How are you?

I hurt today.

Aside from an extremely stiff neck and aching shoulders, I've got this deep ache inside my chest. (No, it's not a heart attack.) You know that place just above where your sternum ends? There. Deep. Like something oily and heavy and dark has lodged itself in that spot. (No, Supernatural fans; I'm not possessed, either.) It's a multifaceted ache. Sadness. Stress. Pain. Exhaustion. Anger. Frustration.

I've often wondered why it is we get angriest with those whom we love the most? Why it is that they can hurt us more than anyone else we know? Why we will work our hardest to make them happy and do what we can for them - with little to no acknowledgement of the sacrifices we make for them - and yet, we continue? Death by 1000 cuts. Little, tiny hurts over an extended period of time can result in the same "death" as outright murder. Why? Why do we continue to do unto others even when they won't do the same unto you?

Because it's the right thing, that's why. No matter the hurt. No matter the sacrifice. Those we love, naturally, can hurt us the most because we love them the most. They're thoughts and opinions and deeds - misdeeds? non-deeds? - can injure us far more than anyone else's.

But when asked, "How are you?" your automatic response is, "Fine! How are you?" Deflection. I'm great, but let's talk about you now.

Wanting to have the energy - physical, emotional, and mental - to do all the things which need to be done, with a smile on my face, isn't too much to ask, is it?

TTFN
JMS

Drowning and the Lottery

I tend to steer away from writing about other people I'm close to - in particular my husband - simply because he's not a fan of having his world laid open for everyone to see. No matter what else is wrong with me, I've got to have an outlet and for me, that's what this blog is, right or wrong.  I also try to steer away from talking too deeply about my adoptive mother, Sandy. A lot of time, I refer to her as Gammy because it's less invasive, I think, to her privacy.  Needless to say, sometimes it cannot, or maybe, more accurately, should not be avoided.

I've spent a lot of time lately trying to unbury myself from years of depression and anxiety and, while it's really only been a few weeks, I could tell I was on an upswing. I was starting to feel better, a little, I think. I honestly don't know because I'm not sure I really know what feeling better feels like. (Gosh, what an awful sentence! You understood that, right?)

Anyway - I am trying very hard not to immediately dive into the negative and trying to focus on the positive. But by golly, it seems something is always trying to knock me down! Has my strength not been tested enough already? Except, that I just do what I always do - like the saying/song goes - I pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again. I keep going. I do it anyway. Because honestly, it's worse if I don't push forward. It's what I do.

People say, "You've got to take time for you!" or "If you don't take care of yourself, you can't take care of anyone else!" or "Make sure you get some rest!" - and they're all well-meaning. But quite frankly I don't have time for me right now. I've got time for kids, and hubby, and house, and work, and church, and Sandy and everything all of those things include, like school stuff and homework, art night. Church plays, Sunday school, Puppets. Cat litter, daily feedings, vet visits, flea meds, brushing, love, attention, what-the-heck-are-you-doing-with-that-Q-tip? Scouting events, merit badges. Cookies, cookies, cookies. Do laundry - pile after pile. Make sure kids stay clean and healthy. Talk about stuff that's important. Make sure I continue to get a paycheck by doing what they pay me to do, which is no small feat in itself.

My ability to find room for one more thing on a regular, daily basis is basically nil. I'm already up to my eyeballs and then some, breathing through a thin reed, and praying I don't drown.

So, when Sandy had yet another health scare this past weekend I just felt so...frustrated! With her (not that it was her fault), with the situation (not that it could have been helped), with me (because I feel like I'm not doing enough), with the fact that I can't find a way to help her (because...lots of reasons), with everything! As difficult of a relationship as she and I sometimes have, she basically saved my life and I will do anything - anything - to reciprocate.

Therefore, I am now consumed by trying to solve this problem. Because that's what it is, a problem. Clearly she cannot live on her own anymore, but she's not ready for a nursing home and cannot afford assisted living. Which means, at the very least, she'd need to move in with me and my family. And as we currently are, that is an impossibility.

Basically, I need to win the lottery. Just a couple million dollars; I'm not asking for much. Then I could fix up and pay off the house we're in, and buy something suitable for us and Sandy. See? I just solved the problem.

Right then! For the next six weeks, I expect to see lottery tickets in my mail box every time I look there.

I know. I know. Not gonna happen.

But a seriously frustrated person can dream, can they not?

Wish me luck.

TTFN
JMS

Pouring my heart out -OR- Feeling sorry for myself

I'm trying to get back into the swing of things…like actually writing occasionally, even though I really don't want to because the words don’t come like they used to.

It used to be that I could be doing something normal and mundane and a sentence or a thought or a snippet of a story would pop into my head and I would turn it over and over until I finally got someplace where I could write it down so I wouldn't forget it.  Now, those sentences, thoughts, and snippets are quiet.

I'm OK with it, really, though I do miss the creativity.

I'm kinda broken right now and I don't know how to fix myself.  Oh, yeah – outwardly no one would really know anything is wrong, but my family does.  My husband feels it.  My kids feel it.  So I try - I really do try - but I fail.  A lot.  I try to be OK for them, but how can I be OK for them when I’m not OK for me?

