Do What I Say.

So I find that when I am the most depressed, I don’t write a lot of funny stories. If you want funny, go back like a week ago.

So when I am depressed, it helps to write. Read it if you want because it is going to be honest writing laced with a shit ton of sarcasm.

This blog is going to be about depression and ways to get through it…

1) I’m depressed. 

I need you to say: think positively. Just kidding. Don’t say that unless it is followed by, ‘think positively about a drink I can buy you.’

2) I’m so emotionally exhausted from life.

I need you to say: rest your head on my lap and I will pet you like a dog since you were a dog in a past life.

3) I really want to rip off your face because your dumb look makes me want to beat you with a giant 2 x 4. 

I need you to say: would you like that 2 x 4 to be oak or birch?

4) I am having an anxiety attack.

I need you to say: would you like a brown paper bag or a plastic bag because plastic could end the misery.

5) I am having anger issues and I feel like I might murder someone.

I need you to say: let me bring you someone from your hit list.

6) I don’t feel like getting out of bed because life is too hard.

I need you to say: get the fuck out of bed and start the day. I will throw a shot of Bailey’s in your coffee.

7) I say I don’t like the bullshit that is pouring out of your mouth.

I need you to say: I will find the duct tape.

8) I tell you I can’t take life anymore.

I need you to say: let’s do this Thelma and Louise style.

9) I tell you that I need a break.

I need you to say: let’s get drunk and escape this place for a while.

10) I say life in general is forcing me to use therapeutic skills and it’s still not working because sometimes life is like a giant asshole.

I need you to say: I understand that there isn’t enough therapeutic skills that could deal with this world because sometimes life just blows a big chunk of ass when you are down. Here’s a drink, some ice cream and bacon; now excuse me while I grab the duct tape and 2 x 4 for you.

Until next time,

I have to get out of this mindset because I am starting to spiral. I can’t hit rock bottom again.

Fading into the Background

Finally. I didn’t think this day would come and I know that it won’t be permanent but I know that this is the beginning to the end. Finally you are fading into the background.

You know it has been over a year since you left me behind and almost a year since I told you secrets that you would destroy me with; I didn’t think I could get over you.

I thought you were the best thing that had ever walked into my life since my husband and kids but I realized that you were just a blip on my radar screen. Last year, the blip you created made ripples in my radar; hell, it broke my radar. It set the radar on fire and I watched myself burn. Fast like an inferno and then after, the ember still burned. I was like a wildfire. My emotions and my feelings  were never put out- it just slowly burned and slowly consumed me.

However, here I am, almost a year later and I was driving around our working town and I realized that I can’t really remember you. I barely remember what you look like and I don’t remember your voice. The times when I made you laugh were my favorite and I thought I would always remember that but, you know, your laugh is also fading into the background.

I was listening to the song you made for me almost everyday for a year. Now, I hardly listen to it. Not because I don’t still love it but because I don’t need it. We aren’t close. You left me in a terrible position and I was still holding on but not anymore. I don’t listen to it because I don’t need to remember and think about what you think I did wrong. Continuity of care my ass.

You were right- dual relationships are not what should happen with your therapist. I thought we could do it and I thought it was what I wanted because I wanted to be close to you not only because you helped me but also because you needed help too. Someone who knew you and would listen to you without judgement but I realize that our relationship was catastrophic on so many levels. If only I knew. But you were supposed to be the one to take care of my needs not the other way around and I am starting to realize that it isn’t my fault. Thank God I found a new therapist that knows how to heal this mess you made. I am actually making progress, even though things aren’t perfect, I am making progress. Maybe you care?

God, I hope you read this because I just want you to know that you are fading into my background and you are no longer the forefront of my thoughts. Yup, it’s like that today but I don’t know if it will be like this tomorrow, or the next day but one day is better than none.

Until next time,

You are starting to fade, oh look, you are just a memory.

My Slightly Buzzed Observations of the Presidential Debate

1) Why is Trump petting his eyebrow?

2) What is Hillary writing? Joe thinks it’s a letter to Bill… I think she is writing knock-knock jokes.

3) why does Donald purse his lips like that? He is like a teenager trying to take a horrible selfie.

4)  Donald is coming at her man… uh-oh.

5) wow Donald… interrupt much? Shut the fuck up.

6) Lester Holt, is your microphone broken?

7) Wtf is up with Donald asking about the emails- she probably deleted chain emails. Who cares.

8) I can give you a list of banks too… Bank of America, TD Bank, Citizens Bank…

9) Synonyms for tremendous: enormous, immense, colossal, titanic, epic, towering, mighty, giant, vast, jumbo, gargantuan… thank you thesaurus.com. Trump, pick one.

10) First beer finished at 9:48 pm… longer than I expected.

11) Bad people. What is up with them? Stop being bad and apparently illegal.

12) Law and Order.. not just a TV show anymore.

