m tired of trying to run away from my life, but I’m also tired of fighting to live when all I want to do is crawl into the earth and never resurface. 

Some days I can’t seem to be able to handle the simplest of tasks like getting out of bed or eating let alone going to work or caring for my family. These last couple of days have been exactly like that. I can’t stand moving or dealing with screaming, needy children or a husband begging for affection. 

The thought of going to work tomorrow and serving customers makes my skin crawl. I’m tired of serving ungrateful people who seem to forget that my coworkers and I are people too. 

I’m so tired of this madness. Literal insanity. Taking hold of me, ripping my being to shreds, yet leaving no outward trace. My composure is too great (thank you military) to let just anyone know of my suffering. 

I know, I know, sounds like a bunch of whining. Maybe it is. I don’t fuckin care. Half of you readers probably stopped reading a while ago. I wish I could say I don’t fuckin care, but I do. I care. I’m well aware of the fact that I don’t shower many deserving blogs with likes and comments, but sometimes it’s hard for me to read about the joy/success of other when I feel like a broken down, beat up loser. 

I am trying so hard to change, I just don’t know how to while I’m in my current frame of mind.