So I push forward one day at a time.  One restless, more-often-than-not sleepless, night at a time.  And I get up the next day when my alarm goes off, because, let's face it…if I don't, I'm not getting up at all.  So the alarm starts yelling at me and I get up, I shower, I brush my teeth and dry my hair and make sure I’m wearing clean clothes.  And I go to work and get through my day with as much professionalism as I can muster and even that is hard, though I love my job.

I love my family.

And there are so many things that I need that I'm not getting.  And it's hard to know I'm responsible for teaching these lessons which once taught, need to be retaught and retaught and retaught until I'm so frustrated I could scream.  What am I doing wrong?

And, I don't know how to get a certain person to understand that lying and manipulation are not the ways to get what you want and that no means no, it doesn’t mean argue about it until I'm so worn out I finally just don't care anymore or remember the reason I said no in the first place and now they feel like they’ve won and I've taught them no lesson at all.

And, I don't know how to get a certain other person to understand that laziness doesn’t mean eventually I will do it because I'm sick of looking at it.  It means that if I do it, you’re going to lose it permanently and then you're really going to be unhappy. 

Or, if I take the time to do your laundry and you dump what I've carefully washed, dried, folded, and left on your bed for you to put away in an unfolded heap on top of your dresser or shoved into drawers in a wrinkled mess and then you say to me, "I didn't know!" or "At least they're in the drawer," and then you get mad at me when I hold your clothes hostage and tell you that you can have one outfit back for every ten minutes you work in your room (because to me, that's clever and a great way to teach a lesson) and you call me and my methods stupid and unfair and are hateful to me and cry thinking it's going to change my mind.  How about I just don't ever do your laundry for you?  I'm not above making you go to school naked.  (Ok, not that last thing…)

And, I don't know how to get a certain other person to understand I need them to actually talk to me, tell me what's going on and give me a game plan so I don't feel like I'm flying blind all the time and then have them get mad at me when I am unable to read their mind.  Or, how about just helping around the house on a regular basis instead of watching television all day?  That would be awesome, too.

I'm feeling used and angry and kind of like wrung out wet socks…

So, I guess the words do come, but they're not particularly nice words right now. 

And yeah, I guess if you want to you can pray for me or light a candle for me or send a healing word or two out into the ether for me – and that's all wonderful, and I am grateful for them – but I need real help.  The kind of help words just don't cover.

Am I feeling sorry for myself?  Maybe a little bit.  Am I walking around with a chip on my shoulder feeling resentful and angry more often than not?  Absolutely.  Am I taking it out on those around me because I don't feel like anyone cares enough to ask me what's wrong and then DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT when I tell them what's bothering me?  Most likely.  

I know.  I suck right now.  And I'm sorry.

TTFN

JMS

The What If Game

I've never been one for games.  Not really.  I’ve enjoyed a good game of Solitaire on occasion.  I think crossword puzzles are jolly good fun.  I like Monopoly, as long as I don’t have to be the banker and I can use either the shoe or the dog.  Jenga is fun with multiple people and with two stacks of bricks on top of one another, both on an exploding base.  I've enjoyed a few rousing games of Cards Against Humanity (I will not apologize!  I have never laughed harder!  It's good to be rude, occasionally, and among trusted friends!).  I've never been one for sports, to play them or to watch them, though I enjoy men’s college basketball.  Golf, tennis and baseball are, to me, like watching paint dry.  But there is one game I hate, loathe and despise.  My children, especially boy-child, like to play this game often.  It is called The What If Game.

Here’s how it works:

• What if I didn't brush my teeth?
• What if I just picked out my clothes in the morning?
• What if the sky wasn't blue?
• What if I just read for ten more minutes?
• What if that cloud over there was over our heads right now and we were the only ones getting rained on?
• What if I slept with my feet where my head usually is?
• What if I didn't do my homework?

Alright, I know.  Those are probably not the greatest examples, but I think you get the picture.  What if this?  What if that?  And this game has no rules, per se.  Mostly, in the mind of boy-child, the point of The What If Game is to extend an argument or not do what he has been asked to do. 

So, What If I just walked away and didn't play the game? 

“MO-OM!  CAN I FINISH WHAT I WAS SAYING? 
YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME!!!!”

(Oh, the humanity!)  Usually, at this point, there are tears already on the verge of spilling.  I understand he’s frustrated.  I truly do.  The problem here is he tends to talk so much at home without getting to the point, I tend find myself drifting to other things in my head rather than listening to him with 100% of my attention.  This is my failure, too, I know.  Eventually, I have to ask him to please stop, take a breath for goodness sake, and to simply do what I've asked him to do.  This is the point where The What If Game begins, extending his not-complying-with-mom’s-edict, culminating in “MO-OM! CAN I FINISH WHAT I WAS SAYING?” when I simply walk away, refusing to argue anymore.

The What If Game is endless and always (always) leaves all players frustrated and upset.  It’s a worthless, unproductive waste of time and I loathe it.  A much more creative, pleasant and surprising game for all involved is The Yes Ma’am/Sir Game.  I think we could save a lot of time playing this game instead of that game.

TTFN
JMS