13) I can’t follow Trump. Following him is like a person with ADHD’s worst nightmare.

14) Trump throws out numbers like that horrible math class you had. You know… where they talked about numbers and  you zoned out.

15) No one gives Trump more credit than Trump. Modesty at its finest.

16) what are you saying about us fat people? I am almost 400 pounds. Now you lost the fat vote Donald.

17) Really Howard Stern is a source you are proud of?

18) Why are you picking a fight with Lester Holt?

19) Is happy camper an ok term to describe a foreign leader?

20) What is a presidential look? Can I get it?

21) If he says hundreds of millions again, I will literally throw up my beer.

22) Can we please stop avoiding the questions? Just answer the damn question.

23) I am glad that they have a fact checker. Like seriously, shouldn’t we be able to trust our future leaders? Haha… ok, that was a joke.

24) I thought Hillary looked great. I thought Trump and his hair looked stupid.

25) Make America Great Again? Donald, you just made America drunk again…

Until next time,

I will meet you back here in October. Maybe a wine and cheese party? 

Presidential Debate

​Tonight’s agenda: watch the debate.

Every time Trump says the following words we will be taking a drink. 

The stupid words/phrases include but is not limited to:

1) Huge

2) Crooked Hillary 

3) a wall

4) agreeing with Don Jr. And comparing Syrians to candy… not just skittles but all candies.

5) Deleted emails

6) Black people are all poor and don’t have jobs

7) Any reference to shooting Hillary

8) Any reference to Russia tapping into Hillary’s email 

9) Bengazi

10) Tremendous 

11) Mexicans are all criminals

12) whenever he addresses us as folks.

13) When he compliments the commentators 

14) when he gives any race or religion a back handed compliment 

15) when he contradicts himself

16) when he holds up his right index finger… however many seconds he does it for, you have to drink for that long.

17) talking about his impeccable health

18) talking about Hillary’s stunt double

19) Claiming that Obama started Isis.

20) Talking about how immigrants are terrible people but then talks highly about his wife…

Until later tonight,

I will be drunk blogging after the debate

A Letter to the Clothing Industry

Dear idiots,

First off, I am a large woman. I mean, according to the BMI charts, for my height I should be 107 pounds however, I only weigh that in one boob. Jesus. I am 220 pounds so let’s talk about shopping when you are 5’2″ and 220 pounds and you have ginormous melons.

1. Buying clothes is uncomfortable. And trying them on is the closest thing to hell I can get to except I am naked and cold and staring at my fat rolls in a mirror.
2. Skinny jeans. What? I looked at pants and they were all like ‘skinny pants with skinny ankles.’ Umm, there is nothing skinny about me and my ankles are swollen from being pregnant… four years ago.
3. I found some shirts that are cute… cute if I was a hooker on a Saturday night.
4. Why is the mirror full length? The dressing room should literally be a dark box where I see nothing and I just have to go with how it feels.
5. Every shirt I tried on, got tighter as it when down. I guess it’s because all the fabric is currently at my boob level and there is nothing left for my muffin top? I don’t know but I just looked lumpy, like cottage cheese but more tan.
6. Do buttons and zippers have to be a thing? Can’t you make dress pants with a drawstring so I can still look good and modest but when I sit at my desk I can loosen my pants so I don’t cut off circulation and die? Technology is moving forward… why not the drawstring?
7. I think we should do away with numbers on pants. Mine keeps going up and the only number I want to see go up are the numbers in my bank account.
8. Jeggins. What the hell. Like seriously? I don’t want anything clinging to my body… unless it’s my husband.
9. Why does clothing have to be segregated. Skinny people, this is your section, petite people, here you go and then there is a big neon sign for my fat section. If you are going to segregate the areas, then make it worth my wild. Skinny people, here is your water bar, petite people, here is the salad bar and fat people, here is the deep fried donut you requested. Yeah, I would shop more.
10. Every pair of pants needs…and I am saying needs in the most desperate sense… it needs to come with a safety pin. I have been in situations where the button is like ‘fuck this, I’m out,’ and pops right off and the zipper is trying to get off the pants but it reaches the end of the track and is like, ‘hey fatty, I can’t hold you in anymore so I just jammed myself.’ And then the button and the zipper just laugh and laugh while I try to live my life in my hot pink granny undies that I think is comfortable and maybe sexy? But they aren’t, that underwear is pulled up to my boobs but I think I am still cute because they are pink and not white, tan or black. But they aren’t and now I have a neon crotch. So, like I said, safety pins…

Until next time,

Moo-moos could be my next thing… as long as they aren’t white, tan or black.

You are Never too Young.

So I guess you are never too young to forge your parents signature. Vincent is only in 2nd grade and I feel like he will perfect it as the years continue.

Well done son. You are learning to play the system at an early age.

Until next time,

Vincent’s forgery is eerily similar to Joe’s actual signature.

Reflection of What?

I am sitting here in front of the window at coffee shop, staring at my reflection. I am looking at what I look like but all I see is a silhouette of a translucent figure. Sometimes you can see me and sometimes you can’t- maybe I don’t want you to. It’s not you, it’s me.

I put myself out there thinking that I have a connection with people but in reality, I am alone. Don’t tell me that you are glad that I am here- you don’t know anything about me because all I am is the silhouette of a human being. I am not even glad that I am here. How can you be? It’s not you, it’s me.

Why say things that are irrelevant? I don’t even know who I am- how do you? How can you be happy I am here when I caused all of you so much pain and not just one person but many. Sure, I can catastrophize the situation because every situation that I am in is a catastrophe. It’s not you, it’s me.

Shit, I can see things crumbling before my eyes; oh wait, that is that salty liquid coming from both sides. Shit, you are going to see me. My hard exterior is being torn down and you are going to see inside of me- into what I really am. Well, I can’t have you do that because no one is allowed in there. I don’t want you to ever see me cry. I am not worth the shit on your shoes for how I made you feel. It’s not you, it’s me.

Scrape me off and let me go. It is worse when everyone around you is not happy and I caused that anxiety. Shit, I have been so stoked the whole week but being stoked definitely turned into being ashamed, embarrassed and inadequate. It’s mine- it’s not yours. Don’t carry me- I carry these feelings and I am sure you don’t even mean to project that feeling onto me but I just internalize. It’s not you, it’s me.

I hear multiple people say the same things and then look at me because they are afraid they hurt my feelings and I am sitting there trying so hard not to burst into tears because that will let you in and give you a glimpse. I don’t want you in; I am totally eating burritos. I want to keep you at bay. I guess because I thought we had a connection but all of our stuff gets in the way. It’s not you, it’s me.

I never should have said anything. I should have just kept it straight business because when you don’t keep it straight business, feelings get involved and shit, I don’t want that. I don’t need those in my life. I will just keep myself numb because being numb is part of my silhouette. It’s deep and dark within me and you can’t reach it because I have put up so many barriers. This is the final one though, I am not letting anyone in; password is incorrect- please try again. It’s not you, it’s me.

Until next time,

I gotta get myself home.

 

This is a Lost Child Announcement

Over the weekend I took my kids to Walmart to purchase a small toy with the money they had saved from our ‘reward system.’ They were great in the store until we got to the checkout. Then Vincent proceeded to pull out all the random toys at the checkout line, Emily tried, unsuccessfully, to open her new knock-off Barbie and Nicholas was jumping up and down until Vincent controlled him by putting him in a headlock.

When we got to the car, I expressed my appreciation for how well they did overall and my disappointment for how poorly they did in the checkout. 

When I was finally finished with my rant about how we don’t wrestle each other out in public, there was an incredibly long silence…

And from the back, I hear:

“Thank you.” -Vincent

“Aww, buddy. That just made my day. You are very wel…” -me 

Then I was interrupted…

“Thank you for riding Elmo’s world. Enjoy your day at Sesame Place!” -Vincent 

“What? I thought you were thanking me for taking you to Walm…”

Interrupted again…

“Attention. This is a lost child announcement. If you are missing a child, they can be located next to Cookie’s Cafe. Thank you.” -Vincent

What. The Hell? We went to Sesame Place in July. I am so glad he was listening to my lecture on the proper ways to behave in a checkout line. Listen, wrestle at home, don’t touch things and don’t rip Barbies from their plastic holders. I don’t know how to open the damn Barbie thing with scissors but whatever.

Until next time,

I will be on the teacups.

Excuse Me. I am Clearly Not a Scientist.

So Vincent asked me why his soda can popped and fizzled when he opened it. So of course, I tried to answer his question in the clearest way possible.

“Ok. Umm, ok. Soooo, you know how soda has bubbles in it and then you ran with your soda and the bubbles needed to go somewhere… right?” -me

“Uh-huh…” -Vincent 

“Ok. Ok. You know when you have to fart and then you hold it in and your stomach hurts? But your fart needs to go somewhere right?” -me

“Uh, yeah.” -Vincent 

“Well, that’s like your soda. A fart in your belly and then you let it come out and the bubbles in the soda are like a fart and that’s why it bubbled and fizzled because when you opened it, it had a place to go. Like when you fart.” -me

“Oh. Ok.” -Vincent 

Until next time,

Go ask your dad who is a chemical engineer because your mom just compared a soda to a fart.

Finding Yourself at an Art Educators Conference

Today was a great Professional Development day with fantastic people all over the state. We learned about art and lessons and I learned a little about myself.

I learned that the following picture is how small children view me- thank God I teach kids that are taller than me because I am two giant boobs with a tiny head.

Until next time,

My boobs seriously could have their own zip code.

Ps- lastly, a special and public congratulations to Wendy Wallace for being the 2016-2017 Art Educator of the year. 